A Brief History of Aetherytes

Science is fun!

The suit thrummed with intense power. Perhaps a little too much power. The pipes and cables that coiled around the Au ra scientist's body weaved a web of dangerously volatile energy as glowing blues and pinks mingled in the various tubes and conduits.
Whatever, it was too late for such thoughts now. She needed this. After the banal task of coding the intranet system that Riley had asked for help with she needed the excitement and unpredictability of real science; though she would admit, only to herself of course, that coding the little cat pictures into the system had actually been fun.
“Hold the camera steady please, assistant.”
Her ‘assistant’, a lalafell, mid-yawn and half asleep, almost dropped the device as her sister's voice pierced to the core of her mind in a droning hum.
“How long are you going to keep doing that, Anth? Can’t you just, you know, talk normally?” the lalafell pouted, tossing the recording device absentmindedly between her yellow mittened hands.
“Until I am sure of the experiment's success. Stay focused, if you would, Ama- assistant.” The buzzing tickle once more seeped into Amata’s thoughts, each syllable scratching at the portions of the brain reserved for decoding speech.
The chip, installed at the base of Antheraeas skull, felt hot and prickly as it transmitted her thoughts through the nether. She would have to fix that, but so far she was enjoying the ease with which she could communicate when not relying on constructing clumsily formed sentences with her mouth.
On the plus side, she sounds less irritated and angry this way, Amata thought adjusting the framing of the camera to make sure she had a view of the whole cluttered room.

Antheraea stood at one end of the room adjusting dials and valves across the suit, checking levels, readings, and making last minute adjustments. As usual her lab was a chaotic mess, with books, documents, and half forgotten experiments strewn around like the remnants of a curiously scientifically minded tornado; but she had cleared a space near the far wall just big enough to place a roughly 3 foot circle of tape on the ground; she hoped it would be big enough.

What she was attempting was dangerous. She had no illusions about that. The unstable aether that flowed around her suit was very volatile, but dangerous as this was she was confident that the concept she had scribbled on the bathroom wall in crayon, just days before, was feasible.
With a deep breath she tapped a device that sat just above her left horn and a visor slid closed across her face, it’s two half’s meeting in the middle with a quiet hiss, and after a brief pause lighting up in constantly shifting flickering hues. It was a strange device, it’s two hemispheres covered in a subtle honeycomb pattern of tiny lights and sensors creating the illusion of one solid panel; to Amata they looked like two giant moth eyes.
The room briefly became pitch black until the sensors warmed up and the monitors inside the visor flickered to life revealing a kaleidoscope world of colour ebbing and swirling around her. She could just make out the shape of the room and its contents by watching the shifting clouds of energy colliding with the otherwise invisible objects. Perhaps she should have added regular sensors to allow her to see better, but it was the bright blue threads of aether weaving through the clouds of energy that she was really interested in, and the sensors she had devised amplified that data making the pathways around her crystal clear.
“Make sure you are recording. I wish to review my work later.”

Amata, still half asleep, barely had time to activate the camera. One minute her sister was in front of her, and the next her body had scattered into a dense cloud of tiny blue motes of light that flickered and flashed like miniature thunderstorms within the nebulous glow.
It wouldn’t be correct to say that she moved across the room. No, it was more like the room moved around her, the walls stretching like elastic the far wall contracting and pulled like putty to the point where the cloud hovered. Amata, feeling her mind pulled towards that singular point, watched with wide eyes. The room contorted and tangled inwards threatening to break apart, and right on the moment of collapse it gave one final lurch and reality snapped back, only now Antheraea -no longer a cloud- stood at the far end of the room her legs wobbling and threatening to give way.

“I-I thunk ih wergud,” her tongue numb in her mouth made the words tumble out in a mumbled slur.
Her entire body felt fuzzy as if enveloped in a blanket of static, her head was spinning, and her nose was bleeding, but this was a success, right?!
She had essentially turned herself into a portable aetheryte; her soul and body attuned and anchored to the crystal at her chest as she moved, capable of shedding the restrictive mortal shell and traversing the streams of aether that stretched across the star, no longer restrained or obstructed by the physical world and the flesh that bound her soul. In simple terms she was constantly teleporting to a single point -the crystal on her suit- which kept her in a permanent state of aetheric dispersion, able to maintain that form while moving and interacting in a limited capacity with her environment.
She couldn’t wait to review the footage, to see her short but remarkable journey from an outside perspective.
“Uh, Anth, we- we have a problem…” Amata spoke quietly as she carefully backed away towards the exit.
Antheraea, still dizzy and struggling to stay on her feet removed her visor and glanced angrily over at her sister and the camera in her hands. The camera with its lens cap still on. It’s lens cap. Still. On. Lens. Cap. On.
"A-amata... You... Kidding... Me!"
Antheraea threw up, and then her suit, as if consciously choosing that moment to exemplify the chaos, caught fire.

Science is fun! Amata thought as she sprinted from the room, a fiery -both emotionally and literally- Antheraea not far behind her.-End-

Breakfast at Nuciel's

Coffee for Two

Solenae drank in the atmosphere of the Songbird Cafe. A small shop in a neutral territory. The decor could only be described as charmingly cosy. Old wooden tables, a warm log fireplace in the winter, and large windows that let in the fresh breeze and sunshine in summer. It had become her favorite place to meet up with her daughter and talk, or just to relax by herself and lazily read through her research notes.

After coming here for so long she had gotten to know the owners quite well. A pair of Miqo’te. So different in appearance and mannerisms they were like the sun and the moon.
The tall one, Nuciel, had dark blue skin, and strikingly purple eyes. While the small one –even by Miqo’te standards– Llwynos, was a pale sandy colour, with dazzling emerald eyes. Or eye, I should say. For all their differences they shared two things in common. Both had beautiful white hair, and a single icy blue eye that offset the brilliance of the other. Nuciel was a shy and bashfully adorable young woman. The only time she showed confidence was singing on stage, which she did every night as the candles were lit. Llwynos on the other hand was boisterous, and crude in her language. Her bravado was only tempered when her partner would call her to the stage to play a piano accompaniment to her vocals. The confidence that oozed from the smaller woman would dry up, but despite her nerves, she was really rather good.
It was a relaxed and quiet place. Though on more than one occasion Solenae had witnessed the little Miqo’te practically pick up a rowdy late night customer and throw them out the door. Her deceptively small frame, and long casual dress, hid a well toned body that was clearly used to physical activity.

But barring the occasional kerfuffle, it really was a pleasant place to discuss business or leisure. And the fact it was a “cat cafe” provided the perfect lure to get Antheraea out of her lab for some fresh air and time with her mother.
“Mother?”
Yes, a pleasant place.
“Mother?!”
“Mmm?” Solenae blinked as her eyes slowly regained focus.
“You trailed off mid sentence…” Antheraea sat with a faux frown. She hated showing her joy at the place, but it was clear from the way her eyes lit up and followed the two Miqo’te around whenever they would appear from behind the kitchen doors.
“I’m sorry, I was just enjoying this rare, and pleasant, moment of time with my wonderful daughter. Where was I?”
“You started talking about an assignment. Before you went all glassy eyed. You know I have important work.” She said sulkily. A small smile that crept across her lips as she sipped her sweet tea betrayed her true feelings however.

“Ah yes. I’d like for you to go to Kugane and assist Ry’leth with his endeavors.” Solenae smiled sweetly as she raised her coffee to her sanguine lips.
“Assist?! I am not his assistant mother! Why do I have to assist him!?” Antheraea bristled.
“Now now, Anth. There’s no need to be petulant. His research coincides with yours, and he has had a remarkable breakthrough with it, from what I hear.”
“A remarkable… I doubt he has done anything of note. Probably just stringing you along so he can drain more of the family fortune for-” she waved her arms “for whatever it is he pisses away our money doing!”
The Au’ra crossed her arms angrily. To hear mother praise him, and use his given name so casually, had really gotten under skin.
“Language, young lady. And you mean my money. I know you don’t like to travel far from your research, but you are the only one knowledgeable and skilled enough for him to turn to for guidance on this matter. He needs you, and isn’t that what research partners are for?”
She chose her words carefully so as to not set her daughter off again. She was an excellent scientist, with a nigh on unparalleled mind, but she could be so stubborn, single minded, and temperamental, Solenae thought. That tunnel vision focusing on her own work really limited her potential.
“Hmph. I suppose it can’t be helped. Who but me could solve whatever problem he has dug himself into.”
Quite happy with praise from her mother, Antheraea sipped her tea in silence.

“With that sorted, how about we stay here for some dinner and music? I’ll treat you to some cake.”
Antheraeas eyes lit up at the prospect of cake and getting to spend more time in the cafe. As much as she wanted to return to her work, she just couldn’t say no to seeing the Miqo’te couple perform.-End-

Dream of the Sanguine Chamber

drip,

Drip,

DRIP,

The sound was infuriating. The Arctinae clinic had been recommended to him as one of the best, but how was a man supposed to get any bed rest to fight a fever when someone had left a faucet running?
With a sigh the man hauled himself out of bed, his foot hesitating inches from the cold hard wood floor. The old man in the next cubicle had told him repeatedly not to get out of bed at night while spinning some nonsense yarn about getting lost in the "red room". He was probably just confused, mixing up some rule meant to keep the patients in bed with some half remembered dream. Preposterous, he thought, placing his bare foot silently on the floorboard. He respected that these places had rules and regulations, but they could not expect him to sleep through this incessant dripping; and if they weren't going to fix the problem then he would.

The clinic was dark this time of night. Unusually dark. There should have been at least some light seeping through from the windows but beyond the cold glass panes there lay nothing but an eerily motionless void. Careful not to make a sound the man crept quietly through the silent corridors, stopping at regular intervals to listen with bated breath to pinpoint the source of the drip that droned unwaveringly in the otherwise deathly quiet of the night.

It wasn’t hard to find the source. With nary another sound to be heard the drips reverberated thunderously through the hallways leading him straight to a door of unusual size and shape. Smaller than the other doors he had passed by it had a strangely organic shape; all crooked lines snaking their way upwards, an oily black frame hugging the deep crimson wood like the twisted and gnarled limbs of a contortionist, both frame and door glistening sickeningly in the murk.

From beyond this barrier that bordered on the grotesque the dripping was deafeningly loud. This was it, the source of his sleeplessness. Beneath his palm the aberrant Door handle felt slick and slimy, and with no small amount of trepidation he pushed it open before his courage waned.

