Chapter 3: Qilani.

  ****

  Kalista, Month: 94, Year: 226.

  In the depths of the underground city of Kalista, where the air was heavy with the scent of earth and the soft glow of bioluminescent fungi illuminated the caverns, a young woman stirred in her bed. She stirred beneath her woven sheets, the soft glow of fungal light casting pale blue veins across the cavernous ceiling. Her silver hair lay tangled across the pillow, threads of it catching on the rough-spun blanket. She blinked groggily, violet eyes adjusting to the soft bioluminescence that pulsed faintly through the dormitory.

  All around her, identical beds stretched in rows, filled with women who looked, for the most part, just like her. Pale skin, silver hair, violet eyes and a short tail poking out of their sleeping robes. They were not born of many women. They were all daughters of one: Queen Kalista, the heart and ruler of the city.

  She sat up slowly, combing her fingers through her hair and stifling a yawn. Today was different. Today would be different from most of her days. Today, and the rest of this month, she would serve in the palace.

  She slipped from her bed and changed from her sleeping robe into the ceremonial attire given to workers chosen for palace duty, modest in cut, but elegant in detail. The fabric shimmered faintly, woven with threads spun by deep-nest silkworms, and a sash at her waist bore the emblem of Auron, god of diligence and truth.

  She glanced at the bed across from hers, already empty.

  Already gone, she thought, a small smile tugging at her lips. Of course she is. Zulanah had spoken of this day for weeks, her eyes bright with hope, her voice always drifting to what might come next. Not just palace duty, but the dream beyond it.

  Maybe, Zulanah had whispered once, they’ll let me do something outside the city. Maybe I’ll finally see the surface.

  She could still hear the longing in her voice. Zulanah had always wanted to see the world beyond these carved tunnels and chambers, the sunlight, the wind, things they only knew through secondhand tales from traders and warriors.

  But the palace came first. One month to stand out. One month to prove they were worth more than digging tunnels, growing fungi or scrubbing floors.

  The young woman felt her own pulse quicken. Perhaps they’d see her clever hands and make her a royal chef. Or maybe someone would notice her quick mind and offer her a place among the scholars. Either way, she had to make today count. She adjusted the strap of her bag and stepped quietly into the corridor.

  The dormitory faded into the long narrow tunnels beyond, passageways carved with quiet reverence over generations. The walls were etched in swirling script, ancient prayers to Auron, chiseled by careful hands that had long since turned to dust. From the crevices, bioluminescent fungi bloomed like chandelier blossoms, their soft glow dancing over polished stone and stretching her shadow long and thin ahead of her.

  Her boots made little sound as she moved forward, the corridor widening. Ornamental pots lined the path, each cradling rare mushrooms that pulsed with inner light. Statues stood like sentinels above her: queens, princesses, warriors, and even remarkable workers, all carved in solemn poses, arms mid-labor, eyes fixed forever on the path they once walked.

  The palace gates rose before her, tall and regal, carved from pale marble and bound with hinges of smelted silver. Two warriors flanked the entrance, tall enough that if she would stand on her own shoulders, she might only meet their chin. Still, their silver hair and violet eyes marked them as kin. Like her, they were daughters of Queen Kalista.

  She stepped forward, placing her hand firmly over her chest. Her voice was soft but steady, held the cadence of ritual.

  “Greetings. I am worker Qilani of Kalista. I'm assigned to work at the palace.”

  The polished stone beneath Qilani’s feet echoed faintly as she moved through the palace corridors. The walls here were smoother, adorned with finer carvings and intricate mosaics that shimmered under the glow of high-crowned fungus lamps. As she passed beneath an arch of marble, she spotted a familiar figure ahead, her back turned, peering curiously into one of the open sanctum halls.

  “Lanah. There you are!” Qilani called softly, her voice echoing in the quiet space. “I was wondering where you'd gone.”

