December 9, 1912 AC

Night had come and the stars arrived. The time was ripe for her weekly mission. Silent as an owl's wings, Lis darted through the alleyways of Krakor City. The capital of Vryland housed one million people, split in half by the Kryzat River. 12 kilometres wide, the city consisted of towering trees each surrounded by a cluster of buildings that averaged four storeys in height. The buildings of each cluster were around the same height, touching each other to form walls around the trees. Each building was made of stone with lightly coloured sides covered with intricate stone patterns. The trees themselves were enormous, each 100 metres tall. Their bark was thick and their trunks were dark. Their leaves were green and housed dwellings of wood. 

The dwellings were each two storeys tall, their sides covered with brass-framed windows. Their insides were obscured by velvet curtains over the windows. They were the houses of the nobles, who perched high above the gadzina. Each dwelling was connected to others by paths and bridges of wood. The nobles could move from one dwelling to the next without ever setting foot on the ground. Lis looked at them in disgust. The nobles thought they were so great and above the affairs of the people they viewed subhuman. And so, they hid themselves above the ground, in dwellings forged from their accursed vernbinding. Vernbinding, the art of transferring souls, was an ability the nobles had gained decades ago. With it, the nobles could steal the life of other beings and implant them into vessels, called verns, with differing properties. The souls were carried upon their breath, taking on the form of swirling light. 

Lis smirked. The nobles thought they held a monopoly upon the power of vernbinding. But they were wrong, very wrong. She paused at the mouth of her alleyway. Before her was one of Krakor's streets, four carriages wide and framed by sidewalks. The sidewalks and the road were grey cobblestone though the sidewalks were lined with streetlamps. The streetlamps were black metal poles each bearing a single orange light. The buildings beyond the trees bathed the streets in shadows. She looked to both sides, saw no signs of danger, then dashed across to the shadows. 

Once there, she ran alongside the buildings, keeping to the darkness. Her dirt-caked skin and dark blue coat all but disappeared into the blackness. She ran to the end of the block. At the corner of the building cluster lay a little bakery. It was a small building, three storeys in height, with the first floor devoted to the store and the rest living quarters for the owners. The nobles could not get everything they desired solely from their canopy perches. Some, like bread, required ovens amongst other structures of steel and stone. Carrying such materials up the trees would've been too inconvenient for the nobles. And so, these resided on the ground floor, away from the safety of the treetops. Each building boasted a flat stone roof and bronze pipes spewing black smoke towards the sky. Too bad the smoke can't reach those dwellings Lis thought. 

Still, the bakery would do her well as she removed the black pin from her hair. She crouched before the dark green door and examined the keyhole with one eye. She adjusted the shape of her pin, then slid it into the hole. She twisted the brass doorknob and the door swung open just as she had planned. Good she thought as she stepped into the darkness beyond the door. She was greeted with rows upon rows of white wood shelves arranged in little lines. Above each shelf lay arrays of bread in all manner of shapes and sizes. There were also cakes and pastries as well as pies and tarts. She saw apple pies, blueberry tarts, orange cakes, and so much more, each freshly baked and utterly tantalizing. 

She snuck to the counter at the back of the store and opened a drawer with her white gloved hands. Her gloves left no fingerprints behind as she rummaged through the drawers of the counter. Finally, she found what she had sought: rows of brown, folded paper bags. She extracted one, making sure to keep the rest the way they were. Then, she closed the drawer and stuffed the bag with tarts and slices of bread. She retreated to a window, peering around the edge of the wall. She saw no signs of danger and heard no signs of danger. She could smell no signs of any creature the nobles kept as guards. Satisfied, she opened the window and then closed it behind her. She left no trace of herself behind save for the stolen bread and the paper bag. 

Then, she ran through the alleyways. She made her way to the centre of the city. And then, she paused. She could smell the faint aroma of bat. Bats were not native to Krakor. She glanced behind her. There, in the skies above, circling around the alleyway, was a chimera. Chimeras were hideous beasts forged from the fusion of two or more living things. This chimera had the head and body of a hound as well as the black wings of a bat. Its eyes were sharp though it could not see her amidst the shadows. Still, it could smell her. This chimera was one of several types formed from the nobles' vernbinding. They were vicious creatures, loyal to their masters, and whom ruled with fearsome power. 

However, they were gullible, still beasts at heart. And so, she found it quite easy to evade them. She darted deeper into the alleyway until she reached a fork in the road. She extracted a twig from the depths of her coat and threw it into the alleyway before her. She ran through the path to the right and glanced behind her once in the shadows. Sure enough, the creature flew past her and followed the scent of the twig. She smirked. She had imbued the twig with a piece of her own flesh. And so, the twig carried with it her aroma, so strong that it overpowered her own. The nobles were not the only ones to obtain the power of vernbinding. She had it too, obtained from the fruit given by her father. It was his final gift and she was happy to make use of it. 

