My hair is around a 2C type. It has lots of volume and puffiness. It never visibly grows past armpit length. One time I hadn't cut it in two years and its length hadn't changed . I straighted it and it was waist length. So I kept straightening it and it got damaged. I had to get it cut to shoulder length. I started wearing a straight - very slightly wavy wig and I told a few people that it's not my hair cause I didn't wear it consistently. Then I just wore my own hair down. But it's damaged so it is very frizzy. The past months I rarely wear it down, I mostly put it in a bun.
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--- Table of Contents ---
Summer 4986, 15 Akamoth
Shaloon left the Firewyrm with the journeymen, tired and literally drained but smiling since she was allowed to help them feed and clean the animal specimens. Before continuing down the hall, the Archmage turned back to the small stable. She sighed as the Firewyrm hissed at one of the specimens for crowding too close to the bucket of meat she was dishing out to them. She was like a mother chastising over-eager toddlers. Shaloon’s lips curled in a sneer, her words slipping out in a growl of mixed languages, “Appropriate. Might as well be, her samples allowed for their evolution…”
“Archmage?” Journeyman Brom looked up from bottling the Firewyrm's blood. Fool, he would know all the words she'd said… But what sentence structure had she used? She couldn’t remember and hadn’t noticed. She walked away, having been talking to herself anyway.
She walked up the spiral stairs to the larger labs on the ground floor, the laughter of the Firewyrm ringing in her ears. Perhaps mother wasn’t the right word. The girl didn’t see them as children but as something else… “toys,” treasures.
She didn’t bother to knock before entering one of two main labs on the ground floor, and Morndancer didn’t bother to look up from his book, “We need purer samples.” she stated, leaning on the doorframe and crossing her arms to look down on him in the sunken room.
Morndancer snorted, “And where do you expect to find them? We have the Firewyrm.”
Shaloon growled, not looking forward to having this argument again. “She is tainted. Her samples mix on a molecular level, and the spell that changed her…”
“She is our greatest success!” Morndancer slammed his book closed, turning wide, mad, eyes on Shaloon, “You don’t think I tried to make something pure? Something complete? Do you have any idea how many priceless samples and artifacts we wasted before creating something that could actually survive? They are the closest things we have to true-”
“And yet, instead of focusing on replicating them, we waste our time trying to breed the beast out of animals!” Shaloon shouted then cursed, pushing roughly off the door frame, “I have sent to the central Talon and requested pure samples. They will be here in a month.”
“A month…” Morndancer mouthed, then his face twisted, “You sent for them over a season ago and are just now telling me? Why not cut your way there yourself if you are that eager to split our efforts?”
Shaloon turned her nose up at that. She had been transferred here, to this frozen backwater Talon, because she was one of the few Archmages able to cut a hole through space and teleport through the outer planes. She had allowed the transfer because she'd wanted to experiment with this man. What a disappointment. He'd been the greatest mind in the central Talon, making the most substantial progress seen since the extinction. But he refused to continue that line of study, and was now starting to ignore the last fifteen years of experiments here.
“You won’t even let me use the wyvern. It’s been cloistered away in caves for the last two and a half years while you ramble about gods and Chosen…”
“I saw one, Shaloon!” he shouted, jumping to his feet and knocking his book to the ground. Shaloon gasped, rushing down the steps for the book. Picking it up, she held the priceless tome to her chest as if cradling a crying child. “The Talons must shift their focus,” Morndancer paced around the room in circles, talking more to himself than to her, “If there is one, then there will be more. The wyrms gave them the power to reach across the planes. They will be the key. The children will create their own brood…”
Reverently Shaloon placed the book back on its pedestal and turned for the door. Morndancer had finally tipped over the edge. It was the inevitable fate of anyone who exposed their minds to the type of magic they studied. And he had reached deeper than any other. The human mind wasn't meant to converse with the forces that granted their power. She would fall too, eventually.
“But until then…” she turned back to the pacing Archmage, “The samples will be here in a month, escorted by Journeyman Karlo,”
Morndancer finally looked up, "Karlo will never advance past Journeyman, He's halfway to the Outerplains already."
Shaloon smirked, "Aren't we all?" and left the lab.
***
Veon-Zih cracked his neck and rolled his shoulders while he stood in line at the docks. Waiting patiently to present his papers to the guard signing off on the passengers disembarking from Oane. A second guard passed him, heading for a wagon to inspect the goods. The enlisted men looked tense, going through the papers and goods with more focus and efficiency than they usually would, A Paladin officer hovering over them, his hands clasped tightly behind his back and silver armor gleaming in the sun.
Veon-Zih smiled at the Paladin, handing his papers to the enlisted but speaking with the knight, “As much as I appreciate your inspired diligence, Sir, this would go so much faster if you didn’t have them checking and double-checking each signature three times over.”
“Proper procedure is key in keeping us safe, Mr…” he trailed off, looking toward the soldier who flipped to the front of the Monk's massive book to show his name, “Vee… ohn… Zee… ha?”
Close enough, “That it is good Sir. Carry on.” there was no point in arguing with Paladins over proper procedures. Even when it hampered efficiency.
Behind him, the wagon driver shifted nervously as the soldier began asking questions while perusing his trade logs. “I, um… Mr. Karlo?” Veon-Zih glanced over his shoulder as the driver stuttered. The portly man breathed an audible sigh of relief as a second man hopped from the wagon and addressed the soldier. This man was tall, or at least appeared to be, with his head stretched high and back held too stiff, his long straight robe seemed to give his slender body further length. But strangest was how he moved, in snaps and jerks, his head twitching back and forth as he spoke in a whisper to the guard.
“That’s not at all suspicious…” Veon-Zih muttered, taking his papers back from his own soldier and stepping out of the way of the line. Those who had gone before him had already disappeared into the port city, and those behind moved forward to take his place, passing the wagon to reach the free guard.
The driver had the unmistakable look of a merchant, with pouches lining his belt and his guild's badge displayed on his left breast. He should've crossed the straight to Clearhelm many times over as an apprentice before going solo. And yet, he'd stuttered nervously and deferred to his passenger, who was clearly not of the Merchants Guild. Most likely a Mage based on his robe's lack of a religious emblem.
Veon-Zih narrowed his eyes at the strange man as he passed over his papers. The book was nearly as thick as his own, though it bulged with the thickness. Either the Mage hadn’t updated the cover despite the increased pages or…
Veon-Zih cleared his throat, getting the Paladin’s attention, and gestured with his chin towards the wagon. The Paladin looked him over for a moment, his brow furrowed, then glanced towards the wagon. He had no reason to trust Veon-Zih but Paladins were not ordinary soldiers. If there was reason to worry, Hengist would urge him to look for the signs.
The guard shifted his weight just enough to turn his back to the Paladin before opening the book. Veon-Zih sighed, watching the man move. He wasn’t just turning pages. His arm pulled too far back rather than to the side. Most likely slipping something into his coat. The Paladin might not have been able to see, but he'd already caught the scent that something wasn’t right here and started forward, placing his hand on the guard’s shoulder.
“Everything seems to be in order, Sir…” the guard had a superb poker face, a sure sign he'd taken bribes before. He handed the Mage back his papers and turned to wave the wagon on.
Veon-Zih stepped forward just as the Paladin held out his hand to stop the driver. “Headed for the Mages Guild, perhaps?” Veon-Zih asked curiously, trying to sound innocent.
The Mage twitched violently, turning stunning purple eyes on Veon-Zih, “Yes. Very important samples…” he spoke slowly, as if he needed to consider each word before saying them out loud.
“Then why not take a gate?” Veon-Zih chuckled, “I’ve been across this fine kingdom of Daanlan many times over, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen a wagon carrying Mage goods…” he tapped his own impressive book of papers against his leg, demonstrating his experiential authority on the matter. “What about you, Sir Knight?” he asked the Paladin, ceding control back to the Temple representative.
“Your papers,” the Paladin ordered, holding his hand out for the Mage's book. The Mage nearly vibrated with the speed of his twitching. The driver blanched but swallowed, keeping silent. Though it was his wagon. The Mage handed over his papers again, but then the Paladin added an order to the soldier, “Open the crates.”
The Mage’s eyes bulged, as the soldier he'd bribed moved towards the cart. Veon-Zih and the Mage both stared as the guard climbed into the wagon, opening the nearest crate without removing it. He nodded at the contents then closed the crate again. He had definitely accepted smuggling bribes before.
“Hold, good man…” Veon-Zih called. The guard glared at Veon-Zih, and the Monk grinned. If looks could kill…
“Sir.” the guard said indignantly to the Paladin as though the knight should be offended that Veon-Zih had inserted himself into this business. The Paladin, however, just frowned, waving the man down and nodding to Veon-Zih. Something in the knight's gut insisted that the Monk was to be trusted, and Veon-Zih’s grin widened as he approached the wagon.
Digging past some bottles labeled "griffin blood", he found what was making the driver so nervous, “Scales… dragon scale.” a nearly impossible-to-find, and highly restricted, magical component. Their owners having gone extinct millennia ago.
The Paladin growled, “All of you will come with me. Now.” he snapped the papers closed, shoving them under his arm and turning on his heel towards the Temple.
The Mage hissed like a snake, his arms coming up and black fire shooting from his splayed fingers toward the Paladin’s back. Veon-Zih grabbed the side of the wagon, swinging around it and sliding along the ground, he kicked the Mage's feet out from under him. The Mage tumbled backward, his fire barely licking the Paladin’s blue cape before going out.
The Paladin turned, reaching for his sword, but the Mage had blinked, disappearing before he hit the ground and reappearing ten feet away. “Damn magic users…” Veon-Zih jumped to his feet as the Mage began to chant, his arms becoming wreathed in shadow.
The guard who had inspected Veon-Zih’s papers drew his short sword and started for the Mage. A good man. Stupid. But his heart was in the right place.
Tentacles sprouted from where the Mage’s arms had been, twitching and writhing with the same jerky movements of the man himself. Veon-Zih sprinted forward, trying to close the distance and distract from the guard.
The Mage attacked, sending one tentacle out to strike Veon-Zih, who ducked, throwing his arm up to deflect the living whip. It shouldn’t have hurt this much. Veon-Zih blocked the pain, rolling forward. He needed to get to striking distance before…
The guard screamed, flailing his sword and cutting right through the second tentacle. As if made of smoke, the tentacle broke and reformed behind the swing, smacking the guard solidly on the head. The guard’s helmet flew off, and he dropped to the ground, clutching the side of his face. The skin between his fingers was black and blistering with red pustules.
Veon-Zih reached the Mage, striking up at the man’s chest as he stood, smacking him with the palm of his hand and knocking the wind from his lungs and spell from his lips. Lifting his foot high into the air, Veon-Zih slammed his heel down on the Mage's shoulder, sending him crumbling to the ground.
The Mage hit the stone hard, some of the cobbles breaking loose and flying into the air. His tentacled arms continued to writhe, whipping back and forth behind Veon-Zih, attacking the prone guard again as if on their own.
The Mage laughed. Giggled like a young child, his head lolling to the side, eyes staring at nothing.
Veon-Zih was forced to dodge a tentacle again, this time careful not to touch it. His arm still stung where it had burned through his clothes to reach his skin. Veon-Zih gauged the power needed to knock the man out without killing him. The Temple would want to question him. His fist hadn’t yet hit when the Mage screamed and thrashed. Veon-Zih turned to see the Paladin, sword drawn and glowing with a brilliant blue-white light, standing between the Mage's tentacles and his fallen guard. On the ground at his feet, twitched the end of one tentacle before dissolving into smoke.
The second tentacle whipped forward, thrusting like a spike to stab the knight. But the Paladin calmly cut through it, channeling the divine power of Hengist through his sword to split the tentacle down the middle. The Mage screamed again, then went quiet as Veon-Zih bopped him soundly on the base of his skull.
***
Shaloon burst through the door to Morndancer’s private rooms. The magical door made of starry night slammed into the wall and rattled the mirror across the way. “Something’s wrong.”
“Of course something is wrong,” Morndancer said absently, scratching the chin of the otherworldly pseudodragon draped over his wardrobe, “The world is being reborn, and all we can do is watch.”
“No.” she didn’t have time for his new nihilism, “Journeyman Karlo, we need to find him.”
Morndancer, for once, didn’t argue. He moved to the mirror, placing one hand in the center and holding his other out to Shaloon. She fished in her robes, pulling out a small jar, and upended it into his palm. A piece of flesh flopped into the Archmage's palm, and he closed his fingers around it, chanting softly.
The image in the mirror wavered out from his fingers as if made of water, and when it calmed again, they saw two men on its surface. A Paladin and an old man in lowly peasant garb with a shaved head. “It’s him…” Shaloon whispered.
Morndancer was more focused on the Paladin, “He’s been captured. What do they know…”
The Paladin held his helm under his arm and seemed to be watching them as he surveyed Karlo. “That was like no arcane magic I’ve ever seen before, Master Veh-oan-Zith. What kind of Mage casts spells like that?”
The Monk’s lip twitched in the merest hint of a smile, but it disappeared a moment later when he covered his chin with his hand, stroking it in thought. “The Warlock kind good Sir…”
“That’s enough,” Shaloon said with a sigh. Morndancer nodded, opening his hand and holding the lump of flesh out to her. Her shoulders slumped for a moment, another researcher lost… She draped her fingers loosely over Karlo's flesh and, with a word, set it alight with black flame.
***
“A Warlock, Master Monk? In Clearhelm?” the Paladin sounded horrified. Veon-Zih wished the knight would try and say his name again, just to add a little bit of levity to the solemn moment.
“I’m afraid so. This will be the third time I've faced one, and their magic is not one you forget,” Veon-Zih answered.
The twitchy Warlock was restrained in the center of the room, eyes open but mind far away. It appalled the Paladin how easily the man had almost gotten away with smuggling into his province, doubly so now that he knew the nature of the man’s magic. “He will be questioned thoroughly. Would you like to be present when-”
The Warlock screamed, struggling against his bonds. The Paladin reached for his sword and Veon-Zih dropped into a fighting stance but both had to shield their eyes a moment later as the Warlock burst into black flames from the inside. His eyes shriveled and burned, the flames licking out the sockets and catching his hair alight as his mouth continued to scream forth black fire.
The Paladin recovered enough to begin chanting some kind of healing or disenchanting spell but not fast enough. In mere seconds, the Warlock’s arms fell free from their bonds as they dissolved into ash, followed a moment later by the rest of his body. Leaving only the scorched chair, loose chains, and a pile of ash where once the man had been.
***
“We don’t know how much they learned,” Morndancer stated, turning accusing eyes on Shaloon.
Shaloon looked away, “They won’t find us.”
“You’re right.” Morndancer turned his back on her, “We are leaving. Make the arrangements.”
***
“They're still here then…” General Rasnah stood, looking out the window of her office towards the setting sun, clasping her wrists behind her back.
It had taken Veon-Zih a few weeks to reach Smilnda from the port city of Gehdran, though Rasnah had received the report of the Warlock incident much sooner, the same day in fact, through the Mages Guild mirrors. “Any new information?” Veon-Zih asked, moving to stand beside her. He'd returned to visit Shon in Hamerfoss, but would delay if necessary.
“No,” Rasnah sighed, “I've sent word to my counterparts in Oane and to the kingdom, we are trying to trace the man’s papers and cargo, but it will take time. They've covered their tracks well, probably have been for years.”
“At least thirty…” Veon-Zih muttered, turning away from the window and Rasnah. He took the seat in front of her desk with a road-weary sigh. “Why is it, my dear Rasnah, that you must tease me so?” he asked playfully.
Rasnah managed a laugh, “What?”
“Almost every time I come to Smilnda, something exciting seems to be brewing and then,” he snapped his fingers, “gone. We haven’t heard anything of these Warlocks for over five years, and just when I start to give up hope, bam, wyvern! I don’t suppose you killed it while I was away?”
Rasnah snorted another little laugh, finally turning away from the sunset and taking her seat behind her desk, “Please don’t remind me of the wyvern. It's been two years with no sightings, and Daunas still hasn’t stopped asking to hunt it with every report.”
“Does he want to avenge his father that badly?”
“How is it vengeance when Mung killed that one himself?”
“I wouldn’t think someone Daunas’s age would still be seeking glory…” Veon-Zih stroked his chin in thought, “He’s not much better than you 'retired' lot.”
Rasnah leaned back in her chair, lacing her fingers together, and finally gave him a real smile, “He works harder now than he ever did on the road. Us too, truth be told…”
“If you’re trying to convince me to join you again, you’re doing a very poor job of it,” Veon-Zih said, returning her smile. He didn’t want to return her mind to the serious issue at hand, but her’s wasn’t the only mind it was plaguing, “Now we have more Warlocks… possibly the same group. Are they going to disappear again? How many years before Smildna decides to dangle a true adventure under my nose once more?”
“Perhaps it’s a sign, my old, old... ooold friend. Perhaps these are adventures for the next generation.”
“Pah,” Veon-Zih waved that idea down as fast as he could, “I would rather not leave a mess for those coming behind. Besides, they aren’t ready.”
“They get closer every day, V. Don’t blink. As soon as you do, Shon will be Oath Sworn and off to hunt wyverns and Warlocks of his very own.”
Veon-Zih leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, “How’s he doing, Rasnah?” It had been a year and a half since Shon had transferred to Hamerfoss for training. Veon-Zih had tried to visit at least once a season, and the jumps in his skills seemed outstanding. Yet something still nagged at the back of Veon-Zih's mind. Was he still disappointed the boy hadn’t chosen the Monk path?
“You’re headed there next, see for yourself,” Rasnah answered shortly, though she also pulled a drawer open.
“Humor me,” Veon-Zih said, but she already was. She didn’t even have to look for the folder, showing him clearly she'd been ready for this very conversation. Before they'd been distracted by internally combusting Warlocks.
She didn’t pass over the file, such breaches of privacy were strictly against protocols, but she did leaf through it herself. “He gets top marks in combat, particularly with ambidextrous weapons and anything that requires finesse over brute strength. His lecture grades are also high, though he struggles with decorum and etiquette. His armor scores are honestly abysmal. Though I’m not sure the blame for that lies with him…” still facing the paper, she glared up at Veon-Zih with just her eyes.
“Well…” Veon-Zih rubbed the back of his neck under that accusatory stare, “He won’t have a problem if ambushed in the bath…”
That got another little snort of laughter out of the Paladin, who closed the file, “If you want anything more personal, you'll have to ask him yourself.”
Veon-Zih nodded. He just hoped Shon had made at least a few real friends since his last visit.
***
"How?" Veon-Zih gaped open-mouthed at Shon while the other Squires tried to stifle their snickers around him, “How did you get injuries from dancing?!”
Shon let go of his dance partner’s hands, and the boy stuck his fingers under his arms as if to warm them from a winter chill. Weary blue eyes turned to Veon-Zih for only a moment before Shon looked away, his cheeks pink. One cheek was bandaged with a thick square of cloth taped in place. His rolled-up sleeves showed the ends of more bandages on his right arm, and he flinched as he rubbed his ribs nervously. Were those hurt too?
“Well, Squire? Answer the man…” Daunas called from a bench against the wall of the fortress courtyard. The Weaponmaster leaned back, his hands laced behind his head, legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles. He maintained that dancing was for nobles and Paladins and wasn’t the one giving this lesson. Though he'd chosen to come watch regardless.
Shon mumbled something inaudible then turned away to resume dancing. His partner shook his hands out before reaching for Shon, but Daunus called out again, “What was that, Squire? Something about you taking hits on purpose?”
Shon’s eye twitched, and the boys around him tried to smother their laughter, “I won, didn't I?!” Shon called to the Weaponmaster, who snickered. The boys stopped laughing at that. They were the ones he was defeating.
The Paladin giving the dance lesson, gasped, “Squire, push-ups. Now.” Shon saluted sharply and dropped in place to perform the punishment for his rudeness. Daunas laughed louder. “The rest of you get back to work. One two, one two, leaders, don’t let your followers take control. They had their turn earlier…”
Veon-Zih made his way to Daunas’s bench, plopping heavily down on it, “The Cleric?” Veon-Zih asked the Weaponmaster, who was still smiling, though he had closed his eyes to take in the sun while it lasted. Autumn was right around the corner.
“We told him last week they weren’t going to heal anything he could've prevented himself.” Daunas explained, “Your boy has a nasty habit of taking a non-fatal hit if it means he gets the win. Which he always does. But it’s a bad habit.”
“Stubborn…” Veon-Zih muttered, watching Shon jump back to his feet to resume the dance lesson. His partner flinched at Shon's touch but started to dance without further complaint. The boys spun in well-timed circles, some stepping on feet, others pulling a little too hard, but mostly doing well. Shon had the steps down perfectly but looked stiff, like a golem going through programming. Not really feeling the music flowing from the open box beside the teacher still giving the count.
“He’s your boy." Daunas snorted out another laugh at Veon-Zih’s expense, "Sure he’s not a blood relation?” The Monk chose to ignore the insinuation and seeing he wasn’t going to get a reaction from Veon-Zih, Daunus continued, “He really is a great fighter, but he’ll need to be better with plate if he wants to keep taking hits like that.”
“You can hardly move in plate,” Veon-Zih argued, annoyed. Daunas just shrugged, so Veon-Zih leaned back with him, resting his back on the curtain wall’s cool stones, “How about everything else? Has he opened up at all?”
Daunas sighed, “In his own way. He doesn't -not- get along with anyone, and the others seem to like him well enough. But he’s quiet that one, would rather watch and listen than participate during free time, and that's assuming he's not outside practicing! He’s started helping the ones that are falling behind in combat training. It works out. He hardly uses the time he gets off anyway, and before you accuse me of taking advantage, it was his idea. I asked, and he said if they needed extra training, he might as well join them. But before you get too proud, their friendship outside the extra practice seems the same as all the others.”
So nothing had changed. Veon-Zih sighed, was there even a point in wanting Shon to make friends like a 'normal' boy? This was his normal, and if he was happy, then why encourage something different? "I suppose if it isn't harmful..." Veon-Zih whispered.
The hour bell sounded, and the Paladin closed the music box, leaving the deep rings to fill the suddenly silent air as the Squires all snapped to attention. He waited until the last bell faded before calling “Dismissed!” Almost as one, the sixteen boys sagged in relief, laughing and joking with one another as they began their first hour of free time before dinner.
Veon-Zih pushed off the wall and started for Shon. The other Squires smiled and waved or saluted greetings towards him, and he smiled and nodded in response, his feet never wavering from their path.
“Damn Shon, I swear you’ve gotten colder…” Shon’s dance partner said with a smile, rubbing his hands together. Shon just shrugged, and the boy laughed, “See you at dinner then,” before he rushed off to join some of the others heading towards the fortress proper.
Shon turned, then, spotting Veon-Zih, looked away again. Reaching him, Veon-Zih crossed his arms and arched a questioning eyebrow, waiting for the young man to look up. Shon was almost as tall as Veon-Zih now, just a few more inches, and he would overshoot his Master. That didn’t stop him from sounding small as he muttered a soft “Sorry…”
“Are you really?” Veon-Zih asked, keeping his eyebrow up.
Shon looked up, a stubborn glint in his ice-blue eyes, “They never know what to do when a blow actually lands. It ends the fights fast.”
“So you end one fight, but what about the next? Or the one after that? How many little blows do you think you can take before you fall?” Veon-Zih didn’t yell, and Shon would've heard it all from Daunas already, but it was different coming from his Master. He ran his hand through his hair, cut regulation short so not at all in his face, looking truly ashamed for the first time.
“Sorry…”
Veon-Zih sighed, taking Shon by the shoulder, “Don’t be sorry, be better.” Shon just nodded, so Veon-Zih gave him a little shake and a smile, “What about life in general? Still enjoying the military?”
Shon’s smile was as small and subtle as ever, but to Veon-Zih, it lit up his face. Shon nodded, “It’s easy and organized. I wish the Church had been so structured. As long as everyone does what they're supposed to when they're supposed to, it’s perfect.”
Veon-Zih threw his head back and laughed. By the time he looked back down, Shon was staring at him, his eyebrow arched in question. “Shon… you were born to be a Paladin.” Veon-Zih answered.
--- Table of Contents ---
Thank you for reading.

