It was a dream. These days, dreams were all that remained of her memories from so long ago. Time was like a slowly snaking river, gradually eroding away at the bedrock of her past until one day, all that remained was a deep dark chasm.

She knew this particular dream well. It always started with the cries of women. Their frightened shrieks pierced the thick air through the thin wooden walls of the shack. The smell of blood, burning flesh, and sweat permeated the small space.

She tried to block it out, but the memory could not be altered. She was at its mercy as it played on. On top of her, the massive man was grunting. He was as ugly as he was foul. He stared at her frail body as he violated her. His expression was one of sick pleasure and hatred.

Without warning, his thick leathery hand knocked her head sideways. “Don’t look at me!” he screamed. “Subhuman filth.” Stars filled her vision and her eyes burned. She tried to blink the grime away, but she’d run out of tears to give. How many more will come until I die? she wondered.

Her answer came as his hands suddenly grasped tightly around her small neck. His grunting grew more rapid, but it was quickly fading into a cloud of darkness. Her panicked cries were stopped short by his powerful grip. As the world faded to a point of light, fear and rage took hold of her tattered soul.

Her last thought was a curse. On the man, on the bandits ransacking her home, on the world. She’d wasted her short life preening for the young men of her village, soaking in their affections but never ending the chase. It was their attentions she loved most. Her death would be her own worst irony.

Only later would she learn, she would be the first awakened. This moment didn’t just belong to her, it was a new dawn for humanity. It would take years, hundreds of them, but she would eventually find her purpose.

The first step into the new age was to be a bloody one though. A tremendous feeling of power suddenly coursed through her. Her eyes opened. On top of her was not a man but a dessicated corpse. She would have screamed, but she was outside her body now. A mighty roar shook the ground.

The sounds of villagers and bandits shouting in horror were suddenly drowned in the torrent. She continued to watch apart from herself. Her arms were outstretched and her eyes were deep pools of black. Time seemed to slow as the house burst into little more than matchwood.

***

The prophetess awoke. Sweat streamed down her face as she took in rapid breaths. She closed her eyes and tried to recall the dream but it had already retreated deep into a place in her mind where she, the only awakened of water, the most powerful telepath in all of Ruin, could not journey willingly.

***

“How is she doing?” Jim asked.

A frown crept across crewman Vale’s face. “Not good,” the young man replied. “I only received basic medical training back in league boot, so I can’t say more than that, but her pulse is really weak.”

Kalandra’s body lay atop a cushion of clothes and folded bail wings that Vale and Jim had constructed for her. Her face, normally a deep olive, had gone pale white. Though the bleeding had stopped, her condition was getting worse.

Suddenly, the ship shuttered and Kalandra’s head flopped to one side. Jim swooped down and steadied her. “Can you tell the guys to slow this thing down before we fall apart?” he asked angrily. Again, the ship bucked. From somewhere, a metallic groan protested as if in agreement.

“Sure thing, captain,” Vale replied, happy to be relieved of his grim responsibility.

“I told you, don’t call me -” he gave up. Vale had already disappeared down the hallway.

Jim lifted the lower half of Kalandra’s shirt, careful to retain her dignity. His face twisted into a grimace as he examined her. Deep black and purple bruises had spread across her left side. Her breathing was labored. Her lower ribs seemed to be sunken in unnaturally.

He recalled Malachi’s words, Each time you heal, days of your life are stolen away forever. He struggled with the choice he would have to make. He tried to convince himself not to do it, but chivalry or pity, he wasn’t sure which, won. He placed his hands on her broken body and prepared himself for what would come next.

***

There was a knock at the door. The prophetess stood and steadied herself. She wasn’t sure if it was the rocking of the enormous airship or her dream, but she was out of sorts. “Come in!” she snapped.

The door crept open. Inside stepped Scieth who also looked anxious. “Something bothering you, son?” she asked, annoyed that she cared at all. Damn these dreams, she thought angrily.

Lord Sceith shooed away two awakened attendants and a clockwork servant, then closed the door. “It’s nothing,” he replied. “I’m just not fond of the southern passage. It hasn’t been used in nearly a century.”

The prophetess grinned and replied, “and as the traders say, a path not tread, is cause for dread.” She chortled, “Need I remind you, we are in an airship, surrounded by a small armada?”

“Of course not, your highness. Some old fears are just hard to shake. I won’t let it interfere with my duties,” Scieth replied. “I’m here to inform you that we are about one hour out from Complex 4. The fleet will begin its descent shortly.”

“Good,” the prophetess muttered. Shaking off the last of the unpleasant dream, she ordered, “Deploy two squadrons and set up a search grid. If you find anyone, kill them. I don’t want our recovery effort interrupted.”

A grin crept across Scieth’s face as he replied, “It will be done, my queen.”

***

“W-why did you do it?” the small voice pulled Jim from his thoughts. His body still tingled as the borrowed wounds healed.

“What?” he asked. His ears were still ringing.

Kalandra grabbed his shaking hand, “Why did you heal me? Look at you. It nearly killed you. You’re a mess.”

Jim took a breath, trying to center himself. The healing process had already removed the pain, but he was weakened. He felt tired, older. He focused, speaking slowly, “It’s my fault you were injured in the first place. I wasn’t going to let you die for my mistake.”

Kalandra’s face twisted into a pout, “Oh so, its guilt then.”

Jim saw the hole he’d dug but was powerless to avoid falling into it. “No,” he began, “that’s not it at all. I’m just saying… I” He sighed, “I don’t know what the hell I’m saying.”

Kalandra began to laugh. Jim stared at her blankly. “You’re cute when you’re nervous,” she said through giggles. “I was joking, Jim.”

“I’ll never understand women. Why can’t you all just speak plainly. Why the mind games?” Jim asked.

“Let me put it plainly then,” Kalandra replied, “Thank you for saving my life, Jim. Truly, thank you.” Jim had finally regained his focus. He noticed that she was moving closer. Her deep brown eyes seemed to conceal a fire behind them.

He felt himself blushing as he translated the longing expression on her face. Desire. He cleared his throat uncomfortably and said, “I uhh… You’re a valuable member of this crew. I couldn’t just let you die.”

Kalandra smiled and stared at him. As she did so, she continued to move in. Jim tried to pull away but, his head hit the metal wall. “Umm Kalandra, I -” he stuttered.

“You know,” she whispered. Her face was inches away. “You may not be good with words, but your heart is in the right place. You’re a good man, Jim. I’ve known it since you saved me from the prophetess’ control. We shared something in that moment. Something, few ever could.”

Jim’s heart beat quickly. Part of him screamed NO but another part, a very instinctual part urged him on. “Kalandra, I’m married. We can’t -”

She kissed him. Jim was lost in a confused mix of primal instinct and guilted conviction. The two sides fought a war in his heart for a moment. Finally, he pulled away, ashamed. Not because she had kissed him.

No, he realized. I kissed her back.