“I was once helpless and believed that because I could do no harm, I would do no harm, and I called that moral. I was once afraid of my own potential and called that humble. It was only through the lawless entropy of the frontier and then on the frontlines that I truly came to understand the truth: the power of ideology, faith, and belief. This means holding yourself to a standard that you can only imagine. It means that the whims of your personal sentiment do not discriminate when discerning the righteous from the damned.

But these higher causes, virtues, and principles are the enemies of love. Man kills himself for honor; man kills another for justice. Love does the same thing, but I think these are far crueler. When you kill out of principle rather than sentiment, you commit the most treacherous act—coldly deliberate. Therefore, I believe that the greatest evil you can commit against the Earth, God, and yourself is indifference, as this world was bestowed upon us.

So I choose to love, to live knowing that I will suffer because this is the cost of the gift of passion, the gift of love. I refuse to deny my humanity. Principle is what ties us to the divine, not to the image the God made us in.”

Someplace, somewhere, somehow. In a warm cottage, a man takes solace only because he has a wife, daughter, and son to come home to. Camila sits there, the mundanity of the day beginning to weigh on her face. Camila's mom interrupts her idleness with a hand on her shoulder. The warm hearth behind Camila's mom casts a great shadow on her heart.

Camila was different—her skin as pale as the tundra, the blue sky reflecting off it. Veins stretched across her skin like a nebula, her eyes as pitch black as the cosmos, her nails as hard as a tempered sword, and her fangs sharper than a court jester's wit. Camila's mom looked at her with a muted tone of concern on her face. "Camila? Would you like to join us for supper?"

Camila turns away as if her heart were laid naked and bare upon her face. "No, you know how I feel about that," Camila says, her voice shaking as if the very proposition moved the foundation of her being, her heart collapsing in on itself.

A pensive look possesses Camila's mom. "Everybody loves you, Camila, even though you eat." Camila interrupts her mom, Laila, in a somber tone as if she were pleading, her voice as dry as the winter air.

"Please don't say it," she says. The embers from the hearth danced within the still silence. Camila's mother kissed her on the forehead and left, leaving Camila to eat in solitude and quiet. Each bite of her meal reverberated through her, reminding her of what she was not.

In the cottage's main room, John, Camila's younger brother, approaches Camila with uncertainty, but his curiosity overtakes him.

"Camila, what are you drawing?" John asks.

"It's a way to water our fields so we don't have to rely on the whims of nature," Camila responds—a look of excitement flashes across Camila's face. John looks perplexed.

"We're not arbiters or enforcers, so how can we not rely on the whims of nature?" John teases Camila, highlighting the whims of nature in a dramatic tone.

Camila laughs softly. "Well, John, water flows downward; that is a fact. It pulls upwards as we drink water. What if there was something that could imitate that? I considered using the river, but the water level is below the field, and we bathe in it. People have been getting sick. If we can come up with a way to constantly pull the water up from the well, we can both water our fields and have clean drinking water."

John takes a moment to process everything Camila says, his eyes darting back and forth as he pieces it together. "And you haven't presented this to the judge? Why? This would change everything, not just for our village but for the entire fief—no, the entire world!"

Camila laughed, tossing and rolling as if consumed with the madman's insight. "Easy there, megalomaniac. Let's try to solve our issues first."

John's elation fades as fast as it came. Camila's face shifts back to neutral, as if someone flipped a switch in her. "A megalomaniac no; I'm just the finest fighter in the village," John says in jest.

"Is that what you say after the girls laughed you out of the tavern?" Camila retorts dryly.

"Camila, whenever you're having fun, it's like you have a realization as if it's just not allowed. You just shut off; you drink all the energy from the room," John says cautiously.

"What do you know?" Camila asks with a violent hiss, nostrils flaring. John's eyes grow wide briefly, the dread bubbling up from his bowels.

Tears well up in her eyes. "You too, huh?" she says coldly.

