Chapter 4: Still an animal

It was already night time in Yasha’Lafiq and the violent winds gradually began to pick up in power and speed. The moon and the stars in the sky were bright, but they were soon obstructed by a veil of sand and dust. Because of it, the streets have been emptied prematurely and the entire city sunk into rare quietness. In a corner on the roof, overlooking Tisila’s house, Ssyba reached a peculiar state of mind among all the beasts of Jord. Like a metal rod that reached into the depths of the earth, her mind reached into an inner dimension of her own self.

For an outsider looking at her, there was something poetic, contemplative and unique about Ssyba in this moment.

“The color of the desert is unwavering from afar but the color of sand is infinitely diverse when close,” quoted Ssyba from a popular poem before she refocused her eyes on the reality before her. “I don’t have anybody to back me up with stuff and materials, I don’t have the support of families or clans or organizations or patrons, I am nobody thus I can only truly rely on my own claws and brain to further advance in my study.”

She sighed deeply.

After she helped Tisila brew the grade four healing vraja potion, Ssyba excused herself to go to sleep, however, unbeknownst to Tisila, Ssyba hid herself in seclusion in order to ponder and cement her newly acquired knowledge. Spirituality was a difficult topic for Ssyba, it felt like exploring in the dark. Sometimes she would bump into things and come up with outlandish concepts and create a mess inside her mind, and sometimes she felt so lost that she couldn’t even pick a direction of thought and go with it. Her confusion only deepened the more she tried to reduce it, as her thoughts flew all over the place.

In the dusty night, Ssyba focused her vision on a window. Soft and warm candle light radiated from within.

She began:

“All souls are actually like chain links into the heavens and mana is this essential heavenly energy derived from the existence of these links. The process of creating a potion involves pouring mana into it but since a potion is merely an object, how could it hold mana within itself? If I can solve this question, I feel like I could solve the question of my own soul and whether I have mana or not."

Ssyba took a deep breath in and closed her eyes, trying her best to glance within and solidify her inner self.

"Mana could be said to be an accumulation of heavenly divine energy that leaks alongside the souls into our world. In a way, souls are conduits for heavenly powers. But if mana is a unique feature to souls, how could it be involved in the creation of objects, like vraja potions? It's as if everything has the capacity to store mana…"

The answer was close, Ssyba knew. She tried her hardest to squeeze every last bit of hints and clues from last night’s work alongside Tisila. What did Tisila do? What was the purpose of mana? Mana was poured directly into the potion, but how could something without a soul hold mana within itself? And if a soul wasn’t always needed for mana to be poured in, does that mean that souls are really only a conduit for mana to be leaked into reality, and not necessarily a prerequisite for the existence of mana? And if souls merely transmitted mana from the heavens into Jord, what prevented or allowed someone's access to mana?

“What could there be anything else but some thing that is used to either keep mana in, or keep mana out?”

Ssyba’s eyes instantly glinted with a spark of understanding for the first time. She heard a loud gong sound and felt its vibration in the area of her chest. It exploded radiating light and energy outwards, then imploded, pulling tightly around an inner infinite core, solidifying into a gate. It all happened inside her soul, and an outsider couldn't see anything.

“The mystical gate,” Ssyba said lightly.

At the same time that she had made this breakthrough, a clean, white energy filled the empty space beyond the now opened gate. It was something soft and woolly, not warm like emotions nor cold like sleep, and it floated freely the same way white clouds do. Her body reacted positively to the revitalizing energy, sending forth a pulsation as her mind expanded greatly to accommodate this new dimension. Her vision went blank and she arched her back, her tail went rigid and her fur stood on end. This burst of new energy only lasted for less than a moment, and she soon went limp and soft.

"White cloud mana quality!" moaned Ssyba in orgasmic realization.

And when she opened her eyes, her jaw nearly dropped from shock, because everything had a mystical gate in it, and her soul's eye could see. From the intangible things like starlight, to the buildings and common objects. Even the sky had a mystical gate, and each of these gates were firmly closed. First off, the mystical gate occupies no physical space but for the soul's eye, it's distinct and easily noticeable. To Ssyba, it felt like the differentiation between warm and cold. Although warmth and cold hold no more space than their source, it is very clear for the senses what is considered warm and what exactly is cold.

Ssyba's bright and joyful expression soon turned dim as her spirit calmed. Her eyes regained the sharp composure of a nanza-cat and the analytical side of herself came to the surface.

She concluded:

"In a way, everything that exists could be said to have the potential to have a soul. The existence of the mystical gate that is found even in intangible things, is a proof of it, but for some reason only humans naturally possess this direct means of opening the gate and manipulating the mana within. That is the power of the soul, it is a way for the inner self to control these energies."

