Scene: Sacred Grove of Eywa – Night Beneath the Bioluminescent Canopy
Jake Sully, older now, his braids streaked with white, stands before a gathered crowd of Na’vi, humans, and offworld delegates. The Tree of Voices hums softly. Behind him stands a woman cloaked in feathers and starlight: Marcella West. The forest listens.
Jake Sully (softly):
The first girl I ever held hands with… was Marcella West.
Back when I was still stumbling between two worlds—between Earth and Pandora, between boyhood and manhood.
She believed in me before I ever believed in myself.
She didn’t care that I couldn’t walk.
She just cared that I could feel.
And now—after all these wars, these councils, these cries for unity and strength—
I say this with no hesitation: Marcella West should be Chieftess of Chieftesses.
Gasps ripple through the crowd. The Omaticaya elders exchange glances. Even the Māori MP, adorned with traditional tā moko tattoos and warrior beads, arches an eyebrow.
Jake (firm):
If anyone here wants to challenge her leadership—be they warrior, diplomat, or Earthborn politician—
Write your name.
He points to a sacred stone, smooth as glass, glowing with ancient glyphs. No one moves.
Jake (voice rising):
Write it in blood, write it in light, write it in song.
But if you don’t believe you can guide every tribe, every starborn child, and every rebel heart like she can—
Then don’t.
Because Marcella doesn’t just lead.
She remembers.
She heals.
She loves.
And she never forgets the hand she held…
or the ones still reaching.
The grove falls silent. Fireflies dance around Marcella’s shoulders like a crown. No name is written. She is chosen.
Does anyone want to challenge Jake Sully's pick for Female Chief? Enter your name if you dare.