On an evening like any other—though the passage of time felt blurred in these dark days—a young drake sat hunched over a weathered desk, taloned fingers working steadily as she scratched her notes onto an assignment board. The low, light of the room cast dim, shifting shadows, bathing the space in a soft, greyish glow that seemed to mirror the state of the world outside—fading, but not yet gone. 002, as she was known, could feel the weight of another’s gaze on her from across the room. It had been there for a while, unwavering and expectant, until finally, with a quiet sigh, she glanced up from her work. It was another pup, a yearling like herself, also scribbling and scratching at an assignment, her fur a soft golden hue that shimmered under the muted light. They locked eyes. The other drake’s face lit up instantly, as if the moment had been long anticipated. She smiled—wide and toothy, flashing fangs that gleamed white in contrast to her tawny fur. 002 couldn’t help but notice how prominent those fangs were compared to her own, which remained unremarkable, more understated, like the rest of her. Before 002 could process the encounter fully, the other drake stood up in a sudden burst of energy, her downy fur ruffling slightly as she crossed the room with quick, confident strides. She stopped at 002’s desk, leaning over with a grin that practically sparkled despite the grim reality pressing down on them. "We're working on the same assignment! What a coincidence!" the blonde drake chirped, her voice lilting with an irrepressible cheerfulness. "I wasn’t sure we'd have much to talk about otherwise." 002 noted the stark difference between them immediately. Where the blonde’s voice was bright and quick, full of energy, hers was much lower, a deep, steady rumble that often carried a resonance akin to the low hum of distant machinery, or that of a massive aquatic reptile. The contrast between their tones felt almost jarring in the gloom of their surroundings. Still, 002 gave a slight nod. "You’re studying way-gate quantum mechanics too?" she asked, her voice almost a murmur, though it still carried that subtle weight of gravity. The other drake’s bright blue eyes lit up even more—if that was possible. She nodded enthusiastically, her fur-like downy coating shifting slightly with the motion. "Yeah! I’m Senna," she said, thrusting a hand out toward 002, as if the act of introduction was the most natural thing in the world. "002," came the quiet reply, the grey-and-black furred drake lowering her gaze back to her work, seemingly uninterested in prolonging the conversation. "You don't have a proper designation??" Senna inquired; she had cocked her head to the side, seemingly quite confused. 002 paused, briefly wondering if the confusion was genuine or just a playful act. She couldn’t quite tell, so she simply shrugged, answering in the same quiet tone as before, offering no further elaboration. "I'm the second prototype augment," 002 murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "So, I am 002." Senna's eyes flickered with curiosity, and for a moment, 002 thought she saw something deeper hiding beneath that toothy grin—something mischievous, yet strangely innocent. "You need a name," Senna declared, her voice lilting playfully. "A proper one. Maybe I can help with that? If you'd like?" 002 was momentarily transfixed by the offer. A drake, openly being social with her? It was such a foreign concept that she could hardly process it. In her world, camaraderie was a rare luxury. Most of the soldiers in training avoided her, their gazes heavy with suspicion and unease, as if proximity to her might reveal something dangerous. She was used to being alone—expected it, even. But Senna... she was different. There was no fear in her eyes, no hesitancy in her movements. Instead, her smile widened, softening with warmth, and for the briefest moment, 002 felt something unfamiliar creep in—a faint warmth stirring in her chest. It almost felt... nice. Her gaze wandered over Senna’s mane, which was a chaotic tangle of blonde strands of fur, tied haphazardly with a strip of carbon fiber manifold, the edges frayed and jagged from where she had apparently torn it off some machine earlier that day. Stray chunks of the makeshift tie had slipped free, hanging down beside her face in loose strands, adding to the disarray. A natural parting on the left side of her head caused her mane to arch dramatically over one eye, casting a shadow across her face. Despite the wildness of it, there was a strange beauty in the chaos. Senna didn’t care about appearances, at least not in the way 002 did. While 002 was meticulous—borderline neurotic—about cleanliness, control, and precision, Senna embraced the mess, wore it as if it were a statement. And somehow, it worked. There was a raw, unfiltered energy in her that 002 couldn’t help but admire, though she would never admit it out loud. Senna was lean—leaner than 002 herself—with a mane of flowing blonde fur, rich with golden hues. Her appearance was a testament to the natural aging process, a luxury that 002, aged in a chamber, had never known. The fur covering her lithe frame was pale, not quite a pinkish sand, but something close to it, reminiscent of the soft