Lenith awoke in the same room, on the same floor, dried and shivering under the enemy’s cloak. A soft buzz brought her attention higher, along fogged glass to blue runes streaming from the ceiling.

Lenith Thaymen
Aged: 22-Years
Birthdate: B15-5
Natural Hair: Auburn // Kept Long
Eye Color: Amber pigment
Bloodline: Pure Korvilian 

At this point, Lenith’s stomach had knotted. Dread replaced her shivering with silence. Despite the rebirth, this room had seen inerasable horrors long before her arrival. Stained blood and chipped concrete. She almost felt the bones of others snapping through time.

Father: Herielt Thaymen // Deceased
Mother: Retna Thaymen // Deceased
Sibling: Rejund Thaymen // Deceased 

She brought her fist to the bruise lining her torso. The slightest pressure brought back sensation. It grounded her.

Education: Not Available
Inoculation: Pending

“Is it all correct?” Marlic asked. Close.

Lenith twisted around. Dizziness gripped her, nearly dropped her. The Dehkie Poralaget watched her from a comfortable throne in the corner. He must have dragged it in during her deep sleep.

“I know it’s engrained in you to not trust my kind.” Marlic leaned in. The cushions squeaked against the dense fabric of his suit. “We have history to blame.”

“Where’s Iggy?”

“Going through the same process, with my subPor. But not everyone’s afforded a charismatic and endearing officer like me.”

SubPor was as it sounded—the rank inferior to Poralaget, yet superior to all below.

“What’s my luck?” Lenith asked.

“Your luck stems from birthright.”

“Ah, birthright. Then you know me. No need to tell you anything.”

“Lenith.”

“Poralaget.”

“Call me Marlic. Start with your birthdate.”

Lenith gave into the game. “I was born on the Twentieth of Bitwens, Five Years Prior.”

“Half that sentence is a lie.”

“The Fifteenth of Bitwens. Do you believe everything runes on glass tell you?” Lenith stretched her limits. She needed to know how hard she could push a threat.

“Five Years Prior. Long enough to taste the old ways but young enough to adapt without them. Twenty-two-years old.”

He gestured to the opposite corner. A rickety, splintering chair waited for her. A poor throne.

Lenith had no choice in the matter. She watched the reflection in his faceplate, trying to discern his goals, as she crawled across the cell.

“Bloodline?”

“What does it matter if you already know?” Lenith climbed into her seat. Readjusting the cloak over her, she shifted and twisted to get comfortable. Nothing worked. “The truth’s plastered on the wall.”

“I want to hear it from you,” Marlic crossed his legs. In doing so, he revealed a medical pack tucked under his shadow. “I need to hear you say it.”

“My bloodline is Korvilian.”

“Pure?”

Molars ground. “Yes.”

“That’ll help more than you know.”

“Help me with what? Everything I’ve wanted is gone. I don’t need help.”

Marlic spread his arms over padded armrests. Beneath the helmet was a man at ease. “Life ignores the ashes, Lenith. Daughter of Herielt Thaymen—the founder of the Graymen, slain by subPor Fopaz in the Rugerbin Mall Ambush. Correct?”

Lenith glared at Marlic’s faceplate. Her lips pursed. “Did you watch him die?”

Marlic was as still as the dry air between them. “Fopaz is an unhinge. I once suggested a mental evaluation in lieu of her training. I can’t prevent the past. Nor the future. But I need you to confirm this information. Keep telling me what I already know.”

Lenith clenched her fists and looked to the sky—the concrete ceiling. A crescent light fixture hung well out of reach. “My dad’s name is Herielt Thaymen. My mother was Retna Thaymen.”

“Retna lived in Juptos for a short period during the Ninth Year.” He raised his attention toward the fixture, as well. “I’m assuming you’re more knowledgeable in her status than our Mass Knowledge, though. Mind elaborating?”

No. “My brother—my brother’s name was Rejund. He’s—” Lenith paused. Finish the sentence, Lenith. He’s dead. He’s dead like everyone else blemished by the Thaymen name. “He’s dead.”

Sadness latched on. Muscles tightened. A single, purple drip fell from the hole that had dumped Lenith here. Her heavy head bowed. She wanted to beg Marlic to end her. At least then—

Another drip. The stain spread along the floor.