The room was bare. Bare floorboards. Bare bulb hanging from bare plaster ceiling. Bare wooden slats covering the walls; flecks of white paint clinging to them like remnants of desiccated flesh.
Motes of dust swirled and spiraled around the lone light as it cast a sickly pale hue across the otherwise unmoving monochrome interior. The stillness was deceptive though.
If he watched carefully he could swear the room breathed. The wooden slats groaning and creaking, the gaps between them opening and closing like the rib cage of some arboreal abomination.
In his fevered state it seemed like the walls were alive, and not just the steady expanding and contraction that sat at the very edge of his perception. No, there was something else. Something behind the bare wooden slats.
His sense of self preservation screamed at him not to look. Curiosity won out.
Placing one sleepless eye to the largest gap he could find he peered into --or perhaps out of-- the belly of this beastly room.
His pupils expanded to adjust to the darkness beyond, and he knew he had made a mistake.
Behind the wall was truly alive. A roiling palpitating wriggling mass of sanguine bodies scurried and scuttled in the space beyond. Their bodies convulsing and writhing in abstract fractals that bordered on insanity. Something deep within him told him that if he stared too long that he would lose all sense of self, and yet he couldn't pull himself away. The squirming mass was captivatingly beautiful and equal parts repulsive, but each new shift in the maddening patterns drew his mind towards the obscene agglomeration.

He pushed his face hard into the bare wooden slats not seeming to care or notice as the hard roughness rubbed irritatingly against his face. He wanted to get closer to the fluttering figures. To know them, as they would know him. His eyes danced around following their erratic movements, each twist and shift of their frantic waltz pulling his slowly splintering mind into their fluttering maelstrom.
He could feel it now, his fevered consciousness being unwoven, unmade, it’s threads unnaturally stretched and twisted as the moths pulled them through the slats one by one, gobbling up the pieces greedily as his entire being sunk into the tumultuous sea of sanguine bodies that churned and cascaded above him, below him, all around him now.

Above, or below him –not that it mattered now– the moths swirled in a synchronous spiral as they slowly spread out creating an opening in the dense mass of dancing bodies. An unfathomably vast array of stars, galaxies, nova, nebulae, and strange etheric forms filled the negative space between the ever quickening spiral of moths. He could feel their bodies, tiny wings, tiny voices, tugging at his psyche, pulling him upwards in their spiral. All his senses expanded and contracted simultaneously. The fever that had plagued him the better part of a month broke and he fell to the ground in a pool of cold sweat. The moths flickered out like tiny points of light as they burst against the ceiling. Their once vast swarm thinning as one by one they ascended taking a small part of him as they departed; the tiniest sliver of a soul.

DRIP,

Drip,

drip,

It's My Nameday and I'll Cry if I want to

Surprises? I hate surprises

The songbird cafe. A quaint cafe and restaurant nestled in neutral territory. The songbird cafe. A secret hub and network for resistance against the empire. You would never suspect the charming miqo’te couple who owned the place to have been so entrenched in the fight against the Garleans. But they had a shared history, and many a reason to hold a grudge. Today however, a different kind of fight was afoot…

“You could have warned me that you were inviting EVERYONE!”
Antheraea Sulked, holding Amata tightly on her lap like a little plush doll. The little lalafell didn’t seem to mind though. She swayed back and forth, happily eating food from her big sister's plate.
“And miss seeing that sour look on your face? HA!” Acherontia guffawed, slamming a large fist onto the table.
“Just the four of us! You said just the four of us! I agreed to leave my lab because JUST. THE. FOUR. OF. US!”
“We didn’t want to ruin your birthday surprise!” Aphra interjected calmly trying to defuse the situation.
The usually placid cafe was full of bustle and noise as the Arctinae family -none of whom could refuse a night of free booze and revelry- took up nearly the entire building.
“You know I hate gaudy spectacle and celebration. And did you have to invite him too!?” she gestured angrily toward the bespeckled man that was currently cornered by her aunt, Ymeira. The poor soul. The movement almost knocked Amata from her lap.
“Hey!” She grumbled through a mouthful of food.
“Anth, please. He is your new research partner, and it would be good for you to get to know him, and not be so… hostile-”
“I’d have said murderous, personally.” Acherontia interrupted, earning her a stern glance from Aphra.
“Not to be so hostile, this time. Mother agrees.” Always the mediator, Aphra spoke with a serene tone. She knew invoking mothers name would at least quell some of the anger Antheraea felt. <
“I have told mother I don’t need a partner! I am quite capable of doing research by myself. This is all so embarrassing.” The Au’ra tried to hide behind the large collar of her coat.

“Come now sis, lighten up and live a little!”
There was a thump as her brother jumped up onto the back of their booth and perched there like a bird. His cat ears twitched and his tail swayed back and forth. Always so dramatic.
“Sharlen, not you too. Every year it is something different, why do you all insist on making me suffer!” Her tired eyes glared at him, but there was less intensity than she reserved for her other siblings –excluding Amata, of course.
“Hey, you’re our big sis, we just want to make sure you have a good time.” He grinned.
“Yes, we would never want to make you suffer.” Acherontia chuckled, barely hiding the barbed teasing behind her words.
“Anth, we love you, and are ever so proud of your work. But you can’t stay cooped up in your lab all the time.” Aphra smiled sweetly.
“I was having a good time, when I was in my lab… I like my lab…” Antheraea muttered to herself. Where was Gio? Maybe she could convince him to spirit her away from this nonsense party.
She looked around the room, her family, her very large family, were all in various states of drunken rowdiness. Her mother –always the perfect host– was of course abstaining from alcohol. Her cousin, Eirfyn was busy trying to convince her sister to arm wrestle, while Eirnos tried to dodge around her to the makeshift dancefloor. Aunt Ymeira still had a sweating Ry’leth pressed up against a wall, towering over him imposingly with one arm on the wall above his head; This at least gave her some small semblance of joy. And, ah of course, there was Gio. Her cousin was, as she should have expected, dancing. There was no one to save her from this Hellish torture.

“I hear it’s someones special day?” A voice interrupted the sisters' arguments.
“Oh… oh no.” Antheraeas eyes went wide.
“Yes, a very special day indeed. And you can’t have a special day without a special treat!”
The two proprietors of the Songbird stood at the head of the table holding a moogle shaped cake. The smaller of the two, Llwynos, reached across the table and placed the cake in front of Antheraea, lighting the candles with a single match held in her magitek arm.
While she did this her tall companion, Nuciel, began singing a birthday tune. Her voice was high and sweet, much like the cafe's namesake, and before long the whole family had joined in –many slurring the words, or getting them completely wrong after a few too many drinks.
“This. Is. Hell.” Antheraea muttered.
Her cheeks, hidden by the coat collar, had turned a rosy pink, but despite her anger at the celebration they had forced upon her, she was struggling to suppress a smile as her heartbeat quickened.
They were singing for her. The cats were singing for HER. And the cake, so precious… she wouldn’t let anyone cut it. She would take it home and preserve it.
She hated celebrating her birthday. She hated surprises. But maybe this time it wasn’t so bad?-End-

Gris and the Dream Factory

Part 1: An Ubique Seminar

Lights twinkled on the empty stage. A tiny constellation of twisting hues drifting and mingling in hypnotic patterns that merged with the hazy but subtle scent of incense that drifted from the wings.
The anticipation in the auditorium was palpable. Fresh faces awaiting the unknown, returning faces hungry for more.

“Do you have trouble sleeping at night?” a confident commanding voice rang out across the hall as the lights suddenly went dark. Everyone held their breath as the darkness and silence stretched on before a spotlight lit up the centre of the stage revealing a man basking in that brilliant light.
His two toned blue-grey hair was immaculately styled. Long at the top and short at the sides, it was parted down the middle with a perfect separation of the light and dark falling either side.
His attire was just as immaculate and just as monochrome. A black shirt, black tie, black pants, and a grey waistcoat providing a slight contrast. Against this monochrome outfit his bright turquoise eyes almost seemed to glow behind a pair of stylish rimless glasses. On the stage bathed in light he cut a charismatic and charming figure.
“Do your joints ache when you stand up too fast. Does your wife hate you. Is your husband unfaithful. Has your boss ignored the years of hard work and sacrifice you put in only to have the new guy promoted over you.”
At each rhetorical question he paused briefly to point at carefully selected audience members. He had done his research. He knew exactly who those questions needed to be directed at; strange though that he would almost seem to point to himself with that last one, placing his half closed hand thoughtfully to his chin.

This spiel, this opening act, would run on and on as he paced back and forth across the screen against a backdrop of changing imagery projected larger than life behind him.
He would promise the world. Pills to fix everything, dreams made real, the secret to becoming wealthy; whatever they wanted to hear he would tell them that only they, Ubique, could give it to them. They would leave tonight thinking Ubique had the perfect product for them, even if they themselves didn’t know what that was. And then, near the end he would dangle the promise of even greater reward in the near future. It worked. Every. Single. Time.

“We trade in dreams. And all we ask in return is for you to share those dreams with us.” he closed his eyes as if in sleep and took in the ebb and flow of hushed murmurs that spread through the auditorium.
The funny thing is this might sound like generic marketing and self-aggrandising. But… It was kind of true. Many of those leaving the seminar would dream tonight. He would come to them; and they would want more of whatever they imagined Ubique could offer.
Opening his eyes once more and carefully glancing from one face to the next he launched into the closing section of this segment.
“You” he pointed, “could be the next head of state,” he pointed to someone at the back, “The next great communicator,” he spread his arms out to encompass the whole room, “The future is unlimited. And, you know, we have the future in this room with us right now,” pause for effect so the audience could look around, “The future is you. All of you; with our help.” His arms and body were working overtime here becoming more animated with each word; every gesture a plea, almost begging them to let him help them as only he could.
Panting slightly he took a bow and as the spotlight dimmed he would appear to vanish from the stage replaced by a projection against the rear curtain that read ‘Gris will return in phase 2’.

Part 2: The Man Behind the Curtain

The other members of Ubique were waiting for Gris as he ducked through the curtain to the backstage area. Jaune with her bright red hair and mismatched green and orange eyes. Brun with his sandy blonde hair and close cropped beard. And Rouge, the tallest of the group sporting warm brown hair and a chiseled jaw speckled with rough stubble.
Each one had their hair styled in a matching side parting that partially covered one eye, and they were dressed in matching white shirts, black tie, waistcoat and formal trousers.
“Wow, just, WOW. Two words, INC. REDIBLE!” Brun put his arm around Jaune as he gave Gris an admiring fatherly smile, “Honey, our son is going to be a STAR!”
“Firstly, Brun, You’re an idiot. Second, if you want to keep that arm then I suggest backing away… Oh, I don’t know, a couple hundred malms? You’re messing up my hair.” The words were hostile but the underlying tone was a playful banter only seen between those with a close bond.
“Speaking of hair. Gris, sit, now. You got too carried away at the end there and I need to fix that bird's nest before you head back out.” Jaune put on a motherly, teasing voice, as she ducked under Brun's arm and jabbed a finger at Gris’ chest pushing him towards a chair and mirror that stood atop a stack of crates.
Reluctantly sitting down Gris cast his eyes to the mirror and the reflection of the tall brown haired Hyur who had so far remained silent.
“Rouge, give it to me straight. How was it?”
“Two words. Inc-” he was cut off by a searing glare from Jaune, “Ha! Sorry. It was great though. I see some big fish out there. Bigwigs from Ishgard's underbelly, mostly, and you had them all eating out the palm of your hand!” He raised a fist in front of him, his deep voice full of energy.
“I reckon this will open a whole host of doors for us.” he nodded sagely with a big goofy grin.

