A Citadel of Captives

by Bella Forrest

  “Marion is right,” Vivienne replied, giving our brother a warm smile. “Personally, I get why Derek said all those things. We need to shake Isda out of this dreamy fantasy she’s concocted about her life. She’s a servant, and she’s being treated as if she’s disposable, or worse. If Ta’Zan isn’t interested in helping the Faulties realize their self-worth, then we’ll do it for him.”

  “That’s right. She needed the rude awakening,” Cameron said, leaning against the glass that separated him from Liana.

  “She’s going to be angry about it, but then she’s going to start wondering, ‘What if these people are right? What if I am more valuable than my father said?’ From there on, it’ll be up to us to reel her in. It’s a process, I guess,” Liana added.

  “We do have a few days to work her over, I suppose,” Corrine replied. “Back home, I’m sure GASP has now accepted that an all-out war won’t do anything. They’ve seen what the Perfects can do, after all. Chances are they’ll try to infiltrate Strava going forward. They might even find us, if they survive. In the meantime, we can do something from in here. And Sofia’s on the right track.”

  Lucas sighed. “Okay. Yeah. I’m on board, of course. But what do we do if it doesn’t work? What do we do if the Faulties continue to serve Ta’Zan while he builds his seemingly indestructible army? What then?”

  “I might have a suggestion, but you’ll all think I’m a monster,” Corrine muttered, staring at her feet as she leaned her back against the glass wall separating her from Ibrahim. The warlock stood right behind Corrine, unable to touch her. I could see the longing in his eyes—it resonated deeply with me, as I, too, yearned to hold Sofia in my arms, to feel her skin on mine. These glass boxes were torture.

  “Say it, Corrine,” I replied. “I think we’re past any form of judgment at this stage in our predicament.”

  She breathed deeply, her shoulders dropping as she exhaled. “I may not be the only one thinking it, though. GASP could be considering the possibility, too. I’d like to be off the planet if it comes to fruition, though.”

  “What are you talking about?” Aiden asked her, justifiably concerned.

  “Destroying Strava altogether, before the Perfects figure out space travel,” Corrine said. “It could very well be the only way to stop them.”

  “No one can survive the vacuum of outer space,” Ibrahim replied, following her line of thought. “Not even Perfects.”

  “It may be too early to get to that extreme,” Sofia said, wrapping her arms around her torso, as if suddenly chilled. “Let’s focus on what we can do with the Faulties, first. Let’s try to get ourselves out of these boxes and establish a better rapport with Isda and the others. Destroying Strava would be genocide, and, frankly, it’s too horrible for me to even consider at this point.”

  “Why? The Perfects had no trouble in killing our people!” Aiden replied dryly.

  “So, what? We lower ourselves to their level? No, Dad, we’re better than that.”

  “We don’t have the time to be better than that!” Aiden said.

  “Okay, okay, let’s… let’s not go there yet,” I interjected, eager to diffuse the tension that had begun to gather and weigh heavily on our shoulders. “It’s a possibility, yes. But we still have a few days,” I added. “I think I’m on good enough terms with Ta’Zan that I can get him to show me the wreckage of our starships.”

  Aiden stared at me for a while, then nodded. “Fair enough.”

  “Dad, don’t get me wrong,” Sofia said to him. “I’m aware that it’s possible. I just think that we should at least explore other options before we consider complete annihilation. You heard Derek. Ta’Zan is teaching his Perfects to behave like this. Maybe we can sway them, too, not just the Faulties. Maybe we can get enough of his creatures on our side to imagine a society like ours, where tolerance and peace reign supreme.”

  Kailyn rested her palm against the glass, beckoning Aiden to bring his up and put it against hers. “She’s right, Aiden, and you know it,” she murmured. “Our young ones managed to gather an alliance on Eritopia against Azazel like that, after all. Even on Neraka, they rallied the people by inspiring them with ideas of a better world.”

