After Zov’ha had seized one of the abandoned hoverbikes for herself, their journey towards Aeroz was swift and silent. Sinovan had produced towing cables from the trunk of his wagon and attached them to the bike. 

Zov’ha drove with ease — it was quite intuitive. I’ve driven one of these before, she thought. I think I owned one. Sinovan sat behind her in the passenger seat, while Efiros and Segran were safely ensconced within the trailing wagon. 

By dusk they had reached the district of Aeroz, cutting their journey time by half. They came across an eight-lane highway running north-south, and spotted the towers of the city at the north-western horizon. 

It was warm in these parts, and it seldom snowed. Even the chilly winds from the east preferred to abate their whistle this far north. The smell of dampness betrayed the presence of a large waterbody nearby. They probably would have heard the sound of gushing water if they had been travelling on foot

The highway meandered northwards, transforming into a grand bridge whose colossal feet endured the flow of an estuary. Far away to the west, a lush green landscape crowned the hills — nurtured by River Ch’huin this marshland was called Kryapat Groves. To the east was the Ginsa’kura mountains, a broken limb of the greater Ire’zol mountains. 

Zov’ha cut the engines and alighted. Gazing southeast, she thought she could almost make out the peaks of the Ire’zol mountains, and felt drawn to it. It was like the snow-capped summits were peeping out of the horizon just to look at her.  

‘Keep it to yourself,’ she mumbled, looking at no one in particular. Sinovan sighed but said nothing. Of course, he would keep it to himself. It was the least he could do for all she had done for him. When the silence became uncomfortable, Zov’ha continued, ‘Let’s get Segran some help as soon as possible.’

‘Yes,’ Sinovan said after a while. His eyes were heavy with sleep. He did not know how he felt about the events of the last few days; he did not want to think about it now. Segran’s life was in their hands and that took utmost priority. ‘There’s an ECC nearby, in a town just outside the city, before Forestway Gate,’ Sinovan said, ‘Farianvale — that’s where we’ll find help.’ 

Zov’ha nodded and replied, ‘When we get to the city, where will I stay?’ 

‘There are inns in the town,’ he replied. ‘Follow the road, take the left exit before the bridge.’ Zov’ha hopped on to the bike and was about to start the engine, but Sinovan politely intercepted her. ‘Zovhara!’ she gasped lightly, but did not turn to face him. ‘Thank you… for saving my life… twice.’   

Farianvale came upon them unexpectedly. Neon signs, overfilled trash bins, leaking waterways, open gutters. The town may have been unclean, but thanks to the wide roads and yard spaces between blocks, the inclusion of rundown parks with leafless trees, and a dwindling population, it all appeared rather orderly.   

They passed cautiously through the bedraggled town. Though there was no one out on the street at this time, signs of residents in the small apartment buildings were evident through the sounds of booming music or loud chitter-chatter. 

Zov’ha drove off the road to a mud track, coming up to a cluster of concrete buildings with aluminium roofs. The complex entrance had a sign that read, ‘KOE ECC, Knights of Evalon, Emergency Care Centre.’ Though it took her some time to make out the curling script, she was surprised that she could read.  

Sinovan immediately alighted and rushed in to familiarise himself with the admission protocol, while Zov’ha parked the bike and the wagon in an adjacent lot that looked more like a scrapyard. He reappeared after a while with paramedics in bright orange hazmat suits, and Segran was carried away in a hovering gurney. 

When everything was attended to, Sinovan returned to Zov’ha who was struggling to use a vending machine. 

‘You need to use your heart,’ Sinovan said, coming up behind her suddenly. 

‘What?’ Absolutely confused by his strange suggestion, Zov’ha wrinkled her nose and looked at him perplexed. 

‘Here, let me show you.’ 

Seeing that Zov’ha had already punched in her order of “canned soup”, he picked up a chip scanner that was attached to the machine and pointed it towards his chest. It beeped. An automated voice, ‘Order complete. Payment deducted from Sinovan of the Merchants of Ro. Thank you for using MART Vending Machines.’

‘All Aerozans have chip implants on their chest,’ he said, gesturing for Zov’ha to pick up the can of soup that rolled out from the bottom of the machine. ‘You’ll have to get one, too, before you enter the city proper. It stores your heart scan as your personal identity. You’ll know more when we get there tomorrow.’ 

Apprehensive with all this technology, Zov’ha shuddered, ‘What if I don’t want to?’ 

Sinovan smiled, ‘Come, let’s check in at the nearest inn.’  

They came upon a rather simple building with five levels. A large sign above the entrance read ‘The Cursed Cowlick’. Sinovan shook his head and sighed, but Zov’ha found it funny and giggled. Efiros did not like the look of the building and instead decided to explore the backyard. 

As they entered the inn, they were greeted by a lanky half-Poban half-Mechanov man behind the counter in the lobby whose long brown fur-beard had been braided in several places. His eyes and forehead were hidden behind a cyberware gadget, and both his hands were bionic.

‘Don’t mind the braids,’ he said jovially, in a booming voice, ‘My daughter likes to entertain herself by beautifying me when she is not busy playing games on her devices. How can I help you today?’ 

Again Sinovan sighed, and again Zov’ha giggled. 

