Six years ago…  Central Asenya, Xerbia

Winter was severe this year. At least, that’s what the Asenyans of Ire’zol liked to believe, even though the meteorological report showed little change annually. And so it was agreed amongst the citizens that this farcical weather must be brought up as a topic of conversation every time they greeted each other for as long as the snow falls. They had had six months of meagre sunlight — only three hours a day. What better way to pass their time than complain about it? 

It was high noon, and the sky was still dark. Lieutenant Da’izura marched hurriedly through the stone corridors of the vapid stone castle, which had served as the headquarters of the Duskwatch. The floors were not polished, and the pillars and outer walls had fallen into disrepair. Other than Klentarg Keep, where the Council members lived, the upkeep of these other important buildings was severely under budgeted, and vastly forgotten. 

Da’izura’s superior, Zov’ha Svao, the captain of the Duskwatch, a respected authority amongst the citizens of Asenya, known for her just and kind ways, was currently off-duty, supposedly relaxing in her office. But urgent matters needed her attention. 

Parting the great double doors of the dimly lit bureau, Da’izura allowed herself in. She held a special rank in Zov’ha’s corps — apart from being her immediate subordinate and her personal guard — she was Zov’ha’s closest confidant. After the Captain’s transfer from the River Sentinels to the Nightwatch, they had become good friends. 

The captain’s office was spacious, furnished with luxurious equipment and decorated with rich tapestry. Paintings on enormous canvases were hung on the stone walls. The high ceiling held up a circular light source, which was meant to mimic a chandelier, but had never been turned on. The rest of the chamber was replete with military appurtenance neatly stacked and shelved.

As expected, Zov’ha had busied herself in her work even during her break time. Seated behind an oversized oak table, she stared at a screen. There was a bowlful of J’mah in front of her, and a pair of metal food sticks between her fingers. She had not yet touched her noodle soup. 

‘What is it, Daz?’ came Zov’ha’s tender, yet authoritative voice. 

‘Captain,’ Da’izura clicked the heels of the boots together and stood in attention. She didn’t move a muscle; her sleek metallic-right arm and heavily armoured shoulder were stiff. If the lights on her helmet had not been blinking, anyone could have mistaken her for an odd piece of furniture. ‘You have guests. Faction leaders.’ 

‘I can’t deal with them right now. Tell them to come some other time.’ It was typical of Zov’ha to send visitors away, no matter their social status.

‘They’re insistent.’ 

Must be the Calcars… or the Xalians. They’re the only ones who aren’t so radical in their ways. ‘Get them an appointment.’ Zov’ha stirred her food with her food sticks, ready to plunge into her meal. ‘They can’t just walk in here demanding to see me at any time they wish!’ 

‘Captain,’ Da’izura sighed as Zov’ha dug into her noodles, slurping loudly. ‘All four of them are here.’

Within minutes, Zov’ha had put on her long, uniform overcoat, abandoning her lunch she presented herself in the lower hall, where to her abject surprise, all four faction leaders had indeed gathered. Apart from them, only guards stood in attention near the exits, and Da’izura at Zov’ha’s side. 

Asenya was the only country where the masses had divided themselves into political factions based on their bodily anomalies — Pobans, Calcars, Mechanovs, and Xalians. It was especially strange since most citizens were a mix of these races, and they ended up choosing a faction when they reached adulthood. But Asenya being one of the oldest and grandest countries that escaped the Divine Purge with naught but a scratch, it seemed apt that old traditions would continue with little dissent.  

As Captain of the Duskwatch, Zov’ha was free to align with any faction — however, it was her half-Astraleid side that kept her neutral. Only the Council, and a precious few, including Da’izura, knew about her ancestry, and she liked to keep it that way. 

‘This must be a very important occasion,’ Zov’ha said, taking her seat at the head of the long table. ‘I’ve never seen the four of you gathered peacefully together in one room.’  

‘We’ve convinced the other factions to join our cause.’ It was the Mechanov leader, On’jar, who spoke first. A renowned Hyperprosthetist in the country, he had been recently elected to lead the Mechanovs. He was a mountain of a man, who wore a black cloak and dark overalls. His helm was smooth and shiny, with leather straps that veiled his face. Long scruffy black fur poked out from under his helm.  

