Lightning cut across the sky, illuminating a towering concrete structure, its moss clinging to the cracks in the crumbling walls. The wind howled through the ramparts, which hung precariously over the edge of the cliff as though on the verge of collapse. Deep within the fortress, in the most distant chambers, a child took its first breath amidst the cries of a dying, starved beast.

Men stood around the child, examining it with cold indifference. One of them spoke first. "Lawrence."

"What is it, Edward?"

"It's curious how babies always cry when they're born... as if they somehow know the hardship awaiting them."

The rain began to fall harder, a torrent from the heavens, as if trying to cleanse the human soul of its rot.

"If you could even call that thing a baby," Lawrence muttered, glancing at the prisoner who had been used for the experiment. She lay on the table, her stomach cut open, her eyes wide, staring into the abyss that awaited all living things in death.

"Lawrence, what should we name her?" Edward asked.

"After her mother," Lawrence replied, his gaze fixed on the lifeless woman on the table. "Give her one of their names."

"Zhei-Lan," Edward murmured, kissing the baby's forehead. "By the gods, what have we done?" he whispered as he cradled the child, a tear slipping down his cheek. And so, he wept.

Lawrence looked at Edward with a pensive expression. "Yes, I understand, my apprentice. But this is for the good of humanity. We must forge our own monsters to harness the cosmic forces that govern this world... I'm sorry I made you do this. You weren't ready."

Guilt, sorrow, and anger played across his face. With his resolve hardening, he drew his service pistol and aimed it at his mentor's head.

"Father, I'm sorry."

"It's only right, son," Edward said, his gaze lingering on the lifeless body of the prisoner, knowing there were more like her in chambers beneath them.

The gunshot rang out, and Lawrence's face shattered, his brain matter splattering across the room—a requiem for the tortured souls that had come before. Zhei began to scream. Edward set fire to the laboratory, smashing the computers. Outside the castle, he climbed into his ship, Zhei in his arms.

"Your birth is tragic enough," he muttered. "Let's not add your life to it." And so, he flew off into the indifferent cosmos...

The chamber was bathed in a thousand colors, each hue clashing against the marble floor.

Before the king, who slouched lazily upon his throne, a robed arbiter stood, his golden-trimmed garments fluttering slightly in the draft.

"I've granted this time to the clergy, and by extension, to you, to voice any grievances," the king said dismissively, his hand waving idly.

"My king—or rather, our king—we come with a proposal, one that will determine the fate of our nation. Deep within the highest circles of our order, we have uncovered a blight within the human mind, buried so deeply it could almost be called primordial in nature."

"Go on," the king murmured, leaning forward with interest.

"A predilection toward decadence and hedonism that arises only when a society grows too large to sustain itself."

"And what do you propose to do about this?" the king asked, his brow furrowing in thought.

"There is no solution, my king. This is the will of the gods. The people have grown fat and complacent under your reign. They no longer see the need for a king. They've grown too accustomed to comfort, to stability—"

The king interrupted, "They have grown blind to the necessity of order."

"And so, the earth must rest. The soil must— The cycle of life must continue—"

"Through our deaths," the king finished, his tone low and weary.

A deep melancholy washed over the king as he gazed out at the distant lands under his rule. "I've done everything in my power to ensure the longevity of this empire. I've conquered all their gods and forced them to bow before ours. But even in doing so, I suppose we must face ourselves in the end, don't we?" He slouched deeper into his throne, despair heavy in his chest.

"I'm sorry, my king. I fear your reign will be the last. But that doesn't mean you can't make the fire burn brighter, just a little while longer..."

The king turned his gaze to his son, Julius, and then to Aralius, Marcellus, and lastly, his daughter, Clementine.

"When will I know that this empire's time is at an end?" the king asked.

"When the people cry out for freedom," the arbiter replied. "They feel confined by the gods, but what they don't realize is they need to protect themselves from one another."

"But such a rebellion will never be satisfied. The thirst for liberation will never end. One day, they will cry to be freed from life itself—freed from the pain and suffering it brings. And then, all will be lost to time. The human soul, in its desperate desire for freedom, will stagnate and trap itself."

"The fire always fades," the king murmured.

"If there is nothing else, you may leave," the king said, his voice tinged with defeat.

The arbiter bowed, turned, and walked out of the chamber, leaving the king to stew in the solitude of his thoughts.

