Until I lose my soul and lie
Blind to the beauty of the earth,
Deaf though a shouting wind goes by,
Dumb in a storm of mirth;
Until my heart is quenched at length
And I have left the land of men,
Oh, let me love with all my strength
Careless if I am loved again.
— Sara Teasdale, A Prayer
September 19, 4021 21:31 [Matriarch 04- Homunculi Housing Unit]
Indra leaned over the rooftop guardrail, staring into space with a listless gaze. He could hear chattering voices below, speaking excitedly about the day’s events and discussing their predictions for the upcoming matches. They walked the streets enjoying the night without a care in the world. Lanterns and warm lights illuminated the city, marking the closure of some shops and the opening of others as the Residential District shifted to accommodate its nightlife. People exited their abodes dressed in either casual streetwear or apparel suited for more formal events, ready to enjoy tonight’s offerings.
A frown formed on Indra’s face—it seemed to be happening quite often these days. Kaluza’s words echoed in his mind. As much as it displeased Indra to admit, that brazen Homunculus’ words rang true. The strong had a duty to protect the weak. Civilization would turn back to savagery if not for fear of losing something important; certain moral, social, and economic constructs had stood the test of time, upheld for generations, not without reason. Even when humanity collapsed, civilization rose from the ashes once again, building itself on the same basic principles that its predecessors had flourished upon. With these principles came stipulations and drawbacks, but they were almost always outweighed by the benefits of adhering to societal norms.
Were the strong to abandon the weak, surely they would perish, with no one to enforce the laws of the ruling class, fundamentally, people would have no obligation to remain lawfully adherent unless they had the moral conviction to do so. Morality alone would not suffice in hindering lawlessness, however. It would give way to the strong, no longer bound by society's rules, for they were the enforcers of them.
Who would help the strong then? There were things that the weak did that necessitated a symbiotic relationship between the two. There were those who buried themselves in their work for the betterment of mankind, contributing to medical breakthroughs, technological advancement, social change, and order. Most of these brilliant minds were not strong, rather they compensated for their lack of it, creating a different kind of strength by way of wealth in knowledge and value to society through their work. Of course, strength and knowledge were not mutually exclusive, but one rarely found an incentive to pursue mastery of the other.
A devolution in principle. Indra thought, sighing wistfully. He was of the opinion that it was ruining the country. Anyone could see that the declaration of war wasn’t just a matter of retaliation. It was clear to him now that the Oligarchs had been waiting for an opportunity like this—to turn a tragedy into a means to justify their assault on Levante. It wasn’t even about resources; it was a show of might.
Yuèliàng’s value lay in its military might, but what good was a military with no war to fight? “To defend its people” some might say, but the people were disgruntled at the hiking taxes used to pay for costs the military accrued as they developed more advanced weaponry to fight nonexistent threats. More money was being displaced, diverted into defense funds—money that should have gone into the country’s infrastructure and education system.
It was futile to continue funding expenditures that couldn’t be justified in good faith. No country dared attack Yuèliàng, even countries like Levante which had a historically precarious relationship with it. So why had they attacked now? It didn’t make sense. The once-rich country was already suffering; they did not have the means to use their dwindling supply of resources to attack another country, even if they wanted to take the land’s resources for themselves. Had they really launched the attack that day during the Duānwǔ Festival? Or had it been staged by those that sought to further their underlying agenda?
War justified the existence of a military. A military required weapons, technology, and medicine. These requirements created new jobs and drove the economy forward. It brought the country together to support the military. War was business. War was the lifeblood of Yuèliàng. The Oligarchs would see to it that their business never went dry. They—
“Stop. STOP! What is with this ridiculous stream of thought? You are a simple creature, act like it. I do not need a barrage of rumination about the state of your country. Do you see me flooding your mind with my musings? No! Because I consider myself a courteous guest. Do not forget we share mind and body. The least you can do is shield your thoughts, or go back to cycling through hunger, sleep, and fornication—I care not which female you are thinking about now.”
Indra didn’t react. He didn’t have the strength or the desire to muster a response. For the first night in a series of restless days, he was alone, or at least as alone as he could be. He had time to think now without worrying about training or dealing with Jin and Tengri. Usha was the least of his concerns. The tournament would reach completion in two days' time. Then, they would be assigned a role based on their placement in the bracket.
If Indra was promoted to the rank of Hyena, he would be assigned a division of soldiers—Homunculi and human—to oversee. He wouldn’t have to worry about their level of training or their ability to follow orders. However, his skills as a leader would come into question. He was responsible for them; their lives were in his hands, capable or not. Indra would have to make tough decisions for the good of the collective and the success of the mission. He couldn’t save everyone.
In less than two weeks he would need to learn to command and direct his soldiers with sound judgment and a good degree of intuition. Indra couldn’t even afford the luxury of having to worry about his sister or the others. He could only pray for their safety and focus on securing his own.