Marlic dragged the medic kit out from between the throne’s byzantine legs. The metal case scraped along in quiet monotone until it raised and landed on his lap.

If not for the situation, the bag would be unremarkable. Black, unadorned, with a golden zipper across the top. Lenith knew she would never fully escape the slow, deliberate clicking of its teeth, parting to reveal what waited within.

He brought forth two syringes. One was as long as Lenith’s pinkie, and the other twice so. Marlic handled them with gentle care. A screen built into the shorter syringe’s empty shaft blinked orange. A pinkish fluid filled the other.

“I noticed you eyeing this bag. Might as well get it out of the way now.” Marlic rose. He made few sudden movements, keen on keeping the prisoner at bay. “Do you know what this is?”

Lenith studied the blinking light, and then nodded. “It’s meant to test for lecribria.”

“Then you’re aware of why it must be done.”

She nodded again, weaker. “I’m not certain of the other one. Is it powders?”

“A standard inoculant.”

The first lance pierced her wrist. She hardly felt the sting. Closer to a bug bite than a stab. Blood burst into the transparent tube, followed by a fast fill.

Marlic tugged the needle out, sealed it with a cap. The screen flickered from orange to blue, and then to green before returning to baseline blue.

“What’s that mean?” Lenith asked.

She pressed her thumb to the red mark growing on her wrist.

“Congratulations. You don’t have a trace of lecribria in your blood.”

“You mean I’m not bleeding out the eyes and unhinging right now?”

Marlic tossed the syringe in his pack.

The second needle hurt. Wider than the last.

Lenith’s face contorted, and she looked away to hide her pain. Losing her own blood was never an issue. Seeing something pumped into her, however, shook her down to the core.

When she faced Marlic again, he had retaken the throne. A slate rested in his lap, backlit to reveal navigation panels. It was hard to tell where the screen ended, going over the sides like waterfalls.

“I’ll set a time at Fortunate Cores to have additional tests done. Everyone loves tests.” Marlic loaded a new form and added, under his breath, “It’d be so much easier to examine you right now at the Medifac. Appointment’s in six days at Three of Two. Onto another question. Do you have any education?”

“Dad taught me everything in his power at a Knowledge Bank, for five years straight.”

Lenith felt a shift in Marlic’s demeanor. He was relaxing and, as such, she began to unwind.

“Which Knowledge Bank?”

“The one in Hidden Ash.” She reclined more comfortably against the hard, curved backrest. Chipped fingertips danced on old wood. “We staked our claim of a one-bedroom hovel next door, too. Dehkie and Enieyu—and Furies—burned it to the ground.”

Marlic released a deep sigh. It crackled through a mild vocal digitizer. “Hidden Ash was the first field deployment of the Furies. Nothing remained?”

“I ran for my life. I don’t know. We never returned.”

She lied.

Marlic tensed.

Lenith continued. “There was this bowl I always wanted to go back and look for, though. It had a kind of cone monolith for a lid so you could pass it off as a sculpture and hide stuff inside. It had the prettiest inlays—” She stopped herself. He was the wrong kind to confide in.

“Sounds beautiful,” Marlic said. “What did he teach you at Hidden Ash?”

“A lot of history; for Korvilene and the rest of the world. The tomes and videos were from about twenty years back, of course, so some didn’t work. I avoided mathematics. Learned the basics. Couldn’t stand all the numbers. Dad taught me to write and read. That stuff.”

“You’re aware of the new cycles, though?”

“Both the Hadish and Chimayri Cycles, and seasons. Seasons were more important in the Gray when I was learning. We needed to know when to grow crops, harvest them, take shelter from the downpours, the ice, the fire.”

“Most of the kids we bring in are dumber than a Kangsworf tree,” Marlic said.

Lenith laughed. She regretted it, kept laughing anyway. She wanted to ask if he understood that a lack of intelligence stemmed directly from the malevolent actions of the government which stoked his existence.

“At least they might choose a better name than Kogin.” Lenith’s laugh deepened. The abdominal bruise panged. “We all have our angst years, I suppose. Even Chimayri.”

