I push down my fear and pain as I force myself to focus. We still have crew left on the ship. I stand and start for the door, wanting to help usher people onto the pods. We need to evacuate as many as we can.
“Where are you going?” Anna calls out behind me.
I turn to face her. “I’m going to help load people into the pods.”
I know it’s dangerous, and so does she. But I can’t just stay here and do nothing.
“I’m coming with you,” she says, but I shake my head softly.
“You can’t. Each pod needs a doctor and you’re the only one here. They can’t launch without you.”
For safety, each pod must have an assortment of what is considered “essential” personnel.
“You’re a botanist,” she counters, but I point a finger at Paul. As head of my department, he worked under me. He’s just as capable as I am of analyzing soil samples and determining which of the emergency seeds to plant and where.
She gives me a reluctant nod. “Be careful!”
“I will,” I promise.
I turn back and head for the door. Just as I reach the threshold, the hatch slams shut.
“Wait!” I cry out, frantically banging on the tiny window. “It’s only half full!”
The officer doesn’t even turn in my direction, but the airlock hasn’t been sealed off yet.
I press my palm against the access panel, hoping it will respond. A red light flashes across the screen, indicating an error in processing my command.
I yell at the glass, desperate to get someone’s attention. “Don’t launch! We still have room!”
On the other side, I notice my coworker, Abby, with a bag slung over her shoulder and her two-year-old daughter, Kayla, on her hip. Her eyes are wide with panic as the airlock doors seal shut between us. “No!”
A high-pitched hum vibrates my eardrums a moment before the pod ejects violently, jerking and spinning away from the ship. Pain explodes across the back of my skull as I slam against the far wall. My limbs feel heavy and numb as I struggle to right myself, to no avail. My head spins and darkness creeps into the edges of my vision. Rough hands grip me firmly, strapping a harness around my body that refuses to move.
“Thank you,” I barely manage. My eyes blink open and my gaze drifts to the hatch window as we tumble away into the dark void of space.
Flashing red lights and piercing sirens fill the air as the pod’s computer lists a series of damage warnings over the speakers. Through the thick mental fog clouding my brain, I’m unable to register what most of it means. But judging by the panicked expressions of the people around me, I know it’s not good.
Barely able to keep my eyes open, I struggle to remain conscious. Another explosion rocks the hull.
“They’re firing on the escape pods!” someone yells. “We’re not going to make it!”
A moment of clarity sharpens my mind. Why am I fighting to stay awake if we’re about to die? I’d rather be asleep for this part. Closing my eyes, the sounds of distant cries follow me as I fall away into oblivion.
Chapter 2
Varus
I was never supposed to rule.
That duty belonged to my older sister, Laris. It’s been three cycles since the plague swept through our world, taking her life and the lives of over half our females, leaving most of the few who survived barren.
Closing my eyes, I can still picture my sister. Reflective green eyes so like my own. The deep-crimson scales we both inherited from our mother and the proud, spiraling black horns that swept back from her head, as long as our father’s. Many commented that Laris and I could have been twins, we were so similar in appearance. I used to tease her that my tail was longer and the spines down my back and tail were much sharper than hers.
I find myself thinking of her every day since she passed. The pain of her loss has faded over the past few cycles, but the echoes still linger, and I suspect they will forever remain.
Our fate was determined by the Gods long before we were born. My father’s voice surfaces in my mind. It is how he accepts the loss of his beloved daughter.
If that is true, then where are these Gods? Why do we pray to them when they do not answer?
I’ve often wondered if the plague was punishment for the violence of our ancestors. They waged countless wars against other races, against one another, even.
My race was once unified until we split into the four elemental Clans over a thousand cycles ago. We may differ from each other now, but in the past, we all lived as one people. And over the cycles, we’ve fought and killed one another in violent, bloody wars.
What a terrible crime we committed against our makers. Extinguishing life that has been granted by the Gods, all in the name of expanding territory and avenging trivial offenses.
Standing on the balcony, I search the stars, looking for guidance I doubt will ever come. I am to be betrothed soon, to the princess of the Water Clan. How strange our pairing will be since she is of Water and my people are born of Fire.
I turn my gaze to the city below my balcony and the many vacant holes lining the cliffside. These dwellings used to be full of life. Instead of bright lights within, flickering behind the tapestries that once proudly labeled their property's entrance, darkness fills the spaces. We lost so many, first to the wars and then to the plague.
Various buildings and houses formed from earthen brown and red clay stand proudly atop the mesa. The style is simple yet elegant in
