Chapter 1: Offer

Clara ran.

She wasn't paying any attention to where she was running, but it didn't matter in the least. All she cared about was getting as far from Colony 9 as possible. It wasn't like anyone was chasing her - quite the opposite, actually - but it was still of utmost importance.

After a while, she tripped over what felt like a metallic tree branch, which she hadn't seen in the twilight darkness. Tumbling to the ground, she looked around to find she had run into the nearest Mechon wreckage site, a collection of Mechon-based debris that had fallen from higher parts of the Bionis. It wasn't a complete dead end, but now that she was on the ground, the emotional energy that had propelled her was quickly vanishing. Collapsing onto her front, she began crying into the grass.

It took several minutes to wrench her mind back into gear. Slowly sitting up, she started trying to wipe her face clean, with little success. She did however manage to get clear enough vision to see that she was not alone: someone else was standing in the clearing, about twenty metres in front of her.

He was an older man, wearing a long brown cloak with a fire gem pendant, and would have looked somewhere in his high forties or low fifties if his hair wasn't already pure silver. Yet he held the commanding posture of someone half his age.

Still primarily upset, Clara did not engage in politeness. "Go away! Leave me alone!"

The man didn't budge, or even react to the outburst. She couldn't read his face in the darkness at this distance, but it seemed to have remained unchanged as well. She decided to ignore him, turning herself to face where she came from.

No sooner than she had turned her back, the man seemed to suddenly appear nearby and calmly sit down beside her.

"W-who do you think you are?" Clara was pretty sure the man wasn't from Colony 9; while she didn't know everyone by sight, she thought she would recognise someone of this poise and hairstyle. The realisation started to turn her mind away from lashing out and towards suspicion - there was generally no reason to be collecting from other colonies' wreckage sites.

The man let out a quiet sort of chuckle. "For now, I am the shoulder you need to cry on, the outlet for your emotion. Once that is done, and I understand your plight, I will answer your questions." It was a soft yet definitive voice, in a tone that suggested he had said the same before to others, yet in a curious accent that she did not recognise.

Clara didn't approve of how this stranger was telling her what to do, but after considering his words for a moment, she realised that this was exactly what she needed.

"You...You'll listen to me?"

"For as long as is necessary."

After a few seconds of deliberation, Clara started talking. Ten years ago, when she was fifteen, she was a babysitter for a family of five, with children of ages 6, 4, and 3. She had been somewhat negligent in the past, resulting in a few avoidable bumps and upset stomachs, but those mistakes were fading ever further into the past - she very strongly wished to have children in the future, and was putting significant effort into learning the ropes early. Then, one day, she was talking with one of her friends through the kitchen window while preparing food. Engaged in the conversation, she failed to notice that the oldest child had mischievously slathered butter over the handle of a knife, and as a result of an emphatic gesture, the knife flew across the room and struck the youngest child in the abdomen. The child was okay in the end, but her reputation was permanently ruined: no one would ever trust her near kids again.

Still, she clung to the hope that she would be forgiven one day. At age twenty-one, she married an immigrant from Colony 7, who said he was told her story by his friends but did not care for the past. She embraced what looked to be the perfect opportunity for her to begin motherhood. But whenever the opportunity arose, the husband backed off, claiming he was not ready. She accepted this and waited.

Today was the day it all fell apart. After asking one more time whether they could start a family yet, the husband said he was no longer sure it was a good idea at all, claiming that she would have a very hard time raising a child in a colony where everyone knew of her "reputation". Aghast that she had been betrayed by the one person she trusted, she fled the colony.

Clara felt somewhat relieved once she had finished recounting her tale. She wasn't sure she had ever been allowed to rattle through the entire thing before without being interrupted. But the next thing she felt was a heavy uncertainty of what would come next.

The man, having listened to the whole story without sound or movement, broke the new silence. "Your journey through life thus far has been difficult and painful, being denied the one thing you wish for over a mistake that all refuse to forgive."

Clara shook her head and scoffed. "When you put it like that, it sounds really...almost flat-out mean of them, doesn't it?"

"I am not here to judge their opinions."

"Then...why are you here, anyway?"

The man nodded and turned his head towards her. "Yes, I did say I would answer your questions once your feelings were subdued." He looked back into the sky and took a deep breath.