And then, she froze again. She heard the faint thumps of footsteps. They sounded just behind and above her, originating from a nearby rooftop. She glanced behind her to see the retreating figure of a  noble. He had scruffy dark hair and vibrant green eyes that starkly contrasted his pale angular face. And then, a tenth of a second later, he had disappeared from the edge of the roof. Lis remained where she was. She doubted he was there by chance. Did he see me? Lis thought, cursing herself for her carelessness. 

She reluctantly resumed her journey. Staying in the alleyway would only increase her risk of being discovered. And so, she continued onwards. There were no alleyways in the central region of the city. Thus, she stepped into the open with her head held low. Gadzina were not forbidden from accumulating wealth. Some could buy their freedom provided they had the money and could find a noble willing to grant them that privilege. Her coat was part of their dress: simple attires of muted colours. Her black tights and brown laced boots clung to her bony legs. Her overcoat was made of cotton, a trifle of a material. She could see freed gadzina dressed like her, wearing dark coats and tattered pants. 

The gadzina kept away from the nobles, who dressed in vibrant, colourful clothing. The women wore fine, ruffled dresses adorned with ribbons and chains. The men wore white coats atop vests coloured purple or blue. The rest of their attires were black, though they held no traces of dirt and grime. She could see the glitter of silver on the jewelry the women wore: mostly necklaces and rings. She could see pocket watches held by the men, their chains proudly hanging out of their pockets. They were so confident, unafraid of being robbed. Their strides were smooth and their chatter unburdened by the horrors of survival. 

They held no fear of stepping in grime. Some freed gadzina took odd jobs as sweepers. They swept the sidewalks for the nobles. Each time a noble nears, a sweeper would brush the dirt and grime out of their path. Each sweeper had his own territory. He would sweep the sidewalk from one end of his territory to the other. Once at the border, his neighbour would take over. Chains of sweepers kept the sidewalks clean for the nobles to tread upon them. They would receive paltry tips from the nobles that crossed their territories. Most sweepers were old, sick, or crippled with missing limbs or illness. She could see the misery alive in their eyes. 

And yet, they kept forced smiles. They at least had their freedom and their jobs. Millions of other gadzina were not so lucky. She turned away in revulsion and continued her journey down the street. In the distance, down the road, she caught sight of a single horsecar. They were common throughout Krakor, being large steel carriages that moved on railway tracks. They were pulled by horses and could seat dozens of passengers. This one was tan and green in colour, three metres in height, and had rectangular windows framed by intricate rungs of brass. Only nobles were allowed to use them. Lis's head drooped slightly at that thought. To ride a horsecar seemed like an utterly thrilling experience. 

She abruptly returned her attention to her surroundings as she neared a square. The square was wide, maybe 30 metres by 30. The road twisted to her left and right, forming a ring around the square. Across it, she could see another alleyway and beyond that, her destination. She glanced around. There were no signs of danger. She then dashed across the square. The gold and red tiles beneath her formed geometric patterns. The centre of the square had a marble fountain. The fountain was large, wonderfully carved, and boasted a swan at its centre. A waterfall fell from the swan's beak, which splashed into a bowl below.

Around the fountain were two wooden billboards with dozens of news articles attached to them. She was about to pass the first one when she was halted in her tracks. The sight that caught her eye was so wondrous, it seemed a dream. Quickly, Lis ripped the article from the billboard and resumed her dash into the alleyway. Once there, she scanned the article again, making sure her eyes were not deceiving her. A wide smile crept onto her face and she leapt in jubilation. She folded the article and pushed it into a pocket before resuming her dash down the alleyway. 

She had almost reached the end when two twins barred her way. They must be at most twelve years of age, being scrawny with matted golden hair. They seemed so frail beneath their torn brown rags that the slightest touch might destroy them. And yet, their black eyes glistened upon seeing her and one of the two stepped forward. "Pardon us," the girl said, "but might you be able to spare some food or money." 

"Please?" said the other girl, eyes widening with anticipation. 

Lis's heart sank and she reluctantly said "I'm afraid I've got none to spare." 

"What about that bag?" the first girl asked. 

Lis repeated her words. It was then that the dainty-looking girls became vicious little monsters. Their eyes blazed and their faces twisted in almost animalistic rage. Together, they screamed "then leave!" 

