The consternation caused by the explosion in the city had abated and within a week everyone had gone back to their usual business as if nothing had happened. Sinovan had taken it upon himself to report the incident in detail to the Aerozan Confederation in honour of the High Knight of the Knights of Evalon, who had given up his life to protect his comrades. An emergency session had been called, and all seven confederates had shown up to examine the case further. The lost crystals that had caused the explosion remained a mystery. 

In the meanwhile, Zov’ha had started her life in Old Aeroz and had completed several menial jobs for the Rover’s Guild, earning and spending whatever she got paid. Efiros accompanied her whenever he felt like, and at other times would spend the days exploring the plains outside the city. She had taken a trip to New Aeroz to admire the grand port and skyscraping structures, which she vowed to return to whenever she could. 

Zov’ha had joined the Lancer’s Community of the Rover’s Guild, as Thalina had suggested after noticing the large spear she carried around. A Lance Master had been training Zov’ha, making her practice on sandbag dummies for hours on end. She never faltered — she was only getting better. Her favourite combat technique called the Crescent Step had a leap, spin, and strike motion, which did maximum damage, and was told to be used only on very large creatures — it would be fatal on humans. She had destroyed several bags with this technique, even with the wooden mock lance she was provided for practice.  

Like every other day, Zov’ha made her way to the guild after a particularly pedantic job of helping an old butcher clean their backyard. She wanted to visit the port again, but first, she decided to grab a meal at the guild headquarters, and taste some of the amber ale she had seen the patrons enjoying. Rather than dine in the sunny lobby, Thalina had pointed out that there was a lively bar in the basement, and so Zov’ha and Efiros made their way down. The bar was dingy, but lit up with neon signs and blacklight. There were people everywhere — chatting, laughing, drinking, and even dancing to a bass-rich music that made the floor beneath her tremble. 

Zov’ha picked up her food and ale and made her way to a relatively quieter corner that was lit up with purple lights and was festooned with glow-in-the-dark graffiti. A few people noticed Efiros, but they didn’t care — many travellers ventured into Aeroz with exotic pets. She took a seat at a table facing a large mirror. Two Aerozans sitting at the table next to hers were particularly loud. She could not see their faces, only their silhouettes against the neon sign behind them. 

‘I’m talking about reforms,’ Zov’ha heard one of them say. She had a deep resounding voice. ‘Aeroz is like a sand castle. Waves of people coming in and crashing against the loosely held structure.’

‘Sand castles!’ smirked the other. ‘There’s no telling what will wash away the damn Aerozan Confederation.’ 

‘It’s not the confederation, cherry,’ said the woman, taking a swig from her glass. ‘It’s the people. There’s no unity, for Saint Awynyth's sake! Factions — that’s what we need! Everyone needs to choose a class. And we need strong leaders to run these factions. Everyone here is just being “what they want to be.”’

‘Are you commending what happened in Asenya?’ replied the friend. 

‘Of course,’ barked the former Aerozan. ‘They were strong, those people, now weren’t they?’ 

Asenya… Zov’ha’s head swirled as she shut her eyes to recall the word. Asenya… factions.... Something about that place sounded so familiar… so painful. There was that headache again, everytime she reminisced about her past, but this time she clenched her teeth and fought the pain. She tried to focus on the word ‘Asenya’, because it seemed like a lot of things from her childhood revolved around it. 

Images flashed through her mind now. She saw a statue of a woman, whom she could not recognize. There was a large screen as well, glowing brightly white. The sky behind it was red. The statue began spinning, round and round, faster now, until the lights and colours flashed so rapidly that Zov’ha thought she would have a seizure. She saw stone stairways, and a castle. She saw people dressed in fashionable black dresses and wearing glowing masks… 

And then suddenly everything disappeared and all that remained was white snow. It was night. The spinning had stopped. There was a frozen river. Green and blue aurora lights danced amongst stars, which the river reflected dully. There was someone on the snowy banks. It was a boy. He had long hair and wore dark robes. There was something on the right side of his head — a horn? No, it was something else. And his eyes — blue, fierce and wild, like a wolf in the snow. 

