0.03 – Autumn

Eleven years after the return of Ta’Khar and his expedition, Empyr had changed. The world had split into two distinct classes, birthing a hierarchy that had never existed before. The Stained—those marked by ebony-feathered wings—had seized power, infiltrating the Peace Forces, the bureaucracy, and, within a few short years, every level of leadership. And under their rule, Empyr flourished–in a manner of speaking.

A renewed focus on space exploration had driven rapid advancements in shipbuilding, igniting an industrial boom that demanded skilled labor. With it came prosperity for some, but at a cost—homelessness surged, air quality plummeted, and the golden luster of Empyr dimmed beneath the shadow of its newfound ambition. Yet, amidst the shifting tides, one girl found herself swept toward her destiny.

Sa’telle, who had gone on to first take flight at the age of seven, saw her dream come true. Like her father before her, she became a pilot.

“How was it, my little one?” Sa’nalla’s voice was thin, interrupted by a ragged cough as she lay in bed. At fifteen, Sa’telle had eagerly apprenticed herself to a pilot, throwing herself into the study of the new ships and their intricate mechanisms.

Sa’telle set down her bag and dashed to her mother’s side. “I learned a lot today, Mother! La’katu says I’ll be ready to apply for my license in just a few more months!”

Sa’nalla smiled, her fingers weak yet warm as she took Sa’telle’s hand. “I’m glad,” she murmured. Then another cough rattled her chest, stealing her breath before she could finish. When she finally spoke again, her voice was low but firm. “Remember… beware the Stained. Stay out of their way. And when you earn your license, do what your father did—take a trip. Find a nice place to settle in.”

Sa’telle frowned, her grip tightening around her mother’s frail fingers. “Are you kidding, Mother? Leave you here? Of course I’m taking you with me.”

Sa’nalla’s lips curved into a wistful smile. “I always wanted to explore with your father,” she admitted. “He was a force of nature. Irrepressible. Life here never satisfied him… he was always looking for something more.”

“You’ve told me,” Sa’telle said, nodding. “Father was a special man. I want to be just like him. And in a year or so, I’ll have my own ship—we’ll both start our journey.”

A quiet chuckle escaped Sa’nalla, though it was tinged with sadness. “Don’t be just like him,” she whispered. “Be your own kind of special. Don’t chase his shadow… you can shine brighter than he ever—” Her words dissolved into another fit of coughing, harsher this time.

Sa’telle’s brows creased. “Mother…” She reached for her, concern flashing in her violet eyes. “I’m taking you to the medics.”

Sa’nalla shook her head, pushing Sa’telle’s hand away with surprising strength. “It’s alright,” she said, lips curving into something between a smile and a grimace. “I know I’ll be fine. Just as soon as we leave Empyr.”

Her gaze drifted upward toward the sky, once clear and golden on most days—except when the rains came. But lately, the weather had turned fickle, the heavens cloaked in a dull and lifeless gray. Empyr itself was changing.

Sa’telle swallowed hard. “You say that every time.” Her voice wavered as she grasped her mother’s arm once more. “If you get worse, it’ll—”

Sa’nalla didn't let her finish.

Some time later, the Stained announced the demolition of Ga’ladaigm Park to make way for a military installation.

“What of the noble animals that reside in this ancient forest, one that has existed since the Capitol was built?” an interviewer pressed, facing a Stained politician who had stepped up to field the inevitable questions about such sweeping changes.

“They’ll be safely relocated to the forests outside the Capitol,” the politician replied smoothly. “A wall will be erected to ensure they don’t attempt to return. Trust me when I say we’ll feed and care for them—why, in fact, there are even discussions of a new park to house them. It would provide a safer, more appropriately distanced viewpoint of their existence.”

“Safer?” the reporter echoed, frowning. “In what way? There have never been safety concerns.”

