Chapter 2

Intara draws in a ready breath and walks forward. On approaching the doors part for her and once she enters, they lock behind her. She treads lightly, her eyes exploring the spacious yet compact chamber. The brilliant surface of polished minerals illuminated by the spills of sunbeams that the skylight windows welcome in. In the far-right-hand corner, a being stands with her back facing Intara, her three-fingered hands clasped behind her back. Her skin almost blending with the grey glazed wall. 

She swivels to face the progeny and strides over to her in hauntingly gradual pace.

A Slivern. Not surprised that another of their species possesses such a notable rank.

"Do you prefer if I speak Kaylish, Nekian or Arthinian?" Accent resounding with excellence.

"Either is fine," Intara says in Kaylish.

"Alright," she says in Kaylish as if to select the preferred dialect. 

She makes her way to the rectangular shaped holotable with smooth edges. A slab of floating onyx with diminutive sensors integrated on its head. She moves behind it to sink into the hover chair. For a prolonged, assessing moment, she stares at the progeny, but by her appearance alone. She is unable to determine the progeny's race. The strange skin and auspicious features. But because of her House, she is led to assume that she is Kalium.

"Intara, I have been watching you for a while now. Your attentivity during the teaching is…" trailing off to locate the right word, "concerning," she finds. She leans forward. "But now I hear that you have been… asking questions. Quite a curious one you are." An ominous smile spreads on her face.

Intara says nothing. Her gaze is fixated on the shiny floor, feeling as if with just one slight step it would crack and fall away beneath her feet.

"Ask me."

Intara looks up.

"Ask me," she repeats calmly. "Perhaps I can answer your question."

The strain in her chest endures unrelentingly.

Intara summons her voice, waiting briefly to ensure its steadiness. "The Docent said that the SFA only wish to dismantle our lawful institutions and annihilate our way of life. I asked why?"

The Headmaster stares at her like her question is completely ludicrous. Her maw stained with ebony, her lips ajar. "Why what?" she asks for clarification. "Why does the SFA do such things?"

Intara nods. "Why do any of these things? Why do they seek such attention, resorting even to inflicting harm upon others to attain it? What compels them to engage in such actions?" Each probing question rejuvenates the spores of curiosity which the teachings were created to sterilise. "I know the stalks of rebellion they have pruned, but why were the seeds sown and why did they continue to nurture such a revolt?"

The Headmaster leans back into her seat, her features steeling into an intolerant look. "An exceedingly curious one, indeed," she says, her tone sharp. "All who align themselves with the SFA harbor a deep-seated disdain for the Priostry, perceiving the Priosess' rule as an authoritarian tyranny. They remain blind to the myriad ways in which the Priosess has benefitted countless spheres, their animosity clouding any recognition of their contributions."

"Then why fight against it?"

The Headmaster's eyes widen as if she had been struck.

"You ask many questions, one might say too many," she blurts from raw frustration before adopting a neutral expression. "Regrettably, they are not considering the welfare of all realms, only their own. They question the Priostry only because they believe they deserve to rule. Yet they lead attacks, ensure worldly unrest and pledge to this irrational strife. Endangering the lives of even their own, all for their self-seeking ambitions."

Intara nods carefully, considering her words.

"Have I satisfied your curiosity?" Words drenched in derision.

She says nothing.

"Very well. You may return to your teaching chamber." Her head inclines with aloof solemnity. "And this time, please. No more distractions."

***

The Conservatory culminates the same time it always does, after a galvanising discourse to motivate progenies to conform to The Order. And submit to its Prious. All the progenies from different chambers reunite together in the main floodlit corridors. As one, the rolling white wave hurls out of the building and to the Conservatory-owned travel crafts that transport progenies to and from their dwellings.

"Intara!"

She glances over her shoulder. Etai sidles up alongside her. He nudges his shoulder with hers in greeting. His fiery eyes were like burnished amber. alight with excitement, looking at her as if they have been separated for cycles.

"Word is spreading as quick as the lights do in Lumina," he says, a tantalised smile splitting his face. "You, my friend, are as unpredictable as the path they take at whim," he snickers.

She glances at him askance. "It should not be so abnormal to ask questions." 

Etai frowns at her, both of them squeezed together by the tide of progenies all making their way to the transport. Intara weaves past others who natter amongst themselves, walking at an infuriatingly glacial pace as a consequence.

