The street outside Duskwatch Headquarters was teeming with rioters. It was getting dark, and the people of Central Asenya were worried that the trial would go on late into the night. It was already beginning to snow, and forecasts had warned them about a blizzard.

The Council had been shrewd in delaying the event, knowing that with the thick crimson fog descending on most nights from Hell’s Teeth mountains, the rioters would be forced to give up and go home, or die. They were also shrewd enough to change the usual venue for such trials, which was Klentarg Keep. They did not want the riff-raff of Asenya pervading the shiny grounds and defiling the monuments at the historical site.

The city guards could not control the crowd — it seemed like the entire city had gathered — and some suspected there was support from outside the country. Citizens from Ey’dvar and Lod’var Asenya had also joined the revolt, which had resulted in the government’s decision to abrogate travel to and from Central Asenya.

But that did not stop Asenyans from causing havoc.

The rioters had amassed in great numbers. As usual, most citizens wore masks that glowed brilliantly, but this time there were no vivid colours; all masks were programmed to glow red. A few outliers who sported purple or blue were beaten or sent home by the apoplectic rebels. 

Pieces of red cloth were tied with strings around the Statue of Gaia, where ordinarily prayers would fly on pieces of vibrant-coloured cloth. And someone had snaked their way to the top of the statue and had hammered nails into the eyes of the stone goddess. The people were inordinately disappointed.

The protest boards they carried read slogans such as ‘Release the Captain’, and ‘We are not Breeding Machines’, and some were written with such wrath that the words made no sense. The crowd chanted Ach’qail — in common Asenyic it meant ‘relinquish’. It was used by the rebels to instil fear in the hearts of those who ruled Asenya.

The colossal clock tower at the city centre struck eight. The crowd erupted — demanding justice, seeking entrance into the steadfast walls of the castle. Disembodied faces with luminous masks shook the iron gates.

They were causing such a ruckus that the guards had to resort to harsher measures to keep them at bay. Guns were fired from both sides. The rioters shot to kill, even though they had rudimentary weapons. The city guards had to make do with stun guns and water hoses. 

A shadowy figure wriggled past the crowds and slithered around to the back of the castle. The walls were high, but the vapoury shade seeped through a gap between the stone bricks, easily making its way inside the courtyard. Managing to find its way to the stockade in the centre, it came upon the dungeons below. 

Tenantless cells lined both sides; only one in the corner was occupied. There was a single window high on the wall of the musty room that betrayed the cell’s darkness with the faint light from the starry sky, which was now beginning to turn red.

The cell’s occupant sat huddled against the stone wall. Her hair was pale as ash, and it veiled her face like a frozen cascade concealing a demure ravine. Her hands were bound in chains. Clad in a thin white linen gown that covered her entirely, she shivered in the gnawing cold, her heavy breath releasing great plumes of vapour. 

The shadow materialised in front of her — it took the shape of a man, dressed in dark robes decorated with rich embroidery. His hair was long and black, and he had a bony protrusion on his head. Eyes, ringed with dark veins, irides glowing blue, he watched her like a wolf in the snow. 

‘It is not too late,’ he whispered, kneeling close to her. Strenuously lifting her head, the prisoner’s shaggy hair parted to reveal one eye, dispassionately looking back at him. The tenebrous visitor continued, ‘I can get you out. I can take you home..’

She shook her head sluggishly, ‘I…’, she paused to gulp, to appease her parched throat, ‘I will see this through.’ 

‘You will achieve nothing! Prove nothing!’ said the man, becoming bellicose with her adamancy, but still maintaining a low pitch. ‘You don’t have to sacrifice yourself!’

The prisoner lowered her head and swayed like a rag doll. There was a grating sound as the doors to the stockade opened. The man dematerialized into vapour and hovered to the window above.

‘You will never be alone,’ the shadow whispered before escaping into the night. The prisoner felt something trickle onto the back of her hand. It was a dense liquid — dark and iridescent, but grainy. It seeped into her skin and disappeared leaving a trail of smoke. 

Three Duskwatch soldiers made their way into the cell, and stood awkwardly in front of the prisoner.

‘Cap…. Ma’am, you have been summoned for trial,’ said one, fumbling and looking at the other two. When the prisoner did not respond, the three of them respectfully picked her up and carried her away. 

Inside the grand hall of the Duskwatch Headquarters all was quiet. An occasional uproar was heard whenever someone opened the enormous double doors. The audience chamber was replete with members of the Asenyan Regime — hundreds of them. The leaders — the Council of Breeders of Asenya — sat upon five make-shift seats upon a rostrum, imitating the trial halls within Klentarg Keep. Seated in the shadows, none could see their faces. 

The members who stood below, were whispering, shaking hands and drinking wine. They were ordered to wait… wait until it was time for the few who controlled Asenya to drive out the resistance they faced. A large screen on the high eastern wall broadcasted the events. Similar screens were placed outside the castle and across the capital city, and all eyes were watching.