Gris sat back and admired his visage in the precariously placed mirror. Jaune was brushing off a few loose hairs from his shirt and returning her tools to their place on her belt when an almost imperceptible movement in the mirror caught her eye. A phantom moving silently out of the shadows.
Spinning quickly and lowering herself into a combat ready crouch she brandished her scissors like a dagger seconds away from striking at the approaching phantom.
“Who- Holy shit… you frightened me half to death!”
She stood and scissors still in hand rushed forward and hugged the phantom.
“I could have stabbed you!” Jaune admonished the phantom.
“Yo-u. Would. Have tri-ed.” The phantom responded in husky broken fragments; each word a whisper that fell softly from her lips like fresh powdered snow.
Gris spun his chair to face Jaune and the phantom and chuckled.
“Eirnos, how does it look out there?” He cocked an eyebrow.
He liked to let the intermission drag out. It gave the guests a chance to talk amongst themselves and speculate on what would come next. After all, he had promised them the perfect product already, so what more could he offer?
“You’ve gotta stop hiding in the shadows and hiding that pretty face of yours!” Jaune chided.
She now stood behind the phantom, Eirnos, arms wrapped around and fussing over her trying to remove her helmet.

Eirnos stood in stark contrast to the other members of Ubique with their matching and immaculately tailored suits. She was small -like a doll in Jaune’s arms- and was clad from head to foot in armour. A dark helm with a pale faceplate wrapped in the hood from a tattered red cloak. Dark chainmail like a long dress reaching her feet, and over it a faded and battered gold chestplate and a single shoulder guard.
“Quiet. No trouble. No. Fuss.” She directed this last raspy statement towards Jaune, though she didn’t try to stop the taller woman from fussing over her.
“Hey, how come Eirnos gets a hug?” Brun pouted with folded arms.
With the helmet removed Jaune happily nuzzled her face into Eirnos’ short snowy hair and without looking up flipped off Brun.

Part 3: Welcome to the Dream Factory

“30 seconds. Get in position.” Rouge called out in his deep joyous voice.
Gris shook his limbs out and did a few quick stretches, cloaking himself in a cool shroud of charisma as he prepared to step out once more into the spotlight.
“Welcome to the dream factory.” he whispered quietly as he ducked back through the curtain.-End-

Journal Journal on the Floor

Notes, documents, even entire tomes lay scattered across the desk and floor. The scene looked like a wave of paper had cascaded through the lab scattering sheets of scribbles and sketches like the forgotten carcasses of some creature from the depths on the shores of the cold marble floor.
And in these shallows a figure splashes. Papers old and new are flung into the air like an angry geyser as Antheraea kicks and picks her way through. Searching.

“Where is it?!” she hisses angrily.
A hard leather bound journal, inconspicuous in its simplicity, but standing out strangely to her fiery ringed eyes.
“This one isn’t even mine! FUCK YOU RY’LETH!” she screams to the empty room.
This stupid journal that Ann3 had brought to her. Stupid stupid journal. She had assumed it was her lab partners and like the devious devil she was, had intended to pilfer what secrets and scientific discoveries he had logged within. Intended, being the key word here. The book was empty. Not a single jot of ink. But it looked so old and used. That infuriated her. Why would Ann3 bring her this junk?!
She threw the book with all her might –which admittedly wasn’t much– against the far wall where it fell spine down and opened to an unexpected sight. Images, and words.

Scrawled across the page a single repeated phrase, “Solve the nonagon to infinity” and an accompanying 9 sided shape.
She scrambled across to where it had fallen, forgetting completely about what she was even searching for to begin with; this new puzzle had captured her attention entirely.

The little scientist flipped back and forth through the book from cover to cover. Every page had the same words, but the images were always different. If you lined them up as you fingered through the pages it was almost as if the shape was shifting and morphing in an unsettlingly alive way. But despite the morphing there were always 9 sides.

It was a puzzle she had seen before. It had haunted her dreams as far back as she could remember. The taunting face of the stranger who posed the challenge. Well, face is a bit of a stretch. The stranger, that tumultuous cloud of churning pinks, blue, purple, speckled with fine lines of pulsating lightning had no face. But the smug expression of superiority could be felt pressed into her mind like a searing brand as its “voice” buzzed and scratched at the back of her consciousness.

This was obviously a joke. A prank. One of her sisters? Ry’leth? No. Who knew of her dreams, surely no one, right?
A gloved finger angrily stabbed at her tomestone. She would make a call. She would get to the bottom of this.
The small rectangular screen in her hand lit up and a face looked out. Her own face, but for the lines and illuminated mechanical panels that belied their similarities.
“Anth? Is something up you look… angry- er, angrier?” Ann3 spoke with measured calmness.
“I’m not- Angry. Merely puzzled,” Antheraea huffed, looking away briefly as her hair bristled.
“Ok ok, what puzzles you today?” Ann3’s voice was soft. She was used to dealing with her creators' wild outbursts and unpredictability.
“This book, the one you gave me. Where did you get it? Why did you give it to me? What is it for? Who gave it to you, and why?” Antheraea angrily waved the book, practically slapping it’s open face against the screen as if trying to force the accursed thing through the display and back into the hands of her trusted assistant.

There was a long pause as Ann3 tried to process the barrage of questions with a furrowed brow.
“W-what do you mean?” the robotic simulacrum of the tiny scientist trailed off confusion in her eyes and the timbre of her synthetic voice. Who gave it to me, what kind of question was that, she thought.
“You did…”-End-

Knockabout Clowns, and Quick-Change Comedians

The Songbird Cafe - Circa 1556

“Hey! You get back here right now!”
Nuciels voice cut through the low afternoon din like a crystal bell. But the target of her command paid her no mind.
Running through the throng of customers waiting to be seated was a young redheaded miqo’te. He artfully dodged chairs and tables, and leapt over a small occupied booth. The golden haired woman enjoying her coffee regarded him serenely with ghostly green eyes. In his arms a bundle of food pinched from the kitchen. Judging by his size and appearance he couldn’t be no more than 10. But gods he was fast, Nuciel thought as she panted to keep up.
“Yoink!”
Just as the exit was within his sights he suddenly found himself floating. Slowly he was spun around to come face to face with the smaller, but scarier of the two proprietors, Llwynos.
Holding him by the scruff of the neck with her metal magitek arm she grinned and flashed her pointed teeth.
“Now where do ya think yer going in such a hurry?” Her mismatched emerald and sapphire eyes sparkled menacingly.

“Llwynee, thank… you,” Nuciel panted catching up to them.
“Now see here young lady, I told you last week it is impolite to just snatch food from the kitchen like that! If you had just asked, I could have given you some of the leftovers again.” the tall Miqo’te reprimanded the youth.
“Lady? Ma’am there’s most certainly a misunderstanding. I am very much a sir, or rather, a dashingly daring, and I should emphasize, manly miscreant.” The young Miqo’te tried to put on his most charming smile. The effect of which was dulled considerably by the fact that Llwynos chose that moment to release her grip and dump him on his rear.
“Manly misc- but… no, no no, that can’t be right? I… last week… I caught you stealing and…” Nuciel looked utterly perplexed.
“Last week? My sweet lady, I have never frequented your establishment before this day. And I doubt there is anyone nearly as handsome that could be mistaken for yours truly. Of that I assure you.” He winked. Or at least it should have been a wink. Instead he found himself blinking three times, jaw dropping open.
“Miss Mondfell! Miss Mondfell! Would it be alright if I took home some left…overs…” In the doorway stood a second young redheaded Miqo’te.
Her jaw dropped open as she leapt backwards, pointing her fingers at the other redheaded youth, who in turn leapt to his feet and mirrored her pose.
“Scoundrel! Who are you who would steal my likeness!” the two young Miqo’te exclaimed in unison.
“Ah, twins!” Llwynos nodded, as if she had known all along.
“So that’s the trick! Well, you almost had me, now in the kitchen the pair of you. I will be taking our food back and calling your parents!” Nuciel grabbed them both by the ear before they could scamper and led the way.

“Ok, so let me get this straight. You are both called Loxly?” Nuciel furrowed her brow.
The young Miqo’te nodded solemnly. Their previous bravado washed away by Nuciels stern lecture on the law.
“But until today neither of ye had met the other?” Llwynos tapped her metal hand on the table.
Again, a solemn nod.
“And ye are most definitely not siblings?”
“Tis the truth, Miss Llwynos, I swear!” Loxly, the male, exclaimed.
They had been over this multiple times, but it was still a rather difficult tale to accept. The two youths were, for all appearances, identical, save for the girl being blind.
“And you both lost your parents? That’s why you have been roaming around here trying to steal food…” Nuciel placed two large cups of hot chocolate on the table in front of them.
“You poor things, you should have just told us. We can hardly fault you for that.” She brushed the boy's hair back gently from his eyes. She felt bad now for the long and lofty lecture she had given them.
“Llwynee, a word in the other room?” Nuciel turned her amethyst and sapphire eyes to her partner pleadingly. They were gone for some time before re-emerging into the kitchen.

“Ok, we believe ya. The look of surprise on both yer faces was most definitely not fake.” Llwynos nodded.
“And, given that you both have nowhere to stay…” Nuciel took Llwynos’ hand in hers and smiled.
“...We would like to offer you a place here. There will be work of course, and only until you feel ready to move on… or you know- you could stay with us, w-we wouldn’t mind… ahem, but we can offer you a roof and warm meals at least. What do you say?”
The two Miqo’te youths turned to each other.
“I, uh, I mean, it’s better than stealing, right?” Loxly raised his eyebrow, trying to keep his composure.
“Y-yeah! And, well, I guess I always wanted a brother… and Miss Mondfell is ever so kind.” Loxly’s white eyes swam with tears.
“I reck’n it’s fate that brought ye both here today. Ye may not be siblings by blood, but yer souls must surely be connected,” Llwynos nodded sagely.
“Then it’s settled. Welcome to the Songbird Cafe. Welcome home, Loxly, Loxly.” Nuciel smiled brightly.-End-

The Life Arboreal with Sidea Slafrael

When will the forest speak?

