Of Souls And Sacrifice Pt 01

Alright, new story! This one came to me suddenly, and I just had to get it out of my system.

I struggled with the pacing pretty bad - I couldn't tell if I was rushing through or dragging on for too long. Somehow, I feel like I managed to do both.

Still, it gets good at the end, so read all the way! The build up is worth it... I think.

Gwen took a deep breath of the musky midnight air, her feet pounding a steady rhythm as she marched across the grimy terrain. It was dark, as it always was on Balvorra, but she kept her eyes on the horizon, checking for any signs of movement.

A whimpered cry from behind her called her attention back. She hesitated, eyeing the group. She was already falling behind the other refugees. Another cry made up her mind, and she turned around.

The young girl was still moving, but her bloodied feet made it difficult, not to mention painful. Gwen walked back to her and offered her hand. "Along, Christine. Along."

The girl managed a weak smile at the oft repeated encouragement and took her hand. Gwen would've carried her, but then she might not have the energy to keep walking.

"Thank you, Gwen," Christine whispered. She limped along, favoring her left foot as the older woman took most of the pressure off of her right side.

Gwen's arms ached from the pack she was wearing, and the added burden only made her body groan more. Still, she attempted to pull Christine along a little quicker to keep up with the group. The Balvorran landscape was unforgiving at the best of times, much less to the weak.

They made some headway as Gwen kept scanning the horizon. The twisted black trees were still, but their strange shapes made for illusions of movement and potential enemies.

It didn't take long before she was panting, sweat plastering her long hair to her forehead. Yet they were no closer to the main group than they were a few minutes ago. The panicked refugees, even in their tired state, were faster than the wounded.

Biting her cheek, Gwen weighed her options. With a sigh, she stopped and knelt down next to the young girl. "I'm going to carry you on my back. Okay?"

Christine gave a small smile. "Okay!"

Gwen turned around and reached back with her arms. "Climb on."

She waited. A few seconds later, she frowned. "Christine?"

She looked over her shoulder to see Christine's face in shock. "Christine, what's-"

That's when she saw the long spike sticking through her chest. Gwen's eyes widened in alarm. "What-"

A horn blared in the distance behind them. Another spike flew past, burying itself deep in the dirt mere feet from where Gwen knelt.

Christine slumped to the ground, her mouth silently forming words. Blood quickly began to spread through her worn dress as she collapsed.

Every instinct in the older woman told her to flee, to run, but something pulled her to the girl. She quickly clambered over to her, cradling Christine in her arms.

Victorious whoops came up from just behind the hill as Gwen stroked her young friend's hair. They could smell the blood. They knew they had hit a target.

Christine's eyes fluttered as she struggled to formulate a word.

"Run. Run... Gwen."

With a last tremble, her body relaxed for the last time.

Puller herself away, Gwen knew that she couldn't bring the body. The shock had begun to wear off, and the panic began to set in.

She stumbled as she started running, adrenaline pushing her aching body to catch up with the others, who had also descended into a silent sprint. She spared a glance back to see the dark forms overtake the still warm body, while others continued their pursuit.

It was a mistake. Her foot caught on the undergrowth, and Gwen tripped, rolling into the dirt.

Blood filled her mouth as she scrambled to her feet, the snarls of glee rapidly closing in behind her.

Then an outstretched claw caught hold of her foot. She screamed, losing her footing for the second time. It began to drag her backward as she desperately reached for her pack, the snarls surrounding her...

****************************

Gwen shot up straight in her bed, eyes wide with fear. A quick glance at her room quickly reminded her of where she was, and she forced herself to relax.

But it was too late.

"Another nightmare, Gwen? That's your third this week." The disembodied voice spoke with mild concern.

She took a deep breath and pulled her hair from her face, swiftly placing it behind her back. "I'll be fine, Hestia. Isn't it to be expected?"

The AI thought about that for a moment. "Some nightmares, yes. But not with this frequency or this duration. Perhaps if you gave me permission to view your dreams...?"

"No," Gwen stated flatly.

Her Caretaker sighed. "Very well. But without direct access to your file or your dreams, the assistance I can provide is quite limited."

Gwen settled into her sheets again, laying her head back to stare at the ceiling. "It's alright. They are just dreams."