So, I wrote a scifi story, with some help of ChatGPT, based on the Law of One, Bashar, and even some of the channelings of Daniel Scranton. I wanted to flesh out a potential first contact story based on the knowledge I have gleaned from various sources.
This is FICTION.
Enjoy!

The Turning Point: First Contact
In the enchanting embrace of a serene June evening in the year 2024, President Biden stood amidst the breathtaking landscape of Sedona, Arizona. Far from the traditional confines of the White House, he was at this sacred location to address the nation, knowing the incredible significance this moment would hold. As the President's voice carried on the gentle breeze, resonating with the energy of the land, a hushed anticipation settled over the gathered crowd. Little did they suspect that this address would mark the initiation of an extraordinary new chapter in human history, one that would forever alter the course of humanity's cosmic journey. The vibrant tapestry of Sedona's red rock formations provided a fitting backdrop, reflecting the spirit of awe and wonder that filled the hearts of those present, as they unknowingly bore witness to a future beyond imagination.
As President Biden began to speak, a bit cryptically of unity and progress, a ripple of anticipation coursed through the hearts of those seekers who had delved into the Ra contact and the Law of One. These individuals, drawn to the boundless realms of cosmic consciousness, had served as beacons of the openness and receptivity of humanity. The Yahyel, with their profound understanding of the interconnectedness of all things, recognized that these individuals who embraced cosmic consciousness were indicative of humanity's readiness for making first contact. Thus, fueled by the recognition of these values, the Yahyel had taken notice, setting the stage for the momentous encounter that was about to unfold. For the Yahyel had been chosen to be the first emissaries of the greater Confederation of Planets, as their destiny was already intertwined with humanity.
The Yahyel, a peaceful and enlightened extraterrestrial civilization, emerged as the result of a profound and perilous process. Created by the Grey aliens, sometimes known as the Zetas, the Yahyel bridged the gap between their creators and earth's humanity. For the Greys had arrived from a parallel future earth and were a distorted version of human beings themselves, cut off from their own emotional energy, cut off from their home planet, and now were facing extinction due to their relentless pursuit of knowledge and technology above all else. The Greys had created this hybrid race starting in the 1940's through a desperate hybridization program. They were behind the somewhat tumultuous abduction phenomenon that humans began to experience in the 1940's across the earth. Despite the initial difficulty of taking genetic material from earth humans, such as the terrifying abduction experiences due to the grey's own weakened emotional empathy, the program was still a complete success. It should be noted that the humans involved in the program all had volunteered to help the Greys before they became incarnated. The hybrid nature of the Yahyel encompassed the best traits of both species, blending intellectual prowess with emotional depth. With their higher vibrational energies and advanced understanding of cosmic interconnectedness, the Yahyel sought to guide humanity towards a new era of harmony, awakening humanity's dormant potential and ushering them into the embrace of the greater galactic community.
Unbeknownst to the rest of the world, different groups of individual seekers, each following their different paths of exploration and enlightenment, such as the seekers of the Law of One, had quietly and discreetly already received profound contact from the Yahyel in the months leading up to that momentous June evening. For some, the communication from the Yahyel came through channeling, as they conveyed messages and images from cosmic realms. Others experienced the Yahyel's presence through telepathic and lucid dreams, where a deep connection was forged, and a shared understanding could effortlessly unfold. Through mindful seeking and dedicated meditation practices, these certain seekers had direct or indirect interactions with the Yahyel, their souls predestined. The paths planned out by their Higher Selves in the dance of cosmic destiny, discovery, and evolution.
These diverse seeking groups, driven by a yearning for a profound cosmic connection, found themselves inexplicably drawn together, all linked by direct invitation from the Yahyel. The invitation sent them to this location near Sedona, Arizona. Nestled amidst the awe-inspiring red rock formations and the mystical energy of the land, this sacred sanctuary became the chosen meeting place. Surrounded by the ethereal beauty of the desert landscape, bathed in the enchanting glow of starlit skies, they would bear witness to a meeting that transcended the boundaries of human understanding. It was a gathering that would forever alter the course of human history, illuminating a path towards a new era of interstellar communion and ushering humanity into the embrace of a galactic community that was so eagerly awaiting their arrival.
As Biden concluded his speech, the stage was now set. He had mentioned that it was time for humanity to take a grand step forward into a new era of peace and harmony with our galactic brothers and sisters. And so, as twilight embraced this chosen meeting place, the crowd grew silent. Media newscasters could be heard giving hushed commentary as everyone waited for what would happen next.
And then, it felt like a gentle hum filled the air. The air itself seemed to buzz and vibrate. Then an ethereal glow, seemingly from nowhere, slowly bathed the landscape. Suddenly, in a flash of light, the Yahyel materialized before the astonished group. Serene and radiant, they emanated a sense of profound peace. They stood around five and half feet tall. They looked mostly human, with slightly larger eyes, heads, and thinner hair. Otherwise, they very much resembled humanity.
Through a form of telepathic communication, the Yahyel conveyed their message of friendship and shared evolution. Knowing they were also on camera, they physically spoke, in English, of the vast galactic community, the Confederation of Planets, wherein different civilizations coexisted, including the benevolent beings known as Ra, each contributing their own unique wisdom and perspectives.
These wise and benevolent beings, the Yahyel, explained that they were a result of a complex history that involved their creators, the Grey aliens or Zetas. The Greys, who originated from a parallel future Earth, had pursued knowledge and technology at any cost, severing themselves from their true nature and emotional energies. This created much disharmony to the point that their bodies were becoming toxic and they were facing extinction. And so they turned to the hybridization project that gave birth to the Yahyel, a harmonious blending of their own genetic material with that of humanity.
As the Yahyel shared their tale, their primary objective remained clear—to forge a peaceful and enlightened connection with humanity. Their methodical approach ensured that contact was made with individuals who had already shown a propensity for openness, understanding, and a deep respect for the mysteries of the universe.
With each carefully orchestrated encounter, the Yahyel gently expanded their circle of contact, fostering trust and understanding, and gradually dispelling natural fears and skepticism. The humans, witnessing firsthand the Yahyel's peaceful intentions, began to open their hearts and minds to the potential for a new era of cooperation, knowledge, and shared progress.
News of these encounters began to leak out to the rest of society and began to capture the world's attention. Skeptics and believers alike marveled at the potential reality of humanity's integration into the greater galactic community. Governments, once guarded and secretive, recognized the importance of transparency and had already begun a careful process of disclosure in the years leading up to this momentous day, slowly sharing information and preparing the world for a future where Earth would take its place among the stars.
And so, in the summer of 2024, under the leadership of President Biden, Earth took its first steps towards embracing the Yahyel and the Confederation of Planets. The transformative power of this historic encounter reverberated throughout the world, inspiring a newfound unity among nations, cultures, and individuals. Humanity was united in awe, and from that a New Earth peace settled across nations.
The Yahyel, ever-grateful to the Earth humans for their instrumental role in their own creation, stood as emissaries of peace and enlightenment. With profound reverence, they embarked on a noble mission to guide humanity towards a new era of understanding, technological advancement, and interconnectedness. As humanity stood on the threshold of this extraordinary cosmic journey, the Yahyel opened the doors of perception, offering a tantalizing glimpse into the vast tapestry of the cosmos. Through their benevolent presence, they invited humanity to share their unique wisdom, experiences, and perspectives, recognizing the invaluable contributions Earth humans could make to the galactic family. It was a harmonious exchange, where the Yahyel's higher vibrational energies intertwined with the collective consciousness of humanity, creating a tapestry of shared growth and expansion that would shape the destiny of both species and foster a profound sense of unity across the galaxy.
As humanity and the Yahyel embarked on this remarkable journey, a future once shrouded in uncertainty began to reveal its true shining potential. The stars beckoned, and together, the Yahyel and humanity ventured forth, bound by a shared destiny and a shared commitment to growth, harmony, and the exploration of the cosmic wonders that awaited them.

So, I wrote a scifi story, with some help of ChatGPT, based on the Law of One, Bashar, and even some of the channelings of Daniel Scranton. I wanted to flesh out a potential first contact story based on the knowledge I have gleaned from various sources.
This is FICTION.
Enjoy!

