Static crackled across her skin, clinging to her clothing, every individual hair standing on end. She heard a faint buzz, reminding her of a beetle taking flight, and that buzz remained long after she blinked and gasped, the warm, somewhat humid air replaced by even hotter and dry air.

She stumbled and fell onto coarse sand. Some sand got into her mouth, which she spat out before gagging, the iron aftertaste still lingering on her taste buds. She rose onto shaky legs and managed to stay up for a couple seconds until her weary legs gave out and she collapsed.

Despite her sunken position, she realized she sat atop a gentle mound of loose, sandy soil interspersed with the occasional weed. Farther out, the shock of color sent her reeling. A wide prairie spanned horizon to horizon, broken up in the far right by badlands, their muted browns, reds, and tans a welcome relief from the brightness of the prairies. To the far left, two suns were barely visible, obscured by a hazy cloud of reddish particles.

It was then that she realized that apart from her heavy breathing and gentle winds tussling the tall, straw-like plants, she was completely alone. The lack of Rhodes’s familiar, comforting presence chilled her despite the balmy temperature. Her chest compressed until sheer panic shot into her body.

“Rhodes!” she yelled, scanning her new environment with wild eyes. Renewed energy powered her limbs, allowing her to shoot to her feet. She broke into a sprint and ran a wide circle, but couldn’t find him. “Rhodes!”

Her eyes began to tear up. She couldn’t see, couldn’t see, couldn’t see–her foot caught on a dip in the ground. She was sent sprawling on her front, bruising her elbows when she landed, but the pain didn’t bother her. She was back on her feet again and scoured the land for traces of him, but her only friend in this forsaken world was gone.

“Rhodes!”

The tears burned hotter than even the hottest fire. Did she let go of him? Was he gone because of her?

She gasped and clamped a hand over her mouth, but it did nothing to stifle the sobs. She curled up into a shivering ball, running through her last memory. She had been holding him. She knew she did.

So why was he gone?

Despite her despair, she strained to hear something other than her muffled sobbing and the wind. Nothing. The mute environment drove a stake through her heart. She strained to hear her name, unspoken in the vast open fields. Perhaps whispered by the wind, but lost among the plants’s rustling.

The dual suns rose, bathing the prairie in golden light and making the badlands gleam. She wasn’t sure how much time passed. It didn’t matter. His absence hurt more than the glare in her eyes, as well as her new reality. She knew exactly what world this was, because she had seen a picture of this same stretch of land in her mother’s journals, illegal documentation of every world she had ever visited.

The Mestessines.

It hadn’t been long since Transia stormed through the mainly–savannah planet, some twenty-something years. This area was pristine, but her memories showed pictures in the journals displaying planetary scars, places gouged out where cities used to exist.

Endless trails of enslaved Mestessinians, those who were opponents to everything Transia, led somewhere unknown. Another picture, of the killing fields, a darker shade than the rest. Even without colored pictures, she knew what the fields were dark with.

And now, she returned in place of her mother, to a world that bristled with beings who hated everything her species stood for. To a world that bristled with beings who crushed dissidents beneath their overwhelming military. The dizzy realization made her head spin, a headache growing at her temples.

She rubbed her temples with two fingers on each side, just the way her mother taught her. Temporary relief made her sigh. Rhodes was gone, but Callista had to remain strong. For him. For her family, who she hoped were someplace better.

She carried a backpack with enough food and water to last her a week. She had no idea of her location relative to the nearest traces of civilization. Not that she wanted to come in contact with the Mestessinians.

Still. Without protection from the elements and a guaranteed source of food and water, she was going to die. Simple as that. Wherever Rhodes was, she wished he was in a better position than her. She burned with desire to reunite with him, but however the node worked, she knew it tore him apart from her.

They wouldn’t have been separated had the second patrol not interfered. Cerabin was so close, and it was ripped away. By them.

Always them.

“Fuck you, Marpei!” she screamed. It felt good to finally be able to speak her mind. Too many years of repression made her fearful of her words falling on the wrong ears. “Fuck you! You took everything from me! You and your entire Empire!” Her face burned. “Fuck you and the Fall! Fuck you and Protocol! Fuck you and your propaganda!”

Callista was too tired to summon anything beyond a wisp of flame, but she pictured the fields set ablaze, a tiny fraction of her hatred incarnate. She pictured Transia ablaze, every last city left a smoking ruin like what had happened to the Mestessines’s, Enuschia itself wiped off the face of that horrid planet, with horrid people and horrid life that shouldn’t have spread.