John came to his senses. "Camila, you know I'd do anything for you." John's compassion turns to anger. "Why do you always do this? It's gone on for so long that it's as if you like being hated. Anyone in their right mind should and would be scared of you. You are not harmless. So why don't you stop lying to yourself because you're not lying to us. Accept it or never have peace. The other boys and I have training in the morning if you feel like being honest, come watch. It's of no consequence to me, you're still my sister, and my blood flows through you. But sometimes you forget that." John walks away, leaving Camila to her own devices.

While falling asleep, beams of moonshine illuminate Camila's pale blue skin against the brown fur blanket. She ponders her brother's words: "My brother only wants what's best for me. I've never really seen what he does. I've never even asked or displayed any curiosity, but he's always asking me what I'm doing. W...a...i...t...." Camila drifts off to sleep as the fog comes over her consciousness. 

      Camila is pulled to the depths of her mind; in her mind, she finds herself at the back of the butcher's house she hears John and Williams's voices, dragging the bodies of two girls into the pig pen her heart begins to race as she doesn’t know what to make of it. 

Camila's night mare  is broken by cold water on her face. She wakes up, looking around, as up is down and left is right. She tries to get her bearings.

"Welcome back to the earthly plane, dear sis," John says. Camila stares at John as if she can see him, but she can't; the idea of John pulling a prank on her as if they were children is just confusing.

John looks at Camila, a mischievous grin stretched across his face. "Yes, I know... but I couldn't allow you to run away, dear sister. Here are some of my old work clothes, and eat breakfast. You're going to need it."

Camila heaves the cold air that grates at her lungs and throat as she plops herself on the ground. Her respite is interrupted by the sound of her name being yelled. Camila perks up her head and darts around, looking perplexed. She spots a boy running down the village towards where she is sitting.

"Camila, the judge wishes to see you; he says it's important," the boy says between heavy breaths.

On her way to the judge's residence, she ponders what he could possibly want; her mind comes up blank. When she arrives at the judge's house, she's met by her mother and guards. Camila glances at the judge, then to the guards, then to her mother, and repeats it all again.

"Mother? What's happening?" Camila asks, her voice tinged with confusion and concern. Her mother turns away, and Camila knows what her mother is feeling but she can't understand why.

The judge's voice cuts through the silence. "Camila, what is this?" The judge asks, holding up Camila's drawings and notes.

Camila looks up with confusion. "It's a water pump," she replies.

The judge folds his hands behind his back. "And what does this water pump do, Camila?"

Camila's eyes light up with excitement. "It moves water up from the ground. I was going to combine it with the water wheel so that it would move water by itself."

The judge takes a good look at Camila and says, "Very well then." His heart pangs, but he cannot fight off an endearing smile, a smile sprung from paternal affection. She will never know who he is or what he did for her.

Camila grins and giggles, her unkempt hair as unruly as ever. "Why are you looking at me like that?" she asks.

"All the people in the village are my children, regardless of their strange inclinations or origins," the judge replies with a chuckle. "How is the training with your brother progressing?"

Camila puts her hands on her hips and postures up. "I'm on the path to becoming the finest fighter in the village," she says proudly.

"Oh lord, I see you've absorbed some of your brother's constitution during the time you've spent with him," the judge says with a smile before taking a pensive look. "Camila, what do you want to do with your life?" he asks, uncertainty in his voice.

Camila's eyes become glazed. "I don't know," she stutters.

"Have you ever thought of becoming a general or even a magus?" the judge suggests.

Camila looks at the judge with confusion. "How would I pay for the education?" she asks.

The judge smiles. "Well, Camila, with this you may even be able to become a noblewoman.

Camila pauses for a second. "Oh... Ohhh... Ohhh... What about my brother and my mother?"

"They are happy for you and they are going to help you produce it," the judge reassures her.

Camila processes what the judge says, freezes, a tear fights up her tear ducts, and a frenzy of warmth fills her heart. She panics and clutches her sternum. Camila thinks for a second and realizes... it's the love her family has for her.The morning sun peeks over the horizon, illuminating the sky in streaks of seemingly endless shades of purple, orange, and blue. The birds begin to sing, and the morning bell tolls, signaling the villagers to gather for breakfast. In the longhouse, John converses with his best friend, William.