Arithya walked slowly, her hood covering her face, as all followers of Aluthian were expected to do. Her Eternal never revealed himself. The silence that reigned in the stone hallway was deep and reverent. Arithya’s footsteps on the ground echoed with a soft, muffled sound, as if the Geo-Temple itself were listening to her every movement. Despite the warm, dry climate that dominated most of the continent of Dunea, the interior of the spherical building—with its concentric rings spinning around it—remained surprisingly cool, as though the thick dark stone walls absorbed and dispelled the sun’s heat.

  She moved carefully, aware of the solemnity that filled the air. The bluish light emitted by the ethereal lamps hanging at regular intervals along the corridor gave the stone a supernatural glow, casting dancing shadows that seemed to play across the walls and floor. For any ordinary person walking through those halls, it would feel like being submerged in the sea under moonlight.

  "From darkness is born light; from death, life," she told herself. Darkness was not something to fear, but something protective, something warm.

  The air in the Geo-Temple was laced with the scent of incense and dried herbs, a mixture that Arithya had come to associate with safety and knowledge. In her mind, that scent was linked to the mysteries and teachings of Aluthian, the Eternal she had vowed to serve even before she was conscious of what that meant.

  The soft echo of light footsteps came from the other end of the hallway. A tall, shadowy figure passed through a patch of bluish light as if it were a projection of the gloom itself.

  They both stopped.

  “Under Aluthian’s mantle, we meet,” said the dark figure with a slight bow, unconcerned that she was just a novice girl.

  Arithya sometimes wondered if, in the Geo-Temples of the other Eternals, there was the same equality between the different ranks and specializations. But more often, she wondered how they greeted each other. For a moment, she imagined the followers of Najashar puffing out their chests and putting on angry faces while reciting some foolish phrase. The urge to laugh welled up inside her, but she held it back. Laughter was not permitted in the halls of Aluthian.

  “Under Aluthian’s mantle, we meet,” she replied, forcing her voice to remain steady and bowing her head more than was necessary.

  Without saying another word, both continued on, the resonance of their footsteps fading away.

  When she reached an intersection, she stopped again. Her heart began to beat faster.

  "One, two, three, four, five, six," she counted mentally as she took sidesteps. "Okay, now I should be..." She felt along the wall with her hand. "Here," she thought, pressing a specific spot. The hidden switch sank inward, and a section of the wall began to move.

  Although the general rooms of Aluthian’s Geo-Temple didn’t require reciting certain phrases in ancient Ankhelarian—as was the case with more specific chambers—these spaces were still hidden from the eyes of the unwanted or the uninvited. Only Aluthian’s servants and a few select guests were allowed to access them. During her first few months, Arithya had found it harder to navigate those labyrinthine halls and memorize the locations of the secret entrances than to learn the basic tenets of her Eternal or the history and culture of the Ankunari Empire. And she had never been good at studying.

  The sound of whispers and strikes began to echo faintly in the distance. Arithya felt a mix of anticipation and excitement. Of all the teachings offered in the general halls, the one she enjoyed most was combat. At first, she thought it was because her father had been chosen to become an assassin of Aluthian, but over time she realized it was because in battle, she could see who she—and everyone else—truly was. When you strike and are struck, sooner or later, everyone stops pretending to be a faceless shadow and shows their true emotions.

  She stepped into the darkness and began walking toward the combat room. However, before she could reach her destination, a familiar voice pulled her out of her distant memory.

  Arithya opened her eyes. The darkness that had helped her sink into her past was gone. The room was once again one of the floor-rooms The Poisonous Snakes had used to store drugs. Though the boxes that had once been there were nowhere to be seen. They were the first the gang members had used to get high.

  "Lost in your thoughts, Arithya?" Thefuil’s voice echoed through the room, light and full of playful curiosity.

  "A servant of Aluthian adapts, but is not disturbed. Remains silent and expectant." She repeated the mantra to herself, though saying it made her feel silly. She sighed and abandoned her meditation pose.

  "What do you mean you're not playing those stupid games or getting high?" Arithya asked softly, despite the abrasive words. She hadn’t meant to sound curt, but a pang of irritation—whose origin she couldn’t quite pinpoint—had made her come off that way. Had it been because she’d been interrupted? Or because she felt a hint of happiness instead of hatred when recalling those days?

  Thefuil didn’t take it badly. Instead, she simply smiled, as she usually did.

  "I'm sorry," Arithya apologized. "I didn't mean to be rude."

  "Don't worry," Thefuil replied, approaching her with feline grace. Despite the effects of the drugs, the aehul’s face retained the beauty and youthful look typical of her species. In her green eyes shone an intelligence and experience that went beyond her carefree fa?ade. "I know, deep down, you appreciate me—and you say it in jest," she said, pausing as she placed her index finger on Arithya’s cheek and raised her eyelids as if to confirm that Arithya knew what she was about to say next. "But now that you mention it, the game of…" she continued in a playful tone.