He walked towards her, then raised a gloved hand to her cheek and stroked it, looking into her eyes. She felt safe, like she could let down her guard. His straight black hair waved lightly in the breeze. He spoke but she could not hear him — she could only see his thin lips moving, and she caught a glimpse of his sharp teeth whenever he opened his mouth. Who was he?        

The image began fading. She could hear the Aerozans around her again. She opened her eyes and the vision disappeared completely, and she was staring at herself in the large mirror. Who are you?  

The two patrons were still arguing about something that happened in Asenya — Zov’ha had had enough. She was about to depart, leaving her food untouched, when she heard a beep from her wristband. Adjusting her arm, she touched the rough surface in the middle, which then lit up and produced a holographic cylindrical interface around her wrist. There was a notification from the guild, “Wanted: Marana Skjavok”. 

This was something that Zov’ha had waited for all week — a job that was more up to her talent. She was tired of doing menial tasks around the city, tired of hitting sandbags in the Lancer’s Community training grounds. It was time to be out in the wild again and see how her lance really fared in a battle. 

Zov’ha accepted the job, downed her ale, and left the guild headquarters.

“Wanted: Marana Skjavok

Former member of Mechanov Association of Research and Technology (M.A.R.T) 

Psychotic serial killer and body-part collector. Collects unique mutations. 

Victims found near X13 and X14 stations.  

Scouts reported that she lives in Lüstravyr. Watch out for traps.”

Marana’s portrait was incomplete — as if the generated image was a collection of many aerial photographs taken by scout bots. It looked like a person in a black bodysuit, wearing a red helmet and flaunting a shiny red cloak and boots. Out of the twenty-or-so Rover’s Guild members who had gone after Marana, none had come back alive. The Knights of Evalon would not bother with anything outside Aeroz. Lüstravyr was a wild and ungoverned territory — an ancient abandoned prison built high in the mountains west of Aeroz. 

Zov’ha and Efiros hitched a ride early next morning on a hovertrain that traversed between Aeroz and some of the smaller northern seashore towns. They alighted on X13 — a desolate station closest to the mountains that housed Lüstravyr. Looking up, they could see the walls of the prison crowning the lower peaks. It would be half a day’s journey up to the entrance — the route was prepared on Zov’ha’s wristband. Glad to be out among the hemiboreal trees again, they made their way uphill cautiously. 

Lüstravyr was built on a plateau. It was eerie — almost menacing, as if it was made not just to keep the prisoners in, but also to keep outsiders out. It had a gothic architecture — one large tower with a pointy roof loomed in the centre surrounded by eight smaller towers of varying heights. All the towers were connected by a mesh of intricate metalwork, which from a distance looked like slime threads or cobwebs. The wide wall that contained the towers went on for miles on either side, which had elongated watch towers with pointy roofs at regular intervals. It was almost dark and the path ahead was all but lost, but Zov’ha could make out faint remnants of a stone road that led towards the structure. There was a rancid odour in the air, and Zov’ha was forced to use her gas mask. Efiros sneezed a few times, but seemed to be alright. 

There was a large hole in the wall that may have been formed due to natural wearing. With no gate in sight, Zov’ha decided to use it as an entrance. Watch out for traps. She had everything to detect and disarm traps and explosives — a device provided by the Rover’s guild — it was a single biomechanical short glove worn on one hand, similar to the ones the guards wore at Forestway Gate. She made her way into the prison complex with her right hand extended — the glove scanning for anything that may instantly kill them. Nothing. She made her way across a large courtyard that was overgrown with vines and carpeted with fallen leaves and branches. 

After safely crossing the courtyard, they reached an elegant, yet dilapidated walkway. From there they could see the central tower. It had an enormous door that was left ajar, with a hint of light leaking from within, betraying the dereliction of habitation. She scanned the entrance — there were traps, but they had been defused. She detected several bodies as well, probably belonging to those who had been responsible for defusing the deadly devices. No, that was not the way to go. She was confident that she could proceed, but she didn’t want anything to happen to Efiros. 

What now? Wait and watch. Of course! She had done this before — several times. Had she been a spy? A scout, perhaps? Now was not the time to ponder on that. Intuitively she set up a watch spot in a dark corner of the walkway behind some large broken pots. Efiros was confused, but followed her. 