shadows cast on sunlit dunes—darker where the sun retreated, but always gentle in contrast. To 002, Senna’s body looked as though the sun itself had reached down and kissed her, leaving behind a glow that radiated warmth. Against her lighter cream underbelly and face, deeper swathes of sandy tones colored her cheeks, snout, and the space just below her nares. Her underbelly, neck, underarms, and palms were painted in this soft, pale sand color, dotted here and there with light brown freckles, as if the wind had scattered them across her body in playful abandon. Her long ears, tipped with brown tufts, framed a face full of life, and from between her brows rose a pair of outwardly curving ivory horns, each horn growing from the brow points with three graceful tines. But it was Senna's eyes that truly captivated 002. They were the bluest eyes she had ever seen, more vivid than any ocean on Emain, bluer than the skies of other worlds. The color seemed to explode from her gaze, brighter and more intense than anything 002 could imagine. Some might have found them cold, like the ice-ravaged ravines of a winter storm, but to 002, they were mesmerizing. She could almost feel herself drifting into their depths, a part of her quietly envious of their startling beauty—so different from her own more ordinary shade. Unlike 002, who was always precise and uniform, Senna dressed with casual ease. She wore a rich brown strapless top and loose, flowing pants that draped down to her ankles. There was a freedom in her clothing, in her very presence, that seemed so foreign to 002’s carefully ordered world. Snapping out of her thoughts, 002 blinked. "Yes, that is agreeable," she said, her voice low and soft, as if even agreeing with the suggestion felt almost criminal. "I suppose a name would be a good idea." Surely, they would have eventually provided her with a name on her Nameday, but what was the harm in picking one now? "Perfect! I’ve got some of my favorite books right here!" Senna chirped excitedly, her enthusiasm bright as ever. "They’re full of sorcery, magic, and the mythos of early Emain. I’m certain we’ll find a name in one of them!" Without waiting for a response, Senna darted over to her large, cluttered desk and scooped up a pile of thick, dusty tomes. The soft tapping of her claws echoed on the concrete floor as she returned and dropped them onto 002’s project board with a resounding THUD. Beaming, Senna pulled a chair up next to 002, sitting so close that their shoulders brushed, the warmth of her presence suddenly palpable in the stillness of the room. "So, this one," Senna began, pausing as she glanced over at the dark grey drake beside her, squinting as if trying to discern something just beneath the surface. "Actually—" She closed the book she'd been about to open, setting it aside, and instead pulled out a much thicker volume from her pile. The book was a dense, leather-bound tome, the title embossed in gilded letters: Emain: A Mythological Anthology. "Yeah, I think this one will be better for you; I just have a feeling!" Senna flipped open the hardcover, exposing aged orange parchment bound with tanned and gilded animal skin and some sort of paper bark liner along the inner flap. A small puff of dust drifted up as she grabbed a chunk of pages and flopped them onto the opposite side. The pages fell with a soft puff. The section read: Historical Heroes and Figures, Non-Fiction. 002, intrigued, leaned closer to her companion, her curiosity piqued. She found herself smiling—just a small one, but genuine. The splash art on the page was a figure titled The Huntress slamming a spear into a wild animal. The art was ancient yet powerful. Primordial even. The huntress was painted with such effort and care that it was clear she was a powerful heroine. She had two arcing horns slanting back in a V shape from her brow and long ears with multiple cuts in them, and wings that lay unused behind her, their leathery expanse draped across her back. She was grounded, strong, and evidently didn’t need to rely on flight to assert her dominance. 002 traced the art with the talon on her left-hand middle finger. "She’s beautiful. Powerful." Her voice was filled with quiet yearning, her eyes betraying her deep desire to one day wield that kind of strength. It was impossible not to notice how much she wanted to be like The Huntress—to be a force of nature herself. "That’s Eigriez, The Huntress. She's one of the most revered members of the Veil race." Senna explained, her talons gently cupping the next page from underneath. On the next page, text detailed Eigriez’s life, her accomplishments, and even more mundane aspects of her personality—her favorite foods and hobbies. The documentation was meticulous, bringing the ancient hero to life in unexpected ways. "The documentation of these people is astonishing," 002 murmured again while flipping the archaic pages and reading along with Senna. Each turn of the page creaked under the young drakes hands, and though they were delicate with the book, the wear and tear from centuries of age was evident. For 002, this was a new experience. She had never encountered a real book before. Everything she had learned had been downloaded directly into her mind via