The Turning Point: First Contact
In the enchanting embrace of a serene June evening in the year 2024, President Biden stood amidst the breathtaking landscape of Sedona, Arizona. Far from the traditional confines of the White House, he was at this sacred location to address the nation, knowing the incredible significance this moment would hold. As the President's voice carried on the gentle breeze, resonating with the energy of the land, a hushed anticipation settled over the gathered crowd. Little did they suspect that this address would mark the initiation of an extraordinary new chapter in human history, one that would forever alter the course of humanity's cosmic journey. The vibrant tapestry of Sedona's red rock formations provided a fitting backdrop, reflecting the spirit of awe and wonder that filled the hearts of those present, as they unknowingly bore witness to a future beyond imagination.
As President Biden began to speak, a bit cryptically of unity and progress, a ripple of anticipation coursed through the hearts of those seekers who had delved into the Ra contact and the Law of One. These individuals, drawn to the boundless realms of cosmic consciousness, had served as beacons of the openness and receptivity of humanity. The Yahyel, with their profound understanding of the interconnectedness of all things, recognized that these individuals who embraced cosmic consciousness were indicative of humanity's readiness for making first contact. Thus, fueled by the recognition of these values, the Yahyel had taken notice, setting the stage for the momentous encounter that was about to unfold. For the Yahyel had been chosen to be the first emissaries of the greater Confederation of Planets, as their destiny was already intertwined with humanity.
The Yahyel, a peaceful and enlightened extraterrestrial civilization, emerged as the result of a profound and perilous process. Created by the Grey aliens, sometimes known as the Zetas, the Yahyel bridged the gap between their creators and earth's humanity. For the Greys had arrived from a parallel future earth and were a distorted version of human beings themselves, cut off from their own emotional energy, cut off from their home planet, and now were facing extinction due to their relentless pursuit of knowledge and technology above all else. The Greys had created this hybrid race starting in the 1940's through a desperate hybridization program. They were behind the somewhat tumultuous abduction phenomenon that humans began to experience in the 1940's across the earth. Despite the initial difficulty of taking genetic material from earth humans, such as the terrifying abduction experiences due to the grey's own weakened emotional empathy, the program was still a complete success. It should be noted that the humans involved in the program all had volunteered to help the Greys before they became incarnated. The hybrid nature of the Yahyel encompassed the best traits of both species, blending intellectual prowess with emotional depth. With their higher vibrational energies and advanced understanding of cosmic interconnectedness, the Yahyel sought to guide humanity towards a new era of harmony, awakening humanity's dormant potential and ushering them into the embrace of the greater galactic community.
Unbeknownst to the rest of the world, different groups of individual seekers, each following their different paths of exploration and enlightenment, such as the seekers of the Law of One, had quietly and discreetly already received profound contact from the Yahyel in the months leading up to that momentous June evening. For some, the communication from the Yahyel came through channeling, as they conveyed messages and images from cosmic realms. Others experienced the Yahyel's presence through telepathic and lucid dreams, where a deep connection was forged, and a shared understanding could effortlessly unfold. Through mindful seeking and dedicated meditation practices, these certain seekers had direct or indirect interactions with the Yahyel, their souls predestined. The paths planned out by their Higher Selves in the dance of cosmic destiny, discovery, and evolution.
These diverse seeking groups, driven by a yearning for a profound cosmic connection, found themselves inexplicably drawn together, all linked by direct invitation from the Yahyel. The invitation sent them to this location near Sedona, Arizona. Nestled amidst the awe-inspiring red rock formations and the mystical energy of the land, this sacred sanctuary became the chosen meeting place. Surrounded by the ethereal beauty of the desert landscape, bathed in the enchanting glow of starlit skies, they would bear witness to a meeting that transcended the boundaries of human understanding. It was a gathering that would forever alter the course of human history, illuminating a path towards a new era of interstellar communion and ushering humanity into the embrace of a galactic community that was so eagerly awaiting their arrival.
As Biden concluded his speech, the stage was now set. He had mentioned that it was time for humanity to take a grand step forward into a new era of peace and harmony with our galactic brothers and sisters. And so, as twilight embraced this chosen meeting place, the crowd grew silent. Media newscasters could be heard giving hushed commentary as everyone waited for what would happen next.
And then, it felt like a gentle hum filled the air. The air itself seemed to buzz and vibrate. Then an ethereal glow, seemingly from nowhere, slowly bathed the landscape. Suddenly, in a flash of light, the Yahyel materialized before the astonished group. Serene and radiant, they emanated a sense of profound peace. They stood around five and half feet tall. They looked mostly human, with slightly larger eyes, heads, and thinner hair. Otherwise, they very much resembled humanity.
Through a form of telepathic communication, the Yahyel conveyed their message of friendship and shared evolution. Knowing they were also on camera, they physically spoke, in English, of the vast galactic community, the Confederation of Planets, wherein different civilizations coexisted, including the benevolent beings known as Ra, each contributing their own unique wisdom and perspectives.
These wise and benevolent beings, the Yahyel, explained that they were a result of a complex history that involved their creators, the Grey aliens or Zetas. The Greys, who originated from a parallel future Earth, had pursued knowledge and technology at any cost, severing themselves from their true nature and emotional energies. This created much disharmony to the point that their bodies were becoming toxic and they were facing extinction. And so they turned to the hybridization project that gave birth to the Yahyel, a harmonious blending of their own genetic material with that of humanity.
As the Yahyel shared their tale, their primary objective remained clear—to forge a peaceful and enlightened connection with humanity. Their methodical approach ensured that contact was made with individuals who had already shown a propensity for openness, understanding, and a deep respect for the mysteries of the universe.
With each carefully orchestrated encounter, the Yahyel gently expanded their circle of contact, fostering trust and understanding, and gradually dispelling natural fears and skepticism. The humans, witnessing firsthand the Yahyel's peaceful intentions, began to open their hearts and minds to the potential for a new era of cooperation, knowledge, and shared progress.
News of these encounters began to leak out to the rest of society and began to capture the world's attention. Skeptics and believers alike marveled at the potential reality of humanity's integration into the greater galactic community. Governments, once guarded and secretive, recognized the importance of transparency and had already begun a careful process of disclosure in the years leading up to this momentous day, slowly sharing information and preparing the world for a future where Earth would take its place among the stars.
And so, in the summer of 2024, under the leadership of President Biden, Earth took its first steps towards embracing the Yahyel and the Confederation of Planets. The transformative power of this historic encounter reverberated throughout the world, inspiring a newfound unity among nations, cultures, and individuals. Humanity was united in awe, and from that a New Earth peace settled across nations.
The Yahyel, ever-grateful to the Earth humans for their instrumental role in their own creation, stood as emissaries of peace and enlightenment. With profound reverence, they embarked on a noble mission to guide humanity towards a new era of understanding, technological advancement, and interconnectedness. As humanity stood on the threshold of this extraordinary cosmic journey, the Yahyel opened the doors of perception, offering a tantalizing glimpse into the vast tapestry of the cosmos. Through their benevolent presence, they invited humanity to share their unique wisdom, experiences, and perspectives, recognizing the invaluable contributions Earth humans could make to the galactic family. It was a harmonious exchange, where the Yahyel's higher vibrational energies intertwined with the collective consciousness of humanity, creating a tapestry of shared growth and expansion that would shape the destiny of both species and foster a profound sense of unity across the galaxy.
As humanity and the Yahyel embarked on this remarkable journey, a future once shrouded in uncertainty began to reveal its true shining potential. The stars beckoned, and together, the Yahyel and humanity ventured forth, bound by a shared destiny and a shared commitment to growth, harmony, and the exploration of the cosmic wonders that awaited them.

So, I wrote a scifi story, with some help of ChatGPT, based on the Law of One, Bashar, and even some of the channelings of Daniel Scranton. I wanted to flesh out a potential first contact story based on the knowledge I have gleaned from various sources.
This is FICTION.
Enjoy!

The Turning Point: First Contact
In the enchanting embrace of a serene June evening in the year 2024, President Biden stood amidst the breathtaking landscape of Sedona, Arizona. Far from the traditional confines of the White House, he was at this sacred location to address the nation, knowing the incredible significance this moment would hold. As the President's voice carried on the gentle breeze, resonating with the energy of the land, a hushed anticipation settled over the gathered crowd. Little did they suspect that this address would mark the initiation of an extraordinary new chapter in human history, one that would forever alter the course of humanity's cosmic journey. The vibrant tapestry of Sedona's red rock formations provided a fitting backdrop, reflecting the spirit of awe and wonder that filled the hearts of those present, as they unknowingly bore witness to a future beyond imagination.
As President Biden began to speak, a bit cryptically of unity and progress, a ripple of anticipation coursed through the hearts of those seekers who had delved into the Ra contact and the Law of One. These individuals, drawn to the boundless realms of cosmic consciousness, had served as beacons of the openness and receptivity of humanity. The Yahyel, with their profound understanding of the interconnectedness of all things, recognized that these individuals who embraced cosmic consciousness were indicative of humanity's readiness for making first contact. Thus, fueled by the recognition of these values, the Yahyel had taken notice, setting the stage for the momentous encounter that was about to unfold. For the Yahyel had been chosen to be the first emissaries of the greater Confederation of Planets, as their destiny was already intertwined with humanity.
The Yahyel, a peaceful and enlightened extraterrestrial civilization, emerged as the result of a profound and perilous process. Created by the Grey aliens, sometimes known as the Zetas, the Yahyel bridged the gap between their creators and earth's humanity. For the Greys had arrived from a parallel future earth and were a distorted version of human beings themselves, cut off from their own emotional energy, cut off from their home planet, and now were facing extinction due to their relentless pursuit of knowledge and technology above all else. The Greys had created this hybrid race starting in the 1940's through a desperate hybridization program. They were behind the somewhat tumultuous abduction phenomenon that humans began to experience in the 1940's across the earth. Despite the initial difficulty of taking genetic material from earth humans, such as the terrifying abduction experiences due to the grey's own weakened emotional empathy, the program was still a complete success. It should be noted that the humans involved in the program all had volunteered to help the Greys before they became incarnated. The hybrid nature of the Yahyel encompassed the best traits of both species, blending intellectual prowess with emotional depth. With their higher vibrational energies and advanced understanding of cosmic interconnectedness, the Yahyel sought to guide humanity towards a new era of harmony, awakening humanity's dormant potential and ushering them into the embrace of the greater galactic community.
Unbeknownst to the rest of the world, different groups of individual seekers, each following their different paths of exploration and enlightenment, such as the seekers of the Law of One, had quietly and discreetly already received profound contact from the Yahyel in the months leading up to that momentous June evening. For some, the communication from the Yahyel came through channeling, as they conveyed messages and images from cosmic realms. Others experienced the Yahyel's presence through telepathic and lucid dreams, where a deep connection was forged, and a shared understanding could effortlessly unfold. Through mindful seeking and dedicated meditation practices, these certain seekers had direct or indirect interactions with the Yahyel, their souls predestined. The paths planned out by their Higher Selves in the dance of cosmic destiny, discovery, and evolution.
These diverse seeking groups, driven by a yearning for a profound cosmic connection, found themselves inexplicably drawn together, all linked by direct invitation from the Yahyel. The invitation sent them to this location near Sedona, Arizona. Nestled amidst the awe-inspiring red rock formations and the mystical energy of the land, this sacred sanctuary became the chosen meeting place. Surrounded by the ethereal beauty of the desert landscape, bathed in the enchanting glow of starlit skies, they would bear witness to a meeting that transcended the boundaries of human understanding. It was a gathering that would forever alter the course of human history, illuminating a path towards a new era of interstellar communion and ushering humanity into the embrace of a galactic community that was so eagerly awaiting their arrival.
As Biden concluded his speech, the stage was now set. He had mentioned that it was time for humanity to take a grand step forward into a new era of peace and harmony with our galactic brothers and sisters. And so, as twilight embraced this chosen meeting place, the crowd grew silent. Media newscasters could be heard giving hushed commentary as everyone waited for what would happen next.
And then, it felt like a gentle hum filled the air. The air itself seemed to buzz and vibrate. Then an ethereal glow, seemingly from nowhere, slowly bathed the landscape. Suddenly, in a flash of light, the Yahyel materialized before the astonished group. Serene and radiant, they emanated a sense of profound peace. They stood around five and half feet tall. They looked mostly human, with slightly larger eyes, heads, and thinner hair. Otherwise, they very much resembled humanity.
Through a form of telepathic communication, the Yahyel conveyed their message of friendship and shared evolution. Knowing they were also on camera, they physically spoke, in English, of the vast galactic community, the Confederation of Planets, wherein different civilizations coexisted, including the benevolent beings known as Ra, each contributing their own unique wisdom and perspectives.
These wise and benevolent beings, the Yahyel, explained that they were a result of a complex history that involved their creators, the Grey aliens or Zetas. The Greys, who originated from a parallel future Earth, had pursued knowledge and technology at any cost, severing themselves from their true nature and emotional energies. This created much disharmony to the point that their bodies were becoming toxic and they were facing extinction. And so they turned to the hybridization project that gave birth to the Yahyel, a harmonious blending of their own genetic material with that of humanity.
As the Yahyel shared their tale, their primary objective remained clear—to forge a peaceful and enlightened connection with humanity. Their methodical approach ensured that contact was made with individuals who had already shown a propensity for openness, understanding, and a deep respect for the mysteries of the universe.
With each carefully orchestrated encounter, the Yahyel gently expanded their circle of contact, fostering trust and understanding, and gradually dispelling natural fears and skepticism. The humans, witnessing firsthand the Yahyel's peaceful intentions, began to open their hearts and minds to the potential for a new era of cooperation, knowledge, and shared progress.
News of these encounters began to leak out to the rest of society and began to capture the world's attention. Skeptics and believers alike marveled at the potential reality of humanity's integration into the greater galactic community. Governments, once guarded and secretive, recognized the importance of transparency and had already begun a careful process of disclosure in the years leading up to this momentous day, slowly sharing information and preparing the world for a future where Earth would take its place among the stars.
And so, in the summer of 2024, under the leadership of President Biden, Earth took its first steps towards embracing the Yahyel and the Confederation of Planets. The transformative power of this historic encounter reverberated throughout the world, inspiring a newfound unity among nations, cultures, and individuals. Humanity was united in awe, and from that a New Earth peace settled across nations.
The Yahyel, ever-grateful to the Earth humans for their instrumental role in their own creation, stood as emissaries of peace and enlightenment. With profound reverence, they embarked on a noble mission to guide humanity towards a new era of understanding, technological advancement, and interconnectedness. As humanity stood on the threshold of this extraordinary cosmic journey, the Yahyel opened the doors of perception, offering a tantalizing glimpse into the vast tapestry of the cosmos. Through their benevolent presence, they invited humanity to share their unique wisdom, experiences, and perspectives, recognizing the invaluable contributions Earth humans could make to the galactic family. It was a harmonious exchange, where the Yahyel's higher vibrational energies intertwined with the collective consciousness of humanity, creating a tapestry of shared growth and expansion that would shape the destiny of both species and foster a profound sense of unity across the galaxy.
As humanity and the Yahyel embarked on this remarkable journey, a future once shrouded in uncertainty began to reveal its true shining potential. The stars beckoned, and together, the Yahyel and humanity ventured forth, bound by a shared destiny and a shared commitment to growth, harmony, and the exploration of the cosmic wonders that awaited them.