The politician gave a rehearsed sigh, shaking his head. “Haven’t you heard about that poor boy who struck his head on a branch while riding a Dah’nasir? That tragic accident left him permanently disabled—he’ll never fly. That is the cost of our recklessness. Can we truly call ourselves responsible parents, caregivers, and stewards of Empyr if we allow children to recklessly ride these sub-Empyrean-intelligence beasts?” He spread his hands, his expression a carefully curated mask of concern. “We cannot.”

The reporter hesitated, but their voice remained steady. “But riding a Dah’nasir is the highlight of anyone’s childhood. Isn’t it a shame that future generations will never experience that?”

“That’s an excellent point.” The politician stroked his chin, nodding in apparent contemplation. “Everyone should be able to ride one—safely. Regardless of age or ability. And thanks to genetic manipulation, specialized training, and proper care, we may soon see Dah’nasir that are completely domesticated, offering us all a safe return to the cherished memories of our youth.”

The reporter’s skepticism flickered, replaced with reluctant intrigue. “That… would be something. Imagine—even larger Dah’nasir, bred and trained to carry us all…”

Sa’telle switched off the family screen.

A quiet sigh escaped her lips.

“I’d love to ride one again, too…” she murmured, staring down at her hand, where her piloting license glinted beneath the glow of the room. But her gaze soon drifted elsewhere—toward the empty bed where her mother had once lain only months ago.

Tears welled in her eyes, her breath catching in her throat. Slowly, Sa’telle curled into herself, wrapping her white wings tightly around her body like a fragile cocoon.

She had grown into the spitting image of her late mother.

And yet, she had never felt further away from her.

Sa’telle walked pensively along the illuminated roadway beneath the skyport, her gaze drifting upward towards the dark clouds that had been threatening to pour for some time. And it was at that moment, the rain began to fall. With a thought, she projected a light field, the soft energy repelling the water as she stretched her wings. No matter the weather, no matter how she felt—it was time to work.

Piloting wasn’t quite what she’d dreamed of.

The years had worn away the shine of it, the excitement slowly eroded by relentless workloads and mounting expectations. And now, more than ever, the pressure was suffocating. The Stained came to her door, proselytizing—always smiling, always eager to share the joy of embracing the darkness.

Sa’telle rejected them—kindly, always kindly—and usually, they left in peace. But her employer had begun to pressure her. First, suggestions. Then, hints. And now, outright implications.

Attend a sermon.

Just one.

Show you’re open to it.

It’d be best for your future.

If not, well… pilots are replaceable.

A voice pulled her from her thoughts.

“Ma’am. You look lost.”

She turned, her eyes sharpening as they found the speaker—a man with gray feathers. Not white. Not black. Somewhere between. Half-stained.

His expression mirrored his state—adrift, uncertain.

“Lost?” Sa’telle echoed, studying him. Then, quietly, she added, “Perhaps. But not like you.”

She could see it—he was clinging to the Light, but the dark was already inside him. It was only a matter of time.

“Please… keep fighting it,” she urged.

The man laughed. A sharp, almost hysterical sound. His eyes gleamed with something fractured.

“Fight?” His voice dipped into something unsettling, something that wasn’t quite his own. “Fight what? It’s inevitable. Everything changes. The Word always finds a way.”

He shook his head, feathers ruffling as though unsettled by his own thoughts.

“For some, it happens fast,” he continued. “For others… the transition takes longer. But the result? Always the same.”

Then, almost absentmindedly, he reached into a small pouch, fingers brushing across its contents before retrieving something small. He popped it into his mouth and exhaled, his entire body relaxing too quickly.

In mere moments, the wildness in his gaze softened, his muscles untensing. A lazy, lopsided grin spread across his lips.

“Ehehe… you should try some,” he murmured. “Takes the edge off. Makes everything look better.”

Sa’telle stiffened, instinctively stepping back.

Her expression barely flickered, but inside, disgust coiled in her stomach. She had seen this before. Years ago, the drug had started circulating among the poorest classes—a temporary oblivion, a way to forget. And now? It had made its way higher. Closer.