Her breathing was heavy. She unclenched her hands and retracted her claws. She wasn’t able to do anything, not amidst the wild grasses. She had to get moving, but where?

The badlands were out of the question. The rest of the land was a sea of gold. In all directions from her small mound, the grasses grew thick and bunched together, although they thinned out at their tops, waving gently.

Towards the badlands, the grasses grew sparser until they disappeared altogether.

To plow through unfathomable swathes of wild grasses, towards nowhere in particular, or head towards the badlands, so recognizable among a monotonous golden ocean? She didn’t want to go to the badlands. Their imposing sight struck some primal fear buried deep inside her.

Of untold dangers hiding within. Any number of traps could lie in wait, springing to life the moment she set foot inside. Then again, she’d be able to see any incoming threats from far off, and have her gift of fire to aid her.

Callista had no choice. She dragged a hand down her face, peeking at the badlands between her fingers. “Rhodes…” she muttered, blinking away the moisture building in her eyes. Reluctantly, she dragged her feet in the direction of the badlands. “I miss you. This place is bad.” A meek flame sputtered out when she aimed her palm at the first plants. She shook her head. “Fuck that.”

She shut her eyes and concentrated on her body. Tugged at the heat radiating from the ground, absorbed by the surrounding plants, drawing it through her body. Knife-like pain flared down her shoulder, down her back and ending at her hip.

Gasping, she fell onto her knees, the energy cut off from the ground. “Fuck!” She slammed her fist down. The trapped energy surged into her arm and sputtered out as meek flames, extinguishing before touching the base of the first plants. Her forearm throbbed, her back burned, and her stomach was turning, nausea threatening to overwhelm her.

She almost got gridshocked. What was I thinking?

Gritting her teeth, she dug her hands into the soil and pushed herself up. Her right arm pulsed, but she pushed through the pain and managed to stand, swaying as her vision swam. Her backpack’s straps dug into her shoulders. Right.

She set it down and dug out a flask from the front pocket. Cool water trickled down her throat, the flask tipped at a slight angle so she could savor the water. She took short sips, channeling her body’s heat into the water, warming it.

Gradually, the nausea faded, her back’s burning pain fading into a dull ache. Her forearm still throbbed, a reminder that she got lucky nothing worse happened than some bruising. She knew what happened to people who got gridshocked. That was the very first lesson her parents taught her when she first ascended.

She pulled out a loaf of bread and a block of cheese. She bit into the bread. Her teeth sank into it easily and she tore out a hunk, softening it with some water. She pinched off a piece of cheese and ate that next, contemplating whether to mix it with the bread.

“Me doing that? They taste better separately,” she said to herself. Rhodes would disagree, but she appreciated their tastes alone. She ate a quarter of the cheese and half the loaf before wrapping them up again and placing them back carefully.

With some food in her body to provide the energy she burned, she zipped everything closed and slung it over her back once more. The fields were daunting, but the grasses themselves looked weak. That was all that mattered.

Using her good arm, she protracted her claws, then slashed at the first few grasses. Their stalks were severed and they fell limp onto the ground. She hadn’t felt any resistance against her claws, so she slashed again, severing grasses. They piled up on the ground, and still no other part of her hand hurt, although her back muscles were beginning to grow sore, contributing to the random aches.

The badlands themselves felt like a world away. Without her boots, walking barefoot would be a pain, but she had trained barefoot in the basement. This was all part of what she had planned for. With her second pair of eyelids coming down to mute the blinding light washing over the fields, she got to work.

***

“Your claws?” Cora asks, inspecting her own fingernails.

“Every one of us has them. Want to see?” Callista doesn’t wait for Cora’s response. She protracts her claws, splaying out her fingers for the latter to see. “They’re sharp, I can say that. If you’re wondering, unfortunately I couldn’t channel my fire through them. They’re not technically alive, much like your nails.”

Liam scratches the back of his head. “Why are you speaking about your fire in the past tense?”

Callista raises her eyes to meet his. “I… I’m getting to it.”

Cora places a hand on Callista’s shoulders. “Remember. You don’t have to tell us–”

“I will, and that’s final.” Callista retracts her claws and pinches the bridge of her nose. “Now where was I? The last few days are all a blur and it’s hard picking out the details.”

Cora suspects she doesn’t want to. Whatever happened, Callista had obviously suffered. That much Cora can see, yet she’s morbidly curious. She wants to know more about who Marpei is. More about these people called the Transients that Callista clearly hates. More about the literal magic that she treats like a second-hand novelty.

It’s fascinating. It’s so much more than what existed back home. For the first time, the constant ache in her heart dulls. Just this once, so she can tune into every word Callista says.

