On a calm night with a wind breeze flowing through stars and clouds, a small abandoned village is surprisingly full of life and warmth. All the people are outside, many campfires lit on the ground alike. The broken houses, debris lying around in darkness, unusable electricity suggests that these people didn't live here.
Men, women, and children of all ages gather around different campfires, some are asleep, some are warming their bodies in the night, some are talking, Their eyes dart around, gleaming in the firelight. Knotted brows, twitching lips, fear hangs heavily in the air. Smells of burning wood and orange flame contrast with the greens of trees and whites of snow, but no one can deny that there's tension in the air.
A girl is sitting alone on a mattress that was laid on a soft, green patch at the edge of the group. She was small, not older than five to six years old. She has jet black hair tied up to a ponytail, she wears a red sweater that looks way bigger for her size to combat the cold, her pale face shines bright red every pulse of the flame in front of her. Her eyes look into the campfire, but it seems her mind is elsewhere. Her body tired from moving from place to place, barely able to call anywhere home.
"Kristen"
A feminine voice boomed from behind the girl, it's gentle and sweet, the sound of someone who seems to care deeply about the girl. Kristen slightly turned her face towards the voice as the figure approaches.
"Mommy!" she replies with her little enthusiasm.
Putting aside her black cloak, the woman sits down next to her daughter, her expression full of warmth and love. She gently places a pillow on Kristen’s mattress with a smile.
“Gable told me to give this to you, our sweet little girl”
“Thank you”
“I also found this!”
Her mother pull out a book from the cloak titled : The Book of Time. She enthusiastically flips the pages around, glancing through the stories. Kristen, on the other hand, seems not really interested in it.
Looking at the book, then at the surrounding darkness, Kristen murmured, "Mommy, is it okay for us to stay here?" The unsaid "What if they found us? hung heavily in the air.
The woman’s heart drops at the sound of her daughter, her sentences trembling. She learned how to speak properly a few years ago, but this sounds more vulnerable than she remembered. She doesn’t want her daughter, the light of her life, to be in this situation, running around, surviving day by day, a sudden wave of sadness rushing through her heart, the pain, the guilt.
“Don’t worry Kristen” she said, a forced smile on her face. She swallows, and pulls Kristen to her side. “Come here, sweetie”
Kristen’s head found a comfortable spot on her mother’s shoulder, her fingers toying with a frayed edge of her mother’s cloak. The child's eyes never left the distant shadows, her shoulders loosen as her mother puts her arms across her.
“Your grandmother used to have this book, it was written 30 years ago” She said, her voice low and gentle, echoing the breeze of wind blowing through the village. “Some people said that it’s a fairy tale, but for people like us, it’s also a memoir.”
As her mother speaks, her fingers slide through Kristen’s delicate, jet-black hair. Her eyes remain glue to the pages in her hand. Interest flickers in Kristen's eyes as she stares at the book, she’s never met her grandmother, only heard stories passed down by her mother. But then again, Kristen doesn’t remember much but time that she fled from place to place.
“Mom, what's a memoir?”
Kristen moves closer to her mother, finding a more comfortable position. The woman smiles, she has forgotten that her daughter is just a little child. “It’s like a diary, a book that people write to remember the past.” Her mother said, her hand caressing Kristen’s hair as she continues. “And the past in this book is thousands of years old”
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I am but a humble historian, my duty is my obligation and my obligation is my life. It is devoted to finding the roots of our souls, the bygones of our spirit. Any modern recorder of yesteryear can inform you about the start of the known time [The formation of republic], but few are gallant enough to wander back beyond the unification.
Three hundred years ago, the world was a landscape of fractured and segregated tribes and dynasties. This was the era before Sovar Libellera, a time of disunity and aimless ambition. Then came the great change. With her seven knights at her side, Sovar Libellera forged the Republic of Libelle from the scattered shards of humanity.
From there were in history tomes and studies. Sovar Libellera, the first recorded Hybrid, stood tall as the graceful leader and commander of the republic, expansion ensued fourth swiftly, and violently. In due time, Libelle would surely be the center of the world as we knew it, and so it did.