“Don’t hold me accountable for what I thought sounded intimidating when I was sixteen, all right? It’s Old Korvish for a battlefield mortician,” Marlic said behind a chuckle. “I can’t stand this name.”

“Then why not change it?”

“Can’t. Yes, the Chimayri allow us to start anew but we’re stuck with that new identity. In all seriousness—seriously, Lenith, don’t ever call me that. I beg you.”

Lenith attempted to teeter back in her chair, out of habit, only to have plates screwed into the legs stop her. Her cheeks creased in a smile. She bared her teeth to Marlic like she might a friend.

“So, Marlic’s your real name?”

“Believe it or not, I got lucky twice. My dad never outright said the name was out of spite but he didn’t need to. Then I bungled myself further by choosing Kogin.”

“Marlic’s not so bad a name,” Lenith said. Her hands crossed on her lap.

“You don’t have to live with it. You don’t have to type it out every day.” Marlic waved the sentiment away. “Listen, you’re a nice woman. You lived the way you had to. If we can laugh together then we can coexist. I’ve been evaluating you for Reintegration this whole time. You’re a firm success. You’re intelligent. Bright. You’ll need a place to stay.”

Lenith grimaced. “The Blocks.”

“I have somewhere else in mind. An associate of mine needs a new roommate. Of course, you’ll still qualify for Charity and meet with an Advocate every other day for near a cycle. I suggest you find a job as soon as your initial hold period lifts, to keep your mind busy.”

“Charity? Advocate?” She was struggling to keep up.

“You’re given an allowance of phinnies to spend at the Charity location closest to your residence. Which, by default, would’ve been the Blocks. The starting allowance is enough to get you by. Think of your Advocate as a guide. He’ll get to know you and ease the transition from Gray Area to city life.” He fiddled with his slate again. A part of the screen’s reflection pulsed red over his faceplate. “I know this all sounds overwhelming right now but—given time—it’ll come second nature.”

“Is your associate a Dehkie, too?”

“Far from it. She’s just a friend. This’ll cut her rent in half and cost about as much as the Blocks for you. I can alter a few restrictions and have you living with her before the end of the night if you want. You’ll be kind to her. No mocking.”

“Do I get to know anything about her first?” Lenith asked.

Marlic rewarded the question. He pressed a few spots on the slate and pointed to the glass wall. A denizen profile replaced Lenith’s details.

To the right was a series of runes divided into similar key categories. Name, height, weight, bloodline, et cetera.

On the left side was the picture of a modest woman with gloomy, green eyes and a dark brown ponytail draped over one of her shoulders. She had the brunet skin tone of a Wylo but lacked their lumbering stature. Laugh lines helped paint a portrait of what her grin might look like although she did not smile in this picture.

“I took this myself. Not too bad if you ask me. Her name’s Pelinda eymer Viscel. Born and raised in Esterel, so I hope you have patience.”

“She doesn’t speak Korvish?” Lenith asked.

“Oh, no, she does. It’s just her Korvish has never developed to its fullest. I’ll let you find out on your own. It’s cute,” Marlic said and willed the profile away.

“I thought you Chimayri killed all the people you call Impurities,” Lenith said. By the information she was given, Pelinda eymer Viscel met the criteria; dark skin, foreign origins, a deficient understanding of Korvish.

“We used to.”

“What happened at Rugerbin begs to disagree.”

“Some of my fellow officers still agree with the old ethics. Most, if I’m being honest. But Pelinda is alive for the same reason you are.”

“And that is?”

“I don’t like to give credit.”

Lenith pivoted the conversation. She didn’t care why she was alive; might’ve preferred the contrary at this point. Instead, she sought a singular reason to survive. “So, you have everyone who’s ever been in the city in there? In that slate?”

“Everyone in all fifteen remaining cities and some that haven’t been. We harvested several Eton Veil-era records that weren’t destroyed. Added notable outsiders. It’s comprehensive, to say the least. Why?”

“Can you check if someone’s here—or alive at all—for me? Eby Belinger?”

Marlic folded his hands over the slate. His hesitation revealed honest thought. “As convenient as this might sound, I lack the depravity to tell of other denizens.” He stood, slid the slate into a broad pocket over his suit’s breast, and gestured for the door.

“Now,” he added, “Let’s have you dressed.”