Hi Breast Friends <3
Chemo to start on Wednesday, getting the lovely red devil. As hard as it’s been I’ve come to terms with hair loss and have decided that rather than try cold capping with the potential of it not working I’m going to start wig life. American Cancer Society will provide me one free wig but I want to give myself other options.
Looking for recommendations for nice wigs. I’m okay with synthetic - figured I’ll get a few and can always wear a cap if the hairline drives me nuts. Does anyone have any brand they like through Amazon or a seller from Etsy? Any info or links appreciated!
Also planning on getting at least one nice human hair wig and again looking for recommendations. I don’t have Instagram or Facebook so if the rec is from there please let me know if there is an associated website I can purchase from.
Thank you in advance ♥️

It was Danvers who finally pushed him in. We’d been feeding the fire with hardwood since the afternoon and it had gotten big as the wind picked up by nightfall, flickering cross our faces and warming our cheeks better than a gas heater. He didn’t even scream when he fell. The flames just swallowed him up—sparks shooting out like hot vomit. He knew what he’d done. He knew it was wrong. When he lifted himself up and came out of the fire he stood dead still, staring at us, smiling like we’d done him a favour. Maybe he thought he deserved to turn into ash. Maybe he did deserve it. I know I kept my fingers tight round the handle of the axe just the same till he keeled over and Cauley had touched the corpse with his foot and we knew he was dead. The three of us, we kept silent for a long while after that. There was just the sound of wood burning and it was better that way. None of us touched the body but none of us looked away, either: you could still make out his face, unmistakable, when the rest of him was dark and formless. He was a face on a pile. Then the wind started taking bits and pieces and carrying them away. Like I told the police, he didn’t touch me, but I knew some of the kids he’d done it to. He’d done it to Danvers. I remember once when all the other kids were gone, I’d stayed after class, Mr Gregor bent himself close to my ear and told me the real story. “You’re a wicked one,” he said when he was done, “just like Don Whitman.”
They used to scare us with Don Whitman, the adults: the other teachers, our parents, the priest. But no one ever explained it. They’d just say, “You better do what we want or else Don Whitman will come back and get you.” Mr Gregor was the only one ever to tell it to me with details. He told it different, too. He said he remembered because he was the same age as Don Whitman and they went to the same school. He said that what the others say they remember is like Cain and Abel or Little Red Riding Hood. Even the landscape tells the fairy tale. After it happened, Don Whitman’s school got torn down, then his house. And the bells in the Church got changed: the ones they rang after Elizabeth Cartwell had come back hysterical with the news.
You can’t tear down or change a man’s memory, Mr Gregor told me.
Once you see, it’s forever.
Elizabeth Cartwell’s parents moved away as soon as the police investigation finished. A lot of people moved away. But Mr Gregor showed me a newspaper from Hill City, North Dakota from some years later. The paper was yellow but you could read the black print fine. The story was about a girl who’d killed herself. The photo was of Elizabeth Cartwell. As he held it out for me to see, his hand shook and I felt his breath grow warmer against the skin around my neck. Nothing made him shake as much as what happened to Elizabeth Cartwell, not even the details.
Don Whitman was seventeen when he did it. He was handsome, with wide shoulders and played football. All the girls liked him. He was going to go to college. Maybe that’s why they thought he was ready: they thought he was a man. They thought he’d be with them. It was a school night when they woke him and drove out to the old pumping station, so that he could see everything for himself. They wanted to make him a part of it just like they were. If he saw, he would want it just like they did. I was always told that he drove out there by himself, but Mr Gregor told me that’s part of the lie. He said Don Whitman’s father was in the car with the mayor and the chief of police. He said, “How would he have found the place by himself—why would he have gone looking?”
The place is in a wood not far from the border. Of course, the whole underground is filled with cement now, but you can still see where the opening used to be: a fat tube sticking out of the ground, just big enough for a man to crawl down into. There was a hatch on it then, and thick locks. The hatch was sound-proof. If you stood right beside it, you couldn’t hear a thing, but as soon as you opened the hatch you could smell the insides and hear the moans start to drift upwards into the world. A steel ladder led down. Mr Gregor says they all knew about it, everyone: all the adults. They’d all been down that ladder. All of them had seen it.
Don Whitman went down the ladder, too. He must have smelled the insides grow stronger and heard the moaning echo louder with every rung but he kept going. On the ground above, his father spoke to the mayor and they both felt proud. Don Whitman must have been more scared of coming up and disappointing them than of not going down to the limit. But when he reached the bottom, the very bottom, and put his feet to the hard concrete and saw it before his own eyes, something inside of him must have broken—
“They sugarcoat it and they make a child’s game of it because they’re too scared to remember the truth,” Mr Gregor told me. “They can’t forget it, but it’s a stain to them, so they cover it up and pretend that everything’s clean.”
Don Whitman saw the vastness of the interlocking chambers and, within them, the writhing, ecstatic, swollen no-people of the underground, human-like but non-human, cross-bred mammals draped in plaster-white skin pinned to numb faces, men, women and children, male and female, naked, scared, dirty, with humans—humans Don Whitman knew and recognized—among them, on them and under them, hitting them, squeezing them, making them hurt, making monstrous sounds with them, all under slowly rotating heat lamps, all open and together, one before another, and then someone, someone Don Whitman knew, must have put a hand on Don Whitman’s shoulder and Don Whitman would have asked, “But what now, what am I supposed to do?” and then, from somewhere deep within the chambers, from a place not even Don Whitman would ever see, a voice answered:
“Anything.”
Mr Gregor pulled away from me and I felt my body turn cold. Icy sweat crawled under my collar and below my thighs.
I’d been told Don Whitman had found the old pumping station and lured the police to it, that they’d called others—including Don Whitman’s father—to talk him out of any violence, but that he’d snapped and murdered them all without firing a single shot, with his bare hands, and dumped the bodies into the metal pipe sticking out of the ground, the one just wide enough for a man to fit through. Then he’d disappeared. It wasn’t until days later that Elizabeth Cartwell found the bodies and there was never any sign of Don Whitman after that. The manhunt failed. So the church bells rang, the school was torn down, the pipe was filled in and, ever since, the adults scare their children with the story of the high school boy who’d done a terrible, sinful thing and vanished into thin air.
“And why would she decide to go out there?” Mr Gregor asked—meaning Elizabeth Cartwell—his eyes dead-set through a window at the raining world outside. “It’s as transparent as a sheet of the Bible, every word of it. They all pretend to believe because they’ve all made it up together. But the police reports, the testimony, the news stories, the court records, the verdict: a sham, a falsification made truth because a thousand people and a judge repeat it, word-for-word, every night before bed.”
I tried to stand but couldn’t. My heart was pounding me back into the chair. I was thinking about my mother and father. I had only enough courage for one question, so I asked, “What happened to the no-people?”
Mr Gregor turned suddenly and laughed so fierce the rain lashed the windows even harder. He came toward me. He put a delicate hand on each of my shoulders. He bent forward until his lips were almost touching mine and, his eyes staring at me like one stares at the Devil, said:
“Buried in the concrete. Buried alive, buried dead—”
I pushed him away.
He stumbled backward without losing his balance.
I forced myself off the chair, praying that my legs would keep. My knees shook but held. In front of me, Mr Gregor rasped for air. A few long strands of his thin hair had fallen across his forehead. He was sweating.
“He was a coward, that little boy, Don Whitman. Without him, we wouldn’t need to live under the whip of elaborate lies designed by weaker people turned away and shamed by the power of the natural order of things. They trusted him, and he betrayed us all. The fools! The weakling! Imagine,” Mr Gregor hissed, “just imagine what we could have had, what we could have experienced down there, at the very bottom, in the chambers...”
His eyes spun and his chest heaved as he grew excited, but soon he lost his venom and his voice returned to normal.
Finally, he said without any nastiness, “You’re a wicked one, just like Don Whitman.”
And I ran out.
Danvers prodded me awake. I must have fallen asleep during the night because when I opened my eyes it was morning already. The sun was up and the flames gone, but the fire was still warm. Mr Gregor’s dead face still rested atop a pile of ashes. Cauley was asleep on the dirt across from us. I could tell Danvers hadn’t slept at all. He said he’d been to a farmhouse and called the police. We woke up Cauley and talked over what we’d say when they got here. We decided on something close to the truth: Mr Gregor had taken the three of us camping and, when he tried to do a bad thing, we put up a fight and knocked him into the flames. Cauley said it might be suspicious because of how easily Mr Gregor had burned, but Danvers said that some people were like that—they burned quick and whole—so we needn’t say a word about the gasoline. When the police came, they were professional and treated us fair, but when they took me aside to talk to me about the accident, every time I tried to tell them about the bad things Mr Gregor had done, they wouldn’t hear it, they just said it was a shame there’d been an accident and someone had died.
At home, I asked my parents whether Mr Gregor was a bad person for what he’d done to Danvers and others. My mother didn’t say anything. My father looked at me like he was looking at the Devil himself and said morality was not so simple and that people had differing points of view and that, in the end, much depended not on what you did, but who you did it to—like during the war, for example. There were some who deserved to be done-to and others whose privilege it was to do. Then he picked up his magazine and told me it was best not to think about such things at all.
I did keep thinking about them, and about Don Whitman, too. When I got to high school, I was too old to scare with monsters, but once in a while I’d hear one of the adults tell a kid he better do as he’d been told or Don Whitman would come back and get him. I wondered if maybe people scare others with monsters they’re most scared of themselves. I even thought about investigating: taking a pick-axe to the pumping station and cracking through concrete or investigating records of how much of it had been poured in there. But I figured the records could have been fixed and one person with a pick-axe wouldn’t get far before the police came and I didn’t trust them anymore. I also had homework to worry about and I started seeing a girl.
I’d almost forgotten about Don Whitman by the time my mother sent me out one evening with my dad’s rifle to hunt down a coyote she said had been attacking her hens. I took a bike, because it was quiet, and was roaming just beyond town when I saw something kick up dust in a field. I shot at it, missed and it scurried off. I pedaled after it until it seemingly disappeared into nowhere. I kept my eye firm on the spot I saw it last and when I got close enough, I saw there was a small hole in the ground there. I stuck the rifle in and the hole felt bigger on the inside, so I stomped all around till the hole caved and where there’d been a mouse-sized hole now there was an opening a grown man could fit through. It seemed deep, which made me curious, because there aren’t many caves around here, so I stuck my feet in but still couldn’t feel the bottom. I slid in a little further, and further still, and soon the opening was above my head and I was inside with my whole body.
It was dark but I could feel the ground sloping. When my eyes accustomed to the gloom, I saw enough to tell there was a tunnel leading into the depths and that it was big enough for me to crawl through. I didn’t have a light but I knew it was important to try the hole. Maybe there were no-people at the bottom. Mostly, though, I didn’t think—I expected: that every time I poked ahead with the rifle, I’d hit earth and the tunnel would be done.
That never happened. I descended for hours. The tunnel grew narrower and the slope sharpened. Fear tightened around my chest. I lost track of time. There wasn’t enough space to turn my body around and I’d been descending for so long it was foolish to backtrack. Surely, the tunnel led somewhere. It was not a natural tunnel, I told myself, it must lead somewhere. I should continue until I reached the end, turn around and return to the surface. The trick was to keep calm and keep moving forward.
And I was right. Several hours later the tunnel ended and I crawled out through a hollow in the wall of a huge grotto.
I stood, stretched my limbs and squinted through the dimness. I couldn’t see the other end of the grotto but the wall curved so I thought that maybe if I went along I might get to the other end. My plan of an immediate return to the surface was on hold. I had to see what lived here. Images of no-people raced through my head. I readied my rifle and proceeded, slowly at first. Where the tunnel had been packed dirt and clay, the walls and floor of the grotto were solid rock. There was moisture, too. It flowed down the walls and gathered in depressions on the floor.
Although at first the wall felt smooth, soon I began to feel a texture to it—like a washboard. The ceiling faded into view. The grotto was getting smaller. And the texture was becoming rougher, more violent. I was thinking about the texture and Mr Gregor’s burnt body when a sound sent me sprawling. My elbow banged against the rock and I nearly cried out. My heart was beating like it had beaten me into my chair in the classroom. The sound was real: faint but clear and echoing. It was the sound of continuous and rhythmic scratching.
I crawled forward, holding the rifle in front. The scratching grew louder. I thought about calling out, but suddenly felt foolish to believe in no-people or anything of that kind. It seemed more sensible to believe in large rodents or coyotes with sharp teeth. I could have turned back, but the only thing more frightening than a monster in front is a monster behind, so I pulled myself on.
In fact, I was crawling up a small hill and, when I had reached the top, I looked down and there it was:
His was a human body. Though hunched, he stood on human legs and scratched with human hands. His movements were also clearly a man’s movements. There was nothing feminine about them. His half-translucent skin was grey, almost white, and taut; and if he had any hair, I didn’t see it. His naked body was completely smooth. I looked at him for a long time with dread and disgust. His arms didn’t stop moving. Whatever they were scratching, they kept scratching. Even when he turned and his head looked at me, even as I—stunned—frozen in terror, recoiled against the wall, still his arms kept moving and his hands clawing.
For a few seconds, I thought he’d seen me, that I was done for.
I gripped the rifle tight.
But as I focused on his face, I realized he hadn’t seen me at all. He couldn’t see me. His face, so much like a colourless swollen skull, was punctuated by two black and empty eye sockets.
He turned back to face the wall he was scratching. I turned my face, too. The texture on the wall was his. The deeper the grooves, the newer the work. I put down the rifle and put my hand on the wall, letting my fingers trace the contours of the texture. It wasn’t simple lines. The scratching wasn’t meaningless. These were two words repeated over and over, sometimes on top of each other, sometimes backwards, sometimes small, sometimes each letter as big as a person, and they were all around this vast underground lair, everywhere you looked—
Two words: Don Whitman.
He’d made this grotto. I felt feverish. The sheer greatness, the determination needed to scratch out such a place with one’s bare hands. Or perhaps the insanity—the punishment. If I hadn’t been sitting, a wave of empathy would have knocked me to the wet, rocky floor. I picked up the rifle. I could put Don Whitman out of his misery. I lifted the rifle and pointed it at the distant figure writing his name pointlessly into the wall. With one pull of the trigger, I could show him infinite mercy. I steadied myself. I said a prayer.
Don Whitman stopped scratching and wailed.
I bit down on my teeth.
I hadn’t fired yet.
He grabbed his head and fell to his knees. The high-pitched sound coming from his throat was unbearable. I felt like my mind was being ripped apart. I dropped the rifle and covered my ears. Again, Don Whitman turned. This time with his entire body. He crawled a few steps toward me—still wailing—before stopping and falling silent. He raised his head. Where before had been just eye sockets now there were eyes. White, with irises. Somehow, they’d grown.
He got to his feet and I was sure that he could see me now. He was staring at me. I called his name:
“Don Whitman!”
He didn’t react. Thoughts raced through my mind: what should I do once he comes toward me? Should I defend myself or should I embrace him?
But he didn’t step forward.
He took one step back and lifted his long fingers to his face. His nails, I now saw, were thick and curved as a bird’s talons. He moved them softly from his forehead, down his cheeks and up to his eyes, into which, without warning, he pressed them so painfully that I felt my own eyes burn. When he brought his fingers back out, in each hand he held a mashed and bleeding eyeball. These he put almost greedily into his mouth, one after the other, then chewed, and swallowed.
Having nourished his body, he returned to the wall and began scratching again.
As I watched the movements of his arms, able to follow the pattern of the letters they were carving, I no longer felt like killing him. If he wanted to die, he could die: he could forego water, he could refuse to eat. He didn’t want to die. He wanted to keep scratching his name into the walls of this grotto: Don Whitman, Don Whitman, Don Whitman…
I watched him for a long time before I realized that I would have to get to the surface soon. People would begin to worry. They might start looking for me. And as much as I needed to know the logic behind Don Whitman’s grotto, I also needed food. I couldn’t live down here. I couldn’t eat my own eyes and expect them to grow back. Eventually, I would either have to return to the world above or die.
I put my hand on the grotto wall and began to mentally retrace my steps. A return would not be difficult. All I would need to do was follow—
That’s when I knew.
The geography of it hit me.
The hole I’d entered was on the outskirts of town. The tunnel sloped toward the town. That meant this grotto was below the town. The town hall, the bank, the police station, the school—all of it was lying unknowingly on top of a giant expanding cavity. One day, this cavity would be too large, the town would be too heavy, and everything would collapse into a deep and permanent handmade abyss. Don Whitman would bury the town just as the town had buried the no-people. Everything would be destroyed. Everyone would die. That was Don Whitman’s genius. That was his life’s work.
I picked up the rifle and faced Don Whitman for the final time.
He must have known that I was there. He’d heard me and had probably seen me before he pulled out his eyes, yet he just continued to scratch. Faced with death, he kept working.
As I stood there, I had no doubt that, left in peace, Don Whitman would finish his project. His will was too powerful. The result would be catastrophic. It was under these assumptions that I made the most moral and important decision of my life:
I walked away.

