Darpan Rai had had six children. After his death, five of them became Aeriel Hunters. Most of their offspring followed in their footsteps, establishing a renowned lineage of Hunters.

Darpan’s youngest son, more scholarly in disposition, took a slightly different route. He devoted his life to studying the Aeriels – their history, psychology, and vulnerabilities.

It was through his studies that he’d discovered the truth about the Rebellion. About the existence of the vankrai, and about their role in Tauheen’s misrule. About the conflict between the two factions of Aeriels – the ones who dwelled in Vaan and the ones Exiled from it.

It was the reason why Viman Rai had known about the existence of the vankrai, long before the general public became privy to such knowledge.

“Vankrai inherit qualities from both their Aeriel and human parents.” Viman eyed Safaa. A faint, bitter smile tugged at his lips. “Who can know that better than you? Their power and longevity they inherit from their Aeriel parent. Their capacity for innovation and ambition, on the other hand, comes from the human side. The distinctive color of their eyes – black with flecks of silver – is a mixture of both.”

Safaa blinked. “The vankrai, like all other beings in creation, are helpless to choose their own parents. We all play the cards we’re dealt at birth, Mr. Rai. Whether we like them or not.”

Viman dipped his head in acknowledgement. “It’s pointless to hold a child responsible for its parentage. I recognize that. But that doesn’t change the reality of the matter. And the reality is that the vankrai are as strong and indestructible as any feather-born Aeriel, but without their easygoing nature. On the other hand, they’re as driven, ambitious, and innovative as any human, but without our physical limitations or our mortality. This makes them dangerous to both sides.”

Safaa offered a slight shake of her head. “It’s not the capacity to cause harm that makes someone dangerous. It’s the intent. With sufficient malice, even the frail and the weak can inflict significant harm. Whereas strength without malice is harmless.”

“Are you saying the vankrai are devoid of malice?” Viman’s smile remained intact.

“No more or less so than anyone else,” Safaa said, matter-of-fact. “The vankrai are just as capable of malice or benevolence as humans or feather-born Aeriels. It’s just the fallout of their decisions that’s…greater in magnitude.”

“That. And the fact that their brain chemistry literally didn’t evolve to handle the kind of emotional strain their humanity puts on them.” Viman’s posture shifted ever-so-slightly, as if to emphasize the gravity of the words he had uttered. “Humans developed strong emotions as a survival strategy, in a world that was inherently dangerous to them. Strong feelings of fear helped them avoid predators. While intense jealousy drove them to compete for scarce food and other resources. Even mates.” His forearms propped on his thighs, Viman leaned forward. “On the other hand, intense feelings of love heightened their inclination to fight for their close kin. Even at the risk of personal injury. Thereby increasing the survival prospects of the whole tribe.”

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Ruban frowned, wondering where Viman was going with this.

His unvoiced questions were soon answered, as Viman continued speaking. “Until humans discovered sif and developed sif-based weapons, Aeriels never had to fear any natural predators. Neither on earth, nor in Vaan. Moreover, Aeriels live off sunlight. Plentifully available on earth, even more so in Vaan. So, they never had to compete for scarce resources.

“In short, unlike humans, Aeriels never had any evolutionary imperative to develop such intense emotions. And so they didn’t. Which is not to say that Aeriels don’t feel. But their feelings are not as potent or volatile. Aeriel physiology simply didn’t evolve to handle the turbulence and volatility of human emotions.

“Nor did their social structures. Humans spent thousands of generations living in tribes. Learning to cooperate for agriculture and to build civilizations. Over that time, they developed the social mechanisms to control their emotions. And to deal with those individuals who couldn’t. That’s the purpose institutions like courts and prisons – even psychiatric facilities – serve in human society. Aeriels never had the need for any such mechanisms. So, when an Aeriel is burdened with the emotions of a human, is it any surprise that they fail to handle it?”

“The emotional spectrum a vankrai can experience might be influenced by their human parent,” Safaa said, impassive. “But we don’t feel as humans do. Our emotions are not human emotions. They’re our own.”

Viman held out his hands, fingers splayed. “That's the crux of the issue. Vankrai are very much like Aeriels, in terms of physiology. And yet, they have a strikingly human psychology. That’s what makes it so difficult for them to navigate the emotional range they inherit from their human parent. Their emotions are not human emotions. Not exactly. Simply because their brains aren’t biologically equipped to process the turbulent intensity of human emotions. That’s what causes their frequent descent into violence and chaos. That dissonance between what they feel…and what their brains were designed to feel.

“It’s why the minority of vankrai who can master their turbulent emotions become exceptional leaders and innovators. By harnessing the embers of their human ambition to forge them into brilliance.” Admiration tinged his voice as he turned to look at Safaa. “Such as yourself.”

Ruban frowned, struggling to discern the implications behind that compliment.

He stole a glance at Ashwin, hoping to gauge his reaction. But the Aeriel prince seemed singularly engrossed in the conversation between Viman and his sister.

For his part, Ruban's head throbbed with every word they spoke. Not because he disagreed with either of them. Quite the opposite, in fact.

He couldn’t deny the fact that the vankrai had caused him and his colleagues a world of pain. Powerful and driven, they were able to wreak untold havoc at a moment’s notice.

Nor could he refute Safaa’s point – that no child should be held responsible for the actions of its parents.

And one couldn’t punish thought-crimes, after all.

Aeriels that attacked humans were already Hunted down and killed. It didn’t matter if they were vankrai or feather-born. That’s what the Hunter Corps was for.

But there remained the unsettling reality that vankrai were statistically more likely to pose a threat.

They couldn’t Hunt or kill a vankrai simply for being what it was. Not until it had done something to draw the attention of the Hunter Corps. Intellectually, Ruban understood that.

But did their reluctance to take preemptive action make them complicit in endangering the potential victims of those vankrai?

Who bore responsibility for the inherent risk posed by the very existence of the vankrai?

Their parents? The Hunter Corps? The vankrai themselves?

Or society at large?

And which society, for that matter? Because the societies of Vaan and Vandram clearly disagreed on that point, among many others.