‘Why am I not surprised?’ Zov’ha flashed a sardonic smile and looked around the table. The four leaders had immense respect for her but less so for each other. Though they had different political agendas, it seemed that they had joined hands to answer the need for change in the way Asenya was being governed. 

Inshia, the leader of the Xalians, who lived in her egg-shaped portable incubator said, ‘We are here to convince you to join the rebellion.’ Floating within the liquid, she gazed intently at Zov’ha. Her voice was static as it came through the speaker.

Zov’ha let out a derisive laugh, ‘Have you finally lost your minds? I am a Captain of the Asenyan Corps! What in Gaia’s name makes you believe I’d conspiratorially join the rebellion? I work for the council. I could have all of you thrown off a cliff for treachery!’ 

‘But you won’t,’ Yar’cax said. It had been only a few years since he had been leading the Calcars. Zov’ha’s eyes narrowed in melancholy. They had been secretly dating for years, and though they still loved each other, they had mutually agreed to separate a few years ago, since having an affair was against the code of the Council, and was deemed criminal. ‘Zov, all of Asenya is standing up against the Sages. Thousands appear when we rally… and you’ve seen the protests yourself!’

He was right — in the last six months, the protests outside Klentarg Keep had gathered so many people that it had been extremely difficult for the government to maintain order. 

‘Allow me to share with you the populace’s feelings through your own experiences, Captain,’ It was Nintoq this time, the leader of the Pobans. Monay, a common friend of Zov’ha and Yar’cax, was Nintoq’s son, who shared the same yellow-coloured long fur that covered them almost entirely. It was Monay who had given Yar’cax and Zov’ha the initial nudge to break up… for their own safety. And it was good advice. Nintoq brushed his furry moustache with his fingers and continued, ‘You turn twenty-five in a few years. You know what the Council has planned for someone of your… potential. And you are no exception once you come of age.’

‘As a citizen of Asenya it is my duty!’ Zov’ha argued, angered by their insistence. ‘The Council of Breeders of Asenya have followed these traditions forever! I understand that change is to come, but we are sure to continue our traditions… to improve our bloodlines!’ 

‘Are you sure you are prepared for that, Captain?’ Inshia’s gelatinous eyes twinkled with zeal. ‘As a potential citizen you will be treated as a reproductive machine. There is a schedule you will have to follow against your will. You will be bound to a Nursing House, labouring year after year trying to create the right progeny for the Sages. You would obviously be relieved of your post as Captain.’ 

‘It was how my life was planned!’ Zov’ha thumped the table with her fist, ‘It’s how all our lives have been planned! How dare you question our ways? It is for the greater good of humanity!’

Little did the faction leaders know that Astraleids do not bear children like humans. The Council knew of this of course and had other plans for continuing Zov’ha’s bloodline. But the faction leaders were right — she would be relieved of her duties, and she would be bound to the Nursing Houses to care for the young and be a puppet of The Council. 

The breeders’ mission was to attempt to alter the frequency of Asenyan gene mutations by inhibiting the fertility of people they considered “too mutated” and promoting that of those considered “almost human”. 

Something in Zov’ha’s conscience always made her skeptical of these eugenical traditions. She had spent sufficient time, both on- and off-duty trying to help the downtrodden. And in her egalitarian efforts, she had heard their whispers and their pleas. Most people adhered to the Council’s will out of fear — but the message from them was clear — selective breeding of humans was preposterous! This had caused a rift in her beliefs. She had thought about proposing alternative approaches to the Council’s forced unions and breeding rituals, but she knew her voice would remain unheard.

Now, the faction leaders themselves had come forward to demand change. 

‘Our traditions may have worked in the past,’ Inshia continued, ignoring Zov’ha’s vociferous deportment, ‘but things changed after we made contact with the Astraleids. Project Asenya would have been successful — you know that better than others.’

On’jar folded his arms under his black cape, ‘By our method less than two percent per generation have improved genes…’

‘Point seven percent this generation,’ Nintoq grunted. ‘It’s pathetic! And the mortality rate keeps increasing!’

‘…but with the help of the Astraleids, you and your sister showed promise! Do you know that it was the Council that denied further experimentation?’ On’jar finished. 