My name is Canopy Hydrangea. I recover cursed artifacts, explore haunted places, and report back the information needed to the people I work for. The Company then arranged what has to be done to remove these blemishes from the world.
If it isn't possible, we make sure the evil of cursed artifacts and bizarre places doesn’t make it’s way to the general public.
But sometimes, it’s important to leak a report or two to the unsuspecting public. Makes for a good warning- and this particular file is one of many that must be known.
“Do you have clearance?” asked a young man, hat with a carefully embroidered VII obscuring his face. He held out a little notepad with tables for signatures labeled ‘sign-ins and security’. “We can’t have anyone here without proper clearance.”
I sighed and took the pen that was attached to the pad. “Of course I have clearance,” I said. “I’m the one supposed to be in charge of this damn operation.”
He looked at me in confusion. So did I. I was told by the Company’s board members this specific location was assigned to me. And yet, my team was clearly not the first ones there.
This wasn’t what we were promised. Not by a long stretch. “I was told Varaluz was in charge.” he pointed over to a bulkier man in camouflage gear, director agents of the Company around the dig site.
Varaluz. Of course he was here- he was always getting in people’s business. “Am I being subjected to an internal security probe?” I looked him in the eye. “Right now? Right here?”
The meek young man hesitated and backed away. “See, your previous assignment against the House of Lorreno has some of us in the Company…” he chose his words carefully, “doubting your status.”
This was no issue. I just wanted control of the dig site back in my hands- after all, I was the one sent to study it. And my team. “No problem.”
So let’s talk about the dig site. The mass grave that, as I was told by my historian Kyran, contained the corpses of over 200 skeletons, and counting. “254,” he mused, counting again. “And some aren’t human.”
I asked him about it. And then I saw the bones for myself.
They, at first, looked like the bones of children. But on closer inspection found them all to be distinctly serrated. Their skulls were a bit too flat and wide to truly be human, and what was more bizarre were the limbs.
Each non-human remain had eight limbs, all that seemed like the legs and feet of ordinary human body; obviously inhuman, and the way they were connected told me this wasn’t some post-mortem ritual that positioned the bodies like so after death.
No. This was the real deal- dozens of dead, non-human entities that perplexed and sent chills up my spine.
And the skulls. The damn skulls were like they were smiling, of all things. And instead of two eye sockets there were four.
I also noted the sharp pines of wood that impaled the skeletons. “What’s with that?” Even before asking the aura of something… powerful emanated from the bones.
My assistant, Rainie, had an answer. “We suspect they may not be fully dead,” she informed. “We’re doing our best not to er, dislodge the wood until we can get a priest to put them at rest.”
I knelt down near one of the many impaled creatures and observed it. Distinct markings were present. I took off a glove off and touched it, feeling the history within it.
Sparks of violence. War. Famine. An ember of something not entirely dark I could not place. It unnerved me. “How long until we can put them at rest.”
“Well, we haven’t figured out what religion this place aligns to,” she pointed out. This was true- if we invited the wrong priest to bless the place it could invoke the opposite of peaceful rest. “And you haven’t even seen the staircase.”
“The what?”
The mass grave was discovered by an oil company looking to drill new ground. When the reports of the unusual remains came in, a report was handed over to me and my team, and we were sent to eliminate the disturbance, remove all evidence of the bizarre and hand it back over to the oilmen.
The bodies were found in concentric trenches, squares. There were about five, each within another, and a sixth being uncovered by the dig team.
In the center of the squares was a small ruin, a large jutting cylinder with a door. Beyond this door was a spiral staircase of stone, seemingly cut in by the ancient builders of the grave site so many centuries ago.
Varaluz, the internal security inspector, awaited me there. “Canopy,” he greeted, extending a hand. He peered into the staircase, holding out strong, twisted rope. “We’ve got four assets who’ll be out just about-” a man, panicked, rope attached to his waist scrambled out, hyperventilating.
He was in standard prison garb. As usual- we often used death row prisoners to explore new, dangerous territory.
He started to ramble about a shape in the darkness, and something about pages and a book. “Sir,” asked a woman, placing the man under handcuffs. “What should we do with him?”
“Remove him,” Varaluz ordered.
She looked at both of us, puzzled. “Like, kill him?”
Varaluz shook his head. “Don’t be silly- we need to know what he saw down there- extract his memories, then have the handlers do what they please.”
Yuck.
Memory extraction was something I hated to see. A needle laced with symbols and science, injected into the center of the eye. It would then extract memories to be read by a rather interesting-looking book.
The prisoner would then develop amnesia for a while, but that was no issue. The prisoners we worked with for these excursions were often terrible, irredeemable people.
Varaluz and his team informed me of what they had discovered, just as three Company agents entered the depths, rope tied along their waists.
The staircase was seemingly endless, according to two other excursion teams they had sent into the depths.
The first team had only been equipped by a radio and led by an agent of the Company, but after an hour dropped from radio contact. After another hour, they should have returned- yet they had vanished into the depths.
A rescue operation was made- equipped with rope, Varaluz sent in a team of prisoners led by a more experienced agent into the depths.
Oddly enough, the initial agent leader stumbled back out, informing us the passage had shifted, and they had across a labyrinth underneath the entire dig site- some sort of temple.
Video footage revealed the place was a hellhole. There were signs of life, but twisted, impossible things- strange fungal matter and the bones of long dead creatures- and something else, still active.
This active entity, according to the survivor, seemed to work in tandem with the stairway, dislodging stairs, sending one prisoner falling into the abyss. Another was seemingly sucked into the walls of the place.
The last simply faded, and that was when the agent started to evacuate.
The rescue team came back, fully intact. They hadn’t encountered nay such temple, merely more of the same: staircases, illuminated by the light to be made of bone.
Subsequent testing informed us the bones were human.
“Okay, I want-” as soon as I was about to say I wanted to enter the staircase the line snapped. “Whoa!”
Varaluz held on, and two agents joined him. “It’s being- pulled!” he turned to me.
I retreated to a machine the rope was connected to and selected a button labeled ‘retract’. “This should-” it started to pull against whatever was on the other end- but it was straining, “work.”
The machine started to creak, and the bulky thing began to move against itself. “Security!” Varaluz ordered. “Get the hell over here- now!”
That’s when the line loosened and pulled back, and blood came flying from the abyss. Two bodies- no- a torso and a set of legs, rope still attached flew out, nearly splattering us with blood.
A man came running out, splattered in the blood of his friends. “There’s something down there-” he said it with such fear I started what lurked in the shadows, “it- it was like those bones!”
A growl emerged from deep within. My assistant, Rainie came up to me. “Sir, should we seal it up?” she gestured to security, already prepared to request explosives.
I thought about this for a moment. “Not yet, no,” I decided. “We don’t know if sealing it up will work.”
Whatever was inside- it was powerful. So I decided we needed a proper operation into the temple. With actual agents. “Rainie,” I began, “have the rest of the team meet me here- we’re going in.”
Reckless? Maybe. But if what was inside was a threat to humanity- it needed to be neutralized, captured, and sealed away. “By the way,” she started, “we’ve identified the ruin.”
My eyes lit up. “Can we get a priest?” The sooner we could remove the undead bones from the site the safer I’d feel.
“Already have one,” she hesitated. “But…”
“But?”
She sighed and pointed to the outskirts, where a rather fancy motorcycle had arrived. “It’s Quincy Kieni.”
Quincy Kieni was a rather eccentric figure in the cursed artifact black market. He was both an asset, working for us, telling us the details of when a major deal would go down- and an enemy.
His faith to Calayu, the Salamander King made him have so called ‘prophecies’ over when to help us and when to suddenly disappear off the grid.
I made a noise somewhere between a grunt and a sigh of annoyance. “Of course it’s him.” I watched as the man with black tinted glasses and fiery red hair waltz about the gravesite, raising his hands up and dancing.
Within the hour my team was ready.
I, Canopy Hydrangea would lead them in, coordinate our actions. My expertise in psychically sensing the bizarre would come in handy, if it need be, and the few spells I’d learned.
Then there was Rainie- my assistant, who had reviewed the tapes and studied all too many places similar to this. Of course, there was Kyran, my main security guy, and today, we would be joined by the rather annoying Quincy.
There were others, but I didn’t want to lead a large team.
So we entered the depths. Varaluz attached a rope to us, connecting it to the large bulky machine in case something attempted to pull us in. And then we were set, and so we began the journey into the depths of the pit.
“Canopy, we meet again!” Quincy cheered. “I didn’t know you were in the business of exploring new and exciting places.”
“And I thought you’d finally gotten yourself killed for good,” I chided. “After the whole Stet’Kai incident.”
He laughed maniacally at that, and the noise reverberated around the walls. “Were you demoted as a result of, who were they?” he thought. “Lorreno’s team?”
“None of your business,” Kyran cut in. He held up a hand. “I hear something.”
We all silenced ourselves- even the bothersome Quincy. There was a dull growl in the background, and the clicking of insects- no- “Automata,” Rainie identified. “Temples of the Salamander have automaton.”
Machines given life through ancient magic. Not a huge problem.
The next hour was rather boring, and we continued in silence, fearing disturbing one of the more dangerous security automata. Sure, machines weren’t as dangerous as any live creatures- but still a threat nonetheless.
“Hold it!” Quincy shouted. We all stopped. He stepped ahead and knelt down, inspecting the step in front of me. He spoke something I couldn’t understand, and symbols appeared, and we heard the clicking of gears. “It’s a classic pitfall trap.”
I remembered Varaluz’s prisoners. The story about the place working against them. “Who,” Rainie posited, “built this place?”
“It is a Temple of the Salamander,” I reminded. “But those bones up there don’t match anything we have on record.”
Quincy ordered another stop, and chanted- and a wall beside us faded away, revealing a hallway. “Now that’s the temple.”
I noted the images and statues, “And I think I know who built this place.”
Satyrs. The statues were satyrs, half-man half-goat creatures spotted throughout mythology and ancient times. We knew them, life many other of the ancient kinds, to be extinct.
Long dead. But the statues of the Satyrs here seemed different, more human than beast somehow. They lined the hall, facing away from us, bowing to a large statue of a salamander, an eternal flame still burning within its mouth.
“Look!” Kryan commanded, raising his gun. A machine, moving as if it were alive, appeared in the distance. “It looks just like those bones.”
No. It was made from the bones that had been dug up and the eight limbed thing came charging at us. Kyran fired, to no effect, before Quincy stepped out and clapped, uttering a single word.
The machinery grinded to a halt and collapsed; I was right- it had been made from the bones of the things above, strapped to gears and circuitry.
Whatever those things were, the worshippers below had clearly venerated them enough to create frankenstein-like beasts in their fashion. “Well that was… not at cool as I thought it’d be.” Kyran shrugged.
“And,” Rainie added, gesturing to the statue, “looks like that’s a sort of artifact we’ll want to secure.” In the mouth of the Salamander statue, was the flame- and as I studied it- I realized it was a book that was burning.
Quincy put the flames out and handed the warm pages to me. This was powerful alright. I reached into the ether and felt that it contained great animosity, malevolence- something insane.
“Now,” Quincy murmured, “I don’t want to alarm you, but-” the walls started to creak, and they began to slowly move downwards, threatening to crush us, “we are at risk of immediate death.”
We ran out of the temple and back on the stairs, which were now starting to shake, and crumble. Quincy quick-casted some spell, and we ran, tugging on the rope.
Varaluz, despite my opinions towards him, was skilled, effective, and he activated the machine pulling us in, just as the steps collapsed. The rope hung in midair, slowly drifting upwards.
By the end of the hour we were out. I gave Varaluz the details. The mass grave had completely been excavated, and all the skeletons sent to facility deep within the clutches of the Company.
More research would be done by a secondary team, but the immediate danger was neutralized. The automata, traps, and all had been disabled by Quincy, and the temple, according to a scan, had largely collapsed.
But there was something underneath it- a second temple that mirrored the concentric squares of the graves, ready to be excavated and revealed. And according to an initial scan- there were life signs inside.
That, I assume, was where the real treasures were hiding.
But that isn’t my business. The initial first contact was made, the fears within stabilized. My job there was done; another day was complete. The unexplained was eliminated, and I was ready to move on another excursion.
The world is filled with places like these. And I’m just one of many who work to keep these hidden away. We keep the public safe. It’s what we do.
but flip a coin.