Ssyba rubbed her chin in deep thought and meditation and as she did this, she also found that the mana levels held in the mystical gate also increased by a very slight margin.

"Isn't that interesting? It seems to somehow accumulate by itself."

In fact, as Ssyba was soon to discover, the process of mana accumulation was done through a specific mindset and action, through study and learning and understanding of the universe, or the mysterious Yada as it was called by the great scholars. Thoughtful study and conscious comprehension of the Yada, and the accumulation of knowledge and experience directly influenced the mana gathered within the mystical gate. It required inner reflection and deep pondering. In a way, mana was a reward for profoundly connecting oneself to the living world and the immaterial heaven.

This was the basis of accumulation.

It was past midnight and the winds had finally calmed down to nothing. Suddenly, there was some semblance of commotion on the streets, as gremlins and dwarves and other beasts came out. Without mistake, each of these non-humans had their mystical gates closed and were utterly oblivious to the higher truths of the soul.

Ssyba sighed faintly, then laughed.

"I see now, such deep and profound secrets. It's no wonder humans dominate the whole world. How can beast folk demand justice and dignity when the universe itself makes them blind?"

Ssyba wasn't stupid and with mere guesswork, she could discern the basic inner mechanism of the soul and mana. Beasts have a pretty rough time living and thinking, where humans get educated into the finer and higher arts and metaphysics of the world since childhood.

"I admit, I've had luck with Tisila this time but I can't rely on her much longer if I am to advance. Even now I must present myself completely uninterested in potions and spirituality."

Ssyba hopped down from the rooftop, knowing that she must find other means of research, and for that she had to find her own brother.

***

The moon was shining proudly and white as a dream, taking the mist-light of stars to strengthen its own. Of course, to Ssyba it mattered not whether it was light or darkness. Her nanza-cat eyes made day out of the night, unveiled the deepest, darkest shadows, revealed the most enigmatic corners which would have been utterly invisible for the eyes of men.

Ssyba took a swift, ghostly jog away from Tisila's house. She ran in between two squat houses and jumped high, flipping over kiosks and catching onto windows, until she reached the rooftop area. As she ran towards the river Na-jid, she mulled over and contemplated the sudden turn of her life. It seemed that she did this often, however she couldn’t get over the fact that she now had a soul and possessed mana of her own to accumulate and use. A new, obscure energy sparked through her like an emotion. The fur on her back puffed up as she remembered the night when she met the Unstar in his own utopian realm.

Taking a familiar turn to the right and rolling back on the street level as she neared the river, Ssyba suddenly thought of her past life.

Every day waking up, trying to make a living then going back to sleep only for survival. No purpose, no danger, no way of shaking the world even if the only payment is being mauled by the larger forces policing the status quo.

"Danger," she hissed, smiling ominously.

Danger was a thing valued by all the nanza.

Ssyba licked her teeth. She wanted danger not for its own sake, but it was demanded of her. She was a nanza-cat, if nothing else. Stalking, the hunt itself, killing, the taste of blood was what her feline nature demanded of these beasts. But there was more to it, and it was the fact that the nanza were nothing more than play things when compared to the godly powers that ruled Jord. Such was their reality, and so they sought other means of satisfying their lust. Usually, the simplest nanza relied on thievery and street fighting. The bravest of them infiltrated human society and worked as spies, gatherers of information and assassins. And while humans indeed had their own higher concerns, and while their sensibilities far differed from those of the nanza, anyone could recognize a capable set of claws and a sharp intellect. The powerful and the strong willed occupied themselves with the art of ruling nations and building empires, but the nanza have always played a key, shadowy role in humanity's history. Nanza valued physical prowess and self-reliability and their outlook and ethics were ultimately inhuman, but their lust for danger often thrusted them directly into conflict.

"Without braving the risks, how could there be profit? How could I even get stronger if I can't face what's ahead?"

The nanza legacy was of blood and predation. The paths that the nanza followed were mysterious and deep, encompassing both malevolence and benevolence, and there was no such thing as a purely good or evil nanza when comparing methods.

The morning sun crept over the horizon, bleeding the sky with red and purple. As night turned to day, the river promenade started to fill up with workers and commoners starting their day.