This would be a historic moment for Xerbia — the rebellion had sought to abolish the reign of the Council of Breeders — a regime as old as anyone could remember. The rebellion had been led by faction leaders, and other individuals with great influence across Asenya.

Amongst them was this prisoner, the only Sub-Human known to exist, who’s trial had a special significance. As the rebellion had reached its peak, amassing almost all of the populace, the strong arm of the Council was forced to supplant it. 

When the knell of the great bell in the city square reverberated across Asenya, and the Council indicated its approbation to begin the trial, the ash-haired prisoner was brought in and made to kneel in the centre of the rostrum on a circular dias, with her hands still chained together and a big red light shining above her like a menacing spotlight.

The prisoner appeared on the screen, and on all screens across the city. The crowds cheered. The uproar was so loud that the very walls that protected Central Asenya trembled.

A single figure wearing white robes strode onto the dias where the prisoner slumped. He had a long black beard and a dark furry face. But even through the mesh of fur one could see that he was aged. 

Bending close to the prisoner, he whispered, ‘I am sorry. I did everything within my power.’

‘Then you should have tried doing things outside your power,’ she hissed hotly, ‘like I did! Like we all did!’ 

The old man shifted uneasily and straightened. Turning towards the Council of Breeders, he cleared his throat and vociferously announced, ‘Respected Council of Breeders, Members of the Asenyan Regime, and other leaders of all Xerbia: Of the forty-seven rebellion leaders, only one remains. She has served the Council all her life, albeit the last few years were spent in this conspiracy. Her disloyalty is punishable, but the extent of that punishment may be eased considering her peerless performance during her years of service.’ 

‘How does she plead?’ A voice boomed from one of the high chairs. 

The old man looked at the prisoner. He was about to repeat the question, but the prisoner replied raspily, ‘Not guilty.’ 

‘Your punishment will be death, for sure,’ the old man replied in a tone that was meant to conciliate her ‘Be wiser! You may not be innocent, but a lie can save your life.’

‘You are not so innocent yourself,’ she replied hoarsely, ignoring his entreaty. ‘Let me speak, I’m not a coward like you…’ she let out a cough. Her parched throat did not let her speak any more.

‘Your tongue is too loud to trust,’ the old man gave a nervous, derisive laugh. ‘I can propitiate the Council! Let me testify and you shall receive their mercy,’ he proffered. 

For a while, the prisoner looked at the old man blankly, as the fatigue that had lingered upon her for so long briefly obfuscated her mind. Finally, shaking her head to clear it, she whispered, ‘Those “sages” will never show mercy. Let… me… speak…’ Her eyes rolled back as she began losing consciousness. Swallowing his discomfiture, the old man turned back to the Council.

After taking a deep breath, he reluctantly announced, ‘She pleads guilty!’ 

The upheaval from the rebellion was fiercer now. The Council members feared that the people would tear down the walls. Outside, the view of the night sky, which was now thick with a dense red fog and falling snow, assured them that they were safe — the rioters would give up and run home. 

The prisoner, now fading in and out of consciousness, snarled angrily at the old man and the Council. She tried to move, to stand up, but she was terribly undernourished. Her own body worked against her, stultifying her movement, and she crashed to the floor of the dias like an ungainly rag doll.

‘Kill her now and she will become a martyr,’ reasoned the old man shaking his head, which jiggled his beard. ‘Let her live, and she will be forgotten. What is your sentence?’ 

The Council took their time. They communicated with one another in hushed voices. Finally, the same booming voice replied, ‘Throw her to the wolves!’ 

The old man turned towards the members of the Asenyan Regime below and looked straight at the cameras that were broadcasting the trial, ‘Banished from Asenya! Forevermore!’ 

His voice resounded through the city, where the brutality and bloodshed had reached its peak. The streets were burning. Smoke bombs filled the night, coalescing with the crimson fog. Hand-made explosives, both chemical and biological, were thrown inside Council buildings across the city.  

‘All titles will be stripped!’ 

Though the city burned, most of the crowd were now dispersed, either running back home or to safe places where the fog would not kill them. Many had begun dying of asphyxiation; they had stayed too long in the fog, out of admiration and respect for their former Captain. 

‘Captain of the Duskwatch: rescinded!’ 

The Council members began leaving the castle in groups, towards heavily-armed hover-trucks that awaited to carry them away safely. 

‘Daughter of Svao and Family Name: rescinded!’ 

The blizzard now came down in earnest. The snow build-up on the streets had made passage difficult and many who could have lived, were caught in the blizzard and lost to the night.

‘First Sub-Human of Asenya: rescinded!’ 

Duskwatch soldiers appeared on the dais to carry away the now unconscious prisoner. Orders for exile usually meant leaving the victim with a few provisions beyond the borders of Asenya. No one was to know where, the location was disclosed only to a few. 

‘First Contact and Ambassador of Asenya to Orbita Cygnus: rescinded!’ 

When the last of the Council members had departed, the red spotlight was turned off, and the screens across the city blinked out.