Hestia fell silent for a few seconds. "I think we both know that isn't true. At least, not in your case." She paused. "Maybe I should contact the Rehabilitation Center. I'm sure they can find you some help."

Gwen bit her lip. "You wouldn't dare."

"I would," Hestia stated calmly. "Especially since you won't accept my help."

It was Gwen's turn to think this through. "Then what is it you recommend? Other than access inside my head," she added quickly.

"Well," Hestia replied slowly, "Perhaps we've been approaching this from the wrong angle. Your human half doesn't seem to be helping us much."

Gwen smiled slightly in the darkness. "And, pray tell, how would you advise my Balvorri half? They aren't exactly known for their level-headedness and rational prowess."

"Precisely my point. We have been treating you for PTSD as though you were human, with limited results. Maybe it is your more emotional half that we should be treating."

Gwen sighed. "So? How would one soothe a Balvorri?"

"Well, that depends, of course. Just like with humans. But in your case..." Hestia fell silent for a moment as she ran her calculations. "I suspect you're feeling psychologically unsafe. Is that a safe assumption?"

Gwen bit back an amused sigh. "I suppose so."

"And what about your libido? Are you experiencing any... discomfort?"

Gwen raised an eyebrow. "That's a bit of a personal question."

"I'm your Caretaker. All of my questions are personal."

Gwen hesitated. "I suppose I'm experiencing some... discomfort."

"On a scale of 1-10, with 10 being the most extreme, how would you rate your discomfort?"

She sighed. "A four."

Hestia paused. "I sense that you're not being entirely truthful. If you do not answer honestly, I will be forced to contact the reha-"

"An eight."

Another pause. "Then I believe that may be a problem. Your Balvorri instincts detect that you are feeling unsafe, which leads it to desire both a mate to protect you, and offspring to live after you," Hestia stated matter-of-factly. "If you satisfy yourself sexually, perhaps that will trick your body into finally believing that you are truly safe."

Gwen fell silent, reflecting on the suggestion. When she didn't respond for a few minutes, Hestia stepped in again.

"You don't seem surprised at this diagnosis. Am I right to assume that your studies of Balvorri history and biology have yielded a similar conclusion?"

She paused. "Perhaps."

"Yet you seem hesitant. May I ask why?"

Gwen merely raised an eyebrow in reply and awaited Hestia's reprocessing.

"Ah. Your instincts also strongly suggest mating for life, which is a momentous decision that you probably aren't ready to make on short notice. But what about masturbation?" When Gwen didn't reply, Hestia sought the answer in the database again. "Strong emotional attachment to sexual impulse. So you are... innately opposed to self-pleasurement?"

"Yes," Gwen admitted. "It makes me feel sick to my stomach. Strange, isn't it?"

"It is certainly unusual for humans. I will store this information." Hestia stopped for a moment, reflecting on their options. "Still, despite your reservations, I recommend going against your instincts, or, alternatively, selecting a lifelong mate. My priority for assisting you with your mental distress places higher than my priority for your psychological comfort."

Gwen rubbed her eyes. "I will bear that in mind."

"You've had two years to improve your mental state to acceptable levels on this ship. If there is no more observed progress by the time Mr. Hackleton arrives, you may be forced to return to the center. Gwen..." The machine changed its tone slightly. "For your own sake, please at least try."

"Please."

Gwen sighed. "I'll see what I can do." She sat up and stretched, a large yawn breaking open her mouth. "What time is it?"

"5:45 AM. I am set to awaken you in 45 minutes."

"Cancel that alarm. I'm awake now." She sat up fully and rubbed her eyes. "In the meantime, please Deactivate."

Hestia hesitated at the command word. "Alright. But please ponder what we discussed." She quietly hummed down.

Gwen glanced at the light on the wall to confirm that her Caretaker was truly off, then slumped her shoulders. She ran one hand over her face. Finally, she was alone with her thoughts.

She rose and walked to her nightstand. Even with the Mask-Up on, the bags under her eyes were apparent.

Still, she pulled out a drawer and retrieved a new mask. With one final glance at the light, she carefully began peeling off her mask.

She had heard that makeup used to be applied manually. Mascara, eyeliner, blush, foundation... It sounded exhausting. Every day she was grateful that society had advanced far beyond that point.

Once the mask was removed, she carefully began applying the new one. It was paper thin, and quickly adapted to mold to her face, seamlessly transforming into the preset application of makeup. She blinked twice, confirming that her lashes were functioning correctly, before glancing into the drawer.