  “I get that, my love, but this isn’t Eritopia. This isn’t Neraka. And Ta’Zan sure as hell isn’t Azazel or Shaytan or any of those bloodthirsty Mara idiots. This guy is super cold, clinical, and annoyingly intelligent. He’s brainwashed his creatures to destroy anyone they consider beneath them. The Perfects are practically radicalized, and that’s not something we can fix with a message of hope over the course of a few days.”

  “We can at least try,” Sofia replied, her voice trembling and her eyes glassy with tears. “There’s not much else we can do from in here.”

  Aiden gave Sofia a sad smile. “Look at you, still struggling to see the good in everyone you meet,” he said. “How can I clip your wings and curb your morale, when it’s the exact part of you that brought me back to you?”

  Looking back, Sofia had changed all of us—and always for the better. Her father had been a Hunter, driven by hate and eager to drive stakes through our hearts. Yet here he was, living among us, now married and father to a werewolf.

  “And you’re right,” he added. “We haven’t exhausted all our options. Not yet, anyway. A day or two could make one hell of a difference, after all.”

  Just then, the door opened again. My instincts flared, as I expected to see Ta’Zan, for some reason. I figured Isda must’ve gone directly to him, to ask him about what he’d said to me regarding the Faulties. But she hadn’t. She was standing in the doorway, accompanied by another Faulty.

  They both came through the door and into the light.

  The other female Faulty was strangely beautiful, with long white hair and bright orange eyes. Scales covered her arms and legs, as well as parts of her neck and face, in metallic shades of amber and fiery orange. She looked at us with fascination, measuring each of us from head to toe.

  “I only saw them once before,” she said to Isda as they got closer to our glass boxes. “When we brought them in, and they were still asleep.”

  Isda gave us all a faint smile, then pointed at the Faulty female. “This is Amal,” she said.

  “Hi, Amal,” I replied, then nodded at both, politely. “What brings you both here?”

  “Well, I thought about what you said to me.” Isda sighed. “I cannot do anything, but Amal may be able to convince Father to move you to a larger enclosure.”

  All of a sudden, Amal became the most important creature in our lives. She moved from one glass box to another, carrying herself in a serious and solemn fashion as she checked us out. Her bright orange eyes darted across our physical features. She was sharp—that much I could tell from her piercing gaze and even breathing.

  “Why do you want to be moved to a larger space?” Amal asked me.

  “We’re going crazy in these small boxes,” I replied bluntly. One brief look at Isda, and I knew that she hadn’t discussed anything else with her, specifically nothing about what Ta’Zan had said to me about the Faulties. Amal would’ve been as angry and as agitated as Isda still was.

  Nevertheless, it was a pleasant surprise to see her back here and even willing to help us. It spoke volumes about her character, and it confirmed the success of our earlier endeavor. Isda could definitely be pulled closer to our side. We just had to be super careful now, especially since Amal seemed to be the one with the power to get us out of the glass boxes.

  “So, you’re not plotting to get out and seize an opportunity to escape?” Amal asked, narrowing her orange eyes at me.

  “Why would we do that?” I said, frowning. “I saw what Ta’Zan did to my fleet. I can’t defeat him, and I’m not willing to die yet. None of us are. We’d just like to make our captivity a bit more comfortable.”

  Amal nodded once, then went back to Sofia’s box. “Is he telling the truth?” she asked.

  “Of course,” Sofia replied, crossing her arms.
“We’re all aware we can’t just fight our way out of here. Besides, I doubt Ta’Zan would be foolish enough to put us somewhere without taking the necessary precautions to keep us grounded.”

  “What do you think of Ta’Zan, so far?” Amal asked.

  “He’s a cold-blooded bastard, but he’s brilliant,” Claudia retorted. “Personally, I hate his guts, but I’m smart enough to focus on keeping myself alive. I just want to be able to touch my husband again, for as long as we live.”

  Amal smirked, then looked at Yuri.

  “Do you share her thoughts?” she asked him.

  Yuri nodded. “We’ve seen enough in our lives to know when to stay put and not try anything stupid, if that’s what you’re worried about,” he replied. “Like Sofia said, I’m sure Ta’Zan wouldn’t just move us elsewhere without making sure we can’t do something against him. My immediate guess would be the shock collar he used on Derek yesterday. I suppose we could all wear one. If it gets us out of these boxes, I’m okay with that.”