Ssyba sneaked along the river wall, watching the early morning commotion and reminiscing the days when hunger drove her towards the fish stalls, where she hoped to secure a free meal. As a young mouser, Ssyba attended to thick armed men slicing the bellies of various fish, cutting their heads and throwing them back in Na-jid in a single motion. Young Ssyba then diligently searched the bluff for pieces of meat, but the competition was always rough. In the whole of Yasha'Lafiq, there lived a community of maybe a few hundred nanza. Community was too big of a word, thought Ssyba, for the nanza are mostly solitary creatures. Females with kittens live in groups where they aid the elderly females raise the cubs until a certain age, and as adults they rarely meet for reasons other than mating or doing petty business. Dominant males may form small harem-like communities and indeed, there are harems of nanza following a strong male living outside human settlements, but in the large cities, each nanza usually went their own way.

However, day after day, with the return of each fishing ship, many nanza would coincidentally meet in the port and around the wharves for easy meals, which in turn granted them the reputation of strays and cutthroats. Killings between male nanza bloodied the cobblestone streets, hand to hand combat between rivals would topple the tables of honest fishermen, and when the police became involved, the nanza would invariably be caught in the crossfire of angry shop owners and police batons.

Such foolishness.

Ssyba reached a pier bridging the river shore to the otherwise vast and godly Na-jid. There, standing on it and watching the river carefully, a nanza waited. As Ssyba walked over to meet this nanza, she recalled the reason why she chose to find him.

"For me to have discovered the mystical gate is already too good. I can't force my way and risk making Tisila or anyone else suspicious," reinforced Ssyba in her mind.

This is why she needed to find her brother. Ssyba did not have one bit of loyalty towards Tisila and in fact she would have stolen the healing potion if she knew she could get away with it. But for now, she needed to rely on others quite a bit. This meant borrow Tisila's potion-making knowledge, while working side jobs for her brother in exchange for materials or human money. Ssyba did not want to depend on anyone, but to expect cultivating her soul by herself, as a lone poor nanza-cat, that would simply be an act of naivety.

***

Within the nanza culture, there were several paths of prestige and influence. Ssyba's brother had always been the embodiment of a true nanza specialist, and from a young age he started working for various individuals and generals surrounding the Yasha'Lafiq azure court to act as an enforcer, or an assassin. Ssyba's brother, orange and gray as a bloody dusk with eyes as blue as the sky, ascended into the Perfect Vengeful Spirit path, was known in the underworld as Fagan Stabs.

Every morning, for as long as Ssyba could remember, Fagan would come home in hushed tones and tired, or go and meet on this very pier to talk in hushed tones with a colorful variety of individuals. He seemed to be tolerated by the police, where most other nanza would be rounded up and beaten following public disorder. Rich-looking men and women came to him and paid him in real coins and favors. Within the larger nanza community, Fagan achieved a stature that fringed on myth, his importance was peppered with speculation and conspires.

Ssyba maneuvered herself as silently as she could upon the creaking wood of the pier, and approached with civility.

"How did that happen, Zibby?" asked Fagan, turning when she was within five steps, nodding with his chin towards her.

His blackish-gray orange striped mane glistened in the misty light by the river. Ssyba realized that he talked about her head wound, having been barely a day old. She would have to live with the scar for the rest of her life, so it seemed. For some reason, her ruffled state made her feel a bit of shame in Fagan's presence, despite him being her own brother.

"Hello Fagan. It was gremlins," she replied and at the bottom of her voice.

"Of course," said Fagan through his teeth.

He hated the gremlins more than anyone Ssyba knew, aside maybe from mister Izzmahil who had a personal grudge towards them.

Fagan continued:

"I know who has done this to you. That is why you have come to me, nuh?"

Fagan surely knew about the Cultelari roaming the Yasha'Lafiq streets, Ssyba realized. Though he was too alert to ever associate his own person to the gremlins or create needless conflict, she knew that he would create a massacre for his sister if need be.

"It's not really why," said Ssyba and added with a bit of reluctance: "I need some money."

Fagan Stabs finally smirked and the tension seemed to have lifted, although Ssyba didn't like coming to him if it could be helped. Fagan always wanted to keep everyone indebted to him, at all times, even his own family.

His lionesque face was patrician and had the typical characteristics of a dominant alpha male, there were zero scars on his body, implying that he must have been an exceptional killer. He had a longer mane than most, stylishly braided in the latest northern fashion, and the space between his eyes was filled with orange, giving the impression of a permanent sun upon a grey sky. In contrast to his caliber, Ssyba looked vagrant and poor, not that she was ugly, but she indeed lived a simpler life.

"You do not appear to be impoverished."

"I scrape by," Ssyba replied.

"So you're finally down to help your brother's cause?"

Ssyba shifted from one leg to the other and Fagan grinned at her, revealing a full, clean set of sharp fangs.

"That’s what I thought to myself," said Ssyba, already disliking associating herself with Fagan. She knew that his ambitions far surpassed the common and reasonable.