Atop a lighthouse in some forgotten corner of the galaxy, Zhei stood, gazing out at the murky waters, sparkling faintly beneath the beams of sunlight that crept over the horizon. Her peaceful moment was interrupted by footsteps behind her.

"Zhei? Why do you always come up here? You know the adults will be furious; they're worried sick every time you wander off."

"William, look! Do you see that sunrise? Do you see the seagulls? Smell the salt in the air? There's a whole world out there waiting for us! Mr. Dunningham told me so, and I even looked at one of his maps."

Elliot gasped. "Zhei! You weren't supposed to touch those!"

"There are these things called planets, and they can hold not one, not two, but one hundred Aloncias!"

Elliot turned away, swallowing hard, sighing. "What are you pouting about now?" Zhei asked, feeling flustered. "Anyway, walk me home, will you? You can have dinner with me and my father."

"Are you sure Mr. Edward will be okay with that?"

"Yes, he will. I'll make him," Zhei giggled.

As they arrived at Zhei's home, a modest house perched on the edge of the village, she was greeted by Edward, who was busy tinkering with his ship. It was a small corvette, used for running cargo around the area, giving him and his surrogate daughter a comfortable life.

"Father! I'm home!" Zhei called. "And I brought Elliot with me."

Edward emerged from under the ship, his hands and face streaked with grease. "And what mischief has my little troublemaker gotten up to today?" he asked, pinching her nose.

"I helped Ms. Magdallyin milk the sheep. I beat the Burison brothers in a race. Oh! And I found THIS! Is that Mr. Dunningham's star chart?"

"You little thief," Edward said, ruffling her hair. "But you know the rules. We don't steal in this house. I expect you to return it and apologize."

Zhei's shoulders slumped. "Yes, sir."

"And Elliot, I'm sure your parents are worried about you, but since you're Zhei's guest, hospitality comes first. I'll send them a message with the transmitter."

"Mr. and Mrs. Pages, this is Edward, over."

"Yes, Edward... Oh, over."

"I'm informing you that Elliot walked Zhei home, and I'm asking for permission to keep him here until morning. There's a storm brewing, over."

"That won't be acceptable, over."

"Well, you're half a kilometer away. I can't just drop him off and make it back. I'm repairing my corvette, over."

A long silence passed. "I'm sorry, Edward. I tipped the authorities off about you."

Edward's heart sank as Mrs. Pages began to sob. "My son…"

The rain began to fall harder, tapping against the roof, the sound of distant ship engines humming in the air.

Zhei snapped out of her daydream at the sound of shells hitting a landing craft.

"Welcome to the earthly plane, dear sis."

Zhei snapped out of her trance to the smell of cold, sterile steel and the exhaust of gunships. The soldiers' banter echoed in the still air, a stark contrast to the hollowness that resonated deep within her.

Zhei glared at the man and said nothing, her heart as cold and rotten as the dark armor she wore, decorated with golden accents. She clutched her rifle, her expression void, her sleek, short hair shadowing her eyes.

The sergeant shot her a wary, reproachful glance. "Leave it alone, private, before it kills us all."

"There's a heart in there somewhere; I can feel it," the private said, his tone light and giddy. He smiled again. "Believe it or not, I used to have a friend who was one of them..."

"I was about to ask you how you would know."

"Why would an arbiter's dog be your friend?" chimed in another private, named Amanda.

"Here, I have a picture, Amanda." He reached into his pocket and pulled it out. "Her name was Zhei."

Zhei was about to open her mouth and scream, "It's me! I'm Zhei!" But the implications of telling them… she thought about the position that would put Elliot in. And so she kept silent while occasionally sneaking glances at him, each glance filled with life she no longer had. He was actually human, and she was unholy… which she knew was propaganda to make the populace feel safe. In reality, walkers were entities trapped on the physical plane and turned into something resembling a human.

Through a road paved in blood, humanity had reached its destination. As the gunship began to descend, the hull creaked and groaned in agony. Zhei noticed the men clutching their rifles; she could feel the anxiety from their souls seeping into her mind. No, it wasn't anxiety… it was anticipation. They were staring at her and the bishop through the corners of their eyes as they exchanged words.

More flak grated against the gunship; however, as sharp as the pitch was, it still wasn't enough to cut through the tension. Zhei looked to the bishop and made sure her rifle was in safety mode as she eased her hand toward her plasma knife. As the bolts settled and the lights flickered, indicating they had reached a lower altitude, Zhei's mind began racing. 'This is actually the perfect situation to kill the war priest and its veil walker. Tight spaces mean we can't use long-range abilities; we're in the air, so our psychics are essentially voided, risking the destruction of the craft and our deaths.'