Thankfully, Liam answers. “You left off at the badlands.”

At this, Callista’s face sours. There is a wince afterwards, and her eyes look down. “Right. Next thing I knew, I found out what happened to him.”

***

Twenty years was a long time. Within the badlands Callista presumed were empty the moment she broke out of the fields, nestled within all the faults and valleys and eroded hollows, was a city.

It unfolded like a delicate flower, starting at the petals and working its way inwards. At what must’ve been one of the edges–a petal–at least, the sheer amount of buildings scaled against the sheer vertical slopes, the cubic spaces carved out of the rock, the beaten, well-worn path lined with thorny bushes, tiny pink flowers dotting the tips of skeletal branches, the astounding variety left her silent.

Tiny figures worked their way up and down the cliffs. How they were doing it was beyond her guessing. Glimmering metal bridges connected one side of the valley to the other, sloping gently at the center where gravity still ruled despite Transia’s best efforts. At the highest parts of the badlands, where rock had eroded away, leaving jagged peaks, scaffolding clung precariously, the workers little more than tiny ants.

Callista pressed herself to a stone wall, the ancient rocks digging into her back, the sight still fresh on her mind. That wasn’t supposed to happen. Not so soon. She expected to have several days to recover her strength, and then set out to find a city. Not like she had, though.

The picture in the journal hadn’t shown any city. At least, not one so obvious as the one before her. The metal parts were new. Recently made, because the scaffolding alone told her a lot about this city’s history.

Some of the buildings and cubic spaces must’ve belonged to the old inhabitants. The bridges, bushes, decorated path, the scaffolding–that reeked of Transient influence. The city must’ve been crawling with Transients and Mestessinians.

Her palms grew clammy. Fuck. She could still run. She would. She had no choice.

She turned both ways, relieved at seeing nobody lingering outside of the outer edges. She looked at the slashed trail through the field. A short sprint, and then she could disappear into the grasses should somebody be in pursuit.

Her muscles tensed. She took a deep breath, then exhaled. One shot. She broke into a sprint.

Immediately, somebody’s heavy weight dropped on her shoulders. She sprawled forward, crashing onto both of her elbows, sharp pain driving itself up her injured forearm. She kicked blindly, connecting with soft flesh, drawing a pained gasp by her attacker.

She flipped onto her back, kicking at her attacker’s masked head. They dodged, grabbing her leg and yanking her forward before a gloved hand clamped onto her throat. She thrashed, raking her claws down their arm. They hissed, letting go, allowing her to sit up and headbutt them.

They collapsed, unresponsive. Callista got onto her feet and ran, glancing back. Three more figures were chasing after her, emerging from the main path. She had no time to scream as the middle figure extended a hand. An invisible force wrapped around her torso, freezing her in place. She thrashed once more against her bindings, desperately calling upon the land for heat, power, energy, anything.

The rightmost figure tended their fallen soldier, while the leftmost’s hand crackled with electricity. Callista went wide-eyed, pulling the threads of energy out of the ground, bracing herself as every part of her body strained to its limits, the tension threatening to pull her apart.

“Stop,” the middle figure called. She made a fist and slammed her foot onto the ground. Fire rushed from her foot, engulfing the middle soldier in flames. His concentration broke and her invisible bindings vanished. But the fire ate into her body again and she couldn’t move.

“No,” she whispered, trying and failing to move her legs. Only her arms cooperated, catching her as she dropped, dragging her away from the approaching leftmost soldier. “Please.”

“I don’t understand how you arrived here,” the Transient said, voice higher in pitch than the middle soldier’s. A woman. “But your arrival cannot be a coincidence. By Marpei’s light, you are found guilty of treason, much like your companion. As such, you will not receive a trial. Gifts like yours cannot be left in the population unchecked. It is an established principle of Protocol.”

Rhodes. “What did you do to him?”

Behind the mask, Callista could feel the Transient smiling. “That is none of your concern.” Callista only blinked before the woman’s electrical fist connected with her temple and the light went out.

***

Cora expects the story to continue, but Callista falls silent after that. She threads her hands together and stares down, her breathing shallow. There’s no hint of liveliness left on her face. Her face is left devoid of emotion, a blank expression like the robots Cora saw often on YouTube, doing some human thing or another while still being ultimately detached.

“Callista…” she says, trailing off because she doesn’t have anything else to add.

Liam seems to, though. His arms rest on his knees. “I can’t imagine living through all of that. Your strength is admirable.”