Her kind, the Hybrids, were prominent throughout our familiar history, with their various magical powers to aid them in combat and warfare, ensuring absolute domination in early reigns of sovereignty. Hybrids are divided into two distinct groups: Mind and Matter. The Mind group manipulates thoughts, emotions, and perceptions, whereas the Matter group governs physical entities, altering their form and function. Sovar Libellera belonged to the latter, her body an ideal representation of a combat machine, sculpted to perfection.
Even centuries later, Igor Yankovsky, his movement and ambitions were also Hybrid-bounded. The renowned spokesman, the mediator of peace. A man, who was a devotee and representative of the non-magical populace. Was silenced quietly by order of Sovar Valeris, in fear of him rallying the voiceless and the non-hybrids in Libelle. This incident led to the great war [The first Libelle civil war] between Hybrids and the powerless. In the aftermath, a revolution of technology ensued. The invention of tanks, guns, and other machinery began to level the playing field, reducing the Hybrids' overwhelming advantage. As the non-Hybrid population expanded compared to the dwindling numbers of Hybrids, the Republic started imposing restrictions on Hybrids to maintain popular support. But this was a volcano waiting to erupt. The policies triggered a prolonged civil war lasting two decades, leading to the Hybrids' severe decline.
As of the time of this chirography, the Republic is no more. Sovar Sigmund Rosenheim, after his brutal warfare due to discord from the second war, declared himself the emperor as he absorbed more regions outside the republic. to formulate the Libelle empire. That is all there is for the known record. I saw great conflicts in my lifetime, I do not have much left in me. But I sense uncertainty and doubt that the future would be with no misery. His Imperial Highness continues his endless ambition of Hybrid slaughtering, aintent on eradicating those blessed with nature's magic. And I dread that after I draw my last breath, unbeknownst to me, the magnificent lineage of the Hybrids will be extinguished.
Yet, to fully understand our present, one must venture to the past. What are the Hybrids, where did they originate, were they the blessed, the chosen by gods? From the day of Sovar Libellera to the time of Sovar Ignis, last Hybrid leader of the republic. Few have dared to peer back beyond the known of time. The hidden or dare I say, forbidden knowledge that has been passed down through generations of historians, they show that the Hybrids are the remnants of the past.
A leap of four millennia into the past leads us to a time when the Creators roamed the Earth. These mythical beings, as recounted in our oldest chronicles, were said to be the architects of our civilization. Gifted with the dual power of mind and matter, they were revered, feared, and worshiped. Their form was much like our own, and yet they possessed an ethereal quality that set them apart. In those ancient times, the Creators did not exist apart from us but lived among humanity, guiding and shaping the course of our destiny.
In an act of divine union, these godlike beings formed bonds with certain humans. The offspring of these unions were neither fully human nor Creator, but something new, a Hybrid. They inherited their Creator’s mystical powers, a gift that allowed them to wield the magic of mind and matter. Carrying the legacy of the past, and the future.
Despite their godlike power and their unmatched wisdom, Creators are not immortals. It was unsure when did they fade away from the course of history, but the wheel of time turned inevitably, the Creators, once born and marched with nature, was slowly erased from the fabric of reality. In the end, the original bearers of magic fell into extinction, yet their remnants remain, reverberating through Hybrid’s existence.
This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.
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“Are we... are we from those people, mom?” The child asks, her expression changes, her eyes widen in wonder, her brows twirl. She has been listening silently to the tale since the beginning.
“Yes sweetie” her mother answers, the unfinished book in her hand. “You know you’re very special, right?”
Her mother’s fingers never escape Kristen’s hair, her soft voice soothes her mind. A small smile places on the child’s lips. “What about you?” Kristen speaks softly, her eyes match with the same hazel eyes of her mother.
The child’s mother laughs, “Well, we're all hybrids here, sweetheart," she confessed, gesturing to hundreds or two hundreds lives in the temporary camp. She set the book down and tickled Kristen's nose playfully, a soft smile on her face. "But you, my darling, you're the most special one of us all."
“Chief!” A voice boomed from the jungle closeby, a masculine voice full of panic. It draws attention from not just the mother and a child, but people around them as well. The mother swiftly but carefully put Kristen on the mattress. Grabbing her cloak, she strides to the voice hastily. Her brows tightened, her shoulders broadened, a complete and sudden shift in demeanor. Kristen stares at her mother worryingly, she remembers this sight. She recognizes that man calling out to her mom. A scout.