"The real question is, what do they want?" she pondered. The gunship shifted and broke formation. As it shifted, the squad stood up and pulled out their pistols and knives. Elliot looked dumbfounded, before he could say anything, Amanda put a gun barrel to his chin. "Ahhh, why don't you sit this one out?"

They opened fire on Zhei and the bishop just as she formed a psychic barrier with her arms held out. They staggered their shots to conserve ammo, each one knocking her on her ass. She thought, 'I could reach for my rifle, but it's useless in such a confined space. My only hope of survival would be to bring the whole ship down. They would probably kill him after her.'

With her resolve set, between the next shot, she released her depleted uranium spheres from their pockets, and they slid down the corridor of the dropship. The squad broke into laughter, and Zhei imagined the vectors and the paths they would take, tapping into and generating a magnetic field for each ball. The space light around them began to distort, and there was a blinding flash followed by the sound of tearing metal and roaring wind. She activated her magnetic boots and used her psychokinesis to grab both Elliot and the parachute.

Zhei was hanging on for dear life, bobbing and weaving through the debris. It only took one bolt or screw to tear through the parachute and them. But they only needed to get low enough for her to break their fall with a barrier. A piece of debris lodged itself through her abdomen. The pain rippled through her, and she screamed as they plummeted into the ground, only to have their fall broken by the mud and water of the former war front.

Elliot dragged Zhei out of the water, checked her pulse, and prayed to God she had steady breathing. There was no defibrillator for at least two and a half kilometers, and his scanner was damaged. He had no idea how to work whatever technology she had. There was one thing for certain: she was the reason he had gotten out of there alive. Regardless of her reasons, he owed it to her; he was indebted.

Zhei woke up to the sound of fire crackling and the tangy aroma of spicy rations. She slowly sat up to see Elliot by the fire, staring at her anxiously. She felt her stomach; it was fully healed. But the first words that came out of her mouth were not "You saved me" or "How am I alive?" They were, "Is your last name… Pages?" she asked as the rain began to tap dance against the mud outside the abandoned fortification where they had found respite.

"Yes."

Zhei began sobbing profusely; it was the first time she had felt anything in almost a decade.

"Are you… all right?" Elliot asked.

"Yes, I'm just… happy. I'm just happy," she whimpered.

"We're stranded, and you're happy?"

"Because… I am Zhei," she said softly.

"Surprise," she added, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Well, to be fair, I was going to hit on you regardless," he replied, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"You'd... sodomize a Priestess?" She chuckled, glancing away. "And for what? So the clergy can drag you through the streets and burn you alive?"

Elliot shrugged. "As they used to say in the early 21st century, I understood the assignment."

Zhei smiled softly. "Ugh, let that die already. Those videos are millennia old, back before the reign of kings. But I imagine that's why you showed off the picture. If you saw how they looked at you…"

"How'd they look at me?"

"Like, 'Why is this dude showing me his makeshift body pillow? And of a child, at that.'"

"You didn't… umm… do anything to my picture, did you?"

"Perhaps... a long time ago, once or twice."

He gestured to the rations nearby. "I have a habit of digging up the past, what can I say?"

Zhei sits down to eat, but before she grabs her food, she abruptly gives Elliot a giant hug and holds it.

Elliot reciprocates the hug.

"So what now?" he asked.

Their tender moment was interrupted by a gun barrel to their heads. "And what is a walker doing mucking about with a grunt? Get dressed, whore," the person said as he spat. "You're coming with us."

And so they began the long trek to the resistance forward base in chains, through the mud field littered with shells.

One of the resistance soldiers looks at Elliot. "Why were you hugging that thing?" Zhei's heart sinks, anticipating his next words. Hoping he does know what she is, how she was made, and what she does, but there's no way he wouldn't, depending on his rank.

Their boots crunched against the muddy soil.

"Her name is Zhei. If you must know, we are estranged childhood friends who just had a reunion. I've seen far more terrible things than a girl starved of affection."

"It's not human."

"Humanity is not something you are born into. It is something you claim, something you become. With that in mind, it is something you can lose."

Elliot's words hung in everyone's minds.

"So you're an educated man. Why are you off in this backwater instead of in college?"

"Well, if your childhood friend was suffering, could you be living life to the fullest?"

Zhei looked behind her at Elliot. "I want you far away from here."