“All I wanted was for him and I to live,” Callista says softly, separating her hands and squeezing her knees. “All I wanted was for us to live a normal life. There’s nothing strong about what I did.”

“But you fought back. If that isn’t strength, then what is?” Cora insists.

Callista sighs. “You’re right. But I will never forgive myself for what I did next.”

***

Consciousness came in flickers. Glimpses of light told her she was shackled in some kind of cell, wet and cold where her bare feet and hands made contact. A startingly bright yellow jumpsuit covered the rest of her, the fabric stained dark with grease and blood.

She opened her eyes. Her new reality wasn’t a dream. Chains were bound to her wrists and ankles, biting into her skin. She lurched forward before the chains pulled taut, her momentum and gravity throwing her face-down.

Her elbows bruised when they caught the weight of her fall. A guttural cry sounded out, echoing off whatever walls made up the prison. Nobody came to her aid. She swallowed the burbling fear, stomach churning, eyes frantically scanning the area outside her cell, through the thick bars.

There was a slumped figure at the opposite end. Through the dim light, between the bars, their head lolled down, exposed just enough for her to realize that it was Rhodes.

“Rho–” She clapped a hand over her mouth. She knew nothing about the prison. Nothing about what happened if she yelled, or if Rhodes was asleep, or how long she had been out and why her head didn’t hurt.

As a reflex, she tugged at the heat around her, only to feel an invisible wall.

“What?” she whispered, pressing her palm to the cold floor. It had to be because the entire prison was cold, because she was exhausted, because she was in some unfamiliar place that terrified her.

Yet there was no faint stirring from the ground. No tingling of her palm. The connection was dead, and Callista knew she fell into Transient hands, but she refused to believe.

“Come on, come on,” she muttered, splaying her fingers. Her claws protruded, grazing the stone floor, even though her claws couldn’t help. Either way, the sensation grounded her. She clenched every muscle in her body in a vain attempt to extract even a single tendril of energy.

Nothing. Nothing, nothing, nothing.

She gritted her teeth. “No!” she screamed, yanking against her bindings. “No!” The metal bit into her skin. The skin split apart, drawing a hiss through her clenched teeth. “No…” She fell back, the chains going limp. She kneeled, bowing her head, hands on her thighs.

At least one more time… but her gift of fire was gone. Extracted, for some Transient officer to receive.

Footsteps echoed towards her. Her head raised, hands forming fists. But what could she do in her state? Her heart surged into her throat when a shadow was cast before her, followed by a tall, lean guard, sea green scales glittering faintly against the dark tones of his uniform. His deep brown eyes crinkled in mocking pity.

“Why, you’re a far way from home, little one,” he said. Every word rang with barely-concealed amusement. “What brought you so far away? Was it your fellow behind me?” She stared defiantly at him, every inch of herself horribly vulnerable. “Ah, the silent treatment. Why, you were stirring up some noise earlier.”

Callista trembled as he cocked his head, eyes narrowing. “Endralova is a distant place. One of my friends was sent to an outpost there. Mind you, she says it’s a beautiful world, and I have no reason to doubt her. You yourself are something of a beauty.”

Her blood froze. “Go. Away.”

“Ah, so you speak. I didn’t walk up two flights of stairs for nothing, little one.” He pulled out a ring, keys attached and dangling. The cell door creaked open, too loud for her. She pressed herself against the wall, as far from the monster as she could.

He laughed. “It’s amusing watching you. Keep struggling. I enjoy it.” When he stepped within striking distance, she kicked. He caught her leg with both hands. “You’ve forgotten your place, haven’t you?” His hands grew warmer. Fast. The heat ate into her skin. She screamed, yanking her leg away in one powerful jerk.

The yellow fabric had burned away, and the surface of her skin was a raw pink, the edges of her wound curled up. “Afraid of your own fire, now, are you?” A jagged grin split his face. Callista turned her head away, refusing to let him see her tears. “Nobody will care what happens to you. You are mine. Do you understand? If you don’t comply with what I tell you…”

“Please. Stop.”

“That is your first strike.” He pushed her down. His knee pressed onto her chest, hands wrapping around her throat. His fingertips grew dangerously warm. She grabbed onto his muscular forearms, raking her claws down his scales. They did little to penetrate through his natural armor, stronger than the other Transient she’d raked.

The pressure intensified. The scales on his hands bit into her skin. His fingertips grew hot, burning tiny holes into her throat. “Comply, and this process will go smoothly. Do you hear me?” She choked out a response, barely more than a wet gurgle. “Answer me properly.”