The witch raised her hands to the sky, pale fingers writhing in unfathomable shapes as she intricately weaved her aether.
Motes of green light bubbled up on her skin like Tiny beads of sweat, their light growing in strength as they wobbled uncertainly before detaching from their fleshy womb.
Their light was calming. The colour of the first day of spring. The warmth of the morning sun. The feeling of balance returning to the world.
It was tedious work. Healing a star was nothing like healing a person. The magic may be similar, the arcane and archaic concepts sharing the same roots, but it was slow, and so very tedious. But she didn’t mind.
As she wove long forgotten spells through the air she could, from the very periphery of her senses, already begin to feel their effect; Animals approaching cautiously, their guarded eyes tinged with curiosity, watching warily as the strange woman wove her spell. None of them let curiosity win to brave the unnatural blue water that the witch stood at the center of. This moment is what made it all worthwhile.
“Chirrrp”.
“Shirrrrrrp”.
“Sideaaaaarp”.
The high pitched chirps -or were they words?- cut through the silence of the small glade.

Sidea blinked. The bone white makeup that adorned her face and body had run and smudged leaving ghostly slug-like trails as it dripped down her body and face. She blinked again, wiping her sweat beaded brow and looking around in confusion; though in truth she saw nothing, her pale moon eyes not really moving as she stretched out with other senses, reaching out for the tiny threads of nature that were spun all around her. She always lost track of where, when, and even who she was when performing the ritual.
Wet. Everything, wet? Oh, of course, a pond.
Though it wasn’t particularly deep, and though she stood on tiptoes, the strikingly blue ceruleum tainted water rose up nearly to her chest.
Her short pointed ears twitched again as the familiar chirp-words rattled around her head again.
“Yes, I hear you.” she sighed and with a kick of her bare feet headed towards the shore.
An average Roegadyn would have had no trouble wading through the shallow pool, but Sidea was small even by other races' standards, and so she kicked and paddled her way through the water following the chirps that came from dry land. Near the edge of the water-filled hollow her hand brushed the cold metal of a downed Garlean ship that stood pointed to the sky like an accusatory finger while its engine oozed blue tinted blood into the ground and water.

Her ritual makeup almost completely washed off, hair damp and laden with leaves, she finally emerged from the pool and flopped backwards onto the ground bedraggled and exhausted. It always took so much out of her, and she never knew when to stop. But even so soon after her latest attempt at purifying this area results could be seen. The blue of the pool more subdued and the murky bottom of the shallows becoming visible.
But still. Her body ached, and she could feel the void tugging at the back of her mind. She was thankful for her little alarm clock, who had by now sidled up next to her, gently resting her beak in Sideas hand.
“You always got my back, don’t you, my dear?” She gently pet the little bird now sitting on her chest.
“CHRRRP!” angry.
“I- I hadn’t forgot to rest, I was almost done.”
“CH-chrp” Gentle accusatory.
“Hmph, it’s not like that. Yes, it feels good to connect to the world like that, but I can stop any time I-”
“CHRP? CHRRRP CHRRRRRRRP” Scolding.
“Only a li’l of the green leaf, I swear! Drowned if I passed out? Sweetie, you are much too fretful. The gentle flow of the currents would cradle and return me to dry land.” She gave a sheepish smile. It really was only a little, she didn’t lie… she may have omitted the fact that it was a kind strong enough to knock a primal on their ass.
“Chr-” interrupted by the approach of a curious Deathmouse.
“Squee?” Question.
“Oh, hello there.” Sidea blearily held her palm out to the curious critter.
“No, I’m afraid not yet, little one. It’s still volatile, but it’ll be safe to drink from and play in, and bathe in, and bring… and… your family, yeah, the wife and kids, soon. I give my solemn vow.”
Her eyes began to close. Her body felt like dead weight but her thoughts floated threatening to become untethered to ascend into the pink and blue hues of the sunset.
As her mind drifted happily into slumber she sensed the movement of something massive approaching the pool. A peaceful soul. A goobbue. Perhaps she should ask him to help move the wreckage of the goodship Garlemald… yeah, tomorrow, it would wait until tomorrow.

She had no fear of falling asleep exposed to the elements and things that lurked in the settling twilight; she was, after all, the one known as “The Sleeping witch” thanks to a propensity to fall asleep anywhere anytime. She had given of herself to the denizens of this glade, and in return they would give to her. The leaves of the trees sway and rustle a gentle lullaby. A cool breeze circles her, cooling the sweat from her brow. The grass nearest to her bowing and bending to press against her hands and legs like a cocoon of tiny green fingers. A sign of welcome. A gesture of thanks.

So, when will the forest speak? It already has, if you only stop and listen.-End-

Of Hummingbirds and Roegadyn

“Stop the fight.”
The soft gentle voice cut through the shouting throng of onlookers in an unnerving way.
The little old lady in the unassuming Kimono had barely raised her voice, and yet everyone had heard her, and everyone had listened. “Old lady” might have been a little unfair though. The half-elezen-hyur was closer to middle-aged, though with her simple practical garment and green blue hair tied up in a neat bun, and wrinkles around the eyes you could be excused for thinking otherwise. To Laika of course, who was angry, and young, anyone older than twenty could be considered “old”.

In the pit the referee had run out raising her opponent's hand in victory. What farce was this?
“I… can still… fight…” the young Roe panted.
Laika had grown tall since her time in Limsa. Still a young teen she had gained a fair few inches and put on considerable muscle mass; a natural result of fending for herself, and putting her skills to the test in many venues such as this, as she traversed the continent alone. So she might have been boastful, but wasn’t entirely lying when she claimed she could still fight.

“Oh, I’m aware.” The unassuming little lady whispered as she stepped into the pit.
“Then why are you stopping the fight!? What kinda scam are ya running here?!” Laika bellowed, angry at having her possible victory snatched away. She brushed her long red braided hair out of her face and narrowed her eyes angrily at the interloper.
Without even glancing her way the little lady casually removed her heels —she was even smaller than Laika initially thought, barely 5 feet by her reckoning— and loosened her simple Kimono slightly at the waist, putting on a show of stretching her legs to test her movement in the quite frankly restrictive outfit.
“That fight is over. Do not dwell on it.”
With a smooth motion the lady gestured to the opponent who was being escorted out of the pit by the referee. It was hypnotic. The way she moved was like smoke lazily twisting on a summer breeze. So casual and seemingly random. Laika’s eyes followed the slow twist of her limbs. So enchanted by it all she hadn’t even registered that the lady had closed the distance between them. It was only on instinct that she raised her hands into a defensive position. A good sign, thought the lady in the Kimono. But she would see how far those instincts went as her arm blurred and a small bare fist struck the young Roe in the sternum.

There wasn't much force behind each strike, but her arms moved like a blur hitting Laika over and over again in the same 3 or 4 places; each successive strike causing more pain than the last.
The sheer speed of those hands was quickly overwhelming what little defense Laika could put up, and under the incessant onslaught her guard was dropping, and there was nothing she could do to fight back.

Laika had never fought an opponent like this before. She had faced off against strong fighters, fast fighters, nimble fighters, you name it. But none had ever moved like this and with such accuracy. To her pale blue eyes the lady's arms flickered in and out of existence, each movement causing a fluttering sound like the beating of tiny wings.
Sweat dripped from her nose, her vest clinging tightly to her body as she tried in vain to put some distance between them. Her outfit was much more suited to this kind of environment. The simple vest and shorts gave her the most freedom and ease of movement. Her long legs gave her better reach and conversely better mobility when it came to backing away from the relentless attack. At least that’s logically how things should have been. Reality was much different though. For every step backwards she took, the kimono lady would close the distance instantly, almost floating across the floor, her bare feet barely brushing the dusty dirt floor of the pit.

She was really on the ropes now, and she knew it. If she didn’t pull off a miracle she would lose. Or worse. Brought down to one knee she couldn’t understand why the referee hadn’t intervened. This wasn’t like some of the other fighting pits. There were rules –some, at least– and medics on hand. So why were they standing by while this old woman wore her down to nothing?!
She was angry. Angry at her earlier victory being stolen. Angry at no-one stepping in. Angry at being beaten down like she always was.
“ENOUGH!” she screamed.
Her senses felt sharper, the lady’s movements slower. Her blood was on fire, her fists were hot, and for a scant moment she could feel all of her strength bubbling up like a raging volcano.
And in that split second Laika found an opening. She struck upwards, her body following as she rose to her feet like erupting magma, and her fist landed solidly against the old lady’s nose.

It was a good hit. Laika knew it, the crowd knew it –loudly showing their appreciation– and the old lady knew it.
She stumbled backwards five or six paces and brought a hand to her face. Scarlet bloomed on her fingers as blood flowed freely from her bruised, and possibly broken, nose. She wiped blood and what looked like soot from her face with a delicate hand.
Her smile widened, and it was only then that Laika realized the lady had been smiling this whole time. A gentle and sweet smile that radiated from her face and spread to eyes that twinkled in the dim light. Laika also noted that this whole time the lady’s eyes had been half closed. She peered kindly through the slits of her eyelids despite the blood that dripped onto the dirt.

“Such fire within you. I knew you piqued my interest for a reason.” The old lady in the Kimono looked at Laika with a mix of kindness and pity.
“You’ll do fine. I’m sorry for this next part. But you need to understand what real fire is.”
As she spoke the old lady made complex movements with her hands.
It was as if she had launched herself from a cannon. A small flash of light and then she was crouched before Laika, one fist inches from her abdomen.
The air between them seemed to bubble and distort. Heat rising and the smell of burning stung her nostrils. And then she was sent flying out of the crudely marked ring, her body crumpling against the chain fence that circled the edge of the pit. The smell of burning intensified, and it took the young Roe a few moments to realize that the little lady's fist had left a smoldering hole in her vest.
How had she done that? Laika thought frantically. A trick surely, but… how? The woman’s hands were uncovered. She didn’t appear to be carrying a weapon, and the sleeve of her yukata had burned away revealing bare arms.
Her head was spinning. She had been hit hard, the air knocked out of her lungs, and her muddled brain struggling to make sense of the attack. She wasn’t given time to think though. Another loud crack and flash of light and her opponent was upon her once more, her bare foot swinging down towards Laika’s shoulder, crackles of electricity arced between her tan skin and the metal of the fence. Laika barely had time to roll out of the way; she could feel the hairs standing up across her body as the foot grazed her shoulder, the electricity crackling between them leaving it numb from the shock.