her neural port, or presented on sterile datapads. Her nares flared slightly as she turned a page once more, and a whiff of the strong scent of aged and beaten wood pulp, shaped into intricate paper, mixed with the subtle scent of ancient inks. This physical connection to knowledge was unfamiliar but captivating. As she turned another page, her nares flared slightly, catching the scent of aged wood pulp mingled with the faint traces of long-dried inks. The smell was rich, earthy, and oddly comforting. Eventually, they came upon a section that was many pages thick. "'Ezrael, the Black Death', what an interesting name," the grey drake began reading along with Senna. As she read, Senna watched her under scrutiny, her blue eyes falling on the grey drake in the military black tank top. For the first time since they'd begun chatting, she took in the appearance of 002. She was a pure, medium grey with speckles and ringed spots in darker grey and some in black dappling her body. The black-ringed spots had pale grey insides and were only on her shoulders and one under each of her eyes. Her muzzle was medium grey, with a darker grey bottom jaw and a splash of that same dark color between and under her nares. There were freckles along her snout and under her eyes in the same shade of black as her ringed spots, and under each eye was a pale grey marking that extended horizontally toward her nose, stopping before reaching her nares. The white peaked there and met a slightly darker grey that was still lighter than her main body, a small circle of it that had a single border of black descending from the tip of the white down to the bottom of her upper lip. On earth, this facial pattern could be found on grey foxes. The upper lid of her eyes were dark, then there was a gap of neutral grey, before another grey spot formed, the same color as under the bottom jaw, one above each eye. Senna guessed that the darker grey went "all the way down," as she could see somewhat into 002's tank top and saw that this darker grey seemed to continue. She'd also been branded with twin chevrons on both shoulders, signifying her rank in the global Emain military. Unlike her own long, southern ears, 002's ears were short, rounded, and filled with the same pale grey fur within her spots. She had twin pitch-colored horns with numerous thorned tines, and they curled behind her ears and towards her jaw. It seemed to Senna that as she aged, her horns would take on a full, powerful spiral. Her forearms shared the same dark grey as her neck and jaw, while her palms were a stark fleshy black, her claws a worn ivory color. It was her eyes, though, that caught Senna’s attention—the pale blue-green of a washed-out sea during an algae bloom, with a core that shimmered faintly with liquid gold. The light caught them just right when 002 looked up, revealing the inner fire hidden within that otherwise placid gaze. And she was big. Enormous even. Senna began to slowly grasp the size difference between them. She'd guessed they were around the same age, but 002 was simply massive for a drake, and even moreso for a female. Her muscles were bulging and sculpted, and even her jaw was chiseled with this toned and carved-from-bronze appearance. Senna could only make a hypothesis to the size 002 might reach before her second cycle, but she surmised that 002 would be larger than any drake she had ever seen. Together, they read aloud in unison, their voices harmonizing as they spoke the name: "Few beasts carry more animosity and fear associated with their name than the dragon, Ezrael—" "Known as the Black Death, the bloodletter, the cannibal, and the devourer; Ezrael roamed Emain for centuries, preying on anyone or anything she encountered. This Mistavian was truly unique—she spoke the common drake tongue and could communicate with her prey, making the hunt all the more amusing for her." "Fascinating," 002 said, her eyes rather wide, yet the corners upturned in almost an expression of awe as she soaked up the history and details hidden from her thus far. "—Ezrael cannibalized her own kind, bred with mated males, trampled early Riftavian settlements to rubble, and devoured their inhabitants like cattle. She wrought destruction and chaos wherever she went, often spewing green lightning at her victims—" 002 paused, glancing up at Senna. "Lightning?" "I think her fire was green; it likely was laden with so much copper that it crackled and the primitive Riftavians saw it as 'lightning.'" 002’s eyes glimmered with a flicker of recognition. "You know… my fire is green too. Though it doesn’t crackle. It only turns green when I haven’t expelled it in a long time." Senna laughed and gave her a playful pat on the back. "You’re a little weird, aren’t you?" she teased, though her hand stilled when she felt something unusual beneath 002’s shirt—a subtle deformation beneath the fabric. 