All she could focus on was breathing, air in, air out, that was the way everything worked, but with no air, no life, she couldn’t think, the pain cut through her body, every muscle seared with the effort to throw him off, anything, anything, he had to be stopped, but nobody would come, Rhodes couldn’t help her, there were no heroes, no real ones since Kena, Callista needed to breathe, just once, but the air was running out and so were her thoughts and vision and hearing and all she heard was that horrible laughter as he kept choking her and it wasn’t fair this isn’t fair life isn’t fair deal with it do something anything–

A new channel opened. A brief opportunity, and she seized it. The surge of energy coursed through her arm. In a fraction of an instant, her knuckles connected with bony flesh. The soldier collapsed, grasping at his throat, wet gurgling sounds coming out of his gaping mouth.

His throat was crushed, indented where her knuckles had driven into his skin. She blinked away the tears and slammed a fist down into his head. Again, and again, and again, until his skull caved in. She stopped short of splitting his head open, instead grabbing his keys and releasing her chains.

They clanged on the floor, next to the pile of blood that began leaking out of his nose and parted mouth. She shoved herself up, kicking the soldier’s body aside, walking to the door and stopping just shy of it, scanning Rhodes’s cell.

His face was bruised, arm dangling at an unnatural angle. She reached towards him, then forced herself back, every bit of her screaming for her to save him. Not in her current state. She had the gift of strength from her father, at least. One final piece of him, but her mother was torn away as payment.

Her breathing was erratic and she was shaking, teeth chattering. One hand went to her throat, feeling over the slight burn marks hardened on her skin. Her other went to her leg, pressing over the flesh. It ached to the touch, but didn’t get much worse than that.

Her eyes landed on the soldier’s uniform. She hated herself, hated herself, hated herself. There wasn’t much time before another soldier walked in on her. Her hands began to work automatically to strip him of his clothing.

“I’ll come back for you,” she whispered, feeling the world fall beneath her feet.

***

Callista holds her head in her hands. Her eyes are squeezed shut, and she is rocking back and forth, every movement bringing a shudder through her body.

Cora wipes away her own tears. Without hesitation, she kneels next to Callista, draping an arm over her shoulder like Cora had so she felt safe. Callista leans into the touch. Cora hugs her fully, resting her head on Callista’s shoulder, closing her eyes.

“I’m sorry that happened to you,” Cora says, swallowing the knot in her throat. “I’m sorry…”

“You did nothing at all,” Callista whispers, burying her head into her knees, arms wrapped around her legs. “I-I shouldn’t have remembered. Now i-it hurts all over again.”

“I never realized how bad it is out there,” Liam says. Cora raises her head and looks at him. “I want you to know that with us, we will never hurt you. I had my doubts about you, and now I know better. I’m sorry to hear about what you went through.”

Callista sniffles. A wet trail down her cheek glistens.

“We’ll figure something out,” Cora says, doubting her own words. What seems an exciting possibility becomes… harrowing. Terrifying. Suddenly the unknown twists from exciting change to a dreadful inevitability. She wonders if this world, too, has Transients.

The moment Callista woke up that second time, Cora found herself trusting her. Maybe it is rash and idiotic of Cora to do so, but she believes every word Callista says.

“I don’t know how anything works anymore,” Callista says, quiet now. Her face remains hidden from view, but her shaking subsides, her sniffling gone. “After I escaped, I ran. People mistook me for a Transient, so they maintained their distance. In a hidden fold in the rocks out on the outskirts, where there were a few huts and nothing more, I found where Rhodes had come from.”

Her arms fall back to her sides. Her legs push out, exposing her pained expression. “A node. Perhaps the same node. Or a different one. I went through it without thinking twice and I landed here. But the node didn’t disappear when I came through it a second time. I know where it is.”

What? Cora’s eyes widened.

“Several bounty hunters were sent after me. They traveled through that same node. I wasn’t more than a few minutes ahead. Everywhere I turned, they appeared, and there’s only so much my untrained gift can help me.

“On the first night, they almost caught me. One of them had the gift of light and tried to blind me. The next day, the second with the gift of fire burned through forest to reach me. The day after that, the third with the gift of beasts dragged an enormous frog out of the river. I ran as far as I could until I ended up here, on the fourth day.

“There are hunters out there looking for me. They won’t give up until they find me, and I put you two in danger because you took me in.” Callista’s jaw sets. Her eyes shine ferociously, even as her body betrays her fear. “I will always be in your debt for saving me. I was going to die without water.”

She rubs her throat. It’s then that Cora notices the faint markings, oval-shaped and spread evenly over her throat.

“I need your help.”