Pray. He chuckled. What god would answer the prayers of a blasphemer harboring the equivalent of a devil in his body? His soul had already been compromised in their eyes. Indra didn’t doubt that if he were sent to the afterlife right now, he would spend his eternally aflame. Then again, were the ones that created this world—this plane of existence—truly so benevolent when strife continued to exist under their rule? They seemed anything but—rather a group of utter maniacs in Indra’s mind. The subject of gods had him thinking again; he addressed Usha with his concerns.
That reminds me, something’s been bothering me since we were released from the lab the first time. I’ve been trying to figure out what it was but I couldn’t put a finger on it until now. Jìguāng said the Devas couldn’t kill you, so they had to resort to sealing you. But if they had a substance like Amrita that was so poisonous to Sirens, how were they unable to eradicate you?
Usha snorted. “They did kill us—many of us. But we were relentless. With each fallen member, our fury only grew greater. So much so, that we began to overwhelm the Devas. We drove them back—they were cornered. For a moment, it looked as if we might have won, but then…we were sealed. They set a trap when they felt we had the upper hand and we fell for it. In the end, it was our own hubris that led to our undoing.” Usha paused for a moment. “No, our trust destroyed us…my trust.”
Indra decided not to press his luck further. He had heard enough. His chest tightened, and the uneasy feeling in his bones worsened. He was being piecemealed with information from different sources, each with their own version of events. Sometimes the changes in details were noticeable, other times they were more subtle. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being fed falsehoods by those around him; little white lies that piled into a monument of deception.
Yet, when he spoke to Usha, a creature meant to be feared and reviled, it was almost too much to comprehend: his words held truth. As untrustworthy and conniving as he seemed—he had, after all, sneakily added extra stipulations in their contract—Usha’s words were spoken without pretense. The realization made Indra sick. What else was Jìguāng hiding from him? Was Vivian in on it as well? Who were his enemies and who were his friends?
“Can’t sleep?”
Indra jumped, thinking himself alone with his thoughts. Prasanna put a hand to her lips, trying not to laugh. Seeing her sent a rush of warmth through him. Though he had promised himself he would stay wary of her intentions, he was thankful that she had interrupted him before he spiraled any further.
“I’m just watching the moon,” he answered, pointing at the waxing gibbous hanging above the night sky.
“It’s beautiful,” Prasanna agreed. She craned her neck, clicking her tongue in disappointment. “It’s a shame you can’t see the stars from here. They would have looked amazing surrounding it.”
Indra shared her sentiment, smiling.
“What’s on your mind?” she asked. “I think it’s clear at this point that everyone’s noticed. Don’t get me wrong, all of us have changed and grown to some degree, but you’re—”
“More confident?” Indra repeated what she had said earlier.
“Actually, no. I didn’t want to say anything in front of the others. You look tired—more than usual, anyway. Jin’s training took a toll on you. Physically, yeah, you’re in good condition, but up here” —she pointed to her temple— “you’re not all there, are you? I caught you staring off into space several times, and on top of that you seem…colder. Emil’s concerned about you too, although he says it’s better to keep our distance and give you time to open up. I disagree; I think you need someone to talk to right now.”
Indra narrowed his eyes. “You’ve got me all figured out. Is that it? Like you haven’t been the same way towards Kuvira? You should have listened to Emil,” he scoffed, bitterly.
Prasanna raised an eyebrow. “That’s not what I meant. I spoke to Móhú.”
“You visited him in the hospital?”
“I needed some information on a potential opponent,” she admitted. She was gathering data on him. “He talked about the training he did with Jin and it sounded like it was nowhere near what he put you through. Jin would boast about it to the others.”
“And? What of it?” Indra clenched his jaw, forcing a smile.
“Whatever it is that you’ve experienced, I’m here to listen.”
“Really?” he gave a cynical laugh.
Prasanna crossed her arms, making it clear she was serious.
“Alright, I’ll bite.” Indra paused, collecting his thoughts. He proceeded to describe the circumstances of his training in excruciating detail. He told her of the first day, when he was burnt alive, forced to suffocate as his eyes melted into nothing, boiling in his skull from the heat. He told her of the appendages he had lost and the subsequent force-feeding of pills he endured while Jin held his severed limbs in place so they would reattach correctly. He spoke of the countless times he had been impaled and disemboweled, given no other choice but to hold his organs in place or scoop them back into his abdominal cavity as Jin fed him more pills. He recounted each of the trials he suffered through leading up to the Succession Tournament until he had nothing left to say.
Indra smiled smugly at Prasanna’s horrified expression. Her skin was pale; she looked sickened by what she had heard.
“Indra…I’m so sorry,” she spoke softly, caressing his face.
His smile faltered. This was not his intention. His chest suddenly felt hot and his eyes blurred. Indra tried to maintain composure to no avail. He had held on to the pain for so long that he couldn’t stop it as it emerged in full force. He crumpled to the floor, shaking uncontrollably. Prasanna moved quickly, wrapping him in a tight embrace, gently consoling him as he broke down. Indra didn’t care about her motives any longer, finding solace in her arms. It was a while before they spoke again.