“They are coming here” His voice trembling and exhausted, the man speaks with urgency. “We got ‘bout twenty minutes”
Kristen's mother, the leader of this hybrid group, eyes widen in shock, her jaw drops and dread takes over. “How did they..” she tries to push words out as she turns around to Kristen one more time, the mother shakes off any feelings she’s having. “Inform the others right now, tell Eric and his team to prepare for defense, and get the rest to evacuate out of here”
Like a flip of a switch, her commanding presence orders the scout to spread the information. Turning attention to her sweet daughter, she holds her little hands. “Sweetie, we need to go.” She says with the most heartwarming smile she can muster. “Why don’t you go to Mikey and the others? Mom has to arrange something.”
For a moment, Kristen simply looks at her mother, her small face pale in the flickering firelight. Her hazel eyes, so much like her mother's, reflect both understanding and fear. She's seen this before - the scout's panic, her mother's swift shift into command - and she knows what it means. But understanding doesn't make it any less scary.
She gazes up at her mother, transformed from the loving, gentle figure of moments ago to this commanding, authoritative figure, and feels a surge of both awe and fear. This is her mother, the Hybrid, the descendant of Creators, the leader. And yet, this is also her mother, the woman who strokes her hair and tells her stories, the one who keeps her safe. It's a lot for a child to take in.
Swift as a thunderbolt, a loud bang echo through the abandoned village, the deafening roar tearing through the night.The sky is suddenly ablaze with a white light, like a star falling to the earth.The light blasted down indiscriminately, carving a path of destruction through the heart of the settlement. Heart’s pounding violently in her chest, Kristen can hear screams and panic all around her. Trying to hold in her tears, she senses a heavy smell of smoke, not from a campfire, but from burning woods and buildings.
Blinded from the light, Kristen blinks until her vision came back, blurry but trying to make sense of what’s going on around her. What she sees is a nightmarish destruction. Familiar faces twisted with fear and pain, people trembling, tripping over trying to flee from the destruction, people who she’d talked to, shared stories, played. They are raw and terrified. Debris flies around her as the merciless calamity shines down.
She never experienced anything like this before, not in her life. They flee a lot from place to place, but never like this. She’s unable to move, the world as she knew it slowly burning to the ground. Her entire body freezes in place like an unmovable object. Her breath stuck in her throat, and she felt a dreadful, paralyzing cold spread through her body despite the heat of the flames.
Her wide, hazel eyes dart around with no sense of hope. She sees Mr. Barnes, who was the best teamaker her mom ever knew, lying rigidly on the ground, the half of his clothes burning. She spots Jessie, a girl not much older than her, they used to play together and tell stories, lying close to a burning tree, her arm missing. The sight was so terrible, so wrong, that for a moment, Kristen's mind refused to comprehend it. All the games, the shared secrets, they felt like fragments of another life, one that was ruthlessly ripped away without warning.
“Sweetie!”
Amidst the chaos and unrest, a voice pulls her back to reality. Her mother rushes forward, carrying Kristen in her arms as she runs towards the center of the village. Kristen is able to function yet again, but some parts of her mind are still in shock. Still can’t get the images she saw out of her mind, she tries her hardest to hold her tears back. She must not show her weakness and her vulnerability, for her mother. “It’s gonna be okay, sweetie. Trust me.” Her mother tries to console her.
The white death from the sky settled, leaves behind only smoke of burning flame, death and destruction. The ground is burning hot, thick steam pouring from the landscape. Kristen saw her mother’s sweaty face and dreadful expression. She thought the catastrophe had ended, but it’s far from over. They arrive at a big building under the moonlight, the debris scattered around the place, only the roof remains intact above their defenseless bodies. Being held in her mother’s embrace, Kristen notices familiar faces around her, warriors, survivors, and comrades of their people.
“That’s the empire’s new toy” A man says. His face was covered with blood.
“Those fucking monster, they’ll pay for what they’ve done!” Another person chimes in.
Kristen tries to make sense of what is happening around her, fear, anger, panic. She’s good at reading people’s faces. She tries to count people that are gathering in this room, how many are there, how many did they lose. Conversations murmur all over the place, people screaming, crying, talking over each other, still can’t grasp the reality they’re in. Chaos ensues.