  "Thefuil…" Arithya began.

  "Nah, just kidding," Thefuil said with a smile.

  Arithya managed a slight smile. Despite all the times she had smiled as a child, now she could only do it naturally when she was with Cuervo.

  "So? What did you need?" the ankhelar asked.

  "It was to tell you that the meeting place with the Guardians of the Word has been set."

  "Where is it?"

  "On microfloor 24 of fincabloque 3 on Dt4 Street."

  "Alright," Arithya said thoughtfully. "Anything else?"

  "Well, actually, yes," Thefuil said, amused. "I also wanted to introduce you to a new member."

  "To me? Why?"

  Thefuil rolled her eyes and her hands.

  "Well, I could tell you it's because you're one of the captains and because the new guy is going to help us on the mission. But that would be a lie." A grin spread across her face from ear to ear. "You won't believe it, but he's one of yours."

  This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  Arithya was sure that Thefuil had said those words with all the best intentions, yet instead of feeling joy at meeting one of her own, she felt a jolt of panic. If he was one of them, things could end very badly.

  "What do you mean by 'one of mine'?" she inquired skeptically. Her right hand brushed the hilt of the dagger she carried in the sheath at the back of her belt. Even when not on a mission, Arithya always carried one of her daggers and a few throwing knives. That had been one of her first lessons in Aluthian’s Geo-Temple; from the Eternal of Shadows and Death."

  "Well, what do you think it is?" said Thefuil. Her green eyes looked confused, even a little regretful. "One of your kind. He even has the same type of cross on his forehead as you do." She added this while touching her own forehead, as if she too bore a tattoo.

  He's not one of them, Arithya thought with relief. Even though she had long stopped fearing being hunted down and killed by one of them, her body still went on alert far too easily.

  "But if you’d prefer... I can introduce you later… or we could switch him out for someone else, and I’ll introduce you later on."

  Thefuil had clearly noticed her discomfort at the idea of meeting another ankhelar. If there was one thing that defined the aehul—besides her smile—it was her ability to perceive the emotions of others.

  "That’s not necessary, Thefuil. Tell him to come in."

  "Alright…" she said, not sounding entirely convinced, and after a few seconds of hesitation, she turned toward the door. "Orythar, come in, I want to introduce you to Arithya."

  An ankhelar slightly taller than Arithya—she guessed he stood around two meters and ten centimeters—entered the room. Despite the naturally slender build of his species, his muscles were well-toned. His long, intense eyes were a greenish color with hints of gold. His dark red hair was short and swept back, indicating he was a lower-class ankhelar. His facial features, like those of most of his kin, were sharp and angular. His golden skin had a worn, tanned tone, more like a human suntan, suggesting he worked in the sun for long hours.

  If he were one of them, his skin wouldn’t be so weathered, she thought.

  "Merhaban," said the ankhelar, crossing his hands over his chest and bowing his head slightly.

  Arithya blushed at hearing that word after so long. A part of her felt happy.

  "Merhaban," she replied, with a mix of shyness and caution.

  "Nice to meet you," he added, with a marked accent in Common Ibelirian. "I’m Orythar."

  Arithya noticed the crossed-out tattoo on his forehead. It looked like a stalk of ripe wheat entwined with green leaves and stems. If she remembered correctly, it was the mark of the Eternal Osirion, the Giver of Sustenance.

  "Likewise," replied the exterminator. "My name is Arithya."

  Thefuil smiled.

  "Wow! I didn’t really think there was another renegade ankhelar here," said Orythar clumsily but cheerfully in Ibelirian. "I very happy to finally find another renegade."

  “Never let your guard down.” Her mother’s pained voice, staring into her eyes, echoed in her mind.

  "Why did you become a renegade?" Arithya asked, keeping her distance.

  Orythar kept smiling, though his eyes showed a flicker of anger.

  "Are you kidding? Have you seen my tattoo?" said the ankhelar in their native tongue. The tone of the question and his choice of words strayed from the formality ankhelars usually upheld with strangers. "Those bastards decided I should work myself to death in the fields without asking me. Besides, who even works the fields these days?" Orythar glanced at Thefuil, then back at his fellow countrywoman. "That job is more fit for the kurlos than for us."

  “The fact that he doesn’t speak Ibelirian well and switched to Ankhelarian might match his story. Although… maybe a little too well.”

  "And that was reason enough to rebel against the Empire?" Arithya asked, also in Ankhelarian. "Here, many would dream of working in one of the Etheon’s fields."

