Something tiny, so incredibly small that it wasn't even the length or width of a centimeter, fell from the air and drifted downward, slotting against the bathroom counter. It was dark black, smooth, and curled like a lemon peel. "Shit, Cynth," she cursed as she slammed her palm against the counter. "Stop..."

Cynth released a shaky breath, eyeing the girl in the mirror. What looked back at her wasn't even human. Her reflection shook her to her core.

Cynth's hands were shaking as if she were terrified, nervous, or both. Her silky black hair was diminished, her scalp visible and large chunks of hair missing. A single, glistening tear slipped from her eyes, which barely even had any lashes to extend outward from her eyelid. They were sparse where they sat, her rolled lid only having a few hairs protruding from the skin. Her hands weren't only shuddering but were calloused from where she picked and plucked at her eyebrows, hair, and eyelashes. "Stop!" she screamed at herself, seeing her hand flinch toward her brow. Like her eyelashes, her brows barely had anything left to them. Nothing made them sculpted and smooth.

Cynth, unable to stop herself, grabbed at the edge of her brow and pulled. She flinched. Not because of the pain, she had long since gotten used to it. She had only flinched because of the way she let her restraint crumble so easily. It hadn't taken an army to smash it, but merely a small rock being thrown at it. Her restraint had toppled over, dust, and her anger being the only thing that remained.

She stopped pinching her fingers together, though they were already red with blood rushing to the surface of her skin. Cynth slipped against the floor, her knees hitting the tile roughly. Her arms rested against the bathroom sink's counter, her head slamming against her arms. Tears fell down her face, moist and cold. "Stop." She repeated the word to herself like a mantra, but it wouldn't help. It never would. Cynth shuddered as she got to her feet.

Her hands moved robotically, automated as if she were a puppet. However, she had just done this so many times she knew what to do. She took one of her many eyebrow pencils and filled in the missing gaps. Despite her hands shaking, she still managed to make the brow look perfect. Cynth blinked away the shower of tears she knew would come eventually, but she didn't want them at the moment. Her fingers popped open a case of false eyelashes, and she stuck them onto her eyelid with a swipe of glue.

Cynth blinked them into place as she reached for her wig. It was stowed away beneath the marble counter, shielded by the counter doors. She had such little hair left, she didn't even need to try to tuck it beneath the strands. It was dark black fading into soft gray streaks that eventually hit a beautiful baby-blue bottom. She did the usual processes of putting the wig on her head, and once it was straight, she straightened her back to match, her mouth curling into a sneer in disgust with herself.

Her eyes turned from watery to hardened and cold, her steps turning from gentle to self-assured and readied. Cynth placed her gloved hand on the doorknob, cracking it open.

Nobody needed to know.

She shut the door behind her as she folded her hands in front of her, walking downstairs. Her mask was like one at a masquerade, elegant and meant to hide whatever lay beneath. Cynth heard the murmurings of her parents down the hall. It had become routine to press herself against the wall, the trim of it pressing sharply into her back.

Eavesdropping was something her parents scolded her for, but Cynth knew that it was needed when they hid so much from her. Government information was meant to be classified, she was aware of that, but sometimes she decided to take matters into her own hands.

Cynth crept across the wooden flooring, knowing that her father could be in the middle of a meeting, pressing her ear against the door once she arrived at its threshold. Immediately, her father's voice filled her ears. "What all of you are incapable of understanding is that we humans will never have ultimate power unless we fight for it now!" His voice was rising, almost to the point of a scream.

"Leon," warned an alarmed voice Cynth had never heard before. "Isn't your daughter home? Keep it down."

Her father exhaled loud enough for Cynth to hear from the outside of the thin door before he continued on his tangent. "Some of you may have heard of the sources." At the moment the word 'sources' escaped Leon's lips, an outcry followed.

"The sources are legend. I believe that skipped over your head, Sir Leeyung!" an exclamation rang out. There was a murmur of an agreement at this, and Cynth could imagine her father pacing around the room, shaking his head, and sending disapproving looks at his fellow officials.

Leon's scowl could be heard as he spoke his next words, practiced and eloquent. "We came to Selino for protection, and the hibri and those revolting natives, the patrias, have a desire to ruin it. We will not stand by while they take control. Fact or fiction, the sources are our gateway to total command over Selino." At this, there was silence. "The humans fight. Are you going to let the hibri do it instead?"

There was a collective consensus that everyone in the room wouldn't allow that, or so Cynth concluded based on the ashamed chatter that ensued. "The sources are the most powerful things in existence, but others think they are legends. You all should have learned this, but the sources do give the species their power. We get far ahead of them simply by securing the sources."

"They are lost to time, Leon. How do you suggest we secure them? Say they are real. We would need to fund a search, gather a search party willing to take on this task, and the hibri would pick up on it. Confidential information always seems to leak here."

Leon loosed a breath. Cynth could barely hear it over the murmuring of his colleagues combined with the wood of the door, but she managed. "Securing the sources will be a practiced matter. We could create a team full of passionate humans who want to regain a chokehold over the rest of Selino. They must bow to us."

"Having a group is useless if we don't know where to begin," someone stated. "Do you have any possible information about the source?"

Leon told him, "In my office. It's too sensitive to speak about it heavily here, but soon."