She frowned. She'd have to pick up more soon. She only had one left.

She turned her gaze back to the mirror. Sure enough, the bags under her eyes were still there. All things considered, the Mask-Up did a decent job of covering the true extent of the damage.

With that out of the way, Gwen laid back on the bed and stared at the ceiling. Hackleton would arrive in just over a week. One week left of freedom.

She bit her cheek. What was she going to tell her friends? If she told them the truth, they'd probably offer to smuggle her into one of their rooms. She smiled at the thought. It wouldn't work, of course. Hestia had a tracker.

Her smile faded as she considered over her life here. All things considered she was... not happy, really. But content. She'd miss her job. Oh, and the food... And the drinking... After all, there was no alcohol available at the "Center."

She closed her eyes. Maybe she could figure something out. Her human half wasn't terribly opposed to hedonism, right? If she could focus on that, maybe it would be okay.

The thought formed a lead ball in her stomach, and she sighed. Or maybe not. As predominant as her humanity was in most aspects of her life, when the Balvorri aspect of her had a preference, it was irritatingly persistent in announcing it.

She pushed herself to her feet and walked to her closet. After some consideration, she decided on the blue dress and quickly changed into it. She smiled and swished the skirt around slightly. It always made her feel more confident.

She sat down at the mirror and began braiding her hair, pulling the thick strands into a long braid behind her back. Its bluish tint was reminiscent of her heritage, along with her pale skin. Still, she liked to think it had a unique charm to it.

Upon finishing, she paused, weighing her options. Staying in her apartment and resting would probably be the wiser decision...

She wrinkled her nose. Nah.

"Hestia, Reactivate."

The light flickered on at the command as a low whistle beeped in her ear. "Why do you feel the need to do that

every

day?"

Gwen sighed. "It's nice to have a little privacy now and then. Especially when I'm getting ready." She pushed herself to her feet. "Now, I'm off to work. Wish me luck."

The brief moment of silence relayed Hestia's concern. "Very well. Good luck, Gwen."

Before she could have second thoughts, she stepped outside. The cavernous hallway expanded out in front of her, well illuminated by the bright overhead lighting.

She walked slowly, taking in the sights and sounds. Life aboard the

Supernova

never bored her. Having grown up in an isolated Balvorrian colony, the energy and abundance of life never failed to send a tingle down her spine.

It was a modest merchant city ship, traveling from system to system and exchanging valuable (but never terribly rare) goods across long distances. It was an aspect of the ship that she wasn't terribly familiar with, as most of the vessel was occupied with every other kind of career imaginable.

The Rehabilitation Center had found it a reasonable place to put her. Peaceful, lively, and isolated. Safe, and far from the politics surrounding the Balvorrian genocide, broken treaty, and subsequent revolution. Gwen shook her head from those thoughts.

She clasped her hands behind her back as she eyed the wares of various merchants along the path of the Capital Sector. They were stacked up to the ceiling, their stalls built sturdily into the walls. A smile crossed her face as she caught a whiff of the French bread being baked in one. She quickly purchased a loaf and munched on it happily as she navigated the broad halls, making her way to the Agricultural Sector.

Upon arriving at her destination, she promptly stepped inside, taking a whiff of the musky air. Some of her coworkers claimed that the smell of animals was a downside to the job, but she would have to disagree. She found the smell of life invigorating.

The receptionist squinted up at her from behind the desk. "Gwen? You're here early."

Gwen offered a small smile. "I hope that's alright. Have any patients arrived yet?"

It was a rhetorical question. There was always some animal in need of treatment on a ship this large.

Helen smiled and quickly fetched a stack of papers. She smiled as she handed them off.

"There's always work to be done."

*************

There was a buzz on her wrist as Gwen finished washing her hands. She flicked the dial towards her and read the message that appeared on the hologram.

You're still coming tonight, right?

Gwen rolled her eyes.

Of course. I'll be there tonight, I promise.

She had skipped out on her friends more than once in the past few weeks for the sake of going home early. But now, with a deadline on her mind, she didn't want to miss even one night with them.

After checking out with Helen at the front desk, she began making her way to the Lodestone Cafeteria - a place that they frequented on their nightly excursions.

