Before she was Fantasia, she was T'sal Drann, a seeker of the stars. Born on the distant world of Aelathrin, T'sal grew up among her people's grand archives, where the recorded knowledge of countless civilizations shimmered in crystalline matrices. The Aelathrians were not conquerors or warriors—they were explorers, dedicated to understanding the universe.
T'sal had dreamed of joining their ranks since she was a child, poring over maps of constellations and stories of ancient worlds. When she came of age, she was chosen to captain an Isil-Class exploration vessel, a sleek, nimble craft designed for stealth and endurance. Her mission was clear: traverse the uncharted edges of the galaxy, document new worlds, and make first contact when possible.
For years, she fulfilled her duty, weaving through nebulae and skirting black holes. Her ship, Lyssara, became her home, a cocoon of light and knowledge in the vast expanse of space. But her final journey took her into a sector she hadn't planned to explore—a small, unremarkable star system with a blue-green planet orbiting its heart.
Earth.
T'sal's initial scans of Earth revealed a planet teeming with life but gripped by war. She detected radio waves brimming with desperate communication, broadcasts filled with static-laden speeches and cries for help. Curious and concerned, she descended into the atmosphere to observe.
But Earth's skies were not welcoming. As she manoeuvred through the clouds, her craft's sensors lit up with warnings. On the ground below, a German Flak 88 anti-aircraft cannon fired into the heavens, its operators mistaking her ship for an experimental Allied plane.
The shell struck her vessel's starboard side, tearing through its hull and severing key systems. T'sal fought to maintain control as alarms blared and her ship began to spiral. With her propulsion failing and atmospheric drag ripping the craft apart, she managed to direct it toward a cluster of buildings far from the front lines.
Her ship crashed with a deafening roar into the grounds of a sprawling estate. Sparks rained from the ruptured hull, and plumes of smoke rose into the night sky. T'sal barely escaped the wreckage before collapsing onto the manicured lawn.
She had no way of knowing it then, but she had landed at Bletchley Park.
When British intelligence officers discovered the wreckage, they expected to find the remains of a downed Allied plane. Instead, they found T'sal—her glowing blue skin and advanced technology defying all explanation. For a brief, tense moment, she was surrounded by soldiers, their rifles trained on her as they barked orders she couldn't understand.
But T'sal was not one to panic. With calm deliberation, she activated her translator implant, allowing her to communicate. "I come in peace," she said, her voice steady.
Her words and her alien appearance shocked the officers, but one man stepped forward: Alan Turing. Fascinated by her craft's wreckage and her intelligence, he convinced his superiors to allow her to stay at Bletchley Park, arguing that her knowledge could be invaluable to the war effort.
T'sal quickly proved him right. Her understanding of mathematics and cryptography far surpassed anything the Allies had seen. She adapted their rudimentary computing machines, streamlining the decryption process. Within weeks, her insights helped Turing's team crack the Enigma code, turning the tide of the war.
But her contributions went beyond mathematics. Her mere presence inspired the team, who marvelled at the idea that humanity was not alone in the universe.
After the fall of the Third Reich, the British government faced a dilemma. T'sal—now codenamed Fantasia—was a walking enigma herself. They declared her existence a national secret, shielding her from public view.
Unable to return to the stars due to the damage to her ship and Earth's limited technology, Fantasia agreed to remain on the planet. She was recruited into MI6, where her skills were put to use in the burgeoning Cold War.
Fantasia's ability to read micro-expressions and manipulate energy made her an exceptional interrogator and field operative. She infiltrated Soviet installations, disrupted espionage rings, and foiled assassination plots. Her missions were often brutal, requiring her to make difficult choices that haunted her long after they were completed.
Still, she carried out her work with precision and detachment. She had no loyalty to any nation, only to the fragile peace that she believed was worth preserving.
For decades, Fantasia lived in the shadows, a weapon wielded by the British government. She watched as the world changed around her, from the Cold War's paranoia to the technological boom of the late 20th century.
But the weight of secrecy began to take its toll. Fantasia longed for the stars, for the life she had left behind. Her role on Earth, though critical, felt hollow.
By the time the bombs fell, her disillusionment was complete. The world she had fought to protect had destroyed itself, and her trust in humanity had shattered. Yet, when The Vanguard formed, she joined them—not out of hope, but out of a lingering sense of responsibility.
Now, in the dim light of the safe house, Fantasia stared at the map of Earth spread across the table. Her glowing skin cast faint reflections on the surface, illuminating the borders and divisions she had spent decades fighting to understand.
"This world isn't mine," she said softly, her voice carrying the weight of centuries. "But I'm still here. And as long as I am, I won't let it destroy itself again."
The others were silent, their gazes turning to her. Even Shaman, often quick with a quip, remained quiet.
Fantasia met their eyes, her expression calm but unyielding. "If ruling this world is what it takes, then so be it. I've fought wars for less."