"What for? We are taught what we must know," he retorts.

A frown strikes her forehead. "You do not think that we need to know more? There have only been useless talks about the strife, attacks and galactic unrest. But no one asks questions, perhaps in fear of where the answers will lead."

Etai flicks her an irritated look and sighs. "What do you think asking questions will achieve? It will not change what is happening in the battle regions. Asking questions has only ever attracted unnecessary peril," he says.

His ignorance irks Intara so much that she no longer feels inclined to waste her breath. A fleeting thought of his inherent nature tempers her irritation. An Authrine, she recalls—a being inclined toward inherent acceptance, predisposed to find a glimmer of hope in every situation. Regardless of how bleak or desperate, even when shrouded in the densest darkness, they have a propensity to discern the silver lining.

Outside, four large travel crafts await with the emblem of the Conservatory etched on both of its white flanks. Etai and Intara allow themselves to be guided by the strong currents of progenies eager to return home as the pair are ushered onto the third travel craft. Eventually, the two find a seat beside a large, panoramic window. Intara gestures with a fluid motion of her hand, and the sensors embedded in the seat respond instantly. A soft hum fills the air as the magnetic pull engages, gently pulling the seat into place with a reassuring click. The seat conforms to her body with a cushioned embrace, cradling her in a cocoon of comfort. She settles back against the plush padding, her gaze drifting out the window as the sprawling vista unfolds before her.

"Before Crux left for Naroha, he mentioned something about your father. And that he is due to return soon?" Etai asks.

Intara is thankful that her head is turned in the other direction, obstructing his view of her crestfallen expression from emotions she could only hope to hide. A grievous feeling cleaves her chest open, trying to force her to look at the truth long-buried within.

"He was last posted on the front-lines," she informs, trying to hold a monotone. "The SFA are becoming bolder, they say, more ambitious in their attacks." Her pain cloaked in poorly fabricated indifference. "He was sent to lead his legion beyond the X-two sector."

Immersed in her palpable grief, he says, "Intara, your father is a war legend, he will return as he always does."

His attempt to comfort his visibly troubled friend is futile, yielding no reassurance. Intara's gaze is still locked on the scenery that she has seen countless of times. After a while, all four Conservatory crafts prepare for take-off. The engines rumble and the sound thins to a swarm of light buzzing. Shortly, the crafts lift off the ground, hovering before they launch into the sky in formation.

The travel crafts streak past the gleaming, sterling-silver spires of skyscrapers, slicing through the air with a hum of advanced propulsion. Below, the lively thoroughfares of Kairfell unfold in intricate geometric patterns, their white granite surfaces interspersed among the towering high-rises, reflecting a cityscape meticulously designed for both beauty and function.

The Capital wears a mantle of steel, its skyline an expanse of starry silver, each skyscraper clad in uniform brilliance. The exteriors are fortified with shimmering metals, while glass spires pierce the heavens, crowned with sparking arcs of energy that dome gracefully above them. The entire city seems to pulse with a rhythmic, luminous energy, a beacon of splendor against the vast backdrop of the cosmos. A city that grew in the womb of a technological advancement, birthing a metropolis forged through its neoteric erection. Emerging from its technologic chrysalis to being one of the most revered Capitises in the galaxy. Everything bathed under the azure glow of the sulphur-blue sun. Fiercely blue, burning brightly in the distance.

In the urban sprawl, deep within the core of the innovative city stands the hallowed High Courts of Hebron. In the inner ring it expands out to the mountainous high-rises that ascend to the sky. The brilliant white symbols on the apex titles it as Calius Corporation that towers beyond them all, daring to reach the celestial firmament. But the Prious's palace prevails above everything, all of these metal giants are nestled in its lap. 

The metallised world itself is famously known as the metallic realm. Where the native species were exposed to excessive amounts of a chemical compound, silver. Over time, they adapted. Which is how the Slivern earned their name; the silverbloods. And other prominent races in Kairfell like Besonio and Kuthrine are known for the blue-hue of their skin. And the Kalium, who are purebloods with an untainted lineage that can link back to the time of old.

The two Conservatory crafts in front follow their standard routine, diverging in opposite directions. The one that Etai and Intara are in and the one behind them continues onwards. Segment by segment, the progenies are dropped off to their related sector near their dwellings. Intara's dwelling is near the steel equator. When the craft reaches her sector, Intara and Etai exit together. Habitually, Etai escorts her to the entrance of her dwelling like he always does before he makes his own journey home.