"My name is Sorean. I come from a place far beyond the sky, perched on the head of the Bionis, known as Alcamoth. We are a peaceful tribe of many pursuits and talents, but we do have a problem: our people are acutely xenophobic, to the point of believing themselves morally superior to all others simply by birthright. In an attempt to dissuade this mentality, many like myself have been travelling across the Bionis, looking for select Homs from other settlements to introduce into a range of positions in our society."

As a purveyor of fiction, Clara instinctively knew what this could mean. "You...You've picked me to come join you?"

Sorean tilted his head in thought. "When I initially arrived here, I had no specific candidates in mind. But while I was waiting, considering my options for a more directed search tomorrow, you appeared before me. And it is clear from your plight that you are the perfect choice."

"...why is that?"

"You are perhaps the most uniquely qualified person I have met thus far for the current open position: that of a man's Second Consort."

The terminology rattled around Clara's head for a bit. "...um...er...Okay, let me think this over a bit...So you have a guy. And he wants a consort. A second one, he already has one, so I guess you can get more done with two of them, or maybe the first one's dead. And...drat, what's "consort" mean again? I've heard that a few years ago...uh...no, I forgot, sorry."

"In the simplest sense of the word, "consort" has the same meaning as "spouse"."

"RIGHT okay yes. So that means..." Her words trailed off as the realisation came through. "You want me to come and be someone's second wife?"

"That is indeed the cleanest way to put it."

"Well then why would I be any good?" Clara became somewhat agitated. "I've already tried the wife thing, and look where that got me, just as much nowhere as-"

Sorean raised his hand calmly yet firmly. "While the position is as wife, that is of secondary importance. The true reason you are the perfect match is this: the intent of my search is to find a mother."

There was a long pause.

"...y...you're serious? This isn't just some joke at my expense?"

"That would be of dreadful taste. No, this is a legitimate opportunity for you to find the life you've been searching for."

Clara's eyes narrowed. "And how do I know I can trust you?"

Sorean nodded slowly. "Yes, that would be the biggest hurdle to clear. You have already been betrayed in your quest for motherhood; of course you would be wary of any apparent chance to begin again. I cannot magically gain your trust. However, I will do this. I shall give you three days to come to a decision. In that time, you may ask any questions of me, and I will answer them to the best of my ability, keeping in mind that there are some things I am forbidden to say to anyone."

"Why is that?"

"As I have said before, our people are highly xenophobic. Out of paranoia for our safety, there are several things I cannot reveal until you have expressed an almost irreversible desire to accept my offer."

"And if I don't?"

"Then I shall take my search elsewhere, and you shall never hear of me again."

A stray cloud caused the moon to flicker. Clara suddenly realised that she was quite tired. "Okay I need to go to bed now. I'll be back tomorrow though. Are you going to be here?"

"I will remain at this site for the three days. I have my own provisions and accommodations; you need not offer me any. I only ask this: that you keep knowledge of me as minimal as possible. It would do neither of us any good to publicise my presence here."

"Super, okay then. See you tomorrow." She turned away and started walking back to the colony, planning to return to her parents' house for the night instead of her husband's, as they were conveniently away at Colony 6 for a couple more days. She wasn't currently sure what to make of the stranger's offer, but she had to admit it was very enticing.

Sorean settled himself down in a corner of the clearing and prepared to go to sleep. He rather enjoyed living in the wilderness for a few days at a time every now and then. It was a nice change of pace and a welcome reprieve from his wife, who had been quite secretive and moody recently - more than usual, anyway.

As Sorean expected, Clara returned to the wreckage site almost immediately after breakfast the next morning.

"You look well," he began.

"Really? That's good I guess, I didn't get much sleep." A short pause. "Wait, did I ever tell you my name? I'm Clara Grentels."

Sorean nodded. "And that is your husband's surname?"

"...yeah, I guess. My birth name was Apiar. My great-grandfather was a beekeeper, so he took a name based on "apiary". Say, what's the name of the man you're looking for a wife- uh, consort for?"

"His surname is Antiqua."

"Antiqua...sounds nice, like some posh guy with a lot of heirlooms, or something. What does he do?"

Sorean thought for a moment. "He is a political man, aligned with those who are currently in power. His strengths are intellectual rather than physical."

Clara nodded thoughtfully. "I never much liked the big beefy guys anyway, always so full of themselves. But I'm not so sure about being a politics person. Would I have to do anything special?"