She smiled politely at a few guards as they roamed past. She quickly located the entrance and stepped in, taking a deep breath of the many delightful foods kept inside. It was a shame that humans never seemed to really take advantage of their fifth sense.

A quick glance around the large eating area helped her to locate her childhood friend, Diego. She smiled, watching him fiddle with his watch, eyebrows drawn together. He was always the first to arrive, as the barracks were on low duty during this part of the cycle. He was probably making sure everyone else was coming.

She walked to the buffet tables and, after scanning in, selected a moderate diet, including some Ereteppian moss. No one else seemed to be a big fan of it, but she found the chewy texture and tang refreshingly imperfect.

As she slid into the chair at the table, Diego promptly looked up from his watch and smiled. "Hey, Gwen. Long time no see."

He was half Balvorrian, like her. He had the same pale skin and purple eyes, but, unlike her, he had kept a more human hair color of caramel brown.

He was of an average but tall build, with the daily training keeping him in great shape. Even as a child, he had been distressingly handsome. Many of the young girls, herself included, had quite the crush on the oblivious lad. Of course, he would (fortunately) never find out.

She rolled her eyes. "It's been two days, Diego, not two years."

He leaned back and stretched. "That's a lifetime on this rig. Especially to spend in your apartment, alone." He raised an eyebrow. "What do you even do in there all day?"

She shrugged. "I sleep. I spend time with my thoughts."

He tsked disbelievingly. "Are you sure? Cause if I didn't know any better, I'd say you'd found a secret beau."

She scoffed, but instead of answering, just folded her hands in her lap.

Upon noticing, Diego's brow furrowed again. "Wait, what? Gwen, are you okay? Did I say something wrong?"

She shook away the gray cloud of her thoughts. "Hm? Oh, no, it's nothing."

He didn't look convinced. "Gwen..."

"Niaka!" Gwen stood to greet her friend. "Welcome. Long time no see!"

It was Diego's turn to roll his eyes as the smaller girl gave Gwen a tight squeeze.

"We have missed you, Gwen!" Niaka pulled back to touch her face. "You have been well, yes?"

Gwen smiled. "Yes, Niaka. Just tired."

Officially, Niaka was a Smulpelp, a shapeshifting species that came from a distant world known as Mishtan. Currently, she was in the form of a human - the only form that Gwen had ever seen. It took them a few months to properly change form, and since there was no real need, she stayed as a human. Well, mostly.

She was a cute little thing, standing up only to Gwen's chin. She had big, beautiful green eyes, and freckles dotting a heart shaped face. She always wore her long brown hair loose, with the ends fading to green.

She could pass as human if it weren't for her mannerisms. She had spent most of her early years as a Kepfton, a non-humanoid lizard species. As such, she wasn't terribly fond of how humans moved, claiming that it was rigid and inorganic. So, like now, she opted for more... flexible habits. It took some getting used to.

Diego hardly had time to greet her before they were joined by Dredge, Niaka's boyfriend. His jet black hair hung long in his face. At least, until Niaka got ahold of it.

He had a long, hawk-like nose, which helped with his intimidating aura. It was no secret that he was no people person, preferring to spend his days tinkering with some new project. Deep down, though, he seemed to genuinely enjoy the company of his friends.

He gave Gwen a down nod before taking his place between Niaka and Diego. She greeted him in a similar manner before returning her attention to her food.

"Gwen!" Before she could take another bite, she was suddenly hoisted out of her seat by two strong arms. She winced as they crushed her in a tight hug. "Hey... Solvek."

The Creatchen set her down and held her at arm's length, looking her up and down. "You still seem healthy."

"I am. I'm perfectly fine."

"Oh, good." Suddenly his face contorted into a scowl. "SO WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN? IT'S BEEN THREE DAYS SINCE -"

"Two days," Gwen muttered.

He ignored her. "THREE DAYS SINCE WE'VE LAST SEEN YOU!" Several people were looking at them now. "IF YOU WEREN'T SICK-"

"You're causing a scene," Gwen pleaded. "Sit down."

The large man glanced around. He grunted in displeasure and took his seat on her other side. "Alright, but you have some explaining to do."

He was huge, standing at around eight feet. Eight foot two, he liked to remind everyone. His stature matched his height, with gigantic protruding muscles around every corner. Enough that he rarely wore a shirt, preferring his native high-waisted robe like leggings.