- Prologue -

Beauty in Weakness

Dear Mother,

There is something I must tell you, and I am too afraid to say it. Not to mention I know that you would stop me. So . . . I am leaving you one final letter instead. I have decided to go. I cannot say if I will be back, so I will make no promises. Know that I love you more than all of Mani. But you know that this is more important than you or I, or even this silver shell we call home. And so, I must go. I must. I will see you again, whether in this world, in the other, or in the afterlife.

Goodbye

(Planet Mani—Nytaea

Mani’Tor 20, 984—Night Season)

Lynchazel gathered her strength and leapt the city wall. She clutched her precious bundle with her left arm, extending upward with her right, as the force of her jump carried her through the air. Her ascent slowed just as she came within reach of the stone battlement at the top of the wall, some thirty feet in the air. Her right arm grasped the stone and she pulled herself onto the wall. Movement in this world was absurdly easy.

Here she stopped, looking both directions. The stone walkway on top of the wall was only about four feet wide, just wide enough for two of these lightworld men to walk abreast.

Fortunately, there were none in sight at the moment.

Lynchazel turned, scanning the horizon behind her. Still no sight of Sol. She was pretty sure this was the third day she’d been on this world, and yet no dawn. The dark sky changed color and the auroras came and went, almost like a normal day cycle, but who could say when full daylight would be back?

Twenty-eight days, he said. Fourteen days of sun, fourteen days of night. A strange world, this Mani . . . the thought of living here made her shiver, despite her certainty that it was a far better home for her daughter.

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Lynchazel turned back toward the city. Nytaea, he had called it. The land of her child’s ancestry. She scanned the alabaster buildings and watched the starlight play off of silver-plated rooftops. The white Nytaean Palace loomed high over the other buildings, at the center of the city. Weak though this world may be, she had to admit . . . it was quite beautiful.

She glanced down at the bundle in her arms, which she unwrapped gently—just enough to reveal the perfect face of her first and only daughter, named after herself.

“Lynchazel,” she said softly. “We’re here. Your new home.”

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- Exordium -

(From the Vault of Lyn of Nytaea, Mother Heiress

Hersta 11, 2336)

I am getting really sick of your world.

Not very impressed so far, between the harsh conditions, the whole thing where I got imprisoned almost immediately, and the terrible food. I mean . . . just atrocious. You’d think these Hellebes scientists could give me something slightly more palatable than mystery lab chow while I twiddle my thumbs and wait for them to decide how next to experiment on me.

Oh, and my friends are all dead now. They didn’t make it through the Gate, so I’m stuck here alone.

So yeah . . . not impressed. Can I go home now? Back to Mani?

I know, I know. I can’t. You probably think I deserve this, or that it’s necessary. I’m just a monster. Mother this, goddess that. I get it.

I also realize not all Hellebes are that bad. Look at Captain Zent —he was great. But he still left me here at the mercy of the Senate. I’m recording this in my Vault—being a Hellebes, whoever you are, you know all about Vaults—in order to leave a methodical account of the events that led me here. After all, I’m sure you haven’t heard the full story.

I was an orphan, and I came from a city called Nytaea where orphans were considered illegal citizens. My mother brought me there as a baby. Nytaea, gleaming city of alabaster and silver, was made by an order of magi long ago. Magi are Legaleians who wield the ‘Authority’ of the elements, that is to say they can control nature. Magic, you might say.

The Legaleians, of course, are the people who live on Mani. The Exiled. On Mani, there is no moon, and only one day passes per month. Two weeks of day, two weeks of night. There are few men there, believe it or not, as far more girls are born each year than boys. Sounds weird, I know, but . . . it gets weirder. But I won’t overload you—let’s just start from the beginning.

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