Ben had never thought that he would ever be a cat dad, not since he saw his own father run over his cat when he was only five. But yesterday, history almost repeated itself when he almost ran over two stray kittens while driving himself home from the graduation ceremony.
It had happened only a few hours ago - despite the fact that in an attempt to impress his dad, who was in the passenger seat, he had tried to be extra precise while backing out of his parking spot, he missed a little something in his way.
However, before the disaster could happen, a shrill scream made him slam the brakes.
"STOP! You'll run over them, STOP!"
Shira?
He jumped out the car and ran to the back, to find Shira looking slightly wary of a cardboard box near one of his back wheels. Inside the box were two kittens.
"BEN!" she shrieked on seeing him, her arms flailing in an almost comical way, "You almost killed them!"
Ben picked up the box, and noticed that there was a small slip of paper inside it.
"You should be more mindful of how you treat animals, Ben! We're supposed to share the planet with them, not-"
"Here, hold it for a moment" he interrupted, holding out the box for her to take.
She did not comply. Instead, she scooted away with a scared look on her face.
It took every last ounce of resilience inside Ben to not roll his eyes. Here she was, lecturing him about being 'mindful' with animals, when she was too disgusted to hold a box with two tiny, malnourished sleeping kittens.
Balancing the box in one hand, he pulled out the slip of paper and opened it.
"Take care of them, please" it read.
Take care of them. Hm. Someone left them here to be found.
After a moment of pondering, he made his decision.
"I'll take them to a shelter." he told Shira, opening the car door to put the two kittens inside.
"Wait!" Shira exclaimed, pulling out her phone and positioning herself as if to take a selfie.
"Shira, I'm really not in the mood to-" Ben began protesting, but the sound her phone made told him she had refused to listen to him. She skipped away, typing what he was sure was a story about how she saved two innocent kittens.
Her followers will like that, for sure.
Still, I'm rescuing two kittens from certain death. That's a good deed.
His good deed, however, remained unfinished, because the shelter did not have any space for cats and could not take in the two kittens. Ben was forced to take the kittens home, with the reassurance that his dad would find a place for them somewhere else.
And now here he was, having cleaned and fed them with Patty, trying to figure out what variety they were while shovelling spahgetti into his mouth.
"Oh, Ben! My sweet boy has graduated!" a saccharine voice suddenly spoke.
His mother.
Vivian Gross, unlike his dad, had chosen to be absent from his graduation ceremony, where he and Devi had jointly recieved the title of valedictorian. His dad had hugged him tightly and exclaimed how proud he was of his son with tears in his eyes. Ben knew he would remember that moment and smile till the day he died, he would be forever grateful for it, but it didn't quite erase the truth - he had expected his mother to show up. This was not a PTA meeting, not a debate tournament, not a club presentation - he has graduated high school. This was important. Today, for one day, he was important.
Apparently not important enough for his mother to abandon her regenerative healing spa appointment.
He did not want to admit it, but a sinking weight had appeared in his chest when his dad had informed him that his mom wasn't coming at all, and it had only dulled slightly since then. On hearing her voice, the weight re-appeared with full force. She pulled out a chair and sat beside him at the dinner table.
"No phone! Be respectful when your mother wants to talk to you, alright?"
Ben immediately put his phone down.
"So, have you thought about college, honey? Where would you like to go?"
Ben tried his best to not let the sheer disbelief show on his face. After all, 3he should have seen this coming.
"Uh, yeah, I - I applied to Columbia. The acceptance letter arrived two months ago. I got in. I'm pretty sure I told both you and dad?"
"You did? Oh, I must have forgotten! Typical me, forgetting things all the time."
It isn't normal to forget what ivy league your son got int- no, no Ben, don't be ungrateful. Don't say anything.
Well, I'm not being ungrateful here. She should've known this.
Before Ben could decide whether or not to convey his true feelings on the matter, Vivian cut the conversation short by pulling her phone out of her purse and beginning to scroll through it. Whether she ignored or didn't hear his scoff, he did not know.
After some time, she spoke up again.
"Oh, you and your girlfriend rescued kittens today? That's so nice!"
"My girlfriend?"
"Shira! She's your girlfriend, isn't she? I'm one of her followers! Very sweet girl, understands the importance of self-care very well."
He opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out for a bit.
"Mum" he began, drawing a deep breath and trying to control the quiver in his voice "Shira and I broke up two years ago, in sophomore year."
You'd know that if you knew anything.
"Huh? Oh! So you haven't had a girlfriend since?"
"No." he mumbled back, realising it wasn't worth it to explain anything to her. If his mom didn't care enough to know everything that had happened in his life in two years, then he didn't care enough to tell her either.
Ben had always thought the fault was in him. After all, he was richer than most kids in his class, he knew that - he had everything. And yet he felt unhappy. He felt unhappy despite having everything, hence he must be ungrateful.
But he had come to understand he was anything but ungrateful. His dad was the one who was always busy, but he had tried - he had become a better parent. He had been there for Ben. He had showed up.
His mother had chosen not to, and it certainly wasn't his fault. Mothers didn't behave like that - he had met Nalini Vishwakumar. He had to fight the urge to yell some sense into Devi every time she said she hated her mom.
She's ungrateful. I'm not.
This realisation had made him colder towards his mother. He realised it, but was even more hurt by the fact that she didn't notice this at all.
"Well, what did you end up doing with the kittens anyways?"
"The shelter didn't have space for them, so I brought them home. They're in my bedroom. I'll keep them until Dad finds a spot for them." he said.
The silence that followed made him look up from his plate, to find his mother staring back at him with disgust.
"You let stray animals into my house?"
"Stray - what? But you just said it was a nice thing to rescue them!"
"It is! For somebody else! If you wanted a cat we could get you whichever you liked from a breeder!"
"I don't want them! They had been left in the parking lot! They would've died there!"
"They could be diseased, you know."
"They're not. I had them checked and vaccinated at the shelter. There's a veterinary clinic right beside it."
"Still, Ben, get rid of them right away. There will be no random abandoned strays in my house."
Bold words, calling it your house, when you're never in it yourself.
She left the dining room in a huff, mumbling exasperatedly to herself.
Left alone, Ben made a decision. Sure, it was driven by hurt and anger, but he would do it anyways. She hadn't come to his graduation, had she? She hadn't listened to him. Why should he listen to her?
For the first time in his life, Ben Gross was going to disobey his parents. He was going to keep those damn cats.
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Ben woke up the next morning to the sounds of two kittens rolling around and yawning in a box, and realised he was a bit conflicted - taking care of a whole live animal was no joke, especially since he couldn't ask for help from Patty and his dad.
Hiding them from mom isn't really a problem.
The thought of his mother brought back some of the rage he had felt the night before.
He was keeping those kittens, for sure, but for now, he didn't know where to start.
After an hour of research, Ben had a list and a day full of errands to run.
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Why are there so many litter box varieties in this world?
Ben had never known such confusion in his entire life. He was the class valedictorian, had won multiple awards and first place prizes, had gotten into a freaking ivy league, and yet had never faced something so difficult.
In front of him were five tub-like containers - each of a different colour, shape and size. One of them had a transparent lid, another one had a coloured lid, one of them had all these little knobs and buttons on the side, another one had a tag that said 'CAUTION : Be careful of electric wires'
He had angrily told the salesman to leave him alone after the idiot had attempted to sell him seeds for a parakeet, and now he had no one to ask for help.
Or maybe not.
He whipped out his phone and dialled a number.
-----------------------
Ben was regretting his choice.
Paxton had been standing beside him for the past five minutes, brow furrowed and completely silent.
Ben had suddenly realised that he did, indeed, have friends, friends he could ask for help. Only, his friend seemed even more lost and confused than he was.
"I- Wait, does that one say be careful of wires? I thought litter boxes didn't need electricity!"
"So did I! That's why I called you for help!"
"Me? What would I know about this? I've never had a pet!"
"But then why did you agree to help me?"
"Dude, I thought the box was too heavy for you to carry!"
"What's too heavy to carry?"
Trent had showed up out of nowhere, but Ben was somewhat used to him appearing out of thin air.
"Nothing. We can't figure out what to do here, which one of these litter boxes should I buy?
Trent looked at him with confusion. "Bro, you know these are for, like, cats, right? You can't use them."
Ben closed his eyes while Paxton held in a laugh.
"Yes, Trent, I know. I have two kittens at home. This is for them."
"Oh!" Trent said, rolling up his sleeves "Well, none of this fancy shit. What you need is a smart, durable, and simple solution" Spinning around, he called out - "Yo, does anyone here know where the Paw-fect range is?"
A girl in an apron appeared in the aisle, gesturing at them to follow her. She lead them to a different part of the store - a section that seemed entirely dedicated to the company Paw-fect.
An hour later, they were walking out to Ben's car with three large shopping bags.
"Dude, how do you know all this stuff? I mean, you basically told us what varieties of cats there are based on hair length. Where did you find that out?" Paxton asked Trent, not being able to place when precisely Trent had become an expert on cats.
"I spend a lot of time watching commercials on youtube, bro. I know exactly how to look after bunnies and dogs too."
Ben smiled to himself, getting inside the car. He rolled down the window and bid his friends goodbye before driving off towards home.
-------------------------------
A month had passed since that fateful day when he discovered his two beloved pets in that parking lot. Now, a month into the summer, he felt he had become somewhat of an expert cat dad. Well, enough of an expert to be worthy of a 'Best Cat Dad in the World' mug, the purchase and use of which had earned him some inquisitve glances from his father, but no questions.
He had hidden the kittens away inside his room, making sure to keep it locked at all times.
So far he was managing spectacularly. He had told Patty that he would clean his own room from now on, in preparation for college, and she had not discovered the kittens yet. To his dad he had said that the same shelter they had visited on graduation day had found an empty spot and accepted them.
He had developed a routine - everyday when Patty went out for grocery shopping, he would empty the litter boxes, fill up water and cat feed in the dispensers and brush their fur. He had installed a lock on his door, and made sure to leave it locked whenever he went out.
So far, so good. Nobody knew - not his dad, not Patty, and definitely not his mom, who had only been in the house for two days in the entire span.
The doorbell rang, telling him that Paxton and Trent had arrived to meet the cats.
"Oh, welcome! Ben is upstairs!" he heard Patty tell them.
Footsteps got louder and louder till Trent finally burst through his door.
"Where are they? Where are my nieces?"
"Trent, dude, not so loud man!" Ben warned, but he couldn't stop the smile from coming onto his face.
When he had found them, the two kittens had been on the verge of death. Thin and sickly, with dull fur, they barely had any energy at all, and would stay lying around and yawning all day long. Now, Ben had nursed them back to health, and they were happily climbing up their scratching post.
The only complaint he had was how aloof they stayed all the time. They made absolutely no efforts to return his affection and made no effort to get close to him, and bolted any time he tried to pet them.
He would call them ungrateful, but they weren't humans after all. Perhaps this was just how cats behaved.
"So, what are their names?"
Ben looked at Paxton for a moment before realising - he hadn't named them yet.
"You haven't thought of names yet, have you?"
"Uh, no."
"We'll help."
They both sat down on his bed and began gazing at the cats carefully.
This went on for some time. Just before Ben was about to interrupt, Trent finally spoke up.
"The white one is Taylor and the ginger one is Sadie."
On recieving confused looks, he explained further "She reminds me of Taylor Swift and she reminds me of Sadie Sink. Name your kids after great people and they shall become great themselves."
Before Ben could say anything in reply, the cats noticed that they had visitors in the room and bounded towards Trent. Jumping onto him, they began licking his face.
"Hey! They like the names!"
"Well," Ben said, smiling "Taylor and Sadie it is."
The very next morning they had little silver collars with Taylor and Sadie engraved on them, hanging around their necks.
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Ben stood as if ready to tackle, glaring at the white kitten. Taylor glared back - no one would make her take a bath if she did not want to take a bath.
A moment more of glaring, and Ben jumped onto her. Taylor let out a yowl and shot off towards the bed.
"Come back here, you little rascal! Don't get my bed all muddy!"
But Taylor refused to listen. Jumping on the bed, she left her muddy footprints all over the white sheets.
Ben had accidently left the window cracked open the previous day, and the more mischiveous one of his cats had taken the opportunity to escape out into the rain-filled muddy backyard. Ben had been trying to get her to take a bath in his tub ever since, but getting a cat near water was proving to be more difficult than imagined.
"You were fine with soaking around in the rain yesterday - what's the problem with my tub? It's still water!" he exclaimed as she attempted to run away from between his legs.
She was not succesful, however, for in that second Ben bent over and caught her.
She growled again as he held up her little kicking and squirming frame in victory.
That very moment, the door opened, revealing Patty on the other side.
Ben gulped - he had forgotten to lock the door.
"I can explain-" he began, but he was cut short.
"Oh little prince, did you really think you could keep a cat in this house for two whole months without telling me? Who do you think kept them clean this whole time? Come one, hand them over, I will give them both a bath."
Shocked, Ben handed Taylor over to her.
"Does-does Dad know?"
"Of course! He really liked your 'Best Cat Dad Ever' mug."
As Patty took the kittens away, Ben smiled to himself. So his dad did know him well enough to know his secrets after all.
-----------------------------------------
The news had put a damper in an otherwise splendid morning.
Ben had grown out of wanting his mother to return home. Now, he didn't feel anything but frustration when she was around, didn't wish for anything but for her to leave. It was better when she was away.
But that morning Patty had told him that she would be returning home for a whole week.
Way to ruin a boy's day.
He was shuffling about his room, reluctantly trying to find his jacket so he could go out and buy something nice for his mother.
Ever since the reveal that both Patty and his father were well aware of his pets, Ben had let them run free in the house. The very first day the two had run across the hall while he was they were eating breakfast, and his father had simply smiled in response.
Now he headed downstairs, calling out to them, but neither of them appeared.
Shrugging it off, he left for the grocery store. A box of chocolates would do nicely, he thought.
------------------------
Ben returned home to chaos.
His mother was apprently screaming at someone in the living room.
As he got closer, he could make out the words more clearly.
"How could you let those...those creatures stay in our house Howard? He picked them off the street!"
Of course, the very first thing she did after returning home was berating his pets. Anger bubbled up inside him, but he pushed it back down and entered the room smiling. His father was sitting on the couch, massaging his temples, while Vivian stood in front of him.
"Mom, you're back! I got you chocolates." he said, trying his best to fake happiness, holding out the box.
His mom didn't take it, and instead crossed her arms and glared at him.
"Ben, I told you to get rid of those cats."
"You did."
"But you didn't listen to me! They were in my house! I went to the fridge to get myself water and I found them rolling around on the kitchen floor!"
Ben paused for a moment.
"I wanted to keep them."
"I don't care! I told you to get rid of them! You have to listen to me, I AM YOUR MOTHER!"
Well, it's not like you ever behave like a mother.
"What did you just say?"
Did I say that out loud?
"What did you just say, you ungrateful brat?"
That was what did it. Something inside Ben's chest shattered into pieces. His eyes filled up with tears as he stared straight at his mother, having waited far too long to say what he needed to be said.
"I SAID, you never behave like a mother! You didn't show up to your only son's graduation ceremony, you didn't know that I got admitted into a ivy league, hell , you didn't even know who my girlfriend was! THAT IS NOT HOW MOTHERS BEHAVE! If only you actually had time left for me after all your retreats and spas and treatments, maybe you would realise you know nothing about me!"
Ben did not wait to find out her reaction. He did not turn around to face his dad who was calling his name. He did not look at Patty. He simply bolted up the stairs to his own room.
Locking the door, he jumped onto his bed with shoes still on, and buried himself under the covers. Trying his best to not let the tears fall, he tried to call his cats.
"Taylor? Sadie? Are you there? Taylor?"
Not one peep. They weren't here either.
For the first time in a long time, Ben felt absolutely alone. He had his dad, he had his friends, but he had never had a mom. She was right there, down the stairs, the woman who had given birth to him, but he had never had a mom. And for whatever reason, that was enough to make him feel the way he did.
He lay quietly for some time, not letting a single tear or a single sound escape. He refused to cry.
Suddenly, he felt something weighing down the bed beside him.
Taylor and Sadie both made their way underneath the blanket, finally lying down right beside Ben.
He turned to his side and tried to pat Taylor's fur. He gently touched her with his hand, afraid that she would run away any moment.
But she didn't. Instead, she let out a content purr and curled up into an even smaller ball of fur.
They were here. They were here with him.
He could not hold back the tears any more. But even through the sobs, he began to smile.
------------------------------------
"Take good care of them Patty!" Ben called to his housekeeper as he hugged both of his cats one last time.
"I'll be back for Thanksgiving and Christmas, alright?"
He finally got up to leave when Patty began hounding him about being late to the airport.
He got into the passenger seat beside his dad.
His mom hadn't spoken to him since his outburst that day. He had tried to get a hold of her, but had always come out empty handed.
Still, having let all of it out had left him feeling lighter than ever. This time, he noticed, he didn't really care about his mother's absence.
"I left all the instructions for food and water on a checklist on my desk. Vet visits every month, and -"
"Ben, relax, we got this. You're going to college, be excited."
Ben smiled and looked out the window one last time as the car started, at the two little fur balls that he had come across by accident, who had ended up claiming rather large pieces of his heart.
What's more, they had ended up healing large parts of it as well.
"Yeah, I'm so excited." he said, looking at the road ahead.
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Author's Note : I am so sorry for being SO LATE, but I have an excuse - I kept deleting and re-writing over and over again because this is the first time I'm showing something I've written to someone else. I'll be doing the other two prompts over the next two days as well.
Well, this ended up being sappier than I had thought earlier! Anyways, I always appreciate constructive criticism, but please be kind.
Thank you for reading!
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This is part of my little series about the adventures of Vr'ocria and Human Aldrick. If you'd like to read previous parts, they're linked below, along with brief summaries of each:
Part One: Alien learns what "sleep" is and how humans prefer to do it in a comfy bed with blankets and pillows. And they find it utterly adorable.
Vr'ocria and Human Aldrick are sent on a survey mission together. Things go south, Aldrick makes sure they're safe, and then Vr'ocria learns what human sleep is and how vulnerable humans are when they sleep. Vr'ocria's people don't sleep, but enter stasis, a form of rest in which they typically stand, and they are still slightly aware of their surroundings. Vr'ocria finds human sleep utterly adorable, and also decides she will protect Aldrick while he sleeps. And she also develops a massive crush on him. (Her scales turning purple is her version of blushing)
Part Two: An alien + human adventure with such shenanigans as poison drinking, befriending dangerous wildlife, and fighting a space pirate. Oh, and they have a huge crush on each other.
Vr'ocria and Human Aldrick end up assigned together for another survey mission. Vr'ocria tries to deny her feelings for Aldrick after a tense conversation with her nestmate about the danger of humans, but when they're ambushed in the night by a pirate and Aldrick takes a blow to save her, becoming injured in the process, she comes to realize just how strongly she feels for him. She kills the pirate, carries Aldrick to safety, and the two share a tender moment.
Part Three: When a cold-blooded alien has to cuddle a warm-blooded human for warmth
Vr'ocria and Human Aldrick are assigned to an ice plant for their next mission. Aldrick chews out Command for assigning Vr'ocria there when they know she's cold-blooded and not built for the cold, and when the power goes out, they cuddle to keep her from freezing. They finally confess their feelings for one another, and Vr'ocria learns what kissing is.
Part Four: A human leaves a hickey on his alien lover. Her nestmate doesn't understand what a hickey is, and thinks the human injured her
Vr'ocria enjoys neck kisses, and asks Aldrick to indulge her. Later, she has a video call with her nestmate Galek. Galek is already wary of humans, and when he sees a bruise on her throat that she didn't notice, he figures out Aldrick is responsible and freaks out, thinking Aldrick intentionally hurt her. Vr'ocria dresses Galek down, explaining that it's not an injury, and also that he needs to get over it and respect her relationship with Aldrick.
Now for the new story!
TW: There will be blood and broken bones.
—
"I have a bad feeling about this."
Vr'ocria turned to Human Aldrick in the pilot seat next to her. He was drumming his fingers on the console, brow furrowed, as he watched the Xenthum solar system approach.
"What do you mean?" She asked.
"I dunno. I just–" he bit the inside of his cheek. "You ever just get an ick feeling about something?"
Vr'ocria frowned. "No. Can you explain it?"
He scratched the back of his neck. "It's hard to explain. Like, there's nothing wrong that I can tell about this mission, but ever since we got within visual range, I've had this gut feeling that we need to turn back."
Vr'ocria wasn't sure she understood, but she didn't like seeing him uncomfortable. "Well, we're here on orders–"
"I know, I know, I don't want to get us in trouble, I'm already on thin ice after yelling at Lieutenant Prax–"
"–but the minute anything starts to go wrong, no matter how small, we can turn around."
He glanced over at her. "Thanks," he said with a grateful smile.
They had entered the Xenthum system now. Its main planet was sparsely populated, used mostly as a trading outpost since it was so close to the Dridian border. The trick was navigating through the minefield of asteroid clusters. Aldrick let Vr'ocria take the lead piloting, since of the two of them, she was more skilled at delicate maneuvers.
They were almost to the planet when an alert pinged. Aldrick sat up to check the sensors.
"There's a ship nearby," he reported. "A big one."
"Where?" Vr'ocria pulled up the sensor on her screen. "I don't see anything. Just asteroids."
"Turn on the warp detector and increase the ion frequency."
Vr'ocria pressed a few controls. "Oh wow, you weren't kidding." She frowned. "It's way too big to be in the middle of an asteroid field. What are they doing?"
"I don't know, but I don't like it." She could feel the tension radiating from him.
"You want to get out of here?" she asked.
He chewed his lip. "Y'know what? Yeah. Let's at least take an alternate route, we can–"
But before he could finish, there was a loud BANG and they were sent flying from their seats as the shuttle rattled.
"What the fuck?" Aldrick yelled as he scrambled to his feet, lunging for the console. "Did we scrape an asteroid?"
Vr'ocria crawled back into her seat as well and banged out a few commands on her screen. Her blood froze.
"No," she said in a low voice. "It was phaser fire."
They'd been so focused on the massive ship that they'd missed the tiny shuttle creeping up from below them.
BANG. The screens flickered and glitched.
Aldrick cursed. "We've lost shields!"
There was another hit, then another, and another. Sparks were flying now, and the sensors were screaming as the shuttle's operating systems started failing.
Vr'ocria was tossed against the wall in one particularly brutal crash, and the last thing she saw was a broken panel flying right towards her face.
—
Everything hurt.
Especially her nose. The tang of blood clung to the back of her throat.
There were muffled voices somewhere nearby, and the sound of metal scraping. When she tried to move, she abruptly registered something cold and hard encircling her wrists.
"She's waking up."
Vr'ocria coughed, blood splattering from her lips. Moaning in pain, she managed to lift her head and crack her eyes open.
The scraping sound was the heels of her boots sliding across metal grate flooring as she was dragged by her wrists. She craned her head back, pain shooting through her neck, and realized that her wrists were clapped in rusty manacles. A massive blue hand fisted the rust red chains that suspended her arms over her head.
"Wha' th'fmm–" she slurred. Her brain felt like sludge.
Suddenly she was yanked even higher into the air, her toes just brushing the floor. A shock of cold assaulted her and she yelped, flinching as water dripped down her face.
"You awake now?"
A man was standing in front of her, tossing aside a now-empty bucket. There were several people, actually. All different species, all looking very pleased, and all wearing distinctive black Norvidian armbands.
Pirates.
A hand cracked across her cheek, sending more blood flying. She bit back a cry as the shockwave laced through her broken nose. "Fuck you," she spat instead.
The man chuckled. He was tall, muscles bulging through his coat, and his skin was blue. He must've been the one dragging her. "Picking up human words, I see."
Vr'ocria's blood turned to ice. "What have you done with him?" She demanded in a low voice.
His grin only widened. His teeth were crooked and rotting. "I'll be asking the questions here."
Her scales burned a bright and hot yellow and snapped as they turned on end. But before she could respond, his hand lashed out and grabbed her throat–not enough to choke her just yet, but enough to make her freeze.
"You're the lizard bitch from Theta-7, yes?" The grin was gone now, replaced by a withering glare.
Understanding dawned on Vr'ocria. Blast. Oh, blast.
He saw the realization in her eyes and slowly released her throat. "You are."
"What's it to you?" She snapped.
He sneered. "You killed one of my men."
"He attacked us first!"
Stars burst behind her eyes as the air was forced from her lungs, and it took her a moment to realize that he had punched her in the gut. All she could do was cough and gasp, trying to regain her bearings through the pain as he turned away from her and towards the others standing around. He raised his arms.
"We are Norvids!" He boomed, and the others whooped in agreement. "We stand together! We protect our own!"
Vr'ocria tuned him out as he kept proselytizing, using the opportunity to look around the room. It was massive and almost all metal with towering walls. Crane chains hung from the ceiling, and crates and barrels of different sizes were scattered about, everything dusty, rusty, and old. A storage room. An old cargo ship? She wondered. That would explain why it was so big.
She ran a quick headcount of everyone she could see. Seventeen.
But where was Aldrick?
Vr'ocria felt sick. You better be okay…you have to…please be okay…
The man–the captain, she guessed–finally turned back to her. He drew a dagger from a sheath strapped to his arm, and her eyes went wide.
"A life for a life," he growled, stalking towards her.
But before he'd made it even two steps, a voice rang out through the cargo bay.
"Don't you fucking touch her."
It was enough to stop the captain in his tracks.
Footsteps sounded from behind her, and Vr'ocria tried in vain to twist her body around.
But she didn't have to. The man approaching from behind came forward and stepped in between her and the captain, and she didn't have to see his face to know who it was.
"Aldrick," she nearly whimpered.
The caption sneered. "Well well, a little escape artist, are we?"
Aldrick was silent.
Deathly so.
Vr'ocria swallowed.
Even the captain, who was twice Aldrick's size, seemed to waver. Vr'ocria wasn't sure she wanted to know what he saw on Aldrick's face.
Finally, Aldrick spoke. "Any of you touch her, and you will die." His voice was so cold it pierced her to the bone. She could see his clenched fists trembling at his sides. He's not even armed!
The captain began to laugh, his voice echoing around the bay. The others laughed with him.
"And who's gonna stop us?" He demanded. "You? Little human, you don't know who you're messing with." He dashed forward, raising the blade, ready to strike.
"Aldrick!" Vr'ocria screamed.
But Aldrick dodged as easily as water flows through a river, ducking under the dagger and going for the captain's legs. He barreled his full weight against his hips, and with a shout, the giant fell, the dagger clattering from his grasp. Quick as a whip, Aldrick snatched it up–and drove it directly into the captain's throat.
Vr'ocria couldn't help but watch in horror as green blood frothed forth, spraying all over Aldrick. The captain's eyes were wide, and he choked and spasmed as his life drained out onto the dirty floor.
By now, the others were surging forward, shouting, screaming, and brandishing their own weapons.
"NO!" Vr'ocria screamed as they converged on him. She kicked and yanked uselessly at her chains, desperate to help, to do anything. The manacles bit painfully into her scales, some of them even popping off onto the floor, leaving beads of blood welling up in their wake. But the manacles did not yield.
When she looked back, she was terrified she'd see Aldrick lying dead on the floor.
But he wasn't.
In fact, there were three pirates–no, make that four now–sprawled lifelessly instead. Aldrick was a whirlwind of limbs and gnashing teeth–he ducked and dodged, spat and kicked, slashing at knees and elbows, slowly incapacitating or discombobulating each one until he was able to sink the dagger into throats, chests, between ribs–bodies were dropping--he was covered in blood now, eyes wild–
"BEHIND YOU!" Vr'ocria screamed.
Aldrick turned just a second too late, and a woman covered in dark fur landed a kick directly to his chest. He hit the floor, the dagger flying from his grasp. The woman pounced, her hands wrapping around his throat. His legs thrashed as he clutched at her hands, and he was just able to roll them over until he was on top. From there, he simply started punching, and punching, blood spraying his face with each hit.
A large man behind him had stumbled back to his feet. He lunged forward and yanked Aldrick up by the back of his shirt, throwing him bodily into the air, where he crashed against a metal crate.
He hit the ground and didn't move.
Vr'ocria was screaming. She didn't know if she was saying words anymore, but she was screaming, and blood was streaming down her arms now from how hard she was pulling against the manacles. All she could do was watch as the final three pirates approached her mate where he lay lifeless on the floor.
They stopped before they were in arms length, looking between each other. She couldn't hear what they were saying, but one of them finally edged forward and poked Aldrick's side with her toe.
Vr'ocria wanted to rip their entrails out with her bare hands.
He still didn't move. Seeming satisfied, they moved forward, and one bent to grab him.
All at once, her human surged back to life. The man closest to him hit the ground as Aldrick swung his legs around, sweeping the man's feet out from under him. Once he was down, Aldrick bashed a crane hook–one he must've picked up from the floor–into the man's skull so hard that it caved in with one blow. Still lying on the floor, Aldrick used his vantage point to kick the woman's knee backwards, and she collapsed with an agonized scream. One more strike with the hook, and she was silenced.
That left just one. The final pirate appeared to be reptilian like her, although he had large spines stretching across his head and shoulders. This one didn't try to rush Aldrick. Instead, he kept his distance, watching warily as Aldrick climbed to his feet.
"So it's true," the spined pirate said, "what they say about humans."
Aldrick returned a deadly stare. "And what's that?" His voice almost didn't even sound like his anymore.
"You're monsters. Demons. Scourge of the universe."
Aldrick grinned, but it looked more like a feral animal baring its teeth. "That's me."
The pirate's spines flexed. "You could join us," he said. "Join the Norvids. We'll find another crew, you can be captain."
They were circling now, Aldrick crouched like a predator ready to strike, the pirate shuffling back with his hands held out.
"You could be rich!"
Aldrick picked up a rusty chain from a barrel as he passed by.
"Think of the power you would wield!" The pirate cried desperately.
Aldrick still said nothing. He forced him back, and back, until the pirate realized, too late, that he was cornered between two crates. His back hit the wall and he slid down, cowering, as Aldrick loomed over him.
Vr'ocria could barely hear because of the distance, but the metal room carried Aldrick's low hiss as he bent down to the trembling pirate: "You hurt my mate. Now, you die."
The rusty chain crackled as Aldrick wrapped it around the pirate's neck in one fell swoop. He pulled the loop tight and the pirate clutched at the noose, his eyes and forked tongue bulging out. Then, with one swift and hard yank, an audible splinter-snap filled the room–and the pirate was dead before he hit the floor, his neck bent at an unnatural angle.
Aldrick dropped him in disgust. His back was turned, but Vr'ocria could still see his chest heaving.
He turned and met Vr'ocria's eyes, and the demented expression drained from his face. He stepped towards her, slowly at first, and then broke into a sprint.
It seemed like he wanted to throw his arms around her, but he came to a sudden halt before he could touch her, instead raising his shaking hands to her face. "Vr'ocria, 'ria, my Ria, I'm so sorry–" his voice broke and his eyes welled with tears that quickly spilled over and began running down his face, carving tracks into the grime and blood spatter.
"Aldrick," she whispered, drinking him in. He's alive.
"Hold on, hold on, I'll get you out of these cuffs, fuck–" he turned to the dead captain on the floor and rifled through his pockets until he produced a key.
He returned and had to stand on his tiptoes to reach the manacles, and with a scrape and groan of metal, the manacles cracked loose.
Vr'ocria collapsed onto Aldrick, her legs too weak to hold her up. Her arms fell over his shoulders, and he caught her around the waist. Together they sank to the floor until they were both on their knees, clutching at one another as if they would disappear.
Aldrick buried his face in her neck, shaking with silent sobs. Vr'ocria tangled her hands in his bloody hair, not caring about the mess. Her people couldn't weep like humans did, but she might as well have with the way her chest heaved with stuttering breaths, her scales burning bright red.
Aldrick clutched her tight enough to hurt, but she didn't care. "Ria, my Ria, my love," he gasped like a mantra.
She finally took his face in her hands and pulled him back, forcing him to look at her. "Are you alright?" She implored. "Are you hurt?"
He let out a half-laugh, half-sob. "You're asking me?"
She used her thumbs to wipe away some of the grime on his face. "You took on all of those people by yourself," she croaked. "And the way he threw you–planets, I thought you were dead."
His hands slid up her back to clutch her shoulders. "I'm alright," he assured her. "Bumps and bruises is all. But you–" he looked her up and down, rage rekindling in his eyes. "Son of a bitch, what they did to you–"
She shook her head. "They're dead now," she said firmly. "It's over and done." She leaned forward to squeeze him again, resting her head on his shoulder. "Let's just go home."
"Don't have to tell me twice." Aldrick rose, pulling her up with him. Her legs were still too unsteady to walk, so instead, he slid one hand under her knees and swept her up into his arms. She settled against his chest as he carried her out of the cargo bay.
"Should we be worried about any other crew members?" She asked, casting her eyes around the barren corridor.
Aldrick shook his head as he walked. He seemed to know where he was going. "It was just them."
"How do you know? And what happened to you, by the way?"
His arms tightened around her. "After you got knocked out, they locked a tractor beam onto the shuttle and pulled us inside."
They came to a fork in the corridor, and he turned left. "I thought they were just raiding for scrap metal and Union tech, but when they boarded the shuttle, they went straight for you. I–" his voice cracked. "I tried to protect you, but there were so many of them and I was so caught off guard..."
Vr'ocria stroked the nape of his neck with her thumb. "It's okay, it's not your fault."
Aldrick swallowed before continuing. "They took you away and locked me in an old storage container. Thankfully the hinges were on the inside, so I just popped the pins out once they were gone. I was able to access the ship's computer and scan the whole ship, because the idiots didn't know how to encrypt anything. All brawn and no brains, I guess. That's also how I was able to figure out where they kept their own shuttles, since ours is pretty busted."
"Is that where we're going?"
He nodded. "Anyway, I used the scanner to find your location, and then I just crawled through the air ducts so I could get inside without them knowing." He stopped. "We're here."
They'd arrived at a loading door with a rusty label that read "SHUTTLE BAY."
Twenty minutes later found them back out in open space in the least-old shuttle they could find. The engine puttered every few minutes, but with any luck, they'd reach their ship in an hour or so.
Vr'ocria had regained her bearings, and she was rummaging around the storage box at the back of the cabin. She finally found an old "in case of emergency" kit, but frustratingly, all the first aid supplies had been picked clean. She did, however, find an unopened package of wet wipes.
Vr'ocria took the wipes back to the front of the cabin. Ripping the package open, she knelt by Aldrick where he sat in the pilot seat.
"What're you doing?"
"Hold still," she murmured. She raised a wipe to his face, and began gently cleaning the blood off. His eyes became soft as she tended to him, throwing the dirty wipes aside one by one while she worked her way down his face and neck.
When she was done, he took her hand before she could get up. He reached for the package as well, and began wiping the blood from her arms, taking care around the nasty scrapes that marred her wrists. "We need to get these bandaged up."
"It's okay. They're not bleeding anymore, we have time."
Aldrick placed a hand on her cheek. "I love you so much," he whispered. "And I'm glad you're okay."
Vr'ocria leaned into his hand, closing her eyes. "I love you too."
Turns out it's REALLY hard to write fight scenes lol. I can see it happening in my head, but getting it down on paper is another story. I had fun though! And I hope I did it justice.
Thank you for reading!