  Zulanah turned, her violet eyes wide with surprise before softening into a smile. She glanced once more toward the temple chamber, toward the relics of Auron that sat in quiet reverence atop raised altars, each one radiating divine potential.

  Qilani stepped beside her, lowering her voice. “I’m excited too. If one of the relics chooses us... everything might change.”

  Zulanah nodded slowly, almost reverently. “You're right. I'm excited... and maybe a little anxious.” She admitted, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. Then, with a sudden grin, she added, “Let’s hurry to the kitchens. I’d rather scrub pots than be assigned to latrines.”

  They shared a quick laugh before turning down the corridor, the sacred air of the temple still clinging to their thoughts.

  The kitchen chambers buzzed with activity, steam rising in clouds, the sharp rhythm of knives on chopping blocks, the hum of orders called and answered. Qilani and Zulanah moved into their roles with ease… or at least, Qilani did. As she washed a bundle of root vegetables in one of the stone basins, she glanced sideways.

  Zulanah was off-beat today, missing cues, hesitating at tasks they had done side by side a hundred times before.

  “Is everything alright?” Qilani asked, drying her hands as she stepped closer.

  Zulanah startled slightly. “Yeah... yeah, I just can’t stop thinking about how our lives might change if a relic chooses us. Maybe... maybe I’ll be lucky enough to see the world outside.” She said it quickly, but her smile was genuine.

  Qilani smiled back, just as sincerely. “Maybe I’ll get a spoon that makes everything I cook taste divine. The higher ups wouldn’t dream of leaving the city without their favorite chef.”

  She grinned and added, “Or maybe you’ll get a brush that lets you clean latrines ten times faster.”

  Qilani laughed. “Actually, that one sounds perfect for you.”

  Zulanah rolled her eyes, but laughed with her.

  Together, they returned to their rhythm, quietly slicing, rinsing, and stirring as the scents of roots, herbs, and steam filled the warm stone room.

  Just as the trays were ready and the scent of steamed roots and spices thickened the kitchen air, the chief entered, her heavy boots striking the stone floor with purpose. The room quieted instantly.

  “Wenari’s reported sick,” she announced, without preamble. “We need someone to cover as the Princess’s assistant.”

  Quiet fell over the room. One by one, the kitchen staff instinctively took a step back. No one wanted to be sent to Princess Uquoia, not with her reputation. Whispers of her temper, her scrutiny, her impossible standards had long since rippled through every corner of the palace.

  The chief’s sharp eyes scanned the room. Qilani’s mind was working at full speed with possibilities. Despite however problematic this task may be, perhaps being the direct assistant of Princess Uquoia could be the greatest opportunity she’d ever get to stand out. Yet, before she could finish the thought, a finger landed squarely on her.

  “You. Makai tells me you have common sense. That’ll do for today.”

  Qilani’s breath caught. Her throat went dry. She swallowed hard but gave no protest. Perhaps... this was fate.

  The chief took her by the wrist and guided her toward the exit. Qilani glanced over her shoulder. Zulanah gave her a soft, steady smile and moved her lips slow enough for Qilani to read: Good luck.

  They passed through broader, quieter halls now, corridors lined with strange materials she couldn’t name. Eventually, the still familiar stone gave way to something extraordinary: a ceiling that glowed, not with bioluminescence, but with a diffuse, golden warmth. Light filtered through a thin, translucent layer above her, scattering in fractured beams across the floor. It felt as if the soft heat of the surface was reaching down to touch her.

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  She blinked, squinting as her pupils narrowed against the brightness.

  Sunlight.

  Qilani stared upward and blinked in awe. She had only ever heard of the world outside the city from warriors and workers who had ventured on trade missions. But now, its light danced across her face, sank into her skin, and warmed the strands of her silver hair.

  Something inside her shifted. She didn’t know why, but she felt certain this was a moment her life would be divided by. Before sunlight and after. Yet, as transcendent as this moment probably was, it was also unceremoniously cut short by the inconsiderate chief.

  “Keep moving,” the chief said, giving her a gentle nudge. “No time for gawking.”

