The number of first-generation huwaty to immigrate to Tir-Torzor was two hundred. One of these immigrants was Tonglok Lurris, the grandchild of Tonglok Orrter Phorro, and he brought with him the Tonglok Family Legacy Journal. Its first two entries were the personal experiences of his mother Tonglok Hayilaa and himself, written respectively. Both stand out because they give a combined glimpse into how some Huwaty came into existence, and some of the impetus behind their consequent immigration from Irrdnis. Furthermore, it uncovers vital information on what truly ensued during the tail end of the Minare expedition on Tir-Torzor:

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To my son Lurris,

I and your father wanted this to be yours and your twin brother’s present to share when you both left us for a better life. Circumstances clearly changed, so you are the sole heir for our family’s legacy journal. Your Pa has always processed trauma slightly different from the both of us. I wish he could tell you himself, so you could understand how much he loves you and how his current mental state has no personal bearing against you.

I think it’s time I told you how the both of us got to know each other. What occurred earlier this year was one of the worst, but before you and your brother entered our lives, we were stuck in a long and dark chapter, empty of hope and filled with misery. It’s still kind of hard to think about our pasts, but since your father doesn’t have the capacity to do so, I hope my own point of view will work as the next best way to see where we’re coming from.

In days past before then, I was the daughter of the priest Tonglok Orrter Phorro of the Kingdom of Helan. He was one in the crew of eight who made the first expedition to an alien planet. One of my last memories of him before his departure was when he and my mother kissed goodbye and promised to bring me, my sister, and brother something back from his visit. He kept his composure, but we could tell that he was as excited as we were about this quest. All the families of those who left to explore the other side of the cosmic doorway, became quite popular throughout the kingdom. We all counted how many days they were gone and imagined what sights they’d see while there. If we ever started to worry, there was a system of support to keep our spirits up.

They came back within the year as planned, but minus one of the guardians due to that world’s mostly unfriendly inhabitants called the Humans. They told us the expedition crew would’ve been cannibalized by those creatures like their unfortune compatriot, if it wasn’t for some who helped them escape. They brought these helpers back with them and I got to see these new creatures as they were presented to the audience in the throne room. They weren’t as impressive as some of the things I imagined they would’ve brought back.

My family afterwards tried finding my father at the celebration in the kingdom center, when guardians escorted us back to the throne room. We came in on my father, your grandfather, on his knees bound and being beaten by a champion. Watching, was Helan Phorro Xamium on his throne and the high priest of the expedition standing next to him. It turned out part of the official report on the expedition was fabricated for the public to prevent embarrassment. When the champion and two others from the crew found the guardian’s corpse, it was being studied, not eaten. What killed the guardian was a leak in the enviro-suit. The three were ambushed by humans and they did have to fight their way out, but the encounter was largely exaggerated. The leader of that ambush said nothing of building a doomsday weapon or wanting to invade and annihilate all life on Irrdnis. This leader did confess to already accumulating his forces with the intent of sending them to both, hunt down the humans who helped the expedition, and to attempt a takeover of the ship. He decided to launch the scheme into action sooner than originally planned, after he received an urgent message from his subordinates.

Your grandfather never meant for violence to break out. He thought about the wellbeing of both our worlds and wanted to prevent exploitation. The high priest wouldn’t listen to him about not taking humans, so he told the enemy’s subordinates. He was hoping they would stop the flight of the humans in exchange for the missing guardian’s body before the expedition left to return home.

My family begged for his life to be spared but the judgement was already made, and our whole family would be punished along with him for his perceived transgression. Helan ordered the execution of everyone except for me per tradition. I still remember how their lights faded after each pull of the trigger. I was the last of my family, so I got banished from the kingdom and forced to be an orphan servant for the neighboring Esarc Lieer Xamium of the Kingdom of Esarc. Over the next eight years, my despisement of humans and their betrayal of my father’s trust grew, with every disciplinary action I braved, every human pet I saw lovingly cared for, every time I awoke to find that my family was no longer with me.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

Then came the day when the recreational narcotic juggurog was introduced to Esarc. The xamium got instantly addicted to the stuff and soon invited everyone in the kingdom to join in a juggurog party in the throne room for one night. The next morning, no one could find him as if he vanished overnight. No trace of a body or decree of abdication threw the kingdom into a state of chaos.