‘That project was terminated because it failed!’ Zov’ha said vehemently as she stood up and leaned on the table, since thumping her fist had had no effect. ‘None of my siblings showed signs of life in their petri dishes… except Zy’heria and me! Isn’t that evidence enough that the project was doomed?’ 

‘Hmmm,’ On’jar leaned forward to whisper. ‘That’s what The Council wants you to think. They’ve been lying to everyone.’

‘And how does a mere Hypro know anything about what goes on in Klentarg Keep?’ Zov’ha knew she was crossing a line, but she would not stand for insubordination in her own home. 

‘Fe’jar got a look at some of the old records,’ On’jar looked around the table. Fe’jar, his brother, was a Speaker for the Council. He was a mole working in collusion with the factions! Zov’ha took a step back… she was on the verge of commanding her guards to take the faction leaders into custody. But she wanted to hear everything first. ‘Though your siblings never saw the light of day, the Astraleids had plans to continue their research. Results from just one filial generation does not count as a failed experiment… they were hoping to get better results, but the Sages did not comply.’ 

‘Why?’ Zov’ha breathed. 

‘Because the Council members are addicted to power! They were too afraid to lose what they controlled to the Astraleids’ extropianism!’ 

‘Lies!’ Zov’ha growled apoplectically.

‘Zov!’ It was Yar’cax. He stood up, holding her furry hand in his placatingly. ‘We have been friends forever. You have to trust me on this one. It is true! The Council only seeks to deceive! Keeping the masses mutated and ignorant, they have complete control.’ 

‘Look around you! The people adore you, Captain!’ Inshia chimed in, seeing Zov’ha’s face turn ghostly pale. ‘They look up to you. You are brave and strong!’ 

‘Yes,’ Nintoq said, brushing his yellow moustache. ‘Your voice will be heard. If you stand with us, we can surely reshape Asenya!’ 

‘We are not here to force you,’ Yar’cax’s eyes were a deep, dark pool, full of warmth and understanding. ‘We only want you to know what the people think, and how they feel. Think about what we’ve said, Zov. The people need you… we need you.’ 

Present…  Neva, Xerbia

A bothersome light disturbed her slumber and every now and then a hiss or a beep distracted her from her reverie. In her head, she was Zovhara no more — but Zov’ha, Captain of the Duskwatch.

There were two spheres — her two worlds. 

In one, she was a child, living in the mountains. The tenderness of childhood; joy, laughter, all around her. 

She had an older sister who despised her and blamed her for their mother’s death. 

She had a friend. An Astraleid boy. They played in the thick snow that blanketed their backyard, a milky, foaming paradise. The distant thundering sounds of the cracking ice from River Ch’huin reverberated like the thumping of their carefree hearts.   

But the boy and her sister had to leave for Orbita Cygnus. They had no choice but to abandon her. Zov’ha had no place in the orbital city — she had not inherited the “exaglia” like her sister had. And so had no control over Autoichorium. She was a failed experiment. 

Alone, she grew up in the cold heart of the mountains. 

She had a lover. Her romance with Yar’cax blazed with the passion of youth, but it burnt out abruptly, like a choked flame in the absence of air. Yet, they remained friends to the bitter end. 

Zov’ha’s life dramatically changed during her captainship — she was no longer the raving, rebellious teen without a dream. She had been a fierce leader, and the citizens of the city had come to love her for her sense of justice. 

Her term in the Duskwatch witnessed the worst uprisal in the country — the people were defying the Council of Asenya, seeking to overthrow the elite few. And Zov’ha was caught in the crossfire — but she had made the right choice in the end. 

The second sphere was her life now — an exile. She had changed once more, to become aware, cautious. She had seen the world… but not enough. She had answers, but even more questions. 

And she had unexplained powers… something she had yearned in her childhood, just so that she could be accepted amongst her own people. 

The moment her eyelids parted, she saw him — the Astraleid boy. There were others behind him who she recognised, but could not name. Her face, body, and limbs felt numb, as if she had slept on one side for too long. 

But there was something else… a pleasurable aide that seemed to keep all her pain at bay. But she could not determine what was soothing the ache that throbbed within. The agony that was inflicted by her own blood. 

Shutting her eyes once again, she drifted into a dreamless slumber.