(I've had this concept for a while and wrote a few versions for the first episode, settling on this version, I haven't wrote a lot so would love feedback on this, I want to execute this idea as well as I can)
Mythicals Ep1: The world's worst thief
Narrator: Welcome to the continent of Nova.A continent made up of seven separate islands with each one of having its own unique,biomes,climates,properties and laws.But this continent isn't perfect.40 years ago a strange race called mythicals appeared.They were similar to humans in every aspect except one.They had strange abilities called Zanes.With these Zanes,the power went to the mythical's head and they tried to take over the continent,starting a race war between the humans and mythicals.The humans won the war through sheer numbers.Mythical population dropped 75% and are now discriminated and oppressed by humans.
A young man is seen running along a white stone road.He had short,straight,black hair,wide red eyes and pale skin.He had a dirty grey trench coat,a black shirt with tears in it,black ripped jeans and grey boots.
Narrator: Meet Hiroshi Kita,an 18 year old,down on luck,mythical thief.
Hiroshi turns around and spots three people dressed in medieval knight armour chasing him.He smiled and continued running,soon running into an alleyway,the knights running in and cornering him.
Hiroshi: Come on guys,can't we talk this out?
The first knight draws a sword and slashes at Hiroshi.Hiroshi's chest becomes transparent as the sword goes through him.His chest turned back to normal as the sword left his chest.
Narrator: Hiroshi Kita,his Zane is called Umbra.It allows him to turn his body into a shadow form,the only issue is due to not having much mastery over this Zane,he can only transform one body part at a time.
Knight 1: He's a mythical!
The second knight took out a large axe
Knight 2: This will knock my mythical kill count to 15!
The second knight swung his axe down but Hiroshi quickly dodged backwards,the axe slams into the ground.Hiroshi smiled and jumped onto the axe handle.
Hiroshi: Thanks for the help fellas
Hiroshi jumped off the axe and onto the first knight's head,then the second one and then the third one before jumping towards a window sill.The third knight pulls out a revolver and quickly shoots at Hiroshi's head.Hiroshi turns his head into a shadow before climbing through the window,turning his head back to normal.The knights look up at the window sill,knowing they won't reach.They start leaving.
Knight 3: Who's gonna tell Akuhei?
The other two knights put the fingers on the helmet where their noses would be.
Knight 3: Come on guys,when did we start doing that?
Meanwhile Hiroshi made his way to a sewer cover in a dark alley.He smiled and lifted the cover up before climbing in and closing the cover.He walked through the sewers before reaching a metal door.In front of the door was a giant man.
Hiroshi: Hey,Duke,you gonna let me in?
Duke looked down at him and shook his head
Duke: Only the best thieves in the continent are allowed in here and as we all know,you've been ranked as the worst thief in the continent,so unless you can get a big score,you're not in so scram.
Hiroshi sighed and started walking away,leaving the sewer.
Hiroshi: Asami might know something about a big score,they have connections all over the continent.
Hiroshi ran off and soon entered an abandoned theatre outside the town.He looked around and saw someone on stage with short pink hair,pink eyes,a masculine body and peach skin.They were wearing a white tank top and black shorts.Hiroshi smiled and jumped on stage.
Hiroshi: Hey Asami!
Asami smiled and quickly hugged Hiroshi
Asami: Hold on a sec,you only come here when you want something,what do you want?
Hiroshi sighed,smiled and scratched the back of his head.Asami gained an annoyed expression as they crossed their arms.
Hiroshi: Ok,to be completely honest,I need to know about a big score.
Asami: How big?
Hiroshi: Big enough to get me into the largest thieves guild in the continent?
Asami: Going big aren't we?Well I can only think of one place nearby…
They walked past him,transforming into a femine figure as they did,their voice becoming more femine as well
Asami: Would be the nearby Mythical Hunter's Headquarters but you wouldn't be mad enough to do that,right?Right?
Hiroshi: Thanks Asami!
He quickly ran away
Asami: He's gonna get himself killed.
Hiroshi located the Mythical Hunter's Headquarters and climbed over the walls at nightfall but quickly went unconscious before he could get over the wall.He woke up in a dark room with someone standing in front of him.They were tall with shoulder length brown hair,narrow green eyes and light brown skin.They were wearing a black tank top and grey cargo pants.Hiroshi was bound by rope at his ankles and wrists.
Hiroshi: Who are you?
Daichi: Name's Daichi Gushiken and you're staying here while I go stop the Mythical Hunters.
Hiroshi: But why did you capture me?
Daichi: Can't have a lowly thief like you getting in my way.Some of these guys are strong enough to topple towns.
Hiroshi: Then why fight them,just run!
Daichi: Because if they aren't stopped,they'll try to topple the human government.
Hiroshi: Won't that…
Daichi stared down at Hiroshi as Hiroshi's eyes widened in shock.
Hiroshi: That will start another war!
Daichi: Exactly, and now you understand why I need to stop them.
Hiroshi: But how can you stop them alone, do you even have a Zane?!
Daichi: Nope, I'm just a regular human.
Hiroshi: How do you expect to win against people with Zanes that could take down entire towns if they wanted too!?
Daichi: Well, I've got methods.If humans won the war against the Mythicals, why can't I beat one?
Hiroshi: The humans won through numbers!Everyone knows that!Try them on me and see if you win!
Daichi shrugs and unties Hiroshi. Hiroshi stands up as the both of them put their fists up. Hiroshi throws the first punch, aiming for Daichi's head. Daichi slides to his left before kicking Hiroshi in the back of the knee, causing Hiroshi to fall onto one knee. He then elbows Hiroshi in the neck, knocking his opponent to the ground.
Daichi: What's your name, thief?
Hiroshi: H-Hiroshi Kita.
Daichi: Well Hiroshi Kita, listen to this message from Daichi Gushiken. Stay away from Mythical Hunters unless you want to get hurt,so leave the saving to everyone else.
Daichi leaves Hiroshi on the floor as he leaves the room. Hiroshi clenches his fists before slowly getting back up a few minutes later, wiping tears from his eyes as he ran out of the room. Meanwhile, Daichi had infiltrated the Mythical Hunters HQ. He was sneaking through hallways as he took out any knights in his path, soon reaching a large wooden door and pushing it open. On the other side of the door was a large man, muscular build with crimson hair,narrow eyes, peach skin, and sharp pointed teeth, wearing black tracksuit bottoms.
Daichi: You're dying, Akuhei Heru.
The man turns around and smiles.
Akuhei: Well if it isn't the famous fighting champ. Come to try and take down the strongest fist fighter in Nova?
Daichi: Not only will I try, I'll succeed.
Akuhei: You think ye worthless human body with ney a Zane can beat me perfect form with the fourth most powerful Zane in the World?!
Daichi quickly punches Akuhei in the gut, causing him to stumble backwards.
Daichi: Never underestimate the power and dedication of the human spirit.
Akuhei: Ye be training, this should be interesting!
Akuhei swings his arm at Daichi and sends him flying into a wall, cracking the wall and causing books to fall off a bookshelf. Daichi falls to the floor and before he can get back up, Akuhei grabs him by the neck and slams him against the wall again. He lifts him up higher with his right arm as he walks over to a desk. He goes to swing Daichi down on it but Daichi quickly pulls a knife out of his pocket and stabs Akuhei in the arm. Blood trickles down Akuhei's arm as he drops Daichi. Daichi lands on the desk and looks up. Akuhei goes to slam his left fist down on Daichi. He quickly rolls backwards off the desk as Akuhei slashes it in half. Daichi stands back up only to see a fist flying towards him.
He quickly ducks as the fist hits a set of steel armour behind him, the punch flattening the chest piece. Daichi quickly grabs the sword from the set of armour and goes to swing it at Akuhei's right arm. Akuhei rips the knife out of his right arm and swings it at the sword. As soon as the knife connects, both blades shatter. Daichi stumbles back as Akuhei just steps towards him and smiles. Akuhei lifts both fists up and swings down towards Daichi. Daichi rolls to his left as the fists hit the ground, cracking it. Daichi quickly rips a piece of wood off the desk and stabs it into Akuhei's left arm. He quickly grabs another piece of wood and stabs Akuhei in the back of the knee forcing him to fall down.
Daichi (in head): This is my chance to end him!
Daichi quickly runs and shoulder bashes into Akuhei, making him over and falls out of a window, shattering the glass. Daichi slowly gets up as blood trickles out of the side of his mouth. He turns to leave when suddenly a piece of glass flies into his leg, Daichi falls forward and onto the shattered desk, causing some pieces of stray wood to stab into his shoulder. Daichi yells out in pain before looking out the window and seeing Akuhei climb through.
Akuhei: Did ye really think that I wouldn't grab onto an edge?!
Akuhei limps towards Daichi as Daichi tries to desperately crawl away. Trying to grab onto anything to pull himself forward. Akuhei grabs his leg and a red glow emanates from his hand. Akuhei's injuries heal before blood spurts out from Daichi's arms and knee.
Narrator: Akuhei Heru.His Zane is called Contagin! If he manages to touch anyone he can transfer any injury,illness or ailment to the person he touches!
Akuhei: Ye really thought ye could beat me!?
Akuhei lifts Daichi by the leg and throwing him through the doors he came in. Daichi lands on the ground as blood trickles out of him.
Akuhei: Ye are as foolish as ye are weak!
Hiroshi: Back away!
Suddenly Hiroshi smashes through a window and kicks Akuhei in the head, causing him to stumble back against a wall, his nose begins to bleed as he smiles and glares at Hiroshi.
Akuhei: Perfect,yet another lamb for me to slaughter!
Daichi: Run you idiot!
Akuhei throws a punch at Hiroshi's head but Hiroshi quickly turns his head into a shadow and the punch goes through. Another punch connects with his stomach which sends him into the air. His back hits the ceiling before he starts falling towards the ground. Akuhei smiles and quickly punches Hiroshi mid air and sends him flying down the hallway. Hiroshi lands on the ground and tries to slowly stand up, he was coughing up blood.
Akuhei charges at Hiroshi and quickly kicks him in the gut. Hiroshi slams into the wall as the wall cracks. Akuhei grabs Hiroshi and throws him in the air before sending a barrage of punches at him before grabbing his leg and slamming him into the ground. Blood trickles out of Hiroshi's mouth as he coughs.
Glass shatters and Akuhei quickly turns around. He sees a hole in another window and Daichi laying there next to it. Akuhei charges towards Daichi but something suddenly wraps around his leg. He looks down and sees a rope with a kunai tied around his leg. He turns around and sees Hiroshi still on the ground while holding the rope. Akuhei smirks and quickly swings his leg forward. Sending Hiroshi flying and out of the window in the room Akuhei and Daichi were fighting in as the rope snaps.
Hiroshi(in head): Is that it? Is this where I die? Not even getting close to my dream? I don't want to die here but I can't do anything to save myself, I'm too hurt.
Tears swell up in Hiroshi's eyes as he falls towards the ground. His eyes close as he feels himself land in someones arms. He can feel himself be gently placed on the ground and his eyes open slightly. His vision is blurry but he can make out the shape of a woman looking over him.
Hiroshi: An angel?
Hiroshi passes out due to his injuries. Meanwhile Akuhei gets surrounded by vines which pin him to the ground. The faint sound of footsteps can be heard and the vines vanish. Akuhei stands up and looks around only to see Daichi is gone.