“It’s a trick… just a trick…” Laika muttered to herself as she tried to catch her breath and put some distance between them, but her legs were like two dead weights and her shoulder wouldn’t move from the shock.
This is madness! no one fights like this, she thought. Her mind raced. She had been beaten so thoroughly. Even her lucky hit hadn’t seemed to bother the old lady, despite her somewhat frail appearance.
She closed her eyes waiting for the finishing blow. But it never came. Instead she felt the cool dampness of a cloth being pressed against her singed stomach as multiple hands checked her over.

“The fight is over, thank you for your time.”
Laika opened one eye wearily to see the old lady talking to the owner of the pit.
“If I may, I’ll be taking this one with me. I trust there will be no objections. And could you forgive her debt owed to your establishment?” The lady spoke softly and politely, but it was clearly not a request.
“Of course, of course. We are honored to have had you enter our ring, Madame Aves.”
Honored? An understatement. To have had the almost mythical Hummingbird fight in his pit tonight had likely brought in more money than they had made in the last month, and she knew it; though she hated the spotlight.
The owner bowed deeply to her trying to take her hand and… kiss it? What an absurd man he was.
“It does one good to stretch one's wings, on occasion. And please, Kolibri is fine. I am not old enough for Madame just yet.” She brushed his hand away and knelt beside the young roe.

“You think my fighting style is just a trick, hmm? How would you like to learn that trick?”
Her eyes remained half closed, but the sliver of bright magenta that peered out from behind those lids sparkled with untold promise as she held her hand out to the young girl.
Yes, she hated the spotlight, the attention, and the adoration. She had swore Nuciel would be her final student. But like a moth to the flame she was drawn to it. And in this young Roe she had found someone with promise.-End-

The Science of Sleep (Deprivation)

Antheraea sat hunched over her lab desk. Weary eyes scanning through thousands of lines of information as they streamed across her terminal. She had run so many tests. There had to be something.
Wait. There. An anomaly.
“It’s… eating? The aether… that can’t be. What manner of virus eats aether like this?” Her brow furrowed.

Without turning to look, her magitek hand picked up the sample of flesh she had taken and held it up to the light before her.
“What are you? So… vampiric” She shook her head.
“Antheraea, what are you thinking? Vampires? Such nonsense. Must be tired. I need to unravel this mystery. But with nothing to test the virus on…”
Briefly she looked to a syringe laid out on her work bench. It had been prepared with a small isolated sample of the virus. Through narrowed eyes she looked down to her own arm, unable to see them through the thick coat she wore, she could still feel the veins beneath as they hummed with the blood that pumped through her system.
“I could… no.” she shook her head before turning quickly to look behind.
From the darkness of the lab she could have swore she heard footsteps. But peering into the murky darkness of the unlit room revealed nothing.
“You’re letting this vampire nonsense get to your head.” she muttered, closing her eyes.
“But honestly, what did you do Ry’leth? It’s remarkable…”

“Wonderfully remarkable…” She paused. Was she really praising Ry’leth now? She must be delirious from sleep deprivation. Though… in her mind at least, she could admit that he had done something noteworthy. Pulling a soul from a distance, even if it wasn’t the intended one, was fascinating. And to pull something else with it. Something alien and unknown? It frustrated her that she felt a little envious of him.
She tilted her head back and let the warm water flow across her face to hide the redness of embarrassment that crept across her cheeks.
Wait. Water? She opened her eyes and blinked. Why was she in the shower? Did she even have a shower in her lab? The answer was no. So how…
She recognised the room of course. It was her ensuite at home. It’s pink and white tiles set in a tasteful minimalist pattern. The shelf above her sink neatly arranged with a plethora of cat-themed cosmetics, brushes, and toiletries.
She knew the room, but she knew not how she had got there. Her head felt fuzzy, heavy, full of thick fog. She remembered footsteps, a conversation, and then… Damn that man and the puzzle he had laid at her doorstep. How long had she sat awake at her desk trying to make sense of the mess he created?

She buried her face angrily in a soft sumptuous feathery pillow. Had someone brought her home? Her body must be on autopilot. Once again she had no recollection of moving from the shower into her bed chambers. Though her mind screamed and fought. It’s sole desire to unravel the secrets of Ry’leths experiment; It was futile. Her body was at breaking point, and her mind, not far behind, was shutting down. Her brilliant compartmentalized brain switched out the lights of the myriad thought experiments one by one until the softness of her luxurious bed claimed her consciousness and ferried it off to sleep. No matter how hard she tried to hold on, not even Antheraea the brilliant, was without limits.

Dreams came quickly. A castle in the void. Her sisters transformed. Monstrous. Vampires. And fluttering red wings. Feverish dreams teetering on the edge of nightmares. And in this dreamscape her thoughts spun as her mind ticked away, computing and arranging the data gathered over the last 3 or 4 days since she had been thrust into the turmoil of Ry’leths experiment. Even in sleep, there was science to be done. Mysterious to grasp. Truths to unravel.-End-

Solenae Had a Little Lamb

Prologue: You'll keep me from harm? - Circa 1520

"The child is cursed."
That’s what her father had said. How cruel. To label this innocent bundle of life as such when she had barely drawn her first breath, it broke Solenae’s heart.
So what if her newborn sister had two rows of tiny pointed teeth? That was no reason to say such remarks about his own child! She thought.
“Don’t worry little lamb, I will protect you.” she would whisper to Ymeira before bed every night.
And protect her she would.

Part 1: Working 9 to 5

“19, huh?”
The bespeckled lab technician eyed her dubiously and snuffed out his cigarette.
“Says here you worked in other labs?” His eyes grew ever more suspicious.
“Yes sir, several in fact. You can see my references at the bottom there.” Solenae smiled sweetly.
It never changed; the dubious looks, the carefully selected words with their hidden meanings, they would always doubt her despite her contributions and achievements. She was used to this. She had faced this same routine of scrutiny and condescending glances ever since begging her way into her first job; at the age of 13 she had been cleaning up experiments, organizing and restocking chemicals, and getting their coffees, their food, delivering documents. All the jobs they felt were beneath such lofty scientific minds. She was used to the doubtful look of such men. But as hard as the work had been these last six years she had observed everything. Soaking up information like a sponge while the scientists worked around her. Reading through their research and whatever books they left scattered around while she cleaned at night. In her heart she knew she was ready for this next role.

To say she needed this job would be an understatement. It had never been a choice for her. Some kids dream of becoming scientists, inventors, doctors, from a young age. But for her it was a necessity. The moment she had become aware enough of the world to understand that her mother was suffering from a sickness that clung to her soul like a leech, fattening itself on the very essence of her being, she knew that it was her duty to find a cure. It was this realization that pushed Solenae towards the sciences. The desire to fix what made her mother sick. To remove whatever makes her hurt. She had absorbed every drop of knowledge in the realms of medicine and the arcane.
She needed this. Not only to further her personal studies, but also to bolster what little savings her family had scraped together thanks to her perpetually drunk fathers struggle to hold down a steady job.
With the imminent arrival of a brother, or sister, her contribution to the family “fortune” was needed now more than ever.

“If what you’ve written here is true, then you might be qualified as a lab assistant. JUNIOR lab assistant, I should warn you. You’ll still be expected to clean at night, and fetch whatever your superiors require.” The senior technician handed her resumé back.
“You start tomorrow. I’ll see what you can do, and if you lied to me, you’ll wish you were never born.”

Part 2: Little Lamb

“I can’t keep doing this. The doctor’s don’t know what’s wrong with her, and I’m throwing all my money away at this point!”
“What are you saying? She’s your daughter!”
The sound of her father and sister arguing seemed to form an ever present backdrop to the small apartment these days.
It had started with a small red blemish on Ymeiras skin. A blood red splotch with two protrusions like wings. Ymeira, young as she was, saw it as a beautiful butterfly, a pretty little badge to show off to her sister. Her father, callous as he was, saw it as another sign of his child being cursed. Especially once it had spread. Ymeira became weaker every day. Normal things became a struggle for her frail body, and no amount of medicine would see her getting better.
“It’s that fucking curse. I knew it the moment I laid eyes on her! The same curse that took your mother. No. SHE is the curse that took your mother!” her father screamed, jabbing a thick calloused finger towards the bedroom door.
In the small bedroom they shared Ymeira busied herself doodling random shapes and colours on a piece of old parchment. Her brush strokes getting harder, faster, more agitated as her fathers voice rose in pitch.
“She is your daughter, and the last memento of mother. I will not have you talk about her in such a manner. I’m taking her for a walk; I pray that you have sorted yourself out and learned to act like an adult by the time we return.” Solenae snarled her pointed words at him with a blazing fury behind her deep green eyes.
She was young. A girl just barely taking her first steps into adulthood herself, but she would not be cowed by her fathers pathetic bleating.

“Hey, how would you like to go for a walk in the forest, my little lamb?” Solenae asked, closing the door to their shared room and kneeling beside her sister.
“Forest? FOREST! To the clearing with big tree?!” Ymeira beamed.
“Yes, to the big clearing with all the butterflies!”
In truth it wasn’t much of a forest. A small patch of trees jutting out of the snow like gnarled fingers on the outskirts of Garlemald; but it was all Solenae could do. To keep her sister happy. Distracted. To protect her from the savage stares and bitter remarks of the beasts that masqueraded as parents. She was just a sweet little girl who would never harm a fly –in fact she had informed Solenae just yesterday that her best friend was a butterfly that visited her room at night. Such a wild imagination. But their father only saw the red blotches that crept over her body. Only saw a monster with pointed teeth.
He would not be there when they returned. What meager belongings and savings they had vanished with him into the night, never to be seen again. Good riddance to bad rubbish.

-----------------------

“Look, you’re a good, smart kid, and I sympathize with you, I really do. It’s hard to be abandoned like that, but being good and smart doesn’t pay the rent. And times are tough for everyone. I can give you a week… I’m sorry.”
Those last words came muffled through the flimsy wooden door of the apartment as Solenae sank against its cheap wood, her golden hair falling across her face as she let out a deep sigh. She was close to tears, and didn’t know what to do.
“Why did Mama and Papa abandon us? Did they not want us anymore?”
Ymeiras tiny voice snapped her out of her sad stupor.
“Huh-” She took a deep breath, and brushing her locks out of her eyes put on a big smile.
“Abandoned? No no no, my little lamb. Of course not. Mama and Papa are away for work, remember? They will be back for us.”
Solenae knelt beside her little sister, ruffling her hair. She had never had it in her to tell her sweet fragile sister of their mothers death in the weeks after her birth, and their fathers leaving, though truthfully she did not miss him, wasn’t something she wished to explain to the sensitive young girl.
“And in the meantime I am not worried. Not one bit. Because they left my brave, strong sister to look after me.”
Ymeira beamed at this. Her tiny face lighting up revealing her rows of shark-like teeth.
“I will protect you, Soli! I’ll grow big and strong, and protect you!” she puffed out her frail thin chest proudly, and proceeded to double over in a coughing fit.
“Meira!” Solenae rushed to grab some water.
I must get a job. A better job. And I must find a way to cure her. The elder sister thought.