"You would not be expected to participate in his profession should you not wish it. You will however have to tolerate some rules and regulations that the average citizen need not concern themselves with."

"Makes sense. What kind of stuff would that be?"

"For example, you will have to be very careful expressing your opinions amongst the general public, lest a comment be taken out of context and cause an uproar."

"Hmm, I see."

Silence fell for a few moments as Clara considered where to go next.

"What's it like in...uh...drat, I forget where you said you're from. But what's it like there?"

"It is called Alcamoth," Sorean reminded patiently. "It is a city of far greater scope than your colony, with a culture heavily steeped in history and tradition. Nestled to the rear of the Bionis' head, surrounded by a vast sea and many islands, isolated from all other settlements."

"So it's big? Big enough that one person isn't known to the whole place?"

"That is indeed true of the general populace. However, as Mr. Antiqua is a very important figure, you would be much more in the public eye than the average citizen. I would not hesitate to say you would indeed be known to everyone."

"But I don't want to be known to anyone, that's what kind of ruined things here for me."

"You may rest assured that, if you wish for your story to remain private, not a word of it will be spilled to anyone. I have no interest in revealing your past and potentially ruining both your image and mine."

There was another long gap in the conversation.

Something occurred to Clara that she had intended to ask earlier. "So, if you're looking for a second consort...um, what happened to the first?"

"Ah." Sorean paused to consider his answer. "I am unsure how well you will take this piece of information; it has driven off many a candidate in the past."

"Well let's hear it then, I don't want to skip the important stuff."

"Very well. Mr. Antiqua's First Consort remains alive and well, and they are currently raising an adolescent son together. Now you are surely thinking, why search for a second consort if the first still lives? The answer is that the government allows a man to take two wives, or a woman to take two husbands, if one of them is not native to Alcamoth. It is part of a program to incentivise the introduction of foreigners to the city, and indeed the acceptance of foreigners in general."

"...really?" Clara wasn't sure what to make of the idea of sharing wife duties with a stranger. "Won't it be kind of difficult for him to deal with being part of two different families?"

"The intent is that both wives and their children are of the same household and family, not segregated into halves. Many think of it as a relationship midway between siblings and cousins, with the two mothers sharing resources to care for their offspring. But that said, it is indeed not a lifestyle that everyone can tolerate. Mr. Antiqua has assured me that he is up to the task, and he is not known for taking back his word."

The two combined for the longest silence of the day so far.

"I...I need to go think this over by myself for a bit."

"By all means. You know where to find me."

Clara hesitantly walked off. As an only child, she had never lived with someone of similar age before, and had no idea what to expect in terms of becoming some sort of sister-in-law. If she had the choice, she would prefer to be an "only wife", but at the same time it could very well be a minor price to pay for the overall opportunity.

Clara did not return to the site until the next day's afternoon. Even then, upon arrival, she simply remained quiet as if trying to decide whether something was appropriate to ask.

"You have a deep concern on your mind," Sorean concluded.

"...yeah, I guess." She fidgeted for a while before continuing. "I don't really want to make a decision until I meet this Mr. Antiqua guy. But obviously I can't, because it's what, more than a week for a one-way trip up to the Bionis' head? I'm just guessing since no one's ever gone up there, correct me if I'm wrong. But if you only wanted to spend three days down here, it'd be a massive waste of time for you to spend half a month carting me up and down just for me to end up saying no. So...yeah, that's what's up."

Sorean nodded slowly. "Your thought process is indeed valid. The trek from here to Alcamoth is not a journey to be made on a whim, and of course one would wish to know everything they can about their potential spouse before making a commitment to them." He thought for a moment. "Therefore, the time is right for me to reveal that I am Mr. Antiqua."

Clara nodded before realising what he had actually said. "Wait, what?"

"I am Sorean Antiqua. I seek a Second Consort not for another, but for myself."

"...oh." Pause. "Oh." Another pause. "But aren't...aren't you a bit old?"

Sorean had to chuckle a bit. "If my age is the first thing that comes to your mind as a potential issue, I would call that a good sign."

"...well, I guess. But you're like what, twenty, thirty years ahead of me? You look older than my dad, to be honest. It's...well I don't know what I expected, someone a bit closer in age I guess, but most politician-types are older, so...yeah. I'm just rambling, sorry."

