Years ago there was a coordinated attack on the northern-most population of Eiseros, forcing them to flee and scatter and hide among the Narans. The Northern High Queen – taking on the Naran name of Gwen Lovelace – unknowingly fell pregnant with Crystal in the aftermath of that scattering even as she was seeking allies.

Only one Monarch was willing to hear her out and upon seeing her, he coveted her, so he offered Gwen an alliance, but in return he demanded her hand in marriage, despite knowing that she was already in a relationship with someone else. This Monarch then went on to betray her only months later and impregnated a fourteen year old, who had to be rescued from that Monarch by his adopted brother.

In the aftermath, Jacques, who was the father of Gwen's child, managed to find a rural town where they could hide and their daughter could – hopefully – grow up in peace... Even if politics and the easily bruised ego of a paedophile king meant that she would never know the truth of her heritage.

Then, ten years later, the Hunters found them.

===

They sat, terrified and tense, fingers laced together as the gun fire and shouts continued to sound through the speakers. On the security feed in front of them a tall, androgynes figure in form-fitting, articulated, gold-sheened red-brown armour with an antlered helmet was slaughtering the military personnel with nothing more than what looked like an ancient Egyptian sword. From what the scientists could ascertain, it seemed to be made of a tungsten alloy. The armour, by contrast seemed to rely on energy shields of some kind.

All that tech and materials science and they chose a sword. The psychologists had concluded that their enemy likes to fight and chose to use a sword because it's more personal. That love of fighting meant that trying to negotiate peace wouldn't come to anything; the fight is what they want.

“They're getting closer.” Someone said.

“I'm aware.” The head of state answered.

The room shook with a boom.

Then the blast shook and rattled, resonating from a direct impact.

“The other one...!” One of those sitting nearest the head of state breathed, suddenly remembering there were two breaching their bunker.

“The antlered one is almo- Thay're here.”

The space in front of the blast door buckled inward, then ballooned to make room for two figures. One was in the antlered armour and the other was wearing nothing more than a red t-shirt that was shiny wet in places, a jean coat, black denim pants and welder's boots. He was fine-featured with a narrow chin and a sharp nose.

“We warned you.” The armoured one said, sounding like a deep-voiced woman, “We warned you centuries ago about the plague. We warned you about the madness of inbreeding your ruling class. We warned you not to enslave. We warned you about the dangers of your species pursuing eugenics. We warned you about the Nazis and their hatred. We warned you to leave us alone. And you ignored us each time. And each time we were right. All the while you killed us, no matter how many times we tried to save you. Then you killed our children. MY children. There was always going to be a reckoning at some point, a breaking moment when we've had enough. I just happened to be the one who got there first. I am telling you all of this so that you understand why this is happening, so that if your species somehow survives this they will remember and maybe learn this time. Understand this; the destruction of your civilizations is the culmination of all the lives your stupidity has cost, of all the damage and pain and misery that you have inflicted on us. Your species is beyond any kind of salvation... So this is the century in which it ends.

You should have listened to us. You should have left us alone.”