It was dawn and Zov’ha hadn’t noticed any movement from within. She had heard cries of an animal in the dead of the night, but somehow, she thought, it had sounded a bit too human. Efiros was asleep. She could not risk bringing harm to the bear, so she decided to explore the tower while he slept. Silently sneaking away, she followed the walkway, which brought her to the west side of the tower. There were tall glass windows on this side, some of them were broken. Zov’ha scanned the area. This was a safer way in. There were some traps that she could easily disarm remotely. 

She crawled in through a window and made her way through what looked like some sort of a classroom, disarming snares and entrapments on the way. She took her time — it was almost an hour before she left the large room and entered an alcove housing a stairway spiralling upwards. But she didn’t need to go up — the light was coming from up ahead. 

A short walk led her into a dimly lit room with a high ceiling. There were tall shelves filled with tanks of strange human body parts. Collects unique mutations. Zov’ha hid behind the shelves, and crawled her way across the room. There were tables on the other end, some of them occupied — the victims! Mechanical robots hung from the ceiling equipped with surgical apparatus. 

Someone opened a door on the far side. It was Marana, for sure, Zov’ha thought. She fit the description — she was wearing a red overcoat, her head covered with a red-glass helmet connected to a backpack through various tubes. This was easy, Zov’ha thought, a bit too easy. Maybe the others who tried were just careless. 

She readied her spear. All she had to do was pounce and strike her prey. Quick and simple, just like her Lance Master had taught her — just like she had practised on the sandbags hundreds of times. Leap, spin, and strike… the Crescent Step… for maximum damage. 

Marana examined some of the cadavers on the tables before turning towards the shelves, where Zov’ha lay in wait. The footsteps of Marana’s red boots echoed loudly as she made her way. 

Leap… Zov’ha’s perfect body movement made her appear almost cat-like. Her lithe legs formed a crescent shape in the air, throwing all the energy and bodyweight on to the striking force of her lance.

Spin… Only she didn’t. A whistling sound from the wall caught her attention and she swerved midair just in time to avoid a sharp spike shooting towards her — she hadn’t checked for traps! 

Marana was quick. She pulled out a handgun and started blasting at the shelves. Zov’ha avoided the volley and rolled back among the shelves. She could not back off now. She had to brute force her way towards her quarry. Lance at the ready, Zov’ha leaped back out in a zig-zag motion towards Marana. One more step and swing — she didn’t care if she would bring Marana back dead or alive. But Zov’ha was surprised when Marana dropped her gun, effortlessly dodged the incoming attack, and used Zov’ha's own bodyweight to trip her with a sweep of the leg. 

Zov’ha lost her balance and fell. Her lance spun and landed some distance away. Marana was already on to her. She had picked up a chainsaw from a nearby table. Zov’ha’s body reacted quickly, immediately producing Frost Ash blades from her hands to parry the chainsaw’s attack. The two of them fenced each other’s attacks, each one deadlier than the one before. But Zov’ha could feel something change. The Frost blades were weaker. Water splashed whenever it came in contact with the chainsaw blade. Whatever power she had from the Autoichorium, it wasn’t as strong as it should have been — and she was becoming tired very fast. 

The fifth blow from Marana sent her flying back and she landed on her back exhausted. Through teary eyes she saw the red-cloaked woman walk up to her and wind up the chainsaw, which whirred to life. She raised the weapon to make the final blow, screaming victoriously through her red-glass helmet, but was interrupted by a large mass of claws and fur. 

Efiros leapt at her from the left, which sent the chainsaw flying away. The bear aggressively pinned Marana down, gnawing at her coat and trying to smash the red-glass helmet with his enormous paws. Zov’ha regained some of her strength and crawled towards her lance. She could hear Marana scream and gasp through the helmet. 

Just as Zov'ha collected her lance, she noticed Marana’s outstretched arm gesturing towards the surgical bots hanging from the walls on the other side of the room. 

‘Efiros!’ Zov’ha screamed. The bear was quick to notice that the bots had been activated and before they started showering tiny projectiles, he leapt out of the way behind some shelves — only to have activated a trap door under him, into which he disappeared. ‘Efiros, no!’ 

The projectiles were raining down havoc, this time targeting Zov’ha, but she crawled towards the trapdoor out of harm's way and jumped in after Efiros, leaving Marana lying in her gruesome workshop.