"That is all right. You must understand your thoughts to the fullest extent before making your final decision."

"Yeah. I mean..." She paused to look back in the colony's direction. "I don't want to leave the only place I know, and I don't know what my parents would think about me leaving for a city that I can't really tell them exists, especially one that's so far away that I'll probably never be able to come back for a visit. But at the same time there's nothing worth staying for anymore. I don't really have any friends left, I don't have a job, all my childhood stuff is old and busted...really all I'd need to keep would be stuff like clothes and photos, which seem easy enough to carry."

There was a silence.

"So..." Clara's face didn't seem happy with what she was about to ask. "If you're that much older than me...does that mean...I'll have to take care of the family by myself eventually?"

Sorean nodded sagely. "You presume that I will pass away long before you simply due to age. That is a reasonable thought process for you to have. However, I must ask: why is it a concern of yours? Do you not feel you will acclimate to our society within, say, ten years? Do you fear being an only parent? Or something of another nature?"

"Er, um..." She hadn't really thought of the "why" yet. "...well, I don't think I'll have a problem with either of those two things. I guess it's more like...what am I gonna do? Like, will I need to get a job?"

Sorean subconsciously glanced around a bit, considering whether it was the correct time to unveil a particular piece of information. "I do not generally wish to reveal this, as it tends to attract the wrong kind of interest. But money will not be a concern of yours. There is enough wealth in my family that you will not have to seek employment to continue your life."

"...oh, okay." Clara thought for a moment. "So to recap. You came down here from the Bionis' head to look for a second wife to have a kid with because you want to show everyone that people from elsewhere aren't bad guys, and you want to use your being-rich-and-important-ness to help spread the idea around."

"That is an adequate summary."

"Y'know...I like that. You've built this big city and you don't need anything from anyone, and nobody wants to leave, but you want people to get out there and make friends anyway. Yeah."

Sorean leaned forward slightly. "So what is your opinion of my offer?"

"Uh...well...I mean..." Clara fidgeted a bit. "I'd...I think I need to talk to my parents about it. They should be back from Colony 6 in two or three hours. Can...can I talk to them about it? I mean, it'd be nice to have a second opinion before I have to choose."

"I see no reason to disagree."

"Okay great thanks. I'll...I'll see you tomorrow with an answer."

"Very well."

Clara nervously walked back towards the colony.

Sorean sat down on one of the broken Mechon bodies. He was fairly confident now that he had made the correct choice by taking his search to this colony - not that asking for the seer's opinion was ever a bad idea.

The third day dawned gloomy with overcast skies. Sorean continued to wait patiently at the wreckage site as the weather turned darker, clearly preparing to rain. Normally he would consider it an ill omen, but it could also herald a change.

At about ten o'clock, Clara arrived, walking slightly faster than normal. As soon as she was within reasonable conversation distance, she spoke.

"I'm coming with you." She said it quickly but firmly, as if she wanted to stop herself from overthinking it. "My parents agree that I shouldn't keep living with my current husband, and are excited for me to have this kind of opportunity. I haven't packed yet or anything, but it'll only take an hour or so. Whenever you want to leave, I'm ready."

Sorean nodded slowly. "Very well. You have demonstrated the necessary desire to accept my offer. However, it is not yet set in stone. You must first be informed of the truths that are to be kept with the utmost secrecy. Only upon hearing and fully understanding these truths will I ask for your final decision."

Slightly worried but committed to continue, Clara nodded. "Okay, let's hear it."

Sorean slowly unclasped the fire gem pendant he was wearing and stowed it into a previously-unseen pocket. A few uneventful seconds passed. Just as Clara was about to ask when he was going to begin, she noticed something odd - some sort of giant bird had appeared from nowhere and perched on the back of his head. She blinked confusedly, but it confounded the issue further, with the huge wings now visibly lodged into his skull.

"Uhm...that's...where did..." A flash of realisation struck. "Wait, are you a High Entia?!" She didn't know anything about the mythical race aside from them possessing wings on their heads.

"Indeed." Sorean nodded in approval of the logical leap. "Our existence may be naught but a rumour below the Bionis' chest, but those above know very well of our presence."

"So, that gem...you used it to hide the wings?"

"It is a Truth Cloak gem of high rank. An invaluable tool for meeting Homs without attracting unwanted attention."

Clara wasn't sure what to ask next, so she fell silent for a little while.