It wasn’t long before opposing factions emerged to take advantage of his sudden disappearance. First there were two, with one wanting a regent, and the other calling for the next eldest to ascend the throne. Then each faction broke up into two more, but one desired a neighboring xamium to rule while the other one’s goal was to have no xamium at all. Meanwhile, the other two couldn’t agree on who or how many should be regent. Then all those factions split up into even more, until there were about sixteen separate gangs in control of their own areas of the former kingdom. Every one of them used the making and trade of juggurog to gain power, and the use of coercion to keep it. There was at least a fight every day and a dead body every week, not just from rival gangs but from infighting and backstabbing. It became all about how much narcotic powder you had, not the intensity of your glow.

I sided with the anti-xamium gangs, obviously due to how the previous status quo played a role in my life. I had a job as a courier, and I am ashamed today that I accepted my payment in juggurog. It wasn’t only the best tradable commodity in the region, it was for my own usage too. In the past, I thought I started using because I hated humans so much that I wanted to help increase demand. I now know it was an excuse in my efforts to numb me to all the things that happened and were still happening in my life at the time.

Almost three years after I fell in with a gang, some of the other members skimmed from the supply and set me up to be blamed. I got tortured, but I fought my way out and escaped before they could execute me. At this point, I had it with everyone; humans, minare, xamiums, gangs. I was sick of it all, so I headed to the snowy Higherlands to live out the rest of my life in isolation.

I reached a spot that appeared to be an ideal enough location for my burrow. It would’ve been the first ever done since I played with my siblings. I took an inaugural huff of juggurog and began digging. By the time I selected a good rock slab to be my entrance’s trapdoor, it was nighttime, and it was starting to snow. All I needed to do was furnish the interior, and I wanted to celebrate with a huff of juggurog. When I pulled out the bag, I was overcome with a shot of dread to my system when I found it to be empty. My inaugural was my very last, and I started to freak out. I thought back on others addicted to juggurog and what they had to face during withdrawal. I didn’t want to go through the same things, so I left the burrow and tried heading back to the nearest kingdom to find some way of getting more powder, but the only powder I was getting was from a blizzard that descended on the area and almost got me lost. It was when I got back to the burrow, I remembered the nearest kingdom was too far away for me to make it there within what I considered was a safe time. This was not going to be pleasant.

For the first day, I had shakes, itchiness, headaches, and I felt like I was in heat, as in I was in an incredibly aggressive state of wanting to mate. Second day, on top of the previous symptoms, I felt nauseous and anxious, I couldn’t concentrate, and my mouth felt so dry that I kept sucking on snow from outside to no avail. Third day, except for lack of concentration, all other symptoms got replaced with a fever so bad that I laid on the floor half-naked throughout much of the day. I only got off the floor to exit the burrow, still half-naked mind you, to fill up on random vegetation to satisfy my ravenous hunger pangs brought on by an increased appetite. I was lucky none were poisonous, but that didn’t stop the paranoia and mood swings from starting, making me feel that I was poisoned and jumping between not wanting to die and challenging death to take me. All the noise I was creating attracted the attention of a curious snow kust, which is like the kust you’re more familiar with growing up, but these are covered in wool and have a grumpier disposition. Anyway, I beat it to death barehanded. By the time the fourth day arrived, the fever and hunger weren’t as bad, but the paranoia and mood swings were compounded now by hallucinations. I was outside, still half-naked, shooting and screaming at the ghost of the kust I killed, then punching rocks in which the ghost “hid”. I gave up when I started to feel very cold and closed myself in the burrow where I was berated by my dead family for not trying to save them somehow. The hallucinations, mood swings, lack of concentration, and paranoia, gradually gave way to depression, hopelessness, suicidal thoughts, and finally fatigue, likely induced by the fact that I didn’t sleep since the first day of my withdrawals. I passed out and slept until I awoke two days later.

When I woke up, I still felt worn, but I managed to convince myself to eat a little bit of food I had brought with me in my isolation. For seven more days, I didn’t feel like doing anything and mostly sat, wrapped up in my cloak and wishing to waste away. It took time to press myself into doing small activities, like treating the rashes I developed from being under direct sunlight during the worst symptoms of my withdrawal. I’m so glad you and your brother never had to worry about that as much as I did. Soon, the activities became bigger and so on, until I noticed that I was functionally surviving out in the wilderness. For the first time in years, getting the next fix of powder was the furthest thing from my mind.