‘Greetings and all,’ Sinovan started. ‘My friend here is travelling from… a distant land and would like to put up in this rather…’, he looked around at the worn yet sturdy structure of the barely furnished reception, ‘... reputable establishment.’

‘Ah, here to trade?’ the innkeeper asked, looking straight at Zov’ha, ‘Or just passing by?’ 

‘I’m sure her business is her own,’ replied Sinovan, a bit annoyed by the innkeeper’s inquisitiveness.

‘Indeed! She does have a Poban thing going on,’ the innkeeper said, pointing at his own face and moving his finger up and down to indicate the fur on Zov’ha’s face. She looked away coyly.

‘Again, that is her own business,’ Sinovan replied, curtly, for he knew the ways of Aeroz, and this man seemed to be rather rude. People did not get personal unless they were suspicious of something. ‘Are Pobans not welcome here?’ 

‘Come now,’ the innkeeper said, waving his hand apologetically. ‘Everyone is welcome here. I was just curious, that’s all. Well, let’s get you started then. I will just need some details for my register.’ He tapped the counter and a holographic screen emerged in front of him. He put on a pair of glasses that were too small for his face and bellowed, ‘Name?’

‘Zovhara,’ whispered Zov’ha.

The innkeeper nodded, adding her name slowly with one of his bionic hands. ‘And family name?’ 

Zov’ha fumbled. She had not thought about a family name. She wasn’t sure she even had a family. She looked sideways at Sinovan who avoided looking at her. He is the only one who knows about the horror that I am, she thought. The brazen murder of the raiders; the inexplicable, uncontrollable force that drove her to commit such heinous acts; frost blades that burnt, turning things to ash! Who am I? 

‘Ash… frost,’ she mumbled. 

‘Louder, dear,’ the innkeeper barked. ‘The fur around my ears makes it harder to listen as it is.’

‘It’s Ashfrost,’ she said finally. ‘I’m Zovhara Ashfrost.’  

Zov’ha woke up early the next morning with her head buried in Efiros' frizzled fur. At some point in the night she had drowsily walked down to the backyard and curled up next to her bear. She had struggled to fall asleep in the dingy room of the inn — being bottled up in a small space on a soft bed was suffocating. She was used to the grandeur of the open skies and the sound of the wind in the trees. 

While rummaging through her backpack the previous night, which Zov’ha had had with her since before she could remember, she had found a curious looking oval-shaped stone at the bottom. She had forgotten about it and didn’t even remember where she picked it up from. 

It was black and shiny and had an indecipherable symbol carved on its flat side. It also bore a hole on the top, as if it had been used as a pendant. She decided to run a few ropes through it and make a collar for Efiros, which he now wore gallantly.   

He raised his head, as she awoke and grunted cheerfully. Zov’ha checked the rope collar around his neck to make sure it was loose enough not to hurt him. He looked more tame, she thought as she groggily embraced him and kissed the top of his head.

It was still dawn when she made her way to the self-serve salon within the inn and laid down in a shear-and-sanitise tank. The green-blue liquid was slimy and warm, and it felt good to be rid of the dirt from her travels. Her uncomfortable fur melted away and she came out refreshed. 

On the way to her room, she found a stubby servitor-bot waiting for her with a package. Sinovan’s voice emanated from the servitor’s speaker unit when she picked up the package from its tray-like head. ‘This is the least I could do for you. It’s just some garbs and gears, typical of Aeroz, which will help you blend in with the crowd.’ 

The bot then hovered away to perform other duties. Zov’ha unpacked the present in her room, which revealed several bodysuits of varying dark colours, a long yellow hooded cloak — triangular at the front and back, and a wristband that had the word MART engraved upon it. 

…Help you blend in with the crowd - why? There was no fur on her body now, thanks to the shear-and-sanitise tank. She had deliberately retained the fur on her face and the back of her hands — she was fine with people assuming she was Poban, or half-Poban at least. 

She didn’t have any visible disabilities covered up by mechanical embellishments like a Mechanov, nor did she have horns or bony spurs like a Calcar. She was… genetically perfect. Is this abnormal? 

An hour later she presented herself at the lobby where Sinovan was waiting. He beamed when he saw her in the garments he had gifted her. The yellow triangular cloak was a common design in the city, and it embraced her well enough to protect her from prying eyes. It had a circular plastic collar, the front of which lit up like a torch to be used at night, and the base of the hood was sewn around it.

Pulling the hood over her head, she nodded. 

‘We need to go quickly. I have the crystals,’ Sinovan said, producing a little spice box within which he had placed the strange crystals that were embedded in Segran’s wound. ‘The ECC office said I need to take it straight to the Knights of Evalon headquarters. That’s close to Arabba District, I know the place. KOE House they call it.’ 

‘Can I come with?’ Zov’ha offered. 

‘You will need to pass the check at Forestway Gate, first. Then you’ll probably take all day registering yourself and getting a chest implant chip. No one can cross the bridge without one of those!’

‘If you wait till I’m done, I can come,’ Zov’ha whispered now, seeing the innkeeper make his rounds in the lobby. 

Sinovan looked at Zov’ha tenderly, ‘The crystals… Last night they started pulsating with a faint light, and by morning they were glowing. The sooner I get these to the Knights, the sooner we can put this all behind us.’ 

‘Sinovan,’ Zov’ha crossed her arms and inhaled deeply. ‘Just… be careful.’