-----------------------

“Meira, I think I’ve solved it!”
Solenae rushed into their spacious apartment.
“Solved what, Soli?”
Ymeira emerged from the kitchen wearing an apron. In her hands she carried a freshly baked pie. The smell of which wafted through the apartment filling it with the warm scent of apple and cinnamon.
“Everything, my little lamb. Everything!” Solenae laughed, taking the pie and placing it on a table before lifting her sister into the air and spinning her around.
For a young woman of 15 she was so light, so small, so frail. But not for long, she thought.
“The preliminary trials on cloning and modifications worked! It needs some tweaking, but I know how to transfer your soul! I can cure you. I can make all the pain, the coughing, the dizziness, the headaches, EVERYTHING, go away. You’ll be big and strong, just like you wanted.”
Ymeira giggled and coughed until Solenae put her down.
“I only need to be strong enough to protect you, Soli. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

Part 3: And I heard, as it were, the sound of thunder

Her scream was like thunder. Building in intensity as it bounced around the lab. The echoes cascading into each other and feeding into a crescendo that drowned out her sobbing.
The room was a mess. Lights smashed. Papers thrown across the room in her rage. Tables, chairs, glass vials, all lay shattered and strewn across the cold metallic floor.
I have killed her. My fault. It's all my fault. I saw our goal within reach and I rushed blindly towards it. Solenae thought, her head bowed as she knelt in the remains of her life's work.
There she stayed, and sobbed, and screamed, arms outstretched to the tables either side of her. Her hands clutching tightly at the bodies that lay on them. Her sister's bodies.
“You were supposed to wake up to a new life. A body free of sickness and pain… so why? WHY!? WHY DID THIS HAPPEN!?”
That thunderous scream again, shaking the walls and sending hairline cracks through the floor.
The room shook violently in reply to her voice. The crystals she had gathered for the transference glowed a sickly green in the dark. And then everything changed.

All concepts of the laws of physics were thrown out the window. The room stretched and twisted like soft wet clay pulled and squished between the hands of some monstrous ceramist. The stone of the walls crumbled and peeled away like old dead skin; The ceiling above split open like a yawning mouth. Above her should have been the upper floors of the facility. But instead she saw stars dancing across the heavens. Their tiny flickering bodies fluttered like insects as they descended towards her. They swirled and danced above her head, their bodies coming together into a solid red mass that unfurled wings that spanned the cosmos. Gazing up at the monstrously magnificent moth that stood before her she felt so small. An insignificant speck in an uncaring universe.
“In your grief. In your anguish. You return. To. Me.” Its voice ground and rumbled rising up from the very earth itself.
“W-who are you?” Her mind raced. Had she done this… Was this her punishment for messing with the order of the world, Karma for her unrestrained hubris?
“In time you shall know me. As I shall know you.”
Pale green lights flickered within its body as it spoke. Tiny motes of that same ghostly light falling across her sister's bodies.
“Anchor soul to flesh. Plucked from the nether. Bring her back. To you. Open the door, that is the, price.” Its voice rattled her bones, the pulsating red mass of its body swelling and writhing with each word.
“I- I don’t under-”
“She will be lost to you. I offer you a choice.”
“Y-you haven’t explained anything. How can I-”
“CHOOSE. Or she is lost.”
The sickly green lights within its body grew agitated, Its voice left no room for argument. No room for questions. She had to choose. And was it really a choice?
“Yes. Do it. I’ll open the doors, whatever that means, I’ll open every damn door in this forsaken world. Just… bring my little lamb back to me, I beg of you!”
Without a word the moth exploded into smaller pieces. Their fluttering forms circling around the two bodies. From where she knelt Solenae watched them picking up small pieces of something immaterial and unseen from her sister's frail body, carrying it over to the larger, much stronger body that she had prepared. Their work seemed to last hours, but Solenae watched attentively the whole time.

“Soli?”
Someone was calling her. Shaking her.
“Soli!?”
She opened her eyes. She felt weightless. The room was still a mess, but the dark universe that had yawned above her was gone.
“Why am I floating?” She mumbled, looking up into a familiar face.
“It worked, Soli! It worked! I’ve got you now. I’ll protect you. Always.”
Ymeira, big, strong, healthy, and happy, looked down at her.
Solenae thought she saw a coldness in her sister's eyes that wasn’t there before, as if some small portion of her once joyous youth had been plucked away. But she put it down to exhaustion. Head swimming she mustered a bleary thought: Of the moth, and of the promise made; no one must know what transpired that night. As far as the world was concerned her experimental procedure had succeeded. She might not be able to replicate her success, for now, but miracles weren’t uncommon in the field of medical science. And it didn’t matter. She was weary down to the marrow of her bones, but her sister was safe. Ymeira had been saved.

She was tired, but safe in her sister's arms, she surrendered herself to sleep.

Part 4: A spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down

“I have seen where this path that we all follow leads. How the sickness devours everything you love in an instant. It takes that which is most precious from us. But never again. I- we can evolve. We can make everyone stronger. Eventually we could cure everything, even death.”
Solenae sipped on her coffee serenely. They were in a quiet booth in a charming little cafe. One that Solenae would often drag Antheraea to for these private discussions..
“Mhm, you’ve told me this story before, mother. But you saved her, right? Despite the exact parameters for your success being known, Aunt Ymeira was cured.”
Antheraea let out a huff and pushed her unruly dark purple hair behind her horns letting some strands of lighter fiery red fall across her pale cheeks.
“Yes, for now. But she is still so susceptible to illness, I won’t lose her again. So you understand the importance of the job I gave you?”

Antheraea’s smoldering orange eyes, ringed by dark sleep deprived circles, narrowed at the strange phrasing of “won’t lose her again.”; an odd thing to say about someone who as far as she knew had never been dead.
“I- I do. I just… I don’t- I followed your thesis for cloning and the formation of souls to the letter, so I don’t know what happened. It’s like something “Imprinted” on the artificial soul. None of the changes were made by me, it’s quite curious.” The young Au ra nodded solemnly, her brow knitted as she chewed over the perplexing puzzle that she had lay before her mother.
“A fragment of something pulled from the aether during the cloning process?” Solenae raised an eyebrow.
“Perhaps…”

Antheraea paused with her coffee mug touching her lips. That was a possibility, she mused.
“It’s never happened with the few successful subjects. The artificial souls took hold as expected. They have rudimentary functions, and react to stimuli, but there is nothing truly inside. But this one, this lalafell, there is consciousness behind those eyes. Indistinguishable from a true soul.”
She placed her cup down and absentmindedly began dropping in cubes of sugar, occasionally letting one fall onto the table at random.
“You said that Aunt Meira was “changed” after the transference?”
“I do not wish to speak of that…” Solenae frowned.
“Ok… But if we hypothesize that fragments of soul can get lost in translation, then what if so too can fragments, or even a whole soul, find their way added into the mix?” She gestured to the sugar on the table and her coffee as if her haphazardly piling of sugar explained everything.
“An interesting hypothesis. You truly are my daughter. Proceed with that train of thought in your experiments going forward.”
Solenae smiled sweetly. Despite the unexpected turn of events in the process to once again create a stronger body for Ymeira she was so proud of all her daughter had accomplished.
“Yes, Mama. And the failed clone? Should I dispose of her?”
“Heavens no!” Solenae gasped.
“Your Aunt has always wanted a daughter, I am sure she will be pleased. We will continue to perfect the process, to perfect her, so that all may ascend. I will not lose her again.”-End-

Songbird's Moving Cafe

This is a cafe, isn't it? - Circa 1567

The dagger froze mere inches from the Hyurs neck. Why couldn’t she move her hand?
They had both steeled themselves for this task. It was to protect them. To protect the home they had made for themselves. To protect the safe port they had created for those seeking escape from the empire. So why couldn’t she move her hand?
The white haired Miqo’te had lived an adventurous life. On the high seas, in the shadows of the far east, as a would be liberator of her homeland. She was well versed in the art of taking a life, but still… why couldn’t she move her damned hand?!

“Smart girl.”
The Hyur spoke languidly. Her eyes didn’t even leave the cup of coffee that she raised to her face. Inhaling the warm scent of the freshly ground beans the woman had her eyes closed, long snowy hair pooled in her lap, her posture perfectly calm and relaxed. Unarmed. Unarmored. She was nothing but openings. She was a perfect target. And yet the white haired Miqo’tes every sense screamed danger. Deep down she knew: If I strike, it would be me lying dead at her feet.
“Llwynee… put down the dagger?”
Nuciel stood similarly poised. A dagger ready to strike at the golden haired woman who sat on the other side of the quiet booth. It was late at night and the cafe was empty. They had both decided it was the perfect time to strike. So how had they ended up in this position? The tall Miqo’te wondered as they both put down their daggers.

“Good girl.” the white haired Hyur flashed pointed teeth as she finally turned to face her would-be assassin.
“Ymeira, don’t tease the poor girl.” Her companion chided from across the table.
“S-sorry, Solenae.” Her eyes dropped guiltily to the ground. <
“Now then, would you mind telling us what this is all about?” Solenae smiled at Nuciel sweetly.

“H-how can you be so… so blasé about this?! We just tried to kill you!” Nuciel practically screamed.
“We know who ye are! Solenae Mal Arctinae-” Llwynos glared baring her pointed canines.
“And we know you. Or rather, I know her. What was it the soldiers called you, The hand of doom?” Ymeira pointed at Nuciel.
“You were quite famous in your time. A shame that you died. Nothing left but a pair of mangled magitek gauntlets. No blood though, isn’t that odd?” She grinned.
“Then you really have come here to kill us! All those times you came here in the last month… to scope the place out? to find the perfect time to take us out?!” Nuciel backed away slightly.
“Kill you? Goodness no!” Solenae held her hand up in shock.

Llwynos blinked. This… had taken a strange turn.
“But… she is a deserter, and I’m –was– a resistance fighter… why else would ye come here?”
“For coffee? This is a cafe, is it not. Why else do people come to cafes?” Solenae looked mildly perplexed.
“T-that’s true but…” Nuciel floundered.
Solenae stood up and gently guided the tall Miqo’te into her own seat.
“Honestly, if we wanted you dead do you think we would have waited?” She spoke softly.
“Truthfully, I care little if you are deserters. It doesn’t interfere with my research. Your establishment is quiet, out of the way, and my eldest daughter is madly in love with the place. We all serve, or served, the empire for our own reasons. Either by force, or from necessity.” She gently brushed the Miqo’te’s short hair from her forehead.
“You really aren’t going to kill us?” Nuciel turned her sapphire and amethyst eyes to the woman hopefully. Her touch was gentle, and her voice kind. She truly wanted to believe her. It had been an impossibly hard decision to try and take these women’s lives. One that, if successful, would have weighed heavily on their souls until the end of their days. <
“I give you my word, my sweet child. As long as you treat us no differently than any regular customer –that means no more assassination attempts, please– there is no need for you to fear for your lives.”