  “I see,” Amal breathed, then came back to face me again. “Personally, I don’t think any of you have given up on the hope that you might still get out of here. But you’re right. Father would take precautions.”

  “So, will you help us?” I replied.

  “I’m not helping you,” Amal said, frowning slightly. “I’m doing Isda a favor, for personal reasons. She asked me to talk to Father about moving you all to another enclosure. I’ll do that. I cannot guarantee that Father will agree, but I’m one of the few who can actually suggest that to him.”

  “How so?” I asked, fully aware of the status difference between Isda and Amal. The latter was somewhere higher on the Faulty food chain, it seemed. That was intriguing, as it shed more light on how Ta’Zan organized his workforce.

  “Father trusts Amal’s judgment,” Isda said, smiling. “She is one of our brightest, highly intelligent and in charge of critical administrative aspects of our new world.”

  “Don’t let my appearance fool you,” Amal added with a confident grin.

  Sofia frowned, seemingly confused. “What are you trying to say, Amal? What is it about your appearance that would make you seem less intelligent or capable?”

  It was Amal’s turn to be confounded. Sofia had really delivered with her performance, as it was time to plant the first seeds of doubt in Amal, too. No Faulty would be spared from the thought that they were better than what Ta’Zan had initially told them.

  “What do you mean? I’m a Faulty. I’m not a Perfect. That should tell you everything,” Amal replied.

  “Why? Because you have scales? Because maybe you’re not as fast or as strong as the Perfects? Is that it?” Sofia said. “Is that how you value yourself? By comparison to Perfects?”

  Amal nodded again.

  “You’re worth more than you think,” I said. “What you might lack in terms of physical prowess, I’m sure you make up for in skills and intelligence.”

  Isda chuckled. “She sure does. Amal is one of our most capable. A genius in her own right!”

  “Shush, Isda!” Amal cut her off, quite upset.

  Isda pressed her lips into a thin line, then lowered her gaze, intimidated by Amal’s clipped tone. “I’m sorry.”

  “You know you can’t say such things out loud,” Amal muttered, then shifted her focus back to me. “Anyway. Like I said, I will speak to Father and see if he can get you a better arrangement.”

  “Thank you, Amal. We all truly appreciate it,” I replied.

  “Don’t thank me yet,” she said, then walked out.

  Isda stayed behind, giving both Sofia and me a warm smile. I got curious about her current frame of mind, so I got closer to the glass and lowered my voice, so Amal wouldn’t hear me.

  “Did you tell her about Ta’Zan? About our conversation?” I whispered to Isda.

  She shook her head.

  “Isda, come!” Amal called out to her, waiting by the doorway.

  Isda rushed out, and Amal followed. The door closed behind them with a loud clang, and silence settled over our cave for a while.

  A few minutes passed as it all sank in. I realized then that Isda was capable of keeping secrets from other Faulties—she hadn’t told Amal about Ta’Zan’s indecision regarding the Faulties’ lives and future use. Whether she’d believed me or not, it didn’t really matter. There was definitely a reason behind Isda’s choice to keep that part of the conversation to herself, and it could actually work in our favor, going forward.

  “Do you think Amal will be able to get us moved?” Lucas asked.

  I replied with a faint shrug. “Maybe. She’s on a higher level than Isda, it seems.”

  “Yeah, I noticed,” Sofia said. “Amal seems to be quite important to Ta’Zan, if he values her opinion. Isda had to go to her in order to get the idea of moving us across to Ta’Zan. That tells us a little bit more about the hierarchy in this place, don’t you think?”

  “It’s actually a very good thing,” Corrine interjected. “Isda brought us closer to another Faulty,” she added, then gave Sofia a conspiratorial grin. “By the way, well played on that whole self-worth thing, Sofia. I’ll bet Amal will soon stop comparing herself to the Perfects. Once that happens, I bet we’ll see her mindset change, gradually.”

  Aidan nodded. “I think we can do more,” he said. “Clearly, the Faulties have been erroneously taught they’re inferior. We have some egos to boost, it seems.”

