The division among the New-Inphel weighed heavily on Pepsi. At the lakes, groups of hatchlings clashed in heated debates, their words fuelled by inherited memories and the scars of prejudice.
"We shouldn't have to grovel for their acceptance!" one hatchling shouted, her glowing form pulsing with anger.
"And what will violence achieve?" countered another. "It will only prove their fears right!"
Pepsi stood at the centre of the turmoil, her voice calm but firm. "Enough. We will not solve this by tearing each other apart. You are not just Inphel. You are something new. But what you become is up to you."
The hatchlings fell silent, their luminous eyes reflecting both respect and doubt. Pepsi turned away, her composure unshaken but her heart heavy.
That night, alone by the water, Pepsi's thoughts drifted to the life she had lived before her transformation. Memories long buried surfaced with haunting clarity.
Her name had been Amélie. She had grown up in a small village in France, her childhood filled with laughter and the scent of wildflowers. But that life ended when the Inphel arrived.
Amélie was just fourteen when the invaders swept through her village, capturing anyone deemed "useful." Her slender frame and sharp mind marked her as a candidate for the experiments the Inphel referred to as "Integration."
Amélie was taken to a facility deep in the heart of occupied France. The laboratory was a grotesque amalgamation of alien technology and human suffering. Rows of metal tables lined the walls, each one occupied by a human subject restrained under harsh lights.
The first procedure was invasive and dehumanising. Needles the length of her arm pierced her skin, injecting bioluminescent fluids that burned as they coursed through her veins. She screamed until her voice gave out, her cries joining the cacophony of despair that filled the chamber.
Days blurred into weeks as her body began to change. Her hair fell out, replaced by strands that shimmered like liquid metal. Her skin grew translucent, and her eyes glowed faintly in the dark.
But the worst was yet to come. The Inphel scientists implanted neural nodes into her brain, forcing her to absorb the genetic memory of their species. Visions of conquest and carnage flooded her mind, erasing the innocent dreams of the girl she had been.
Amélie's transformation reached its zenith when her captors declared her a "viable candidate" for Matron conversion. The procedure fused her body with biomechanical elements, amplifying her strength and intellect at the cost of her humanity.
She awoke from the final procedure no longer Amélie, but something else entirely. Her luminous form was both alien and beautiful, a cruel mockery of the girl she had once been.
The High Matron, resplendent in her grotesque biomechanical glory, had overseen the process herself. "You are reborn," the High Matron croaked. "You will serve the Inphel as one of us."
But something deep within Amélie resisted. Though her body obeyed, a fragment of her human soul remained, buried beneath the weight of her transformation.
Months passed, and Pepsi rose through the ranks of the Inphel, her defiance carefully hidden. She had learned to navigate the psychic network that bound the Matrons, shielding her thoughts from the High Matron's scrutiny.
When the chance came to defect, she seized it, leading a small group of hatchlings to freedom. The memories of her human life guided her, even as she struggled to reconcile what she had become with what she had once been.
Now, as Pepsi watched her children grapple with their identities, she felt the weight of her past pressing down on her. She saw echoes of herself in their struggles—the defiance, the doubt, the desperate need to belong.
In a quiet moment by the lake, Bandruí joined her.
"You're carrying something heavy," Bandruí said softly.
Pepsi's gaze remained fixed on the water. "I was human once. A girl named Amélie. I had dreams, a family. The Inphel took that from me."
Bandruí placed a hand on her shoulder. "And yet, you found a way to reclaim your soul. That's what makes you different. That's what makes you a leader."
Pepsi turned to her, her luminous eyes filled with a rare vulnerability. "But what if I fail them? What if I lead them down the wrong path?"
Bandruí's voice was steady. "You won't. Because you know what it's like to be lost—and what it takes to find your way back."
Pepsi rose, her luminous form glowing brighter against the dark. "Then I will not let my past define me—or them. My children will not suffer as I did. They will forge their own destiny, free from the chains of history."
Bandruí nodded, a faint smile playing on her lips. "Let's make sure of it. Together."