The grin disappeared from Fagan's face almost as fast as it arrived. Fagan Stabs was not much taller than Ssyba or most other nanza, but the way he modulated his poise and carefully shifted the armoring of his impressive animal muscles gave him the appearance of a true predator, a true lord of the hunt, so unconsciously Ssyba lowered her tail and ears.

"Let's walk a little," announced Fagan and Ssyba absentmindedly followed.

Fagan's thoughts have always drifted more towards glory, influence and domination, for his identity to be well above others. As far as Ssyba was concerned, he already reached the peak position in the shimmering nanza hierarchy, though obviously this wasn't enough for him.

"How can I help you Fagan? And if at all possible, I'd like to be paid in…"

"Sure, sure. Mere crumbs of bread from the humans' tables got our proud race itching their fists," started Fagan Stabs with an amiable tone, but he nonetheless interrupted Ssyba. "The problem is intrinsically with the nanza and their hot blooded and somewhat naive nature."

"Agreed," said Ssyba thinking about the nanza-cats. "And?"

"What we as a race strive for is an illusion, all our glories are a funny practice in the eyes of those above us. That's what they do to control us, the nanza, using glory and other empty concepts for motivation and sway. Are you still with me?"

"You mean what humans do," nodded Ssyba thinking about the invented conflicts that humans use to pity the nanza against enemies. It was considered a conspiracy in the more elevated circles of nanza. Fagan continued:

"At the end of the day whatever we do is useless, because we toil and when we're no longer useful, we're cast out like trash."

"Yeah, makes sense, but that's how it is. Some grind with their minds, some with their backs and the nanza with their claws. If it bothers you, why do you still dull yours for human coin?"

Ssyba struck a nerve, it seemed, but Fagan went in to explain as if to an idiotic fool.

"Because that's what the plan is..."

As he talked, Ssyba turned her eyes and glanced at Fagan with a different light now, searching into his inner depths for a hint at divinity. She saw his mystical gate with her soul's eye, and Fagan's gate was as it should be. Closed and desolate, not even a faint wisp of mana about it.

"Still an animal, you are," sneered Ssyba in her heart.

"Sister, do you know what I'm talking about?" asked Fagan.

Ssyba snapped back into her senses.

"Not a clue," she replied. "I just want to get some cash and go back home."

"I'm talking about human domination and it's conditions. I have discovered the true basis for it."

"Enlighten me," said Ssyba, rolling her eyes at Fagan's dramaturgy.

"It's resources! Without the resources to make their potions, humans can not maintain their dominant position, for the world is too brutal and unforgiving. I have worked intensely for many years to get a hold on this information and trust me, without resources, humans are as vulnerable as children in the wilderness, such are the powers outside this cage that we call civilization. That's why our positions are all established and clear, because humans need order to survive, not a chaotic wilderness. They need cogs, every piece of this machinery must know its place. To them, we are also a resource and we are far more expendable than their potions."

"Doesn't that make sense though?" asked Ssyba. "I mean without food resources you die, and so on. Whoever controls the resources invariably has dominion over others. It really doesn't matter."

"You look at things from a too limited prism, thinking with your basic self. Food, water, shelter, those things are ultimately nothing. What humans need to maintain existence is power. We the nanza are a resource of war. We are weapons that are inexhaustible and can be used with precision without the consumption of potions. Potions are too valuable for settling anything less than large scale conflicts, do you understand? Similar to us are the gremlins and the Cultelari, and so on."

"Simple tools," said Ssyba and she found that she agreed with Fagan on the topic, although she did not know the higher truths and struggles of the world.

"Take for example the Cultelari. They are typically employed as bodyguards and enforcers and perimeter watches, but do you know that they also have assassins in their ranks?"

"No," admitted Ssyba.

"I have worked with a few of them. Anyway consider a mere act of assassination. Would you rather spend untold amounts of wealth to brew potions and employ a human assassin, or you'd rather send a couple nanza claws in?"

"The human assassin empowered by his potions would have a higher rate of success," said Ssyba.

Fagan sighed and continued with the manner of a benevolent, if impatient, teacher.

"The assassination itself is not as important as the attempt. It's all about sending a message. Humans loathe killing other humans, they recognize that they are valuable, they'd rather force alliances through threats, blackmail and such rather than outright kill their enemies. In this regard, they aren't like the nanza. We would kill anybody in our path if it meant a slight advantage, regardless of the eventual consequences. But I digress."

"Why are you telling me all of this?" suddenly addressed Ssyba. She could vaguely envision what Fagan meant, but couldn't quite put her finger on it.

"Of course," sighed Fagan. "Zibby, I wish to establish an organization for the nanza…"