As the sun began to set, and Himra, the third moon, started rising, Vivin finally made it out of the scattered rock shards. In front of him was a soaring rock column. It glowed orange in the light of the setting sun and gave off an oppressive energy that caused Vivin to shiver. He slowed his run slightly. It was a monument he recognized, not from sight, but from descriptions he’d heard. The tall column of rock that looked like a giant had smashed through its side with a club, leaving a jagged hole near the top reminiscent of broken teeth. Around it were more shards of rock, and past it was an expanse of dry red sand.

This was the entrance to the Guimol tribe’s lands. His heart rate picked up, and he increased his pace. If he could just make it to one of their settlements and ask for sanctuary, his tribe would not be able to forcefully take him back. He’d just raced passed the massive column when something flew out from behind it and tackled him. Vivin and whatever it was rolled on the rough ground a few feet before coming to a stop. Vivin fought against his attacker and managed to pull himself out of the grip and roll to a stand.

“Taman!” he yelled, as he recognized his second father. Before he could come to terms with the sight of his father, camouflaged in a red cloak, someone grabbed him by the hair and pulled him back. He felt three sharp extended claws against his neck.

“Hurry up and bind his mouth and antenna, Yular.” His yermal, first father, said. 

“Yermal?” Vivin asked in confusion. How had they gotten ahead of him. “How..” He didn’t have time to ask questions. His taman approached to bind him, and he knew the rest of the tribe would not be far behind. His mind ran through all his options. He could sing a call for help. If he was lucky, patrolling members of the Guimol tribe might hear and investigate, but would they make it in time. Even if they did, he was barely in Guimol lands, so it was debatable if he would even have the right to ask for sanctuary should some random patrol find them. No, he had to fight and get deeper into Guimol territory. His tribe would not carelessly encroach upon their lands en masse unless they wanted to start a war.

He struggled against his yermal’s hold as his taman approached with a cloth. The nails dug into his neck. 

“Be still unless you want me to decapitate you right now,” his yermal whispered. 

Vivin stilled, not because he was afraid of the threat; after all, now or later, the result of running away for a male would always be death. He stilled, and calmed himself, then inhaled deeply.

“No!” his taman yelled and leaped to block his mouth, but it was too late. 

Vivin closed his eyes and released a song. He projected his voice as loud as possible, and the song of blinding light shattered the air. Even behind his closed eyelids, he could get a sense of the brightness of the light. His yermal’s grip on his head loosened, and Vivin burst out of his grasp. He started running with his eyes still closed. The light faded, and he opened his eyes. On all fours, he sped deeper into Guimol lands.

“Vivin!” one of his fathers yelled. Vivin was too confused to tell which one, and it didn’t matter anyway. He heard them stumbling behind him, still blinded by the light and chasing him based on scent. 

Vivin wished they had ambushed him when he was still among the stone shards. Now here in open lands, their temporary blindness would only limit them so much. Vivin’s psycor twisted in knots, and he began to draw his mana again. His antennae buzzed, and he quickly sang a song for speed. It wasn’t a song he had mastered, as he wasn’t a hunter, but it was enough to give him a boost. Not enough to escape. He was tackled from behind again. He landed with his back on the ground. Before he could get up, a weight landed on him. His yermal, eyes red from the effects of the blinding light, held him down with his knees. His yermal quickly covered his mouth and grasped his antenna.

“Very impressive, Vivin. When did you learn such a song? Did your mother teach you?”

Vivin stared at the twisted expression of his yermal. Bloodshot orange eyes, yellow-green skin, and white hair, usually stylishly sleeked back, now messy and caked with red dirt. Even if he could answer, he wouldn’t have. There was nothing he had to say to this man.

“Vivin.” Vivin glanced to the side as his taman reached them. His hair was cropped short, and his eyes, like Vivin’s, were green. His voice was filled with pain as he spoke again. “Why would you do this? You know the consequences.”

Vivin closed his eyes. In a harsh dry voice, his yermal answered in his place. “Why else, Yular? His foolish mother raised a foolish son.”

“Do not speak of Rilan, that way, Grion… do not,” his taman said.

“Oh, and what good have either of them done. Because of both of them and their foolish, childish ideals, our family has been disgraced. After we bring him back, we will be lucky if we are not all executed. If you and Rilan had raised him correctly… If Rilan hadn’t been such an idio….Ahk!”