002’s eyes narrowed slightly. "I guess… Though, they made me this way," she muttered, before diving back into the book. As they continued reading, Senna noticed the shift in 002’s demeanor—where others might recoil from the gruesome tale, she seemed almost captivated. A rare, dark smile tugged at the corners of her mouth, as if she found an odd comfort in the chaos that Ezrael had wrought. By the time they finished, 002 had already made her decision, though she kept it to herself for the time being. While Senna chattered on about mythology, naming the ancient gods of their world, 002 remained silent, her thoughts focused elsewhere. Once their assignments were complete, the grey drake finally spoke, her voice cutting through the quiet of the room. "My name—" She paused, drawing the moment out for dramatic effect. "I chose Ezrael." Senna blinked, surprised, though the expression melted into a knowing smirk. "Somehow, I kind of expected that. I felt it." The two girls laughed together, their bond solidified in that small, shared moment. "Hey, thank you," Ezrael murmured, her claws scratching the back of her neck, a small gesture of anxiety. Senna didn’t seem to notice, or if she did, she simply didn’t care, because she responded without hesitation. "Well, it only seemed right." The two continued chatting as they packed up their work and stowed it away in their designated lockers. Ezrael waited patiently for Senna to finish, standing a little awkwardly but feeling at ease nonetheless. "So... you’re also a soldier?" Ezrael asked, her ears pricking up, the left one twisting slightly in Senna’s direction, eager for her response "Yeah," Senna replied, though her voice lacked its usual spark. "My father is in the Emain Navy." Her tone gave her away, and Ezrael caught the slight shift, a reluctance in the words that piqued her curiosity. "What's wrong? You don't want to serve?" Ezrael pressed gently. "It’s not that..." Senna hesitated, her eyes flickering with something deeper. "I wanted to go to space. I wanted to be a builder. Build bridges in space." Ezrael tilted her head, genuinely confused. "What does that mean?" "All those fancy gates we’re learning about?" Senna’s voice grew more animated, a hint of passion creeping back in. "I want to build them. They’re bridges—bridges to other solar systems and galaxies. I want to be out there, making a difference." Ezrael’s expression faltered slightly. "We are making a difference... or we will." But as she said it, a flicker of doubt crept in. Was that true? Her entire existence, her training, had been focused on saving the citizens of Emain. But was it enough? Was her planet, their planet, a lost cause? Senna, however, seemed resolute. "We can be more than soldiers. You are more than your augments." There was a fire in her eyes, a determination Ezrael hadn’t expected. It was clear Senna believed this with every fiber of her being. "It doesn’t feel that way," Ezrael admitted, her voice soft, almost resigned. They continued walking, rounding a corner toward the galley. "If I can serve and do my duty, that’s enough," Ezrael said quietly, as if convincing herself. "They made me what I am; I owe my existence to our people. My only mission is to serve. It’s my sacred duty. I’m honor-bound to uphold the values of our people and save as many as I can." The words hung in the air between them, heavy with the weight of Ezrael’s conviction. They entered the galley, where tins of synthesized meats, greens, and fruits sat under warming lamps. The space was mostly empty at this hour, and the two girls grabbed their food, retreating to a circular table in the back. Ezrael watched as Senna loaded her tray with sausages and a comically large wedge of blue-green cheese. Unable to hold back, Ezrael snorted with laughter. "You’re going to blow new winds in these halls!" she teased, her usual seriousness giving way to a rare moment of humor. Senna grinned, completely unbothered. She lifted the block of cheese to her mouth and bit off a massive chunk, chewing with exaggerated enthusiasm. "I love cheese, okay?" she said through a full mouth, her eyes twinkling mischievously. Ezrael shook her head, laughing as she picked at her own food. There was something infectious about Senna’s spirit—her friendliness, her carefree attitude. It was everything Ezrael was not. And yet, as she stuffed a piece of bread into her maw and swallowed it whole, she couldn’t help but feel... hopeful. For the first time in a long time, she wondered if maybe this strange, chaotic drake could become a friend—a real friend. It was a rare moment of pure happiness, and the thought warmed her. "Hey," Senna suddenly piped up, her voice laced with excitement. "Do you want to come to my bunk tonight and hang out? I know we’re not supposed to, but we’d have a great time! We could watch scary movies and drink some of the facility’s booze!" Ezrael hesitated for only a second before a smile crept across her face. She couldn’t help it. "Yeah," she said, the enthusiasm surprising even herself. "Yeah, that sounds great." They ate, laughed, and later, made their way to Senna’s bunk. The laughter echoed down the corridor, spilling out from behind the closed door as they stayed up deep into the night, playing imaginary games, telling jokes, and sharing stories. In that small, private space, they could finally act like the juveniles they were, free from the weight of duty and expectation. For Ezrael, it was one of those rare moments she would hold onto for years—an evening where she allowed herself to feel happy, free, and, just for a little while, like she belonged.