“W-we’re sorry and we promise not to- wait, after all this… you still want to come here?” Nuciel looked puzzled.
“Of course. Did I not tell you that my daughter is head-over-heels for this place?” Solenae smiled kindly.
Nuciel and Llwynos both practically collapsed as Solenaes honey sweet voice and sparkling eyes dissolved all the tension in the room. They would keep their word. They would treat them like regulars, and regulars they would become. It would be a rare occasion to visit the cafe and find Solenae not in her usual booth, either alone, or with one of her children. And for their part, the Arctinae family kept their promise too. Neither alerting the empire nor raising a hand against the Miqo’te couple.

Almost a decade later and that strange turn of events still left Llwynos feeling perplexed. By all logic they should have died that night. But Solenae had been true to her word, and honestly surprisingly kind to the couple; going so far as to help fund repairs, or buy their children birthday gifts. If she weren’t still a dog of the empire they might have called her a friend; Nuciel --the soft-hearted kitten that she was– probably did consider her one.
But Llwynos couldn’t complain. They had been given a second chance, and ten long happy years with their children. She hoped they would never fall out of favor with the mysterious woman. She hoped for many more decades of happiness with her beloved songbird and their cafe.
-End-

To Kill a Hummingbird

Part 1: Hey, teacher! - Circa 1557

“You expect me to take on more students?” The small woman slammed a tanned fist down hard on the desk, her long sea-foam green hair billowing behind her like a storm cloud.
The dour faced Garlean officer flinched in his seat but kept his stern gaze on her. The small woman before him was less than half his size, and though he wouldn’t admit it, he felt very intimidated. Her usually placid expression was gone, and her wide eyes —eyes that he had never seen fully open before— blazed like two fiery pits; their soft magenta looked more like red hot embers now.
“Instructor Aves, respectfully, I ask that you calm down.” He managed to get his composure despite her withering stare. But this just added fuel to her rage. Not only did he refuse to use her correct title as an officer of almost equal rank —no doubt out of petty spite— but he had the gall to brush it off as if this whole situation was her fault.
“Your previous “students” are deemed unsalvageable and unfit for duty and are to be replaced-“ he was cut off as Kolibri’s other hand slammed palm down on the desk.
“Unfit for duty? I think you mean scarred and maimed so badly they can’t even hold regular jobs!”
The air between the two officers grew —quite literally— heated.
“I made the prerequisites for training quite clear. I explained the dangers, but you and your superiors ignored my professional opinion and look what happened!” Kolibri bristled angrily.
He was sweating behind the desk now. Whether from nervousness or the slowly increasing temperature, it was hard to say.It was no secret that the Garlean officer despised the woman. He understood that her training methods and combat prowess was beneficial to the empire, of course he knew that. Her fighting style revolving around lightning fast, incredibly precise, but not exactly powerful strikes, was unparalleled for those fresh conscripts lacking physical strength when confronted with the need for close quarters combat. And though it had yet to bear fruit her ability to cast spells and infuse them into her strikes was frighteningly impressive. Less powerful than conventional magic, but much faster to cast and without limiting the casters movement. He could begrudgingly acknowledge her usefulness, but why did she –a commoner and not even a pure blooded Garlean– share the same rank as him?! She might claim Garlean heritage through her mothers grandfather —a tenuous link at best— but she was still a lowly half-elezen peasant. Still… he had to be diplomatic here. It was rare for her to be angry, and he couldn’t afford the mistake of angering her further. Trying to placate the bristling instructor would be like trying to pet a porcupine with hands made of balloons.
“We sent you some of our best men-“
“Men? Hah! Barely. You sent me kids.” She interjected.
“Y-yes, they were young, but as I stated, they were some of our best-“
“They may have been good kids, but they were unprepared and should never have been selected as candidates.”
Kolibris voice softened.
“Now they have to go home — at least the lucky ones, if you can call them that— in pieces, all because of me… do you understand, or even care, what that feels like?”
She stood up, removing her hands from the table leaving a still smoldering imprint of her hand in the expensive wood as the air between them cooled.
“I will not remain quiet about this.” She hissed as she headed to the door.
“What about the girl? Your report said she shows promise?”
Her hand froze on the doorknob. She knew if she admitted that Nuciel had talent then she would have to keep training her. But if she denied it… who knows what would happen to her. Her eyes had been opened to the horrors of the empire. The safest place would be as her student, and knowing now how disposable they viewed them, she hated being put in that position. Her loyalty to Garlemald –which had always been fairly fragile– had been passed down to her from a great-grandfather she had never met, and it was wearing thin.
“Whatever…” she muttered under her breath and left.

Part 2: A Guide to the Birdsong of Illsabard

“Here, try these on, kiddo.” Kolibri looked on kindly as she handed over the big heavy gauntlets.
Her voice light and airy echoed around the quiet courtyard they had chosen as their training ground.
She had sent back every new student they had consigned to her. Citing lack of skill and compatibility with her technique. It was a dangerous position to be in. Even with her unique talents, She knew she was just as expendable as the conscripts and recruits, and their patience with her would only hold out so long. But she still had one student to protect. Her pride and joy, Nuciel.
“What are they? They are so heavy!” The young miqo’te girl exclaimed, lifting one of the gauntlets to examine it.
They were crude looking contraptions, wires and pipes snaking between thick metal plates, each one nearly 3 times the size of her actual fist.
“I had an old acquaintance put them together —with the help of her daughter. They will help you focus your casting and strengthen your strikes. Why not try it out?”
She stood like a watchful mother as her precious student tied her long hair back; soft white strands framed her blue skin like moonlight on a starry night, her mismatched magenta and icy blue eyes narrowed and focused as she adjusted straps and clips until the gauntlet sat snugly on her arm from wrist to elbow.The girl had talent, it was true. But she also had an abnormal amount of magical energy; despite not having any skill whatsoever when it came to casting. This made her magic infused strikes very powerful, but also dangerous to herself and anyone nearby. The gauntlet, Kolibri hoped —and her acquaintance had assured her— would help discharge any excess energy into the atmosphere and not back into Nuciel, or anyone nearby.
SCREECH. BOOM. A flash. A cry like an angry bird. A clap of thunder. And a training dummy with a smoking hole through the middle.
“D-did you see that?” Nuciel fell backwards and sat on the ground holding her hand up and gazing in awe at the gauntlet.
“I hit it just like you showed me, but no discharge, and look!” She removed the gauntlet and wiggled her fingers.
“My arm isn’t numb from the shock!”
The young girl was ecstatic. In her mind she was finally catching up to her mentor, even if it required some outside assistance and special tools.
Kolibri beamed with maternal pride and sat down heavily beside her student.
“I’m proud of you, my little songbird. So how have things been on the frontline? How is your little friend?”
Nuciel blushed at the nickname and then pouted, frowning.
“Llwynos?! She’s not my friend! She’s an enemy, and a part of the resistance!”
Nuciel had been at the forefront of the invasion of Doma, and this was only a brief reprieve from the fighting for her. Kolibri knew the only reason she herself had been released from Garlemald and allowed this far was to watch over her student and the precious magical technique she wielded.But perhaps fate had been working in their favor. Though her little songbird was loath to admit it, Nuciel had found a kindred spirit on the battlefield. Sure they were on opposite sides, but they shared a fervor and passion for their cause that had spiraled into a bitter rivalry, and quiet admiration. She could try her best to hide this truth, but Kolibri saw it in the way she used her enemies given name instead of the nickname the other recruits had given her, The Nightfox. A terrifying story shared around the conscripts campfires of the 9 tailed fox, a beast that stalked the night, silently taking down scouts and lookouts and causing mayhem amongst their camps. Kolibri too held a quiet admiration for this Night Fox. Though she showed no mercy to the volunteers –those soldiers of Garlean descent– she was… not exactly gentle with conscripts and recruits, but she at least spared their lives during her nightly incursions. It brought a smile to her face. This Nightfox was in a lot of ways the same as her gentle Songbird; not least in the fact they were both Miqo’te of similar age. That sweet girl who refused to kill despite the punishment for disobeying. Her shocking fists had other uses such as subduing enemies, but it made Kolibris heart swell with pride to know her student was still pure of heart.

Part 3: Doe, oh dear.

Nuciel slumped against the wall of the makeshift barracks.
“I- she- and then-” she panted, her face pale.
“Hey, hey, it’s ok, deep breaths. Tell me what happened?” Kolibri gently placed a hand on her shoulder.
Nuciel was battered and bloodied and in a state of shock. Kolibri had never seen her like this, and it scared her. What had they made her do?
“The Night Fo- Llwynos… we cornered her… a cave… she hadn’t even hurt the conscripts that had been sent after her and they… they made me do it!”
Tears welled up in Nuciels large doe-like eyes as she looked pleadingly to her mentor.
“They ordered me to execute her on the spot… to use your teachings and just… kill an unarmed girl. She surrendered but they didn’t care, and then…” Nuciel took a deep breath.
“I listened to them. My strike missed, but the roof of the cave came down… it crushed her arm.”
Tears flowed freely down the young miqo’te’s face now as she sobbed into her hands.
“Mothe- M-master, what have I done? What have we done? None of this is right…”