“I want to go home,” he croaked.
“I know,” she said, stroking his hair. “I’m sorry that I can’t tell you about my business with Kuvira. I’m not even sure she knows why I have qualms with her.”
“So you’re keeping the details to yourself?”
Prasanna nodded. “Do you have secrets you aren’t telling me?”
“Yes,” Indra answered, without hesitation.
“I won’t pry. Sometimes it’s okay to have secrets if it means protecting those that are close to us.” She checked her Nerve Cord, glancing up at the sky once again. “I heard a story here once—a local legend the older residents like to tell their grandchildren. Want to hear it?”
Indra nodded silently, content to simply listen to her voice.
“Once upon a time, there existed a peaceful kingdom where Manzhouli now lies. Within the kingdom was a pair of benevolent rulers: a king and queen adored by their subjects. Their happiness and prosperity weren’t viewed favorably by all, however. They drew the ire of envious spirits that lived beyond the kingdom’s borders, so they sent a beast, wicked in nature and form, to kidnap the queen and plunge the kingdom into chaos.”
“Those envious spirits…They sound like—”
“Our enemies?”
“No,” —Indra shook his head— “they sound like us.”
Prasanna was quiet for a moment. “You’re not wrong. These qualities are innate to humans—to sentient life, no matter how varied their degree of critical thinking may be.”
“That’s a depressing thought.”
“Yeah?” She combed her hands through his hair absentmindedly. “I think it’s what makes us unique. Whereas other species are driven by an instinct to survive, we’re given the privilege to think and make choices, even when they’re irrelevant to our survival. We have the capacity for so much. The ability to choose distinguishes our definitions of good and evil because you can make a choice to willingly inflict harm upon others rather than out of need.”
“But what about when harming others is necessary for your survival?”
“Well, then that isn’t a choice, right? You’re forced to act.”
“I could always choose to die,” Indra remarked.
Prasanna rolled her eyes, fighting the urge to smile. “That’s distinguishing idiocy from competence.”
The crook of Indra’s mouth curved upwards slightly.
“Anyway, the queen’s disappearance sent a wave of panic across the land. There was no one the king could turn to—no one brave enough to slay the beast and rescue the queen. Knights quaked in their boots, archers could barely notch an arrow to their bows, and horses hid in the stables for fear of being eaten whole by the beast. With the kingdom gripped by fear, the king had no choice but to enlist the aid of eight orphaned brothers with the promise of a golden arrow to the one who could slay the beast and bring back the queen.”
“Eight? How do you manage that many children?” Indra interrupted again.
“Clearly they weren’t, since they were orphaned. Although, I’d say their parents must have had a lot of free time before they kicked the bucket.”
Indra chuckled lightly. “I suppose.”
Prasanna cleared her throat. “As I was saying, the eight brothers—said to be blessed with extraordinary abilities—scoured the lands for two days and three nights. On the third night, they managed to track down the beast and slay it, bringing back its hide and the queen unharmed, though she was a little shaken by her experience.
The king hadn’t expected all of them to return, so instead of dividing the golden arrow into eight pieces—thus making it obsolete—he decided to throw it high into the night sky, explaining that whoever caught the arrow first would get to keep it. The brothers all leapt to the heavens, vying for their reward. In the end, it was the youngest of the eight that managed to reach the arrow first, becoming the North Star upon contact. The seven remaining brothers went on to become gods in their own right, making the journey to visit their brother in the sky every night. This is the story of how the Great Bear came to be.”
“Ursa Major,” Indra concluded.
“Exactly,” Prasanna grinned.
“You rehearsed this, didn’t you?”
“Maybe,” she said wryly. “You never know when you have to regale someone with a tale or two.”
“Free drinks at the pub?”
“Free drinks at the pub.”
Indra laughed, drying his eyes. He would be fine, he realized—as long as she was here with him.
Prasanna pulled him to his feet, staring at him expectantly. “We still have some time before curfew—and honestly—screw it if we’re late. What do you say? Do you want to see them—the brothers reuniting?”
Indra nodded, a weight lifting from his shoulders.
“Then let’s go back to the hill. Let’s go see the stars.”
They flew down the stairs, passing confused Homunculi returning from the Grand Hall or simply getting ready for bed. The pair weaved through the bustling nightlife and slipped past patrolling Crows looking for stragglers and loiterers. Finally, they reached the base of the hill, away from the city and their worries. Their only goal now was to witness the night sky, teeming with brilliant jewels of light, and a collection of eight celestial bodies. Prasanna extended her arm, reaching out to Indra who happily obliged. They smiled at each other, lost in the bliss of the moment, running up the hill as Prasanna pulled Indra with her, leading him by the hand to see the stars.
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