  And so, they continued walking, Qilani’s heart still racing. Finally, they came at last to a tall set of metal doors. The doors opened with a low groan, revealing a chamber draped in pale silks and strange surface-world artifacts–delicate and reflective things she didn’t know the names for, but could not stop staring at.

  And there, in the center of the room, was a young girl. Not Princess Uquoia. Instead, a child, barely older than three-quarters of a year. She turned back, inspecting a tray of strange toys laid out on the drawer.

  The chief’s voice dropped to a low murmur. “This is Princess Sulaye of Kalista, our youngest. For now, you’ll attend to her.”

  Qilani bowed in respectful reverence, though a thread of confusion tugged at her. She hadn’t even known there was a new princess.

  The child turned slowly. Her hair was a striking black, unlike the silver that marked most daughters of Kalista, but her features and violet eyes were unmistakably Kalista’s.

  “Princess Sulaye,” the chief said softly. “This is Qilani. She’ll be assisting you today.”

  Sulaye gave a subtle nod. Her wings flapped, but we’re barely more than soft folds of pale skin and tiny bones, they were not much larger than the buds on Qilani’s own back, the ones that would never develop into full wings.

  Without another word, the chief exited, leaving Qilani alone in the pale silence of the room.

  For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Qilani stood still, hands clasped behind her back, unsure of how protocol instructed her to proceed.

  Then Sulaye broke the silence.

  “Did you ever live in the children’s dormitories?” she asked, voice quiet as she turned to face Qilani more directly.

  “I did,” Qilani replied while thinking, Like everyone else, careful to keep her tone gentle and unnecessary and condescending words unspoken. “I shared a dorm with forty-seven others.”

  Sulaye looked down, brushing her fingers over a jeweled comb on the table. “I used to live there too,” she said. “Before my wings came. I had friends. We used to play and tell stories. Now it’s just me and a lot of things I don’t really want.”

  Qilani hesitated, unsure whether it was her place to speak. But then Sulaye looked up, and Qilani saw something she hadn’t expected: loneliness.

  “I wrote them a letter,” Sulaye said softly, reaching into her sleeve. She pulled out a small, folded scrap of paper sealed with a crooked wax stamp. “But I can’t send it. They won’t let me near the dormitories anymore.”

  “I’ll deliver it,” she said. A flicker of surprise, and then relief, passed over the princess’s face as Qilani reached out and took the letter with care, as if it were something fragile.

  Qilani spent the day attending to Princess Sulaye, fetching her study materials, helping her prepare for lectures, and ensuring she arrived on time for each scheduled activity. It was quiet work, but not unpleasant. Sulaye was polite and curious, and though she rarely smiled, there was a gentleness in her manner that made the hours pass more easily than Qilani had expected.

  By the end of the day, Qilani returned to the mess hall, hoping to find Zulanah for dinner. She was excited to share the details of her strange and unexpected new role and especially about her first encounter with sunlight. She's gonna be so jealous! she thought, as she pictured her friend's reaction in her mind. But instead of her friend’s familiar face, she met their usual table empty and the sound of other workers whispering, about Zulanah.

  “That one is a mess,” one said, shaking her head. “Slacking off.”

  Qilani felt a sharp pang of concern. This wasn’t like Zulanah, especially not now, when this month was their best chance to move up in the social ladder, to escape the worst of what came next.

  She searched for her in the mess hall. No sign. In the dormitories. Still nothing.

  It wasn’t until the last hour before bed time that she finally found her. Zulanah sat alone on the edge of one of the upper bridges, her feet dangling over the side, hands gripping the rails, eyes locked on something far below.

  “They’re no different from us,” Zulanah murmured, just loud enough for Qilani to hear.

  Qilani followed her gaze, and her heart sank. Below, the newest group of captured workers moved in line, escorted by armed overseers. The strangers looked exhausted, hollow-eyed, their clothes torn, their steps uneven.