Part 4: Sweet child o'mine

Kolibri struck swiftly, her hands blurring like the wings of a hummingbird.
“W-wha?” The guard stumbled backwards. The strikes didn’t hurt, there was barely any power behind them, but each time her palms made contact his body felt more sluggish. His arms grew heavy, his eyes struggling to stay open as his mind felt like it was filled with molasses.
“Whuh di’ ya do?” He slurred as he slumped down against the wall in a sleepy stupor.
“I’m sorry about this, just rest for a bit so I don’t have to hurt you.”
With quite a bit of effort she pulled his body across the floor placing it beside the other two guards she had taken down. Her own arms felt heavy, like two dead weights by her sides. The downside to casting sleep through her own hands. But she had to move fast and quietly. She wouldn’t have much time to secure a path, but if her idiot pupil was going to do something so reckless as break out the prisoners, then she had a responsibility to help her –in secret, of course; if Nuciel wouldn’t, or couldn’t drag her into this, then she would do what she could from the shadows. It had been easy to figure out what her silly student had planned. After all, she had seen what Nuciel had stolen from the Arctinae barracks, and logically it could only mean one thing. She had tried to hide it, but she was never good at keeping secrets, or hiding her “crimes”. It didn’t help that her former acquaintance, the head of the Arctinae research team, had brought up the crime to her the night before.
“Only a prototype,” she had said, but a precious magitek prosthetic arm had gone missing. Though admittedly Solenae didn’t seem too concerned and had even given Kolibri a sly wink as they parted.
“Sweet child, I’m sure your friend will appreciate the helping hand.” she smiled at the silly pun.
Despite the stupidity of Nuciels plan, Kolibri smiled. She had raised her well. Doing the right thing, no matter the cost to herself. It was time for her songbird to fly free. They would be on opposite sides of the war after this, but even if Nuciel hated her for being part of the empire… if she could get her student out, then it wouldn’t matter. And once Nuciel and the prisoners were out then her part in this infernal machine would be over. With no more students to protect, she would no longer need to turn a blind eye to the empire's wrongdoings. She would make her escape too. but it would be safer for the both of them if she kept her distance. She would fade into the shadows, and take her accursed fighting style where the empire would no longer be able to exploit it.With the path from the cells to the edge of camp clear, Kolibri's job was done.
“She’s in your hands now, Night Fox.” Kolibri whispered, hoping that her sweet student would be safe with her new found friend.
She had no fixed destination in mind as she slipped into the night.
Perhaps I should head back to my homeland. Back to Isghard, she thought. It had been a long time since her mother had fled, with her but a babe in arms; an exile from her fathers estate. Was there even a place for an exiled half-Elezen such as her in Ishgard?The Garlean Empire would never again see Kolibri Aves. Though their forces would be harried and thwarted here and there by a fearsome foe calling itself “The Hummingbird”.-End-

Death is the Road to Awe - A Tale of Two Eirnos

Part 1: Eirnos through the looking glass - Azeroth

Her head was spinning. Or was it the room?
The tiny sin’dorei tried to move and look around, but it felt like her body was made of stone. Each tiny movement seemed to take an eternity and made her head spin even more.
She was in a cavernous room, that much she could tell. But in the darkness details became vague, their forms changing like ghosts dancing in the night.
Before her a table, huge, round, circling the room and disappearing into shadows. There were others at the table, heads bowed, bodies slumped forwards. She could at least make out the forms either side of her, the only ones still upright. To her left, her mother, Ymeira. Calm, composed, her serene face and porcelain skin making her look like a lifeless doll.
To her right, her sister, Eirfyn. Quiet now, the rage that always bubbled in the air around her was gone.
There was an odd familiarity to this scene. Where had she seen it before? Oh… when she died, the first time. When her aunt poisoned her and offered her up to the Lich King.

“You’re always the last to leave, aren’t you?” a hushed voice came from behind her as a hooded woman knelt down to wipe her brow.
“Honestly, it’s remarkable. The amount you drank, and still you cling on to this world. Your friends have already embarked on their journey, do you not see the door open before you?” Solenae smiled sweetly, pale green eyes sparkling kindly from behind her hood.
“F-frie-nds?” Eirnos managed to cough out a single word.
Her eyes flickered slowly back and forth trying to pierce the shadowy veil around them. Further down the table she caught a glimpse of fiery orange hair spilling from under a hood. Beside it two more slumped forms with scarlet locks peeking out of their hoods, an object glinting on the table beside one of them. A monocle?

“Don’t worry my little lamb, we won. This is our reward… their reward. He will ferry my chosen to the new world. The others will be judged, but we have been granted free passage. Isn’t that wonderful? Do you see it, the gate of stars is open! The new world waits for us.”
Solenae had somehow moved to the center of the circular table and stood there with her arms raised towards the ceiling, a look of joyous rapture on her kind face.
Eirnos followed her hands upwards, her good eye opening wide in shock and horror.
Her Aunt had been right. She had been right about everything…

Above her the stars danced across the ceiling. Or rather, they danced where the ceiling should have been. As she watched the wood and brick peeled back, it’s edges crumbling into fluttering forms; thousands of tiny moths born from the womb of what once was a house. And there, swirling above them, swirling amongst them, the stars lined up forming a path, their pale green light tugging at her mind. She should have fought against it, but she was tired, and if her aunt was right about everything, then letting go was what she must do. For her family, for honor, for the Order of the Sanguine Moth.
As her mind slipped away, she heard the muffled voice of her aunt, what was she saying, focus, she thought, just once more, please.
“Death is the road to awe,” Solenae whispered, beside her again now, gently kissing the small elfs cheek. And with that, her mind shattered, it’s fragments swirling and dancing, merging with the moths, carried upwards along the path laid out by the stars.

Part 2: We are all made of stars - The space between worlds

The tiny spark that was Eirnos shot across the vast void that spread infinitely in every direction. All around her other stars spun and danced, their tiny sparks coming close, twisting around in spirals together before separating and once more continuing on their journey.
She felt like she recognised them. Not as the people they once were, but as the essence that made up their soul. Were these all her friends? All of Aunt Solenaes “chosen”?
Without eyes to truly see she watched as stars dipped and vanished into bright vortices of brilliant energy.


Some looped back around and vanished into the nether behind her, others shot on ahead, very far ahead. And before she knew it, it was her turn. The pull of the vortex was strong. She could feel it despite lacking a physical body. It tugged at her thoughts, it’s sparkling tendrils gently embracing her with promises of release from the burdens she carried from life.
The tiny elf wanted to fight. She wanted to scream out and fight her way back home. But she was tired, and the promises of the void were too sweet. Her star drifted down, down, all the way down. Sights and sound flashed by in explosions of color that assaulted the senses. Too much to make sense of, the overload of stimuli pushing her consciousness to the edge and then there was light. Brilliant white light flooded everything.

Part 3: Weird science - Etheirys

Water bubbled in her ears, blurring her vision, filling her throat as she tried to scream. Tried to speak, but she could form no words.
Eirnos struggled against the tubes and wires that ran through her body. She felt so small -and she was used to feeling small- but this was different. She had never felt this small.
A tiny fist –Is that mine?-- struck out at the glass of the tube she floated helplessly in. Her mouth once again tried to form words, but her mind was failing.

“I-it tried to talk…” the researcher grabbed the arm of the au’ra beside him and tried to turn her.
“What? It’s a baby, and newly formed at that. You’re delusional,” the Au’ra glared at her Hyur companion angrily, “And don’t presume to touch me.”
“I- sorry, Antheraea. I forgot.” The Hyur blushed and let go of her sleeve.
“Do not utter my name so casually. We are not equals, and I would have you remember that.” Antheraea narrowed her fiery ringed eyes at the man.

Still, she was glad he had roused her from her ruminations. The thick murky fluid in the cloning chamber was clearing. They would at last get their first look at the results of their latest project. A project given to them directly by her mother, Solenae.
“S-sorry. It’s been a long night preparing for the arrival. Huh, you never told me your aunt was a lalafell, though?” The hyur leant close to the chamber peering through the slightly frosted glass.
“A lalaf- fuck...”

Antheraea pushed her partner out of the way and brushed the frost from the glass with a gloved hand. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck. She thought.
Was I careless? How had this happened! Her mind raced.
Cloning isn’t particularly exhilarating to me, so I’d be remiss to say my mind was truly here, focused, for most of the task… but a slip up like this?! Her thoughts were frantic now, but her lack of focus was the truth.
Her brilliance –her own words– was not to be wasted on such trivial things like cloning, even if it was a request from her mother. While she worked on this project, her impeccable and unparalleled mind –again, her own words– was compartmentalized and distracted by more exciting and impossibly fascinating conundrums, and scientific pursuits.
And despite her boasting and inflated view of herself, it was true. Her mind was a machine, each part sectioned off, constantly calculating, processing, examining, and mulling over multiple avenues of research and interest at once. Unfortunately this meant that anything that didn’t catch her interest would be shunted to the side, the task completed carelessly on autopilot.
Still, she couldn’t very well tell her aunt that, or her mother, for that matter.

The small Au’ra paced back and forth, occasionally glancing back at the cloning chamber.
“What did you do? How could you have messed up such a simple procedure this badly?” she pointed a gloved finger at her partner while the other hand tugged at the large collar of her long coat, pulling it up to cover her lower face. Almost like a turtle retreating into its shell; a habit of hers when she was stressed or angry.
“M-me? But Anth- Madame Arctinae, you’re the lead researcher you were-” the man spluttered.
“I will not hear excuses. We will present our creation, and hope that mother is lenient with you for your failure.”

Antheraea pulled her collar down slightly as she watched the pale green liquid drain from the chamber. Cold metal clamps held the baby in place while machinery whirred and the chamber tilted 90 degrees onto it’s back, the glass sliding open creating a strange cot for the child.
She was glad she had automated this part. The earlier models resulted in her coat and gloves being stained by the foul liquid when it was time to retrieve the clone.

“White hair, porcelain skin, and despite her diminutive size, she does look like my aunt, so you got that part right at least.” Definitely a lalafell though, she thought. As she studied it the clone's tiny eyes followed hers with a frightening intelligence for one so fresh out of the chamber.
“Hmm, Auntie's eyes are green. What exactly possessed you to change that, and why did you code one to be damaged?! I gave you detailed documentation on the specifications for this one. Are you trying to get us both killed?!”
“I- hold on now! I’m not taking the blame for all this! Besides, you can check the data yourself; right here, it shows that the eyes would -should- be pale green, and both quite functional.”
Antheraea ripped the documents out of his hand and read through them quickly. He was right, of course. The data was all there. She should have come out with two pale green eyes, and unblemished doll-like skin.
“But alas, they are not. How curious.”
The Au’ra leaned in, her gloved finger caressing the baby's cheek. One icy blue eye, one milky pale, and three faint red lines running from brow to chin, like a birthmark crossing over the clouded left eye.
We didn’t code any of this into her, so how?
As she pondered this a tiny hand wrapped around her finger with an impressive grip.
“You’re strong. Just like Aunt Ymeira. Not a total failure I suppose.” She smiled, but her frown remained in her eyes.

Aunt Ymeira. Ymeira. She knew that name. But from where? What was her name? The lalafell matched Antheraeas frown as she struggled to hold on to her thoughts but it was futile. Memories, thoughts, everything slipped away into nothingness as her mind succumbed to the void, replaced by dreams that only a newborn can dream. Precious mementos of her old life now lost to time and space.

Antheraea looked to her lab partner and let out a deep sigh. She would have to get mother to dispose of this one too, she thought, watching him frantically flip through notes trying to pinpoint when the changes to the clone's design took place. A pity. He wasn’t a terrible doctor, and she had only just got used to his presence enough to tune out his intrusive and distracting existence from her thoughts. Mother would no doubt find her another irritating replacement, but… why did she always choose handsome males for her partners?!-End-