Sorean stepped into the silence. "If you are wondering how this new information affects my offer, know this: Nothing has changed. I am still searching for a Second Consort from outside Alcamoth with which to have a child. Recall how I explained that my people are acutely xenophobic. To elaborate, the average High Entia believes the Homs to be beneath mention at best. Our goal is to interbreed the two species to fill our society with half-bloods, and subsequently undermine this mentality until it is no more. Acceptance of Homs and half-bloods remains low at the present time, but with a not-insignificant population of them, it is constantly improving. The ultimate goal is to stop secluding ourselves in Alcamoth, to travel across the Bionis and become allies with the Homs."

"...okay." Clara slowly digested the new information. "So...so I'm going to have a kid with wings?"

"Indeed. Our two species may be similar in many respects, but we also differ in several important ways. And possessing wings is one of our strongest traits." He proceeded to head off her next thought. "Do not worry about the medical complications of such interbreeding. We have a substantial amount of experience with the potential issues that may arise. I guarantee that both you and your child will be healthy."

"Well..." She pondered for a moment. "It'll be a bit weird. But if I'm helping to get rid of your racism problem, and I get to be a mother at the same time, I'm still all for it."

"Then listen, and listen well, for this final piece of information is the one that has turned away all other Homs that I have met in the past."

Clara didn't think anything could change her mind at this point, but felt worried at the super-serious tone she was hearing. "Uh, okay."

Sorean took a deep breath. "Tell me, exactly how old do you believe I am?"

"Um...well...what'd I say yesterday? Er...maybe...uh...fifty? I mean you could dye your hair and look forty-ish..."

"Closer to fifty-one, in truth. But the important part is that such is only the age I appear to you. In actuality, I am two hundred and twenty-eight years of age."

"T...two...Two two eight?" Clara was confused for only a moment. "Oh okay, so you have an extended lifespan. I've read a bunch of books that have a race like that, they just keep living without aging much."

"That is not the full extent of the issue at hand." He reached into his pocket and extracted a photograph, handing it to her.

The picture looked to be some sort of birthday party. At a table was seated what looked to be a thirteen-year old boy with silver hair, his headwings spread out like he was trying to look both proud and impressive. A bunch of presumed presents littered the table, while several exotic-looking decorations hung on the back wall, most notably what appeared to be a banner in an alien script that she guessed to read "Happy [two-digit number]th Birthday [seven-letter name]".

Clara could feel a memory twitching. "This is...the son you already have?"

"Indeed. This photograph was taken two months ago, on his sixtieth birthday."

Clara started to nod before realising she must have misheard. "I'm sorry, sixteenth, or sixtieth?" She looked closer at the banner in the photo: the age's second digit did look a lot more like a slashed zero than anything else, and the first digit strongly resembled "VI", the ancient numeral form of 6 traditionally used for recording crystal and gem quality.

"He may appear to you as a teenager - and he most certainly has the mannerisms of an adolescent - but he has been of this world longer than your parents have. You see, we High Entia do not simply live longer than Homs - we age slower, by a rate of approximately four and a half times. Even from birth, it takes almost five years for one of us to match one year of Homs life." Sorean stared into Clara's eyes with great solemness. "And this leads to the most important fact that you must know: our reduced rate of aging is a dominant trait, making it an effective certainty that a half-blooded individual will have an identical aging rate as a pure-blood. You will not live to see your child reach adulthood."

The new information took a while to seep into Clara's mind. "I...not...not even a little bit? I mean...I'm only 25..."

Sorean shook his head. "The age of majority is seventy-five. Even if your child was to be born this instant, you would have to reach the age of one hundred to witness that occasion."

"That's..." Clara was crestfallen for a few moments, but something occurred to her that perked her right up again, more sure of her decision than ever. "That's perfect. No matter how long I live, my child will still be a child. I can spend the rest of my life being an active mother, not just twenty years until they move out. And I'll still have the experience of an older kid nearing adulthood, with the son you already have. Yeah there's going to be like five times more of the bad stuff, but five times more of the good stuff too. It's...it's almost like a dream come true."

"I am pleased to hear of your positive mindset." Sorean paused for a moment to try and recall if he had forgotten anything. "I have told you all you need to know. I ask for one last time: Do you wish to come to Alcamoth, and begin a new life?"

In Clara's mind, the answer was obvious.