"How is Cruxey?" Etai prompts.

Intara's eyes pierce him with a look and his hands instantly fly to his shoulders.

"You were the one who used to call him that," he says quickly.

Intara exhales deeply and restrains her eyes from rolling. "He remains in Naroha for a few more cycles to complete his training, but he is fulfilling his aspirations by becoming a military plebe. Soon he will rise in rank as he always does—" tinges of disdain tainting her tenor, "—and he will become a Bellator."

For a while they walk on the margins of thoroughfares in silence, shouldering past the diverse Kairfell citizens, a plethora of species enveloped in exquisite silks and colours. Evidently belonging to an Aedis, their exclusive garbs boasting wealth. 

The medley of different races that walk amongst the natives are vibrant, a riot of vivid colours and alien anatomies. Beings from other realms, alike to Etai. His Aedis originated from another Capitis before they established themselves in Kairfell. 

"Etai," Intara begins uneasily. "I know understand that your Aedis is well known for its scientific prowess. However, why do you want to be a Vicar of the science guild?"

It always gnawed at her many curiosities. At first, she believed he meant to do it out of duty. But she can see in his eyes and by his passionate self that his aspirations go beyond traditionalistic reasons.

Etai chuckles softly and casts his gaze skywards, marvelling at the high-rises that tower over them in their grandeur. And it takes him barely a moment to respond.

"That is why." He raises his hand to make an arc shape in the air to gesture to what stands tall all around them. "For this, for my city, my realm and its people. Many have sacrificed to fight for peace, and I feel that it is all of our fight. The way I want to honour my world is to protect it. Protect it from the ones who seek to do it harm."

Intara listens quietly, nodding when appropriate.

"I know I am no soldier; my only weapon is my idealism, but once I become a weapons scientist, earn my authorization and ascend in rank. I want to work in the science and technology guild, to help fashion armaments that will defend our world." Etai nods to himself with certainty and smiles. "I do it to protect a realm that has protected us," he adds.

Etai's eyes and hair is a strange shock of orange, a sharp contrast to his skin like star shadow. His eyes are fire gems burnished with pride and mirth. Intara's gaze moves and glides up to view the lively city.

The indistinct murmur of the crowd abruptly fades into a profound, submissive silence. The once chaotic cacophony of voices is overtaken by the piercing bleeps of a city-wide transmission, resonating through every sector of Kairfell, including the gleaming Capital. This pervasive quiet is not mere coincidence but a deliberate hush summoned by The Calling, a resonant signal that commands universal reverence and obedience. The air itself seems to hold its breath, as the entire metropolis submits to the unspoken authority of this cosmic directive. The interplanetary address of the Prious begins to play on every active, four-dimensional holographic billboard in the Capital city. Broadcasting, out and within, to every monitor in dwellings and corporate high-rises. Kairfellians slow to a halt amidst the edifices. Heads turn to the sky, their gaze drawn up to the innumerable screens that all fill with the live transmission of the Prious. Fleeting dots of travelling crafts zip across.

"Citizens of Kairfell. The magnified voice of the Prious resounds throughout the thoroughfares of the city like the bellow of a God. And everyone listens. "Recent reports of attacks underscore our enemies' unwavering resolve to disrupt the fragile peace of the galaxy, demonstrating their determination to resist any form of compromise, even at the expense of further destabilizing the already tenuous stalemate."

For a moment, the lively city is subdued into a stagnant silence.

"Have no fear, my treasured citizens. Our armies are vast and our power, formidable. I will do everything that I can to secure the safety of our world. Each of you form the necessary framework of a prospering realm. So continue to abide by the laws that were created to protect you."

The Prious concludes by gently placing his left forearm across his chest. The citizens below jab their fists on their hearts, beginning the religious chant in reverence of their supreme ruler.

"Praise Prious!" 

"Praise Prious!" 

The chants reverberate throughout the thoroughfares like the partisan anthem of the city. A billion heartbeats pulsing in collective unison, the blood of patriotism coursing through all of their multi-coloured veins. Etai's gaze is locked upward, seamlessly merging with the convocation that envelops them in a sea of unified energy. Intara's eyes peruse over the bellowing throngs of citizens as she merely mouths the words.