CHAPTER 1. PART 2 :
If only that damned pirate ship hadn't appeared out of nowhere that day, slipping past the planet's space surveillance to illegally enter the Pria-III fields, where her people jealously guarded the crops of the most rare and precious plant species.
Iona then remembered, with painful clarity, the incomprehension and terror that had seized her, frozen in the deafening silence that preceded the disaster.
She saw the shadow of the pirate ship stretch at her feet like a dark omen, darkening their faces. Her body, violently thrown against a wall of the Lyrithium greenhouse where she worked, as the glass sky shattered into a shower of sharp pieces.
When she came to, the pirates were already there, filling their holds without ceremony with rare plants, tearing with voracious indifference the fruit of months of labor.
That day, Iona made the bitter acquaintance of the reaper.
She saw it in the lifeless eyes of each of her comrades. The hands that had guided her, those that had given her everything—those of her comrades, friends, and mentors—were now still, scattered among the wreckage of the devastated greenhouse, in the dark embrace of a crimson tide.
The vision blew a biting chill of horror through her, while the nascent rage burned her veins.
Death, which had grazed her skin and stolen her companions, awakened in her a burning desire for retribution.
She had only one idea in mind: to inflict the same on those who had sown chaos in her life.
A wild and primitive fury then took hold of her. Despite the pain piercing her chest and the top of her skull, she found in her the strength to stand on her shaky legs. Sharp tool in hand, she charged towards the nearest pirate.
Her roar, a wrenching mix of pain and mourning, split the air as she unleashed all the fury accumulated against this ruthless enemy.
She was disconcerted to see that her attack had little effect. The man she had tried to stab, a hideous giant with orange skin, clearly from the infamous moons of Graöl, grabbed her blade with one hand, grunting before violently pushing her away with an arm.
She staggered, disoriented by the intensity of the impact. Iona felt her consciousness waver as she spat blood. She only knelt before trying to rise, but was immediately violently seized by the hair.
As she struggled to break free, a woman in her thirties, an expression of disgust painted on her carnivorous features, blonde braids sweeping her shoulders, captured her gaze.
"Boss, this one doesn't want to die. What do we do with her?" The woman mocked, a wicked smile stretching her lips. She shook Iona violently, playing with her prey as she struggled in vain to escape her grasp.
Iona hoped that a glimmer of fierce determination in her eyes would be enough to divert her assailants' attention from the tears threatening to flow. Showing weakness would only play against her, she was fully aware.
She tried to struggle, to use the little strength she had left, but the pain was omnipresent, and her movements were just disorganized jerks. Kah-ra, the haughty right-hand of the "Boss," eyed her with a predatory look; in her eyes shone a promise of pain that only awaited the signal to unleash.
"We should probably show her how things work here," murmured a deep voice from the shadows.
A man emerged from the bowels of the ship, his bearing imperious and his icy gaze fixed on Iona. One of his eyes was glassy as if he had lost its use; on his left cheek, a deep scar made its way down to his neck, partially hidden under a few days' beard. The reverence that the group of outlaws showed him confirmed his danger in the young girl's eyes.
He said no more. A simple gesture was enough for Kah-ra, the woman with the blonde braids, to grasp the unspoken order.
With a fluid motion, she loosened her grip around Iona, but it was only to better grab her by the collar and pull her towards a brutal lesson she would never forget.
Iona's indignant words choked in her throat, her complaints turning into muffled screams as the reality of her situation imposed itself on her.
"Defend yourself, come on!" yelled Kah-ra, her blows as sharp as her voice.
She moved with the ease of a warrior, each strike seeming to provide her with a vicious satisfaction. Her malevolent laugh, clear and stinging, mingled with the tumult of cheers and jeers from the group of pirates surrounding them.
Faced with the young girl's lack of counterattack, as she curled up on the ground in a fetal position trying desperately to shield her body with her arms, the pirate displayed a grimace of disgust, as if repelled by so much weakness.
"Is that all you can do on your damn planet?" Kah-ra spat, the disdain piercing in her voice, each word seemingly dripping with venom.
"You hide away on your little slice of paradise, pretentious and cut off from the Essence of the universe, huh? Your damn plants are so enticing they draw the envy of the entire galaxy!" Her voice sharpened with sarcasm.
"People must crawl from all corners of space to beg for a pinch of your greenery, right? On their knees for a miserable leaf or flower from your garden of damn privileged!"
Iona didn't understand why this adult was venting her anger and bitterness on her, but she knew she didn't deserve to be her whipping post. Even on the ground, battered under a barrage of blows, she raised her head, glaring at the pirate with her one eye still capable of seeing, a challenge that elicited a laugh filled with derision from Kah-ra.
Kah-ra squinted her eyes. Not so whiny after all, she thought to herself. It would be all the more delightful to break her.
The pirate paused, then made a theatrical gesture, encompassing the space around them with her arms.
"And you, little pest of a gardener, can you imagine what it's like to lack all this?" she taunted, sweeping her arm around the surroundings. "These plants are key to powerful magics, used across the constellations. Some worlds are so dependent on them for their survival that thousands would steal, burn, and kill to get some of these leaves. But you," she pointed at Iona accusingly, "you and your kind, you bask in such blissful ignorance. 'Gift-less' is all you are. You'll never know the power of the Essence. Neither you, nor your descendants, all tainted as you are by this degenerate planet."
That was too much. Iona had heard enough. Deep down, she recognized this disturbing truth: neither she nor her people were ordinary. How could one exist, cut off from even a trace of Essence, unable to feel it vibrating in their veins?
The Virvenians were cosmic curiosities, heirs of ancient colonists who had ventured so deep into the fabric of the universe that they had lost themselves, estranged from the primal source of Essence.
For centuries, no mage had been born among them, no awakening of magic had disturbed the tranquil course of life on Virven13. The last traces of magic had been eroded by time, absorbed by the planet itself, leaving behind a people unique in their silence in the song of Essence.
And when they were finally reconnected to the world through cosmic portals—a relatively recent invention—it was a revelation to discover the wonders of the legendary Essence they had been deprived of at the root.
The old Virvenian sages liked to remind everyone that their incessant quest to mimic the arcane powers of creation and life through advanced cultivation art had likely cost the Virvenians their own magic.
As if they had received a divine punishment for daring to compete with the great Creator: the plants they cultivated were brimming with magical potential, while they themselves struggled to reclaim theirs.
"You'll see... when the royal guard arrives, all the thieves and scavengers who have tainted Virven13 will pay dearly," Iona spat, blood tracing a purple trail along her chin. Her eyes burned with an unyieldable resolve as she glared at Kah-ra with stinging contempt.
Her voice was raspy, tinged with doubt even to her own ears.
If the Virvenian reinforcements hadn't intervened yet, it was probably because the pirate ship had used cloaking technology, eliminating any chance that help would arrive in time. In other words, no one was coming to her rescue.
The pirates were well aware of this. So, in response to her threat, they only replied with smirks and mockery.