And he would never stop taking it. Not now. Not ever.

She swallowed down the bitterness rising in her throat, forced a polite smile, and dipped into a shallow bow.

“Ah… have a good day.”   

Then she turned and took off, wings unfurling as she flew—putting as much distance between herself and the lost one as possible.

He wasn’t fully gone yet. But he would be.

Soon.

An axe hovered over the collective neck of Empyr.

The world had grown darker, but it was the Capitol that suffered the worst of it. When the military installation rose, it stole the last remnants of its fading light, casting long shadows over a city that had once gleamed with radiance.

And with that, the truth became painfully clear—the darkness would only deepen unless something was done.

A singular desire had catalyzed Empyr’s transformation.

But now, that same desire burned within those who refused to surrender.

Resistance had begun.

“Shhhh!”

A hand wrapped around Sa’telle’s mouth from behind, the sudden pressure forcing her breath to hitch. She sat at the helm of her cargo ship, preparing to disembark for Stantes, a planet conquered months ago—but her mind had drifted, her focus pulled elsewhere.

And she hadn’t noticed the stowaway until now.

A blade pressed to her throat.

A conversion at knifepoint.

Her eyes narrowed.

Enough.

A pulse of light flickered to life around her neck, forming a protective band. The instant she felt its assurance, she lunged, seizing her attacker in a powerful grip. With all her strength, she threw them over her head—a brutal arc that sent them slamming into the bulkhead.

Even before they landed, Sa’telle was moving, hands clapping together as she summoned a blazing beam of light. No more laughter. No more disdain. No more taunts.

She’d had enough of the Stained and their tactics.

It wouldn’t be long before they took her or killed her where she stood—because no matter what they wanted, Sa’telle would never bend her head to their gods.

Be like gods, my ass.

But as she prepared to burn the intruder from existence, something caught her eye—their wings.

White. Unstained.

Not one of them.

Her blast halted in an instant, but the intruder had already reacted—redirecting her light with a beam of his own. The collision sent a sharp crack through the ship's interior.

The man groaned, rolling his shoulders as he sat up. “Damn. You’re antsy as Ga’har.” He rubbed his wrists and let out a low chuckle. “And shit, you pack a punch—just like I heard.”

Sa’telle spat. “Don’t invoke Ga’har. We’re living in it. Can’t you feel the darkness eating at us every damn day?”

He sighed, nodding. “Yeah. Empyr is Ga’har. Not just a metaphor.” He met her gaze, solemn now. “The portals opened. And they’ve nearly swallowed the whole damn planet. It won’t be long.”

She clenched her fists. “You’re right about that. Not that we can do a damn thing about it.”

The man raised his hands in a placating gesture. “Relax, my friend.”

Sa’telle stomped forward, her fist balling up, ready to strike.

The man didn’t flinch. He just shook his head.

“If it’ll make you feel better, hit me,” he said simply. “I’m sorry I scared you. These are awful times. But that’s why I’m here.”

His voice hardened.

“You’re fed up with it. All the coldness, all the darkness, all their mindless chanting. They turned us into conquerors. Look around—there’s nothing left of Empyr anymore. Nothing. And we let it happen.”

His eyes blazed now, alight with fury, with something desperate and raw.

“But it’s not too late. We’re going to hit them, and by the Light’s will, we will turn them into ash and reclaim it. ALL OF IT.”

Sa’telle stared at him, fury boiling in her blood. Her chest rose and fell, her breath unsteady.

Then—

She started laughing.

The man hesitated, then stepped back, his muscles tensing, his hands charging a larger blast, prepared to retaliate if this was some kind of trick.

But Sa’telle just laughed on, the sound rising, shaking loose something heavy inside her.

When it finally faded, she wiped at her eyes, still grinning.

“What took you so damn long?” She flexed her wings. “Let’s go.”