Cynth had a feeling in her gut that soon, they would be exiting the room. Not having a desire to be caught, Cynth began to walk away from the door, knowing she'd have to get as far away from there as possible as to not be considered suspicious. Her family had caught her eavesdropping on political conversations before, and the end was always her being yelled at for hours upon hours. She scuttled away quickly, thoughts racing through her mind.

For the majority of Cynth's childhood, her father had spent his time telling her all sorts of things about the sources, that they most definitely didn't exist and that the people who dedicated their lives to searching for them were buffoons. However, based on the discussion he'd just had, Cynth wasn't certain that he believed that, at least not anymore.

The papers with information about the sources were in his office, an office that was located on the inside of Cynth's very own home. That was incredibly vital information. Some of the patrias, the natives of Selino, and the hibri would certainly kill for those, and Cynth would take any opportunity to sabotage the hibri and patrias. As much as she wanted to do so, she wasn't sure how easy it would be for her to figure out what this information about the sources entailed. The gears in her head were turning as she awaited her family's presence downstairs.

Her mother was the first to make the descent toward the ground floor of their estate, her dress glamorous and attention-grabbing. "Cynth, stop slouching," her mother instructed. "How shameful it would be for all of your father's fellowmen to see you slumping like that." Zoya Leeyung huffed, crossing her arms and putting on a fake smile for the others. After ensuring that Cynth saw the attitude behind her stature, Zoya proceeded to fold her hands in front of her. Everything Zoya did was almost royal. The way she held herself, how she spoke, and even her voice leaked of superiority.

Cynth did as instructed, fixing her posture and beaming as elected officials trodded down the steps with their lavish outfits. Her mother greeted everyone but didn't let her say a word. Cynth wouldn't dare to speak even if she wanted to. Zoya was far too controlling for her own good. If there was a way to dictate when it rained, Zoya would be the one to figure it out.

Cynth did nothing but stand there like an item on display, used as something to make everyone relate to her parents. Many people who were part of the human aristocracy had children, and Cynth knew that she was only there to make sure her parent's influence didn't slip.

Time passed slowly, the clock on the wall's ticking drowning into the back of Cynth's mind. She waited for everyone except for Leon and Zoya to file out of the house, their shoes clacking loudly against the wooden floor. The second that the door clicked shut and Leon walked away from the lounge area, Zoya turned around and gave Cynth a once-over. "You aren't looking well, Cynth. Not as if I care, but you must look your best in front of our associates."

Cynth's eyes turned to stone as she stared down Zoya silently. "Don't give me that look. I buy your wigs to halt that stupid little habit of yours. You are mutilating yourself, Cynth. That's not a very good thing for our family."

Anger danced through Cynth's veins, and she couldn't stop herself from grabbing onto Zoya's shirt and pulling her forward. Zoya's face flickered with shock before she stumbled forward, flailing about before she regained her footing. "If you're going to treat me like that," she snapped, "you might as well let me buy my own wigs." She released her mother and inclined her head, knowing that her response had rattled the woman. Cynth tried to save her lashing out for the repulsive hibri and patrias, but sometimes she couldn't hold back.

Zoya hissed, "Do that again, girl, and I'll send you to live with the hibri. To make up for that, prepare to attend the annual gala in a few days. I was planning to let you off the hook this year, but not because of that little stunt."

Cynth wanted to wipe that proud smirk off of her mother's face. She knew that Zoya would have made her attend even if she hadn't done anything. Zoya was trying to make her regret her actions, but Cynth had learned how Zoya manipulated. Zoya's threats were more empty than intimidating these days.

"Fine," Cynth snarled before she stormed up the stairs. Her footsteps echoed through the empty house as she found her bedroom, yanking the door open and closing it behind her. Tears threatened at the corners of her eyes, but Cynth stopped them from spilling. Her tears were what Zoya wanted. Cynth wouldn't let her have them.

She stepped out onto the balcony of her bedroom, pushing the doors open to see the calm blue sky. There was nothing to interrupt it. Not a single cloud was in sight, but the monorails that crossed the horizon below was enough to captivate someone. They ran constantly, ferrying people all over the human island. The Leeyung estate, where Cynth and her family lived, was towering over New Earth on the hillside, where people bustled around and conversed.

Cynth sighed, smoothing out the front of her loose gray tunic and making sure the edges were tucked into her high-waisted pants. She knew that there was nothing she could do to make her parents care about her and see her as anything but a tool, but she could always hope.

Or, she could take action.

That thought was what triggered an explosion within her as she was hit by an idea. A dangerous idea, but an idea nonetheless. Her father said that he was in possession of information about the hibri sources in his office. With the gala going on in a few days, it would provide a perfect opportunity to sneak in and figure out what this information was. Cynth knew there was no going back on the idea the second that it entered her mind. It was far too good to pass up, and who knew when another chance to find the information would appear? Her parents would be too preoccupied with the gala to notice her disappearance, and if Cynth could just grab a picture of the sources... she might be able to do what her father had been wanting to do.

Find the sources.

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Thanks for reading, and we hope you liked the first chapter! A few forms after this, it was revealed that Cynth is written by the jaw-droppingly amazing Cress (cressio) — great job with your (future?) guesses!

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