In the heart of Dande's tower, Kaelen sat on her heels, breathing heavily. Bright streaks of criole arched from her small frame; these days, everyone seemed to be growing into giants.
Her mind replayed the fight between Myles and Sebbeh.
She had taught him to channel criole more efficiently. Somehow, he had turned the lesson into something new. Maybe the boy didn't notice it himself, but his criole moved in and out of his body like oxygen.
You would think that would be the standard.
Yet everyone found their own way.
The power came from within, yet it was still energy that shaped the world around them. Myles seemed to draw power from without, using breath as a template to circulate criole through his body. Kaelen imagined most Earth-born would find it easy.
She struggled.
Unlike Myles, her body required no gas or food; criole was sustenance. Breathing was a conscious effort now. It would become a staple.
"Don't be so hard on yourself," the voice murmured. "That boy is not what you think he is. I don't know why he hides behind that veil. Enough about him, your—"
Kaelen's eyebrow arched.
"Our body still can't contain the full extent of our power. This might be the push we need."
The voice fell silent, leaving only the sound of her breathing and heartbeat.
As criole moved through her muscles, the streaks thickened, then—
BOOM
An explosion of energy surged from her dainty frame, hurling air and reinforced concrete outward.
Kaelen's emerald eyes opened, now flecked with yellow. Her gaze fell slowly over her body. She felt the criole move through her vessel.
Epiphany: "My body is criole."
The muscles in her arm bulged, sending a gust of wind blasting outward. She stood, still staring in awe at her arm. It felt solid, powerful. She was more powerful.
A small smile touched her lips.
"Ok, you've had your fun. Time for mine."
Her hand returned to normal. She headed out of the strange, armoured room.
----------
Hamana sits with one of her children, the girl's head resting on her mother's lap, root-like hair spilling over her gentle, deep-blue face. Tano, the eldest of two pairs, was smiling in her sleep. Hamana stroked her hair gently, a thoughtful look on her face. Where had she gone wrong with those two? Ubum and Guman were filled with such hate—born from what? They had never lacked anything; they hadn't even met humans, so why?
Suddenly, she turned to face the elevator leading to the living area, and in walked Kaelen. "Tired already?" she asked with a smile, the kind a mother gives a child to comfort them.
"Yes, are you still willing to teach me?" she asked, defeatedly.
After her breakthrough with criole, Kaelen had sought knowledge in the technology used in Cradle. As usual, she had hoped to gain insight by taking things apart, and she did, but alas, she was out of her depth here. The people of Cradle seemed to have a completely different concept of criole—expected, but not to this extent. If she had time, or perhaps Thia's help, it would have been nothing but cake. She wasn't prideful enough to refuse Hamana's help; it just came with a condition that made her uncomfortable.
"Of course..." she answered immediately, softly, not wanting to wake her daughter. She didn't get many opportunities like this with her. Her eyes fell on the sleeping beauty. "We start tomorrow."
Kaelen turned away, not wanting to linger. She still needed to meditate with her new, growing power. After her breakthrough, her power had only been growing further, albeit at a terrifying rate—almost as terrifying as Myles'. It made her wonder if Myles' terrifying growth was not unique to him.
"Four months, huh? Stubborn, not a bad thing if I am being honest," Hamana called after her.
In the elevator, Kaelen spoke to her alter ego. "You know you halved those four months, right?"
"Hm? I may not be as academically inclined as you are, but I doubt it would have changed much," the voice replied.
Kaelen huffed, leaning on the elevator wall. "Still bugs me though."
"Well, at least we are moving forward somewhere. I reckon it could even help Thia, maybe."
Kaelen's mood immediately improved. "Something to look forward to. If she owes me more, I can make her assist on more projects. I can't wait!"
Alter Kaelen sighs.
In her assigned room, she sits in a crater formed from her meditations, her mind drifts to her past, and a tear falls down her left eye.
"Hey, you don't..."
"Shh, I am trying to concentrate." Kaelen cuts her off.
Days bled into weeks as Kaelen spent her time in the workshop alongside Hamana, building something entirely new.
Hamana had chosen to teach practically. She recognised Kaelen not as a student, but as a fellow academic and engineer, and respected her enough to let her learn through her hands rather than lectures. For Kaelen, who had spent months frustrated by Cradle's foreign technology, the approach was a welcome relief.
After a full month of tireless work, their creation finally stood complete before them — a towering, cylindrical chamber of sleek metal and reinforced glass.
And with its completion, the time had come for Kaelen to fulfil her end of the bargain.
Hamana had asked about her other piece.
Her other half.
It was a sore subject, one Kaelen guarded fiercely. Hamana had learned that very quickly. Rather than pry with questions Kaelen refused to answer, she had designed their project to be the solution: a memory tube.
Like water, Criole carried memory as it flowed.
Unfortunately, those memories could never be stored in anything other than their point of origin. That fundamental rule was precisely what made Hamana so curious about Kaelen. Hamana was one of the very few who knew about the existence of cores — and, it went without saying, she was already acutely aware of Myles'.