  "Maybe they’d think differently if they were forced from birth to work under the sun all day for a miserable salary," Orythar said. "At least here people have the right to choose. In our country, no one does. Except maybe the… rich." That last word came out cautiously, as if he feared Arithya might be of noble blood.

  “He’s right about that,” she thought as she kept watching him, looking for any sign of deception.

  Orythar shrugged.

  "Anyway, I went along with it for a while," he continued. "Since my parents had shared the same fate. But eventually I got tired of watching them waste their lives, and I decided I wouldn’t follow in their footsteps. I wasn’t willing to live a shitty life I hadn’t chosen."

  Arithya nodded slowly. She knew very well what it meant to rebel against fate. She had known it since the moment she realized the danger her true eye color represented. For a second, she considered saying something about it—but then, like some kind of spell, her mother’s words came back to her once again.

  “Never let your guard down.”

  "And how did you end up in this Hive Zone?"

  "At first, the ship I boarded was headed to the State of Alankhus, to the port of Fanero, since it’s the Ibelirian state with the most renegades and Ibelir-born ankhelars. But just before we set sail, word came that there were numerous Imperial corsair ships near all Alankhus waters, so the captain decided to sail to Ainte instead."

  Alankhus, huh?

  Arithya’s uncle had made a similar decision, although for a different reason. She didn’t know what the situation was like nowadays, but back when they came to the Ibelirian Peninsula, there were apparently numerous Imperial spies infiltrated in the state, so they had preferred to go somewhere they believed the Empire’s reach wouldn’t extend. Unfortunately, that hadn’t been the case.

  “I honestly didn’t know anything about the city or the state itself,” Orythar continued. “So my initial idea was to travel with the group to Alankhus. But then Dariah, one of the travelers I befriended, told me the roads in Ibelir were very dangerous because of the number of Savages and Raiders, and that he knew of a community up north in the state, so it would be much easier and safer to get there. After such a dangerous journey, and after finally reaching a country where I could be free, I figured the most logical thing was to take as few risks as possible.”

  Thefuil smiled and nodded every now and then, as if he also understood what they were talking about.

  “So when we got to Ainte, we took a transport bus from the State Recon and Support Regiment—if I remember the name correctly—and we arrived in Catlon. But unfortunately, after several weeks of searching, we found out that the entire community had been brutally murdered.”

  “Run, hide in the Hive Zone. It’ll be very hard for them to find you there. Things may be rough for years, but I know your parents’ teachings will help you survive.”

  Images of her uncle begging her to leave while Aluthian assassins ran through the park and the estate, stabbing every ankhelar they found, crossed Arithya’s mind. A shiver filled with grief and guilt ran down her spine.

  “If we had stayed out of it, like my uncle suggested, maybe they’d still be alive. It was all my fault for insisting on being with our people. I’m sorry…”

  Arithya blinked and realized Orythar was looking at her with a puzzled expression.

  “Did he notice something?”

  “Go on,” she said calmly.

  “By then, we were out of money and our visitor visa was about to expire,” the ankhelar said with a sigh of sadness. “At a bar, we were told that many foreigners who want to stay in Ibelir no matter what decide to head to the Hive Zones, since the National Defense Corps usually doesn't go in unless something very, very serious happens, or unless someone from inside causes major problems outside and then flees back into the Hive. —He shrugged—. At that point, we weren’t willing to return to the Ankunari Empire. That would’ve meant our death. So we decided to risk entering the Hive Zones. Not long after entering, we realized why the Defense Corps stayed out. And Dariah, the one who told me about the ankhelar community in Catlon, was soon killed by a gang member.” He looked off to the side and clenched his fist. “I almost died that day too.” He looked back at Arithya.“A few days later, I heard about a gang that had gained a lot of power and was taking control of much of the Hive. They were looking for people, so I decided to try my luck. Honestly, I don’t know how long I’ll last, but at least I’ll still be able to choose my fate.”

  “I see…” said Arithya, falling silent as she reflected on Orythar’s words. The idea of escaping a self-imposed fate—especially for those with the least privileged jobs—had been the main reason the ankhelar in the community she and her uncle had lived in became Renegades. Though her own case had been different, and for many years she had believed that taking control of her own fate was nearly impossible, the mere attempt to take charge of her life was something she deeply valued.

  “And you? How did you end up here?” he asked.

  “Never trust anyone.” Her mother’s voice echoed once again inside her.

  “Maybe someday I’ll tell you. But not today,” she said as she walked toward the door.

  “Wait, Arithya,” Thefuil interjected with concern. “What’s going on? Where are you going?”

  “To inform Cala, Doer, and the rest. We’re heading out in ten minutes. I want to make sure we know the terrain well before meeting with the Guardians of the Word. I don’t trust them,” she replied, casting a brief glance at Orythar before closing the door behind her.