  “Let’s see if Amal gets us out of here, first,” I replied. “Once that happens, we can revisit our strategy. We’ll need to find out who from our fleet survived the attack.”

  The one thing that gave me hope was that the Faulties could maybe be persuaded to do things they otherwise wouldn’t have done. If they could get us moved into a different place, it could give us a better position in this fresh hell. If we could persuade them to deceive or keep secrets for and with us, then we were one step closer to potential freedom.

  If creatures like Isda and Amal could lie, then that could prove extremely useful to our plan to escape and destroy everything from the inside out. The future was still very much grim and uncertain at this point, but I had no choice other than to do my best to get us out of here. To hope that we could do this.

  One step at a time. One Faulty at a time, if necessary.

  Draven

  There was plenty of grief and anger in our hearts. It seeped through every fiber of my being, and it almost suffocated me. It felt a lot like slow-acting poison, gradually eating away at me and making it difficult for me to concentrate.

  Part of me screamed for revenge. My Druid species was already critically endangered and barely recovering after Azazel’s slaughterous reign. Yet, we’d lost two dozen young Druids with the starships we’d sent to Strava. It had been meant as a show of force, rallying our strongest in GASP to show whoever was on Strava that we were not to be played with.

  It had all gone horribly wrong. My heart ached.

  However, there was no time to wallow in misery. Derek and the other GASP founders needed us, and so did Rose and her team. Judging by how many escape pods we’d seen intercepted by the Perfects, there were bound to be many survivors, now prisoners of Ta’Zan. Plus, we didn’t yet know how many of my Druids had actually died. There was plenty to motivate us to keep going and find another way in.

  I had to put aside my anguish regarding the unknown whereabouts of Jax, Hansa, Jovi, and Anjani, and focus on what I had to do next. We all had a part to play, and I’d made mine clear. I took Shayla and Bijarki with me, leaving Vita and Serena behind with Field and Aida, among others, to look after Calliope and GASP operations.

  Our mission was pretty simple: we had to find Bogdana, the oldest living fae. Provided, of course, that she was still alive. According to the Druid Archives, Bogdana had chosen to spend the sunset of her life in peace and relative exile, somewhere on the fae’s fire star. Few, perhaps none, in Sherus and Nuriya’s kingdom actually knew what Bogdana had been up to, but I
had to find her, nonetheless.

  She was the only one who knew more about the Draenir, the now-extinct civilization of Strava. Based on Rose’s video message, the blood of the Draenir still flowed through the Perfects’ and Faulties’ veins. The more we knew about that civilization and how they ended up creating Ta’Zan in the first place, the better our chances of maybe finding a way to put an end to his operation before his Perfects were sent out to take over the rest of the universe.

  “All I’m saying is that I almost died fighting by your side to get Eritopia back from Azazel,” Bijarki muttered as he accompanied me into the throne room. “I’ll be damned if I let Ta’Zan and those Perfects of his ruin all our hard work and render our sacrifices obsolete.”

  I nodded slowly, understanding exactly what he meant by that. The memories of our fights against Azazel were still fresh, sometimes still haunting me in my dreams.

  “What Ta’Zan is doing is unnatural,” Shayla chimed in. “Nature has a way of putting us back in our places if we go against it. I hope the In-Between can retaliate against Ta’Zan if he tries to disturb the natural order.”

  “Do you really think we can count on… what, exactly? The universe itself, to fight against Ta’Zan? I highly doubt that,” Bijarki replied. “What Azazel was doing was just as unnatural, and nobody stopped him until Draven brought the Oracles over. It’s in our hands, Shayla.”

  “I’ve never been to the fire star before,” I said, politely changing the subject. I couldn’t take another minute of conversation regarding Ta’Zan and the fresh hell he’d unleashed on our people. “Thank you for accompanying us, Shayla.”

  “You’re most welcome, Draven,” she replied with a faint smile. “Whatever I can do to help.”

  “Any advice to share with this inexperienced Druid regarding protocols on the fire star?” I asked, trying to further lighten the mood.