  Zulanah’s fists clenched against the iron rails. Qilani saw the fire simmering behind her violet eyes. They both knew the truth, those born outside the city were treated as working caddle. Their rations were smaller, their beds non-existent, their work heavier. It was pure cruelty that awaited those who failed to defend their queen and city.

  “Yet they treat them like animals,” Zulanah muttered. “Just because they weren’t born here. Because they’re not daughters of the queen, like us…” Her voice faltered, thick with frustration.

  She reached for Zulanah’s hand. “Don’t let this get to you,” she whispered. Then, gently shaking her friend’s shoulder to pull her from her thoughts, added, “Come. There’s still time for dinner.”

  They walked in silence. Qilani’s mind echoed with old fears, if they didn’t stand out this month in the palace, next month would bring the worst assignment of all: the grueling, morally fraught task of overseeing the workers captured from other cities. This knowledge weighed heavily on her and it drove her to seek a way out.

  At the mess hall, Zulanah sat quietly at the far end of a table. There was barely enough food left, but it didn’t matter, she barely touched it.

  Qilani watched her, trying to understand what might be going on in her friend's mind. They both had done this before, overseeing prisoners as they worked in the mud and dust. Qilani had tried to detach, to survive without thinking. Others justified it with words about duty and order.

  But Zulanah never could.

  She always came back furious, venting in half-whispers, pacing their shared chamber in restless silence. Qilani could already see it coming again, the contained anger, the glances filled with silent protest.

  Breaking the silence, Qilani finally said, “We don't have to go back, if we can manage to get a permanent position in the palace or somewhere else, we won't have to go back”.

  Zulanah looked up, a tired smile brushing her lips. “You’re right. It’s probably best if we make the most of our month in the palace.”

  Qlilani exhaled, only then realizing how tightly she’d been holding her breath. Zulanah was calming down, grounding herself again. For now, that was enough.

  The following days unfolded with quiet rhythm, just as Qilani had hoped. She assisted Princess Sulaye in her daily routine, helped her prepare for lessons, and delivered the carefully folded letters to her friends in the children’s dormitory. She even learned some manners and royal etiquette, from watching princess Sulaye’s lectures.

  Even the whispers about Zulanah shifted. Where there had once been concern and disapproval, now there was murmured praise, how her focus had returned, how her work had sharpened.

  Qilani began to let herself hope. Each night, lying on her bed, she would imagine the life they might build if things continued this way, something better, something brighter.

  But everything shifted the night before the middle of the month.

  As she lay in bed, an unease pressed down on her chest, an instinctive wrongness she couldn’t explain. The darkness felt thicker than usual, and the walls themselves felt as if they had crept closer.

  She sat up, glancing across the dormitory, and froze.

  Zulanah’s bed was empty.

  Maybe she just got up for water, Qilani told herself, but the knot in her stomach refused to loosen.

  She rose quietly, slipping through the shadows. The anxiety only deepened with every corridor she passed without seeing her.

  Qilani moved quickly now, guided by memory and dread.

  Then, ahead, movement.

  A lone figure at the far end of the hall, sneaking towards the gate.

  Zulanah.

  Qilani’s heart lurched. She wasn’t just wandering the palace. She was leaving it. Heading for the city’s exit corridor.

  And carrying with her a silence that spoke of things not meant to be seen.

  “Zulanah!” she whispered urgently, catching up to her just before she reached the exit. “Where are you going?”

  “Qilani, please go back to bed,” Zulanah replied, attempting to hide something behind her.

  Qilani’s stomach dropped when she saw what Zulanah was holding behind her. “Is that a relic? Are you stealing it?”

  Zulanah replied, trying to keep her voice down “No! I'm not stealing it! The relic chose me!”

  Qilani replied with urgency in her voice “If you step outside without permission, you won’t be allowed to return, especially if they find out you took a relic without permission. You know that!” Qilani took Zulanah’s wrist “Come, we have to put it back before anyone notices it's missing.”