Her retort was met by the butt of a gun to her head.

As she stumbled and fell on her knees and palms, one of the rebels said, "Quiet."

The other rebels glanced at each other uncomfortably.

Elliot said, "The hatred of your fathers is not yours to bear, neither are their sins."

"You plan to dissect her?"

"Would a nation founded on such barbarism amount to anything?" he said as he looked up to the sky. "We're only as good as our first principles."

"You seek salvation in the very things you detest."

"Then what would it all be for?"

"What would you know with your posh way of talking?"

"I grew up in a farming and mercantile town with that very woman."

"You know how dangerous they are. We can't let her live."

"But have you asked her what she lives for?"

The rebels take a moment of contemplation. "You want us to recruit a fucking walker?"

"Now you are starting to get it. She hates them just as much as you do, and she could do something about it. She's more useful."

"Elliot raises an eyebrow. You plan to dissect her and study her genes… let's say you learn how to make walkers' logistics, the strategy layer, the tactical layer, the training of soldiers. She has one thing you guys will never be able to obtain: a deep education in it, the mightiest power the galaxy has seen in ages, and on top of that, a deep understanding of theology. You will need an ideology to bind your society together once it's built."

"Right now she's worth more alive."

"So if I kill you and take her, then what? Then she sabotages your plans, and you get nothing. You kill both me and her, you get nothing. You kill her, and you get nothing."

"Don't underestimate the worth of a silver tongue, kid."

"But all that being said, why are you so certain she'd…"

"Oh, it's very personal. I can't say."

"They murdered my father," Zhei adds callously.

The rebels laugh. Her iris lights up with psychic energy, her eyes

"You may kill four or five of us, but we're nine strong. You will not make it out of here alive if you go down this road." Zhei calms down; he was telling the truth. An honest man and a lamenting woman, the rebel leader lowers his gun. "Come now," he says as he unties Zhei and Elliot. "Do not abuse our sincerity," he says sternly.

And so they walked forward, peering over the horizon. Elliot says to Zhei, "Now we're even."

Zhei remains quiet for the rest of the walk back. When they arrive at the settlement, the people stare at her. They have the most wretched complexions and scurry about with sickly postures; a deep despair and depression permeate the air.

"These are our new recruits." The people eye her suspiciously. A child touches her arm as if trying to grab at the seemingly prismatic mist under her skin. When he touches it, it dances even more violently, and the child jumps back. Zhei lets out a giggle she hadn't heard in ten years. Some people get visibly angry, while others shoot her endearing but cautious glances.

"All these people want a life away from the confines of the monarch. None of them are actual soldiers, yet they have so much fighting spirit compared to me," she thinks to herself. A moment later, one of the rebels pulls her to the side. "The commandant wants to speak with you." The rebels escort her to the commandant's office.

The commandant eyes Zhei with weariness. "My men told me you're able and willing to help, and that you are worth more alive. For your own sake, I hope that's true," he glares at Zhei with suspicion.

Zhei clutches her arm. "I don't exactly want to go back." The commandant has a moment of contemplation, followed by a glazed look. "Well, we'll discuss how you can contribute to the Republic of One tomorrow. Get some rest."

"I only have to sleep once a week."

"Then enjoy yourself. Enjoy this settlement and its people."

"Thank you," she says. She opens the door to the office to find Elliot slouched against the wall, sleeping. But now that she's able to get a good look at him, she sees the patch on his arm. It reads "Interstellar Marine." She smiles, but it's shrouded by a deep sadness. Zhei nudges Elliot awake, a smile tugging at her face. "So, you're a marine."

Elliot slowly opens his eyes, looking at his patch. "Was."

"We were supposed to wait for them to come get us."

"So what now?"

"I suppose we just stare at each other and avoid mentioning what we want to mention."

"And what's that?"

"Zhei, I'm gonna put a baby in you."

Zhei cackles. "Your honor, put that on the record."

"Record?"

"Everything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law." Zhei rests her head on Elliot's shoulder, only to realize that the rebels who brought them here had seen the whole interaction.

"She is a person. Well, shit," one of them says.

But just as quickly as she realizes, her usual sullen countenance returns as she glances to the side. This is the point of no return. It has been twenty-four hours, and I'll be declared a rogue walker. My face will be plastered all over the inner galaxy. There is no going back for me, she says to the rebel.