this is really embarrassing for me but i’m flying for the first time and well here’s the thing: i’m receding at the hairline/naturally have a big forehead. so what i do that gives me confidence is i take a human hair frontal and cut about 2 or 3 inches of it to wear at the front of my head to give myself a lower hairline. it works and blends in perfect with my real hair. and i just use tape to hold it down, no pins or metal. so, i’m really paranoid that an x-ray or something will detect the 2-3 inches of wig glued to my forehead lol and the most humiliating thing would be for them to question me about it and worse case scenario to peel it off. so for anyone who wears non full coverage wigs in maybe a similar way, is this an issue for flying with tsa or does it go unnoticed?

Introducing the Crystalloids: A Worldbuilding Idea
In my story, I have created a unique race known as Crystalloids. Here are some key details about them:

1. Gender-Fluid, Immortal Cultivators: Crystalloid humans are genderless beings, although they have the ability to choose their preferred gender identity. They possess immortality and can live for thousands of years. While their physical forms are relatively fixed, they have exceptional control over them, and can expend accumulated resources to fuel sudden crystal growth spurts, thus growing a new limb, or when needed to repair themselves.
2. Allomancy: Crystalloids have the ability to absorb natural metals and minerals, which gives their bodies color, and they can burn these metals to unlock extraordinary powers, similar to the concept of Allomancy in the Mistborn series. For example, Garnet is red because of Iron. A Garnet Crystalloid can burn its Iron for superpowers, but when he ends up dry, he will turn into being transparent, glassy, and powerless.
3. Built like Legoes: When struck, Crystalloids can shatter and lose parts of their bodies. Fortunately, they can be reassembled using materials, like Lego blocks, as long as no pieces are lost or turned to dust.
4. Xianxia world politics: Gem Houses are Xianxia Sects, Gem Families are like Clans, Clusters represent martial brothers/sisters. The metal powers possessed by Crystalloids are akin to cultivation techniques, each Gem Family with their own secret manuals. Above all the Houses stands the Jade Emperor and the Jade Family, but there might be a conspiracy within the Jadeite and Nephrite branches to overthrow the ruling Jadeites.
5. Created, Not Born: Crystalloids do not naturally reproduce like other beings. Instead, they are created or risen using geomancy, and then are adopted into Families based on their properties. Clusters of similar gemstones are used, and the process involves manipulating Earth Veins through the use of Authorities, which are controlled by the Houses (the nobility). This gives the Houses complete control over the creation of their subservient Families's next generations. --- This has always been a source of contention among the underling families, as each new generation potentially brings a new batch of powerful soldiers, causing a shift in power dynamics between rival families. If a Family offends it's overlords, they can just choose to deny them any new heirs.
6. Scarcity of Resources: Due to their immortality, Crystalloids tend to hoard resources and metals, which they use to enhance their combat abilities and cultivate their powers. This presents a constant dilemma for the Houses. They must decide whether to allocate more metals to the experienced soldiers/older generation, or spend the materials to raise a new batch of less experienced Crystalloids. Another issue arises when multiple Crystalloids within the same House are using the same cultivation technique, as the scarcity of resources can create conflicts and competition.
7. Memories Encased in the Body: Similar to the concept in "Houseki no Kuni," Crystalloids store their memories within their bodies. Therefore, whenever they lose a part of themselves, such as a hair or a piece of skin, they also lose a random memory. There is no pattern to the memories' storage locations, so it is unpredictable which memories might be lost. This adds an element of uncertainty and risk to their existence.

Apart from the Crystalloids, there are other races in this world:

1. Stoneblighted: These Crystalloids have absorbed natural amalgams instead of metals, transforming them into stone-like monstrosities. While they possess great strength, their mental faculties are severely diminished.
2. New Humans: Humans who have devolved into various monstrous forms, resembling the creatures in "All Tomorrows" or human-animal hybrids. Crystalloids consider them as monsters or pests to be exterminated. However, the protagonist discovers that some New Humans are sapient, which comes as a shock and opens up possibilities for alliances and a potential revolution.
3. Faces: The Faces are an ancient tradition among the Crystalloids' high nobility. They raise humans to serve as their "faces," essentially mimicking their masters in every way. Faces are treated as slaves, and when they grow old or sustain damage, another member of their family takes their place. Faces are raised to resemble their master's preferences and are often inbred to maintain specific facial features. There might be a hidden rebellion brewing among the Faces, which adds intrigue to the story. The inspiration for this concept comes from the manga "Shadows House."

These are some worldbuilding ideas for your story involving the Crystalloids. Feel free to explore these concepts and develop them further to create a rich and captivating narrative.

Okay, this will be a long post but I hope people will stick with it and give me their honest feedback. I've been considering posting to this Subreddit for a while now, but I'm really rubbish at using Reddit! I want to tell people about my encounter with a somewhat notorious ghost and how to this day, I can't explain what happened to me.
Back in 2019 I attended the Edinburgh film festival and it was my first time visiting the city. I had an amazing time, and one night I decided to take some time off watching films to do some tourist-like activities. In the hostel where I was staying I saw a leaflet for the Edinburgh Vault tours which I thought would be fascinating as I'm a serious history buff. If you don't know what the Edinburgh vaults are they are are a series of chambers formed in the nineteen arches of the South Bridge in Edinburgh, Scotland which were used to house a number of different businesses until they became a shelter for the homeless (more info here). The tour was a 'Ghost' tour of the seedy part of old town in Edinburgh, and despite having some slightly paranormal experiences in the past, I felt pretty confident that I could handle going on my own.
The first part of the tour took place above ground and to be honest, it wasn't particularly great as it was the middle of June and despite being around 6-7pm, it was sunny and bright which didn't really create the right atmosphere. The tour guide led us to the entrance of the vaults, which we entered through a normal building and down a flight of stairs. Before, we went into the vaults, she told us to make sure our shoe laces are tied (I double-tied my laces as I didn't want to trip up as the floor was very uneven).
This was where the tour really started to get interesting. The guide told us about the history of the place and the ghosts that apparently reside there. One is Mr Boots, who is an evil spirit who can be heard stomping around in boots. The other is a small boy that attaches itself to women he considers to be a 'motherly' figure and he likes to grab their hand and is known to untie shoelaces. The un-named boy is apparently scared of Mr Boots. As a tour group, we walk from room to room as the tour guide recounts different stories of ghostly encounters.
We enter one room where there used to be a fireplace, which the guide is in front of. In the archway there's a couple and I'm stood next to them facing the guide and the couple. I decide to take a photo of the guide and the couple when suddenly behind the couple I see this man.
I've never seen a face full of so much hate and evil in all my life. I can't even find the words to describe how menacing they looked, their face looked twisted with hate. They looked human. A tall figure, wearing a long black coat or a cloak, wearing a top hat. They had white pale skin. The figure wasn't transparent, but solid.
The moment I saw him, the entire left side of my body went numb and cold. And, I mean cold as if that side of my body had frozen. I felt something yank at my left hand and I pulled my eyes away from the figure in the archway to look down at the left hand-side of my body. There's nothing next me, no-one pulling on my hand, and when I go to look up Mr Boots is gone. Thank God!
The guide starts to move everyone to the next room, and I seriously don't want to walk through the archway but I know I can't stay in the small room any longer. I go to move when I look down at my left shoe to see the shoe lace is undone. Only, it's not just undone. The shoelace looks like its been wrapped around someone's finger and they have piled it on top of my shoe. I can't help but gasp out loud and call the guide over. She looks at it baffled and says she's never seen that happen to anyone before! I don't know why but I was too scared to tell her about seeing Mr Boots, because I felt like I couldn't tell her like I would somehow get into trouble? I felt like I was suddenly back to being a little kid.
I wasn't the only person in the tour group to have a paranormal experience. There was this big body-builder type man who clearly thought the whole tour was just nonsense, he was stood in a corner of this room next to a wall just minding his own business when suddenly he jumped and looked behind him. Apparently, he heard someone clap in his ear but there wasn't anyone behind him and no-one in the group had clapped.
I'm nearly at the end of this story, so thank you for sticking with me so far. The last bit is what happened to me back at the hostel when I returned after the tour. I had been sharing a room with a few other girls and I re-telling my experience (minus seeing Mr Boots because I thought no-one would believe me), the girls thought the tour sounded really interesting and we chatted for a bit about Scotland in general before I decided to go to sleep.
As I was lying in my bunk (which was on the bottom), I was suddenly overcome by that feeling of being frozen and paralysed again like I had experienced back in the vault. My eyes were half open and I could see the two girls still talking sat on a bed. I remember wanting to call out to them but I couldn't. I don't know how long I was stuck like this but eventually I found that I could open my eyes fully and I could move again. I didn't sleep for the rest of the night.
If people are interested in some context, I have always had strange experiences on the left hand-side of my body. What I mean by this, is that whenever anything paranormal happens, I feel a shiver go down the entire left hand-side of my body. You know, that feeling you get when someone walks over your grave? Well, that's what I feel. When I was three I was involved in a terrible accident where my dress caught on fire and I was badly burnt. The part of my body most affected? The left part.