The device had been built for a singular purpose: to tap into the memories of both sides of the coin that made up Kaelen.
Hamana hoped it would grant her insight into how a single vessel could house two distinct cores as one cohesive unit. More importantly, she wanted to understand how the memories of the other remained entirely independent.
She had a lingering suspicion that there was far more to the phenomenon than just the shape of Kaelen's soul.
"Step into the device and close your eyes," Hamana instructed gently.
Kaelen hesitated for only a fraction of a second before doing as she was told, stepping into the open cylinder and letting her eyelids fall shut.
Hamana summoned a holographic screen from thin air. With a single tap of her finger, the heavy glass door slid shut and sealed with a soft hiss.
Slowly, a strange, translucent liquid began to rise from the floor of the chamber. It crept over Kaelen's boots, her waist, and finally her shoulders — warm, weightless, and surprisingly pleasant against her skin.
From both the ceiling and the base of the tube, slender, glowing tendrils unfurled.
They drifted through the liquid like living things, wrapping delicately around Kaelen's temples, wrists, and ankles. As they secured her in place, their soft luminescence began to rhythmically brighten and dim, syncing perfectly with the steady thrum of her pulse.
Within moments, Kaelen's head tipped slightly forward, her consciousness slipping away into the current.
Hamana stepped closer and placed a palm flat against the cool surface of the glass, gazing up at the suspended, unconscious girl with a deeply thoughtful expression.
After a quiet beat, she turned to a nearby chair, settling into it and making herself comfortable before fitting a sleek piece of headgear — tethered directly to the chamber — over her brow.
As she closed her eyes to begin the dive, the workshop doors slid open.
Hamana's servants filed silently into the room, taking their positions at the surrounding consoles to monitor the vitals of both parties — and to comb the incoming stream for any 'valuable' data worth recording.
----------
Hamana woke.
Her vision swam. Her ears rang. A tangle of golden curls clung to her cheeks and sprang across her brow in every direction.
Wait. Golden curls?
She did not have golden curls.
What is happening here?
A sound escaped her mouth — a groan, thin and high. A child's voice. Her hands moved without her permission, small fists rubbing at her eyes and pushing the unruly ringlets aside. When her vision finally sharpened, it settled on a woman crouched above her: strikingly beautiful, with hair the colour of fresh crimson spilling over one shoulder, and a face set in hard reproach.
"What did I say about following me?" The woman leaned in until their noses nearly touched.
A short, shrill shriek burst from Hamana's mouth. "I will never leave your side, and you will never leave mine! We promised Uncle!"
Unbidden, Hamana's mind slid to an image that was not hers — a pale, hollow-cheeked man, fading in a dim room. Even at that age, death had been a distant and rare thing. Something that happened to other kinds.
And in that moment, Hamana understood.
She was living as Kaelen. Or, more accurately, reliving her. Judging by the weight of the chest beneath the borrowed body, Kaelen had already been an adult by any outward measure — yet, by the reckoning of her own kind, still little more than an infant.
"Kae, ughh…" The woman's exasperated voice dragged Hamana back into the moment. "Let's just go."
She turned away, and only then did Hamana notice the severed head dangling from her grip — some creature with too many teeth. The woman flung it aside without ceremony. Its body lay a few paces off, already cooling in the dirt.
After a while, the pair arrived at a cave.
The crimson-haired woman was, it turned out, remarkably good with her hands. What had once been a jagged, dripping hollow in the rock had been shaped into something genuinely beautiful — smooth walls, a raised sleeping ledge, a shallow basin where water pooled clear and still.
To be fair, she had used Criole for most of it.
"So," the towering redhead began, settling cross-legged across from the much smaller girl, whose golden curls still bore the dust of the road. "How did you get past Mother's gaze? And her guards?"
"Please. Those guards were no match for me." Kaelen lifted her chin, a stray ringlet bouncing against her cheek. "I may not be as strong as you, or as proficient with Criole as Aeterna—"
The redhead smiled, cutting her off. "You know, I'm not sure when you'll meet them, but we have siblings far stronger than Aeterna and I. Believe it or not."
"Just how many of our siblings are out there?"
"How would I know?" She shrugged. "You know how Mother is. Besides, I don't think it matters. We'll meet them all eventually."
Silence settled between them for a moment, warm and easy. Firelight — or something like it — flickered against the sculpted stone.
"Cerise?" Kaelen asked quietly. "What does loving someone mean to you?"
Cerise chuckled. "Did you fall in love with one of Mother's servants?"
Heat rushed to Kaelen's cheeks. "No! It's nothing like that."
"Sacrifice," Cerise said suddenly.
The word landed without warning, and her eyes — fixed on her precious little sister — held nothing but love.
"What?"
"Did you not just ask me a question?" Cerise's smile was gentle for one long moment.
Then it dropped, unceremoniously, into a stern scowl.
"Go to bed. We move at first light." She turned towards the cave mouth, where the dark pressed in. "Your weakness will not be forgiven on this planet."