The classroom lights buzzed softly. Rows of Humarite cadets in white and silver uniforms sat stiffly, the faint scent of sterile air and metallic ink filling the room.
Their instructor who was Professor Hale, a human with thin spectacles and sharp eyes, stood before a large holo-board.
Across it shimmered diagrams of a Humarite's body: fur on the body and two horns, veins mapped in luminous blue.
"Now," Hale began, tone dry but precise, "the fundamental difference between you and us lies not in bone or blood, but in adaptation."
He turned to the class, gaze passing over the faces of the Y-bloodline , one of the upper echelon of Humarite genetics.
Hale continued, tapping at the board, "Humans evolved for stability and long-term resilience through cooperation. Humarites, however, were engineered for survival under pressure. The hybridization of astral genes within your nervous systems allows a wider range of energy perception and manipulation, something our scientists call Celon Resonance. It's the reason you can feel the flow of the elements around you more clearly and use it."
He pointed toward a digital display that showed the Humarite nervous system pulsing like a nebula.
"Now, dietary restrictions .... Humarites cannot digest processed starches. Your metabolism converts energy differently. You require raw or near-raw nutrients rich in bio-frequency. That's why your nutrition rations consist of mineral gels, crystallized protein, or—"
"—Blood fruits," a girl muttered under her breath.
Hale glanced up sharply. "Yes. Blood fruits. Though not real blood, their cellular composition aligns with your plasma's energy pattern. Without them, your regenerative cells decay rapidly. The average Humarite lifespan is approximately a hundred and thirty years… if properly maintained."
He paced slowly, his voice becoming lower.
"Now, your age span differs by caste. Low-tier Humarites often don't live past sixty due to unstable DNA degradation. But the Y-bloodline?" he gestured to them, "you were built for endurance. Some of your ancestors are still alive in cryostasis. Consider that a privilege."
The class murmured faintly. But Riven… Riven didn't hear a word.
He stared at the glowing diagrams, eyes unfocused, hand twitching under the table.
What's Starling doing right now?
Did they pick on him again?
He could almost see it , Starling standing quietly, wings drooping, his voice small and buried under the laughter of humans.
Riven's fists clenched.
He hated that he couldn't always be there.
The lesson droned on with words about tissue regeneration, heart capacity, flight restrictions, and the celestial glands in their spines that allowed limited anti-gravitational pulses.
But none of it mattered.
None of it felt real.
When the bell rang, the Y-bloodline cadets filed out silently. Outside, the sky was pale with muted clouds rolling over the training compound's domed enclosure.
"Riven," a voice called. One of his classmates jogged beside him, a tall Humarite boy with grey feathers and soft eyes. "You okay? You didn't say a word during lecture."
Riven forced a faint smile. "Yeah. Just tired."
The boy hesitated, then nodded. They all knew why Riven was distant , they had seen what happened the last time the humans mocked Starling. They'd done nothing.
And Riven… never forgot that
The training field buzzed with energy.
Massive steel arcs formed circular rings where cadets practiced controlled bursts of gravitational pulse manipulating weight and pressure within confined spaces.
Human supervisors stood by, clipboards in hand, while scientists from the observation deck recorded data through shimmering lenses.
"Cadet Riven," one of the supervisors barked. "Again!"
Riven exhaled, grounding his stance. His palm hovered, and the air warped faintly as light was bending as if reality itself was twisting inward.
He focused, pulling gravity into a single point. The dirt beneath him compressed, forming a shallow crater before dispersing with a hum.
The scientists nodded in approval, noting data.
"Good. Try maintaining stability at fifty percent field control," the supervisor said flatly.
Riven nodded. He needed this ,he needed to grow stronger.
Stronger, so no one could ever touch Starling again.
But just as he steadied himself for another attempt, the metallic gates hissed open.
A group of humans walked in.
Their steps echoed on the steel platform with their uniforms tailored, their badges gleaming. These weren't supervisors. These were the elite's children.
The field grew silent.
Every Humarite bowed instinctively, heads lowered. The supervisors barked, "Show respect!"
Everyone obeyed...except Riven.
He stood straight, wings flexed, eyes burning.
Amongst one of the humans was a girl with porcelain skin and bright auburn hair, she noticed Riven. Her lips curved into a smirk.
"You," she said softly, pointing at him. "Come with me."
Riven didn't move.
"That's an order, cadet," the supervisor snapped.
With clenched teeth, he followed her past the training field, through the metallic corridor until they reached an empty storage chamber.
She turned slowly, eyes gleaming. "You're Riven, right? Y-bloodline cadet. I've heard… interesting things about you."
He frowned. "What do you want?"
The girl tilted her head, mockingly gentle. "A conversation. Tell me… are the rumors true? That you're in love with that weakling ...Starling was it?"
Riven froze. "What? What are you-"
She stepped closer, amusement flickering in her gaze. "You didn't deny it fast enough."
His chest tightened. "Starling's my friend."
Her laugh echoed like crystal breaking. "Friend? Please. You defend him, fight for him, take punishment for him. You think no one notices? You filthy pathetic thing… you think you're capable of love?"
Riven's pulse spiked. "Don't talk about him like that."
"Oh?" she whispered, leaning in. "Then tell me. Would you die for him? Because you might have to."
Before he could react, her hand struck his face hard , the sound sharp in the empty room.
He stumbled but didn't fall.
She grabbed his chin, forcing him to look at her. "Listen closely. If you ever help that thing again, we'll cut off his wings."
Riven's eyes widened. "You wouldn't dare"
She smiled. "Oh, we would. And more. We'll make sure the next time he looks at himself, he remembers he's beneath us. That his kind was made to serve."
Riven trembled. The air around him pulsed faintly, pressure rising.
But then she leaned closer and whispered, her voice like poison, "And if you think of fighting back .... remember your sister. She's at St. Halwen's, isn't she? Such a delicate girl. It'd be… tragic if she disappeared."
Everything inside Riven shattered.
His fists loosened. His wings fell limp.
"Please…" he whispered, barely audible. "Don't touch her."
The girl straightened, smiling with wicked satisfaction. "Good. Then here's our deal. You stay away from Starling. You let him suffer. You say nothing. You obey. And maybe… we'll let them both live."
Riven's jaw tightened. Tears welled, unbidden.
He wanted to scream. To break everything.
But he couldn't.
Slowly… painfully… he nodded.
The girl extended her hand, polished nails glinting. "Shake, Riven. Make it official."
For a long, silent moment, he stared at her hand and all the chains invisible around it.
Then, with a trembling breath, he took it.
Her grip was ice.
"Good boy," she whispered. "You've just saved two lives."
When she left, the door shut with a hollow echo.
Riven fell to his knees. His pulse null flickered weakly in the air uncontrolled and unstable before vanishing.
He pressed his fists to the floor.
"Forgive me… Starling."
Outside, the clouds gathered over the dome all heavy and gray.
For the first time, Riven didn't feel the pull of gravity.
Only its weight.