The lakes where the New-Inphel had hatched shimmered with bioluminescent light, a stark contrast to the growing tension among their inhabitants. Once unified by the guidance of their mother, Pepsi, the hatchlings now faced a fracturing reality. Encounters with humanity, both kind and cruel, had begun to shape their views, and not all agreed on how to respond.
In a nearby village, a group of hatchlings cautiously approached a marketplace. Their glowing forms drew wary gazes, and whispers followed them wherever they went.
"Keep an eye on them," a merchant muttered to his neighbour. "Can't trust those things."
"They're just children," the neighbour replied, though her voice was tinged with uncertainty. "They haven't done anything wrong."
One hatchling, a young male with shimmering silver skin, reached for an apple on a fruit stand, offering a handful of shiny stones as payment.
The merchant snatched the apple away. "We don't take your kind's payment," he snapped.
The hatchling flinched, his glowing eyes reflecting hurt. Another hatchling, taller and more defiant, stepped forward. "We did nothing to you," she said, her voice steady but tinged with anger. "Why treat us like this?"
The merchant scowled. "Your kind did plenty. If you want trust, earn it."
In contrast, another group of hatchlings stumbled upon a small farm on the outskirts of the village. An elderly couple tending their crops greeted them cautiously but without hostility.
"You're the new ones, aren't you?" the old woman asked, leaning on her hoe.
The hatchlings nodded, unsure how to respond.
"Got good manners, at least," the old man said with a chuckle. He handed one of them a loaf of bread. "Go on, take it. Ain't much, but it's something."
The hatchlings exchanged uncertain glances before accepting the bread. "Thank you," one of them said softly.
The old woman smiled faintly. "You're just trying to live, like the rest of us. Don't let the fear get to you."
The conflicting experiences began to divide the hatchlings. Some, like the tall, defiant female from the market, grew resentful of humanity's mistrust.
"They'll never accept us," she said to a gathering of her siblings by the lakeshore. "Why should we try to be like them? We're stronger, faster—we don't need them."
Others, like the young male who had accepted the bread, disagreed. "Not everyone hates us," he said. "Some are kind. We can learn from them."
The debate grew heated, and Pepsi arrived to quell the rising tension. Her luminous presence silenced the hatchlings, but their emotions lingered in the air.
"This division will destroy us before humanity ever could," she said. "We must choose our path carefully—together."
The hatchlings' internal struggles were compounded by their genetic memory. They carried the weight of the Inphel's history—countless battles, conquests, and atrocities—etched into their very being.
One hatchling, a young female with emerald eyes, sat alone by the lake, tears streaming down her face. Bandruí found her there during a visit and knelt beside her.
"What troubles you?" Bandruí asked gently.
The hatchling looked up, her voice trembling. "I see things in my mind. Horrible things. Things I never did but can't forget. How can I be different when this is what I carry?"
Bandruí placed a hand on her shoulder. "Memory shapes us, but it doesn't define us. You are not bound by the past. You have the power to choose who you become."
The hatchling nodded, though doubt still clouded her gaze.
In the privacy of the Vanguard's chambers, Pepsi confided in Arthur and Bandruí.
"They're fracturing," she admitted, her voice heavy with worry. "Some cling to the past, while others are desperate to escape it. I fear I'm losing them."
Arthur's expression was thoughtful. "Leadership is not about preventing division—it's about guiding through it. They look to you because you've shown them a better way."
Bandruí added, "Your strength lies in your vision. Keep showing them the path forward, even when it's unclear."
Pepsi nodded, their words a small but vital comfort.
Unbeknownst to Pepsi, a faction of hatchlings had begun meeting in secret. Led by the tall, defiant female from the market, they spoke of rejecting humanity and embracing the Inphel's legacy of strength.
"We are not weak," she said to the group. "We were born to lead, not beg for scraps. If they won't accept us, we'll take what we need."
Her words resonated with some, their inherited memories fuelling their anger. But others hesitated, torn between loyalty to Pepsi and the allure of strength.
Back at the lakes, the young male who had accepted the bread gathered his siblings for a different purpose.
"We don't have to be like the Inphel who came before us," he said. "We can be better. But we have to show them we're willing to try."
He led a group into the village, carrying baskets of glowing fruit harvested from their lakes. The villagers watched warily as the hatchlings approached.
"We want to share this with you," the young male said, his voice steady despite his fear. "To show we mean no harm."
After a tense moment, the same elderly couple who had given them bread stepped forward, accepting the fruit with kind smiles. Slowly, others followed suit.
As the hatchlings grappled with their identities, their mother watched with a mix of pride and concern.
"We are at a crossroads," Pepsi said during a meeting with the Vanguard. "My children must choose who they want to be. And humanity must decide if it will let them."
Arthur's gaze was steady. "Then we guide them—both of them. The road ahead is uncertain, but it's a road worth walking."
Pepsi nodded, her resolve strengthening. "Let us hope it leads somewhere worth reaching."