Altra

You are worthless.
They only took you in because you looked desperate.
But if your life was on the line,
They'd just as soon erase it.

I am worthless.
You only took me in because I looked desperate.
But if my life was on the line,
You'd just as soon erase it.

Altra's eyes flicked open...it was still dark inside the cavern. Her head rested atop her dozing mate, Xeromias, her body comfortably wrapped around him. She took a moment to glance around the sleeping clan in wonder. Guardians and Imperials, almost five times her size, occupied their own corners of the cave. There were knots of fellow Spirals, huddled closer together than she had ever been to her own kind. About half a dozen Coatls slept nearby on a bed of their own feathers. And still others that she couldn't make out.

Slowly, she untwisted herself from the pearlcatcher so as not to wake him. His hide was still riddled with the scars of battle, and she thought she heard a wince of pain. Sensing that his invisible spirits were watching, she turned and held a claw to her lips: Say nothing, before heading toward the exit, taking off her sage apparel one by one.

Though the landscape pulsed with plague and ruin, Altra had no trouble scavenging for materials. Some bone, a piece of string, metal scraps, a tattered book...she brought all her findings back to the mountain cliff. And as she'd done all her life, she built. A crossbow and hunting trap that her younger self would've used to hunt. A distraction bomb to keep assailants off her tail. Little paper boats that she used to watch sail down the stream. Back when she was alone, and had to entertain and fend for herself. Her sister had been trained and exalted for glory, but she had been cast aside.

Young Altra couldn't survive on her own forever. When he, along with his band of rogues found her, she had been dying in the middle of a valley, starving and bleeding heavily from a bite wound.Their first instinct had been to simply loot her body and continue on their way, after all, dragon corpses were quite common around Sorneith. But upon closer inspection, they found no treasure on her, instead finding the pack of expertly-crafted trinkets she had made herself. Intrigued, the rogues decided to nurse her back to health, and hoped to take advantage of her unique skillset when she awoke.

And the first words she heard were from their leader, a blood-red imperial who towered over her.

Worthless. Desperate.

Day after day, Altra was tasked with building another weapon, another trap, another carving for his own amusement. The rogues would go off to raid other clans, wielding her creations, while she watched from afar, guarded by the imperial king himself. Every conquest would be a slaughter- and it was all her fault, but what choice did she have? She owed them her life.

The imperial would never let her leave his side - she was far too precious to their campaign - taunting and belittling her at every chance he had. Every sunrise brought with it more travelling, more commands, more abuse, more death. And Altra grew more and more unhappy.

That is, until the day they attacked a lone snowy mountain.

As usual, Altra and the rogue leader watched, away from the action, and the rogues started their assault, fully armed. The clan residing there responded in kind, their leader, Xeromias, leading the charge.

While the imperial's eyes were locked on the battle, Altra turned aside. She prayed to the Stormcatcher, the one who stole her childhood all those years ago, and asked for them to lose this battle, for him to give her her life back.

And the Stormcatcher decided that she had done enough work for a lifetime.

One of her crossbow strings snapped. A sword blade that she'd fashioned broke off its handle. Then another. Slowly the tide of the battle began to turn, and the rogues were forced to retreat.

But rather than surrender, the imperial king smiled wickedly at Altra. Before she could react, he grabbed her by the neck, and led her onto the battlefield. Holding a knife to her throat, he demanded one last skirmish in exchange for her life - Xeromias versus them all. Eyes widened in horror, she tried to twist out of his grasp, but to no avail. I refuse to have another death on my hands. I'm the one that deserves to die. Her gaze settled on the pearlcatcher, pleading with him:

Erase...my life...

But he didn't. He chose to fight. Altra watched him suffer blow after blow with tears in her eyes, but he would not go down. With spiritual magic no one but he could comprehend, he charged forward, blasts of arcane energy shooting out in all directions...and slew them all.

And here they were.

Looking off into the now-approaching sunrise, Altra held back a sob. For the first time in forever, tomorrow seemed...beautiful. She pushed her creations off the cliffside, and ventured back into the lair, her lair, and donned the sage apparel once more. For now...she was no longer a servant.

She was the queen of Clan Tamashi.