“Enough!”
Kristen’s mother shouts with conviction, the people fall silent as they slowly gather around their chief. The child in her arms notices how her mother has shifted the tone in the room, and to her speculation, all the familiar faces slowly step out from behind, standing closer to her mother - these people are the ace warriors, the ones she trusts the most.
“What do we know about the flying ship?” The woman chief asks.
“They call it the Leviathan” One man states, he hoists forward a small device with a screen, a hologram picture showing the massive technological advancement, a flying ship, capable of manning dozens of people. “According to data leaked, it takes days to recharge, so I think there will be no more of that nightmare.”
With a swift glance at her wristwatch, Kristen’s mother meticulously calculates their remaining window of time. She had been counting minutes since the scout’s report. “So, we have around ten minutes until the ground forces arrive.” She mutters. “I need all capable person to go out there and help with the injured, we will be ready for our escape”
The Chief's order echoes through the remains of the once bustling village, now reduced to smoldering ashes and twisted metal. Her stern voice fills the survivors with a newfound sense of purpose amidst the chaos, the air thick with determination and resolve.
Minutes feel like mere seconds, as survivors set to work, aiding the injured and preparing to evacuate. The sounds of hurried whispers and hushed cries meld with the distant, ominous aura growing louder every passing moment.
The Chief glances at her wristwatch again, trying to calculate how much time they have left. 'Seven minutes,' she thinks, her heart pounding in her chest. She saw something. A dark silhouette approaching from the deep forests. They were early. The countdown in her head fast forwards from ten minutes to mere moments.
In the moment of absolute silence, Kristen saw it, a man in a deep black iron armor and full of multitudes of lights shining across his body. He stands at the edge of the forest, mere meters to the village they temporarily called it home. A killer covered in black steel, mechanical and soulless without any shed of humanity, menacing soldier that spells death. This is real.
Kristen stares at him, her gaze unflickering. The black metal, the imposing figure, the non-humanlike movement. The smell of gunpowder hungs heavily on the air. Not before long, a march of soldier follow suits. They are all rallying behind the black soldier.
Her mother roots in place, her face pale and shocked. But beneath the wide eyes and clenched jaw, she’s not afraid. A sense of dread washes over her, but it’s not for herself - it’s for her people, and most importantly, her daughter. She quickly scans the crowd, her eyes landing on Maduine, her most trusted friend and confidant. The two have been through countless battles together, their bond forged and tested in the heat of conflict. She strides towards him, cradling Kristen in her arms.
"Maduine," she says, her voice barely above a whisper. "I need you to do something for me."
His gray hair and beard shines through moonlight, his usually stern expression softened by concern. The Chief gently hands Kristen over to Maduine. Kristen, sensing the gravity of the situation, clings tighter to her mother. “Are you sure about this? Krisjen”
“No! Mama, I don’t want to leave you!” Kristen's voice cuts through the air in pain, her eyes brimming with tears, her face turns red.
Forcing a smile, the Chief, Krisjen, strokes her daughter's hair, trying her best to show her daughter that it’s fine. "Kristen, my brave girl, you have to go. Remember, I love you always," she says, fighting back her own tears. “I will always, always be with you.”
Maduine, holding Kristen close, nods at the Chief one last time before turning away, disappearing into the darkness. Behind her, the village devolves into chaos as the ground forces of the Empire descend upon them.
“It’s going to be okay, little girl” Maduine says, his voice is teary as he tries to muster as much courage as he can. “You will be okay.”
She looks at her mother. Her jet black hair stood out in a fiery battle behind, her eyes that are usually so strong and kind, now welling up with tears. Kristen punches Maduine, she kicks her to her heart’s content, but to no avail. The distance between them gets bigger as he runs from the village. With each passing second, the fire grows stronger, the smells of blood and flesh grow more vivid as the most important person in her life is fading away. The Black soldier, the steel armor, leaving destruction in their wake. Every swing of a sword, every shot of a rifle. One by one, the hybrids are slain by the the him. It seems that no matter how hard she screams, the battle wouldn't turn its tide. The last thing she sees is Krisjen and The Black soldier engaging in a battle. Not before long, the mother she always knew and loved with all her heart, slowly becoming a small dot in her horizon.
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