  “It's mine and I'm not giving it back,” Zulanah insisted, her voice trembling with emotion. “Auron wants me to do this! That's why the relic chose me.”

  Qiliani’s heart ached as she realized the depth of Zulanah’s yearning. “ Seriously? You’re planning to leave? Then what?”

  Zulanah’s eyes glistened with tears, but she held her ground. “I can’t live like this any more. I have to do this, even if it means risking everything. Please, Qiliani, just let me go.”

  “No!” Qiliani cried, fear gripping her heart. “You can’t! If you leave, you might never return! The surface world is dangerous, and you’ll be alone out there. Do you know what Drakvari from other cities will do to you if they find you alone out there? They will force you into labor, just like the prisoners here, or worse”

  “Qiliani. You know I love you, I love so many people here, but I can’t keep pretending I'm fine with this.”

  Qiliani tilted her head, puzzled. “What do you mean? We’re part of a great city, under the protection of our queen. We have food, shelter, and each other. What more could you want?”. Zulanah looked away as Qiliani thought for a moment for ways to convince Zulanah to stay. She continued speaking, her voice full of anxiety “Even if we don't get a stable position in the palace, Auron’s blessing ceremony is very soon. If you stay you might be given a job where you can go outside. Isn't that what you wanted?”

  Zulanah's expression hardened, a fire igniting in her gaze. “Yes, it 's true. I want to see the surface! I want to know what lies beyond these tunnels” She swallowed and let go a tear before continuing “But that's not everything, I also don't want to be part of a city that invades others and strips the conquered from their liberty. Starting next month, I would have to whip the prisoners into working. I already decided that I'm not doing that ever again” Tears continue to drop from Zulanah's eyes “Please Qiliani, let me go.”

  Qiliani stuttered, her voice catching in her throat as she tried to find the right words. "Lanah… please, don’t do this," she finally managed, her voice shaking. Her heart pounded in her chest, the enormity of Zulanah’s plea crashing over her like a wave. “We’ll… we’ll find another way. Princess Sulaye. I — .”

  Zulanah turned away from her. Qiliani felt a jolt of panic and instinctively reached out, grasping Zulanah’s hand. Her fingers trembled as they wrapped around Zulanah’s, her grip firm but pleading.

  When their eyes met, Qiliani knew. Nothing she said would stop her.

  She stepped forward and pulled Zulanah into a tight embrace, holding her like she was already slipping away.

  “Take care, please,” she whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to her friend’s cheek. “Just… remember that I love you.”

  Zulanah nodded, tears trailing silently down her face. “I promise I will. Just go back to bed… and forget you saw me.”

  Qiliani stepped back, watching as Zulanah turned and slipped into the shadows. Each step felt like a piece of Qiliani’s heart was being pulled away, leaving her hollow and afraid.

  As she returned to her bed, the weight of uncertainty pressed down on her. The underground city felt emptier now, its familiar walls suddenly asphyxiating. She couldn’t shake the feeling that this was a turning point, not just for Zulanah, but for herself as well. Would Zulanah be ok? Will she see her again? Will this bring Zulanah peace or is it just a grave mistake?

  Qiliani closed her eyes, unable to sleep, the darkness of the room wrapping around her like a cocoon, and she silently prayed to Auron for Zulanah’s safety.

  Hi Wahali,

  I’m sorry I didn’t write earlier. They’re really strict here and always watching. We have to sit straight and talk fancy all the time. It’s weird. The bed is softer and the food is nicer, but it’s not fun when you have to eat alone.

  They call me “princess” now, but no one listens to what I say. I’m not even allowed to go back to the dorms. I try to act like it’s fine, but I miss you a lot.

  Sometimes I wish I never grew these silly wings.

  I hope you still think of me as your friend, not just some princess.

  I really hope I can see you again soon. Maybe we could still play together.

  Sulaye

  Qilani's Campaign.

  Chapter 6: Maliane (Part 1).

  Thank you very much for taking the time to read my story.