Vivin bit into his yermal’s hand until it drew blood. “Do not speak of my mother like that.”

Thwack!

The slap slammed Vivin’s head into the rock. His Yermal grasped his cheeks, and his slightly extended nails drew blood. Vivin squirmed, but it only made the nails dig deeper into his cheek.

“Vivin!” his taman yelled.

“Shut up and stay there, Yular, or you will be next. I have put up with this nonsense for too long. If I had never been forced to marry Rilan, my life would have been so different.” His grip grew tighter, and Vivin whimpered.

His mother’s first marriage had been arranged. Her parents had partnered her up with his first father, Grion, as he was from a well know conservative family. They’d hoped he would be able to reign in her impulsive nature. From what he’d heard, the marriage was terrible from the beginning. They agreed on nothing and despised the sight of each other. It wasn’t until their second marriage, which brought in his second father, Yural, that unity was brought to the household. 

They both loved Yural, and he acted as a way to bridge their differences. Soon they had Vivin, and for some time, their family was wholesome and at peace, even happy. But his mother’s nature could not be kept at bay. It started with the stories she would tell him in secret, but even that wasn’t enough. She wanted badly to see what the world outside of their tribal lands had to offer. She wanted to see aliens descend from the sky, and at night, when she would sometimes see the blue and green trails of ships flying into and out of the planet, her desires only grew stronger. What was it like outside this planet? What was it like to be among the stars?

The event that sparked her death occurred a month ago. Just like when she was a child, traders from the Guimol tribe arrived as usual, but this time, they were ecstatic to share the news of a recent encounter with some aliens. The talk was quickly shut down by the tribe’s leader, the Himfel, but not before it reached his mother’s ears. She immediately decided that they would be moving to Guimol lands. It wasn’t unheard of, people could petition the Himfel, and usually, requests were granted, but with his mother’s history, and recent events, her request was denied, and no more could be made.

When she stayed quiet, they’d all thought that it was over. Then five days ago, the Himfel’s guards dug up their boroughs in the middle of the night and dragged his mother away. The next morning, her body was displayed at the center of the village, along with the letters she’d been exchanging with a man from the Guimol tribe. They had been planning to arrange a wedding which was the only other way she would have been allowed to leave the tribe. From the letters, it seemed that they really did care for each other, but underlying it all was the fact that this was still a ploy to escape the tribe. As this was her second offense in ‘rebellion against the purity of their species,’ she was put to death.

Vivin held back tears as he remembered the feeling of clinging to his mother’s corpse until he was dragged away. The next day, a full tribe meeting was called. Vivin, despite his grief, was still forced to play his flute as part of the band for the event. After a day of highlighting the pain from the betrayal of a tribe member, the idea was to celebrate the loyalists. People who upheld the tribe’s ideals. As each honoree was announced and their deeds recited, Vivin soullessly played his flute to celebrate them.

Then the next name was called. “Grion Hemgar-Hemtiol.” Vivin’s breath had died in his throat.

 The one who had given those letters to the Himfel was none other than his yermal. 

“For unmasking a vile ploy to subvert the superiority of the Himfel and the sanctity of our tribe and species, despite being personally attached to the criminal. You’re bravery and selflessness if duly acknowledged and appreciated.”

Vivin had been so shocked then. His flute was frozen upon his lips, and his mind remained blank until he returned home. He did not agree with everything his parents did and had an especially difficult relationship with his yermal, but he loved his family. First, his mother’s death and then the revelation of a betrayal. He’d buried himself in his borough for three days, and in that time, his shock had burned into fury.

He glared up at his yermal, now with eyes filled with rage and pain. People had always said that aside from the eyes, Vivin was his exact copy, and he’d always been proud of that. Now the resemblance disgusted him. This man, with the face Vivin would grow to have, had betrayed his family.

“Traw..tor.” Vivin squeezed out through his held lips, and tears flowed down his eyes. “Trai..twor.”

“Traitor? Vivin. I saved us all,” His yermal yelled in a pained voice. “I did that for you! To protect you and your taman from your mother’s wickedness, and this is how you repay me.”

“Grion, stop. He is in pain.”

“He will be dead!”

“He is a child. We will convince the Himfel like we talked about. We will protect him.”

Vivin glanced between his father’s. His yermal shook his head with a look of pity.

“You are so naive, Yural, so naive and weak to think that life is that kind. There is no saving him, and we must end him with our own hands before the Himfel.”