Lis stepped back, rounding a corner, until they were gone from sight. She listened intently and heard their footsteps vanishing into another path. She stepped out again, ran to where they had been, then turned left into a second alleyway. There, at the end, she could see a tattered tent formed from blankets and rusted pipes. The blankets had their colours all but washed out and each of them was peppered with holes. And yet, from within the tent, emerged a woman who was the spitting image of the twins. The twins slowly approached her with heads hung low, apologizing for not getting any food or money. The woman said nothing but gently embraced them as they sobbed against her chest. 

Lis could stand the sight no more and promptly retreated. She ran down the main alleyway until another street loomed ahead. It was wide, framed by trees as well as by black iron streetlamps. The orange lights bathed the streets and the steel rails glowed a ghostly silver. Here and there, horsecars traversed the rails, their wheels clanging against the steel. She stepped out onto the streets, her head hung low and her steps subdued. She crossed the street without a word and stepped before a pair of double doors. The red doors led into Malbrink Station, a train station at the heart of the city. Trains from all around the country would stop here to take on passengers and cargo. The station was vast, three storeys in height, whose walls were pale stone covered with marble statues. Pillars of marble held up the roof, which bore three pyramids made of light blue glass. The station stretched 200 metres in length. Its first half was devoted to stores and cafes that clad the walls beyond the pillars. The other half contained a series of grey stone platforms beside which steam trains rested. 

Lis did not walk forward. Instead, she turned to her right. Beside a clothing store was a little corridor as wide as a man was tall. Lis walked to the end of the hall and opened a grey steel door. She dashed through a narrow stone corridor lined with bronze pipes. Through grills on the floor, white smoke leaked into the hall. She ignored them and leapt over black railings on a ledge. She plummeted two storeys to the floor below. There, she ran forward. To her right were piles upon piles of coal and to her left, a generator hissing from the steam in its bowels. Through an oval window on the generator's door, she could see flickering orange flames inside. 

Beyond the cavernous room was a black steel door. She twisted the handle to reveal the insides of a tower with twelve flights of black iron stairs. She ran up the spiralling stairs into another room. This one was made of grey stone and was filled with clanking gears. The gears moved the ornate black hands of the clock whose white face was attached to the wall to her right. She examined the glass ring around the clock. Through it, she could see vast swathes of the city. She could see the nobles' trees and the sea of buildings below. She could see streams of black smoke pouring into the air. She could see factories dotted the city, surrounded by iron fences. Through the windows of the nearest factory, she could see dozens of gadzina hunched over assembly lines. They made the parts for trains. She could see two gadzina making wheels, a third making gauges, and a fourth crafting brass. Some worked furiously, others slowly. The slow ones were whipped. As one gadzina stumbled from the blow to his back, she could see that it was raw, covered with bleeding lacerations from the hooks on the whip. 

And yet, the factories' brutality did not compare to the inhuman cruelty of Ofiary Days. She shuddered to even think of it. The Ofiary Day came each year on December the Fourteenth. On that day, gadzina were selected. Nobles donning iron masks would pick gadzina from the streets, the factories, and anywhere else they choose. These gadzina were to give up their souls. Their souls would be extracted to enhance the health of noble children. She had seen an Ofiary Day once. That day was still vivid in her mind. She saw a small group of gadzina cowering in an alleyway. They faced hideous chimeras, these ones boasting the body of gorillas as well as the heads of lions. The chimeras hissed and snapped their jaws at any gadzina that dared escape. And then came a noble dressed in blue robes and a black iron mask. The mask was carved in the shape of a bird's head with bronze goggles and an iron beak. That noble pointed to three gadzina, who were then seized by living corpses. The gadzina tried to escape but their feeble muscles could do nothing against corpses' steely grips. The last things she heard were the screams of those taken and the sobbing of those left behind. 

But all that was about to change. She set her bag on the ground and removed the paper from her coat. She read through it once more. The news set her heart alight. The news told of a rebellion within Vryland's southern reaches. The rebels were bold, daring, and, most of all, successful. They had captured the entire south of Vryland and had turned it into a place where gadzina were free and the nobles were tried for their crimes. The rebels were like no others she had ever heard of before. 

They were the Nocswehr, a group that aimed to overthrow the government. Already at Pyrdyke, the Silver City, they had captured the parliamentary building. Now, they were negotiating with the municipal government to pass laws to protect the gadzina. Lis had read the article thrice, yet was ecstatic every time. The vision her father had six long years ago, of a world without oppression, where anyone, even gadzina, could live their lives in freedom, might finally be realized. She returned the article to the inner pocket of her coat. Once more, she cast her gaze through the ring of brass-framed glass. Again, she saw the misery that engulfed the lives of the gadzina. This time, she smirked. When the rebellion reaches the city, the time of the nobles' reign will come to an end.