Elliot takes note of this with a concerned glance. "I do hope you treat me well, because in light of the fact you were going to use me as a guinea pig, I have a life too, you know. I have friends; I have late nights out. I like dancing and music. But don't you dare think for a second that it isn't the same for any life you take. There is no righteous cause, no glory, no honor, no nobility in murder." Just her voice becomes even drier. "Just remember that when you stick it to an imperial bastard for this."

Trying to mask the shame, the rebel smiles. "My name is Janice. You'll have to show me your moves sometime...City girl. Come, I'll take you to the family you'll be staying with."

Along the walk, Zhei takes in the scenery—a sight she hadn't seen since she was thirteen: the setting sun merging with the horizon as the seagulls squawked and the smell of salt filled the air.

Elliot chimes in. "This brings back memories. Way better than the smog-ridden red sky of the capital."

"You know what would make it better?" Zhei adds.

"The rhythm and blues mash-ups we used to listen to, borrowed from Mr. Dunningham." She grins, giving him a second. She digs into her pockets and pulls out some very old earbuds and a smartphone, a forgotten relic. Most people got cybernetic implants or had their genes edited for enhanced cognition that grew with them as they aged, but she was too old to get them when she was brought to the more developed areas of the system.

She puts one of her buds in Elliot's ear, scrolls through her playlist, and puts on a mash-up between B2K and Rihanna.

Their moment is interrupted by Janice, who tells Zhei they have arrived at the home she'd be staying at. Janice goes to knock on the door, and they are greeted by a young boy followed by a woman yelling, "JOHN! What did I tell you about opening the door by yourself?"

"Sorry, Mom, it's just that I was told I was getting an older sibling and that they'd play with me and teach me lots of things."

"Mrs. Melancotty, this is Zhei. She will help you manage your farm and contribute to our settlement efforts to aid the People's Liberation Party in our war efforts." Zhei smiles and waves softly.

"John, show Zhei around the house while I talk to Janice." John's eyes light up, and their hearts melt at John's chipper attitude.

"Oh right! Come, Zhei, let me show you around the home."

"This is the living room."

"Looks cozy."

"This is the kitchen."

"What do you usually cook? Also, you say this is a farm, yet there are no fields."

John looks at Zhei confused. "It's an artificial farm. All the food made here is...what's the word...syn...the...tic."

Mrs. Meloncotty chimes in, "Settlements like this, scattered throughout the system, are the backbone of the People's Liberation Party, led by the noble Valencius."

"I'm a soldier, not a scientist. What would you have me do?" Zhei replies.

"Yes, but if you are who you say you are, your general intelligence quotient has to be at least 132," says John.

"Yes, it's around there, give or take five points," Zhei admits.

"I don't believe you," Mrs. Meloncotty says skeptically.

"You're using the animosity people feel towards walkers and the higher caste to steal talent from the monarchy, promising them a life of safety and freedom," Zhei observes.

"But surely you must see the end result of a society revolving around meritocracy instead of honor," she continues. "First principles are everything; they manifest in every single value structure the society produces."

"Okay?" John prompts, waiting for more.

"This is important because you're setting up a society that values people based on what they can produce, not on their character or virtues like honor. Humility—even pride is better," Zhei explains. "You're fighting for the freedom of humans, but in the end, you'll fail to effectively do that."

"My father wasn't killed because he did anything wrong, exactly…he was killed because he killed the man who raised him. Not because he betrayed the crown, but because he dishonored himself and his father."

"Well, I disagree," Mrs. Meloncotty says firmly.

"Well, this is self-evident. A foundation influences how a structure is built. But I didn't come here to debate or stop you all," Zhei responds. "You disagree because you haven't had an opportunity to demonstrate character and be rewarded for it, but you have merit."

"The powers that be—some have character, some ride on the coattails of their forefathers. The idea is that the child is built on the blueprint of their parent, but if they're born with character, they may neglect merit," Zhei remarks. "The clergy understands the nature of this rebellion down to its very essence."

"How do you know?"

"Because I was a clergy member."

"But the Kin–"

"The king was going to step down from the throne for a peaceful transition of power."

When the rebellion blew up at the space station in Oracete, the king felt threatened. He knew that if he stepped down, he would be hunted and executed. If you want what you claim to want, and not just a will to feel powerful, you'd negotiate with the clergy and assure the king of his immunity for a peaceful transition. It is facilitating this turning point that determines if a nation lives or dies."

"Okay, okay calm down, I understand we fucked up, Now get some sleep we have along day tomorrow"