Pandora exhales cinders as the Ash People rise from basalt cliffs—skin ember‑freckled, eyes like banked coals. Jake and Neytiri lead their family between sea and fire: reef clans evacuate through lava mist while smoke‑riding ikran skim a blood‑orange sky.

Quaritch returns colder, piloting “Furnace” drills that drink rivers and bloom black glass. Kiri hears Eywa in the crackle—songs that map heat instead of light. Set pieces sear: a smoke‑blind dive beneath a crusted lava shelf; a manta‑sail charge over waves that stand upright; molten‑glass skimming with Payakan breaching like a comet; and a night raid where bioluminescence paints every heartbeat as arrows spark against slag armor.

Franglen’s score braids whale‑song to war drums; the palette swings ember‑gold to abyssal blue. Final image: hands—one blue, one soot‑red—clasp as the horizon ignites.