Zhen & Zephyr

Virtue and dishonor. Those two words shape Zhen’s story, and they express the weight she has carried on her shoulders since childhood. If the proud Ordis commander shines for her exploits and those of her parents—heroes and martyrs—her legacy is nevertheless hard to bear. And even more so now, in light of the revelations that have shaken all her certainties. When she closes the door to her cabin aboard Mandjet, guilt and shame always come back to assail her, like vultures waiting to prey on her moments of weakness. In the field she knows how to face danger, but she doesn’t have the tools to confront those invisible enemies lurking at the edge of her consciousness. Not yet. Because that’s precisely what she is trying to obtain: something to wash away the affront, something to shed light on what has stained her honor.

From her happy childhood, Zhen keeps in mind moments of shared love within a united family. From her father, Bai Shan-shu, she developed an appetite for action and a respect for lofty moral values. From her mother she inherited stubbornness and an appreciation for reason. Zhen was born in 330 AC in Hadera, to a father who was an Ordis lieutenant and a mother who was a scientist: Madelyn Moss, a researcher specializing in the study of Chimeras. The couple had met in 327 AC at the Cebir, an outpost that served both as a military fortress and as an experimental laboratory for the Asgarthan forces. Maddie was pursuing a study on the nature of Chimeras, then considered dangerous creatures, while Shan-shu was just beginning his military career. They lived there for two years, until the remote base was abandoned.

Forced to flee and leave most of their material possessions behind, Madelyn was allowed to keep one Chimera specimen with her, which had taken the form of a majestic swan. At Zhen’s birth, it was this swan that wrapped its wings around the small baby to keep it warm, as if it wanted to brood over her. As she grew, Zhen proved to be a mischievous, energetic child. She spent her free time clambering about with the Chimera, which she named Zephyr. She wasn’t very interested in studies. She loved adventure, long hikes with her father across the chaotic heights around Hadera. Sometimes Shan-shu would take Zhen to the small floating isles, where he practiced paragliding or hang-gliding. Zhen would sit in the grass to admire her father’s acrobatics, with Zephyr beside her, vowing to do the same as soon as she was old enough.

Her mother had tried to introduce her to science, but in vain. Zhen was entirely action-oriented and couldn’t understand her mother staying shut away for hours, even days, in her lab when she could have come running, jumping, and climbing the mountain with her. What annoyed her most was that Maddie regularly locked herself in her workshop with Zephyr, supposedly to have him assist with experiments. She wasn’t naive—she knew he was her guinea pig. Every time the sessions ended, her playmate would come out exhausted, forced to rest for days… To Zhen, that wasn’t how you treated him, even though the creature never complained. To her, he was a full member of the family.

Zhen knew perfectly well that both of her parents worked for the military. Shan-shu had managed to obtain a post in the Tagmata, the special forces of the Asgarthan navy. Madelyn, for her part, received regular visits from high-ranking officials of the admiralty, with whom she discussed secret projects behind closed doors. It was at that point that a crack opened in the couple—a palpable tension the young girl couldn’t quite understand. Then one night the order came: Maddie was to board Mesektet to test her invention. Shan-shu’s Tagmata squadron was to take part in escorting the mothership. The couple left the child with her grandparents, taking Zephyr with them. And after that night, nothing was ever the same.

Only her father and Zephyr returned from the voyage. Shan-shu’s eyes were hollow and his features drawn. The Mesektet had gone down under attacks from Cingula, and Madelyn was among the victims. For days the officer remained mute, prey to unspeakable pain, unable to shoulder his daughter’s grief on top of his own. Stunned, he accepted the Purple Star, one of the highest Asgarthian military distinctions, awarded only to those who had shown extraordinary heroism in combat. Using the Chimera’s abilities, Shan-shu had managed to save many crew members. But he had not been able to save Maddie, who disappeared in the explosion on the ship’s scientific bridge. During the memorial service for the dead, jaw clenched, he shook the hands of the survivors, who came forward one by one to express their gratitude. But that very evening Zhen watched him open a bottle of spirits and drink glass after glass.

His daring rescue, in defiance of danger, was praised by his peers and opened for him the doors of the naval high command. It was in the shadow of this lionized hero that Zhen came of age. If he had always been her model, he became much more so after those dark events. She patterned her life on his, following the same trajectory. Maybe she wanted to console him, or to make him understand that she was still there. Even when he tried to hide it during public appearances, Shan-shu was a broken man. To make him find joy in life again—or at least to ease his suffering—she set out to become a model aspirant herself. She put herself through grueling physical training and survival courses in the mountains of Caer Esvander.

She followed to the letter the advice in her father’s military manuals, devouring the books recommended by the officers’ academy. As soon as she reached the legal age to sit for the exams, she took the entrance competition—and excelled in every subject. Those years of training were a wild sprint forward in which the young woman wanted to prove her worth, to reappear on Shan-shu’s radar. She challenged the most athletic cadets and outperformed the tacticians, aiming for excellence. Obstacle courses, survival camps, resistance to extreme conditions, orientation… She had to finish first in the trials. She couldn’t disappoint her father. At the end of her course she graduated top of her class, earning the enormous privilege of choosing her posting. Proudly, she asked to join the Tagmata. But instead of congratulating her, her father’s face fell apart.

All her life, Zhen chased her father’s approval—climbing the ranks by merit, volunteering for the most delicate missions. After only a few years she obtained her first command. She was given the reins of a Tagmata platoon, the Raptors, which she pushed to excellence. Gradually she turned them into the elite of the elite. “I am your shield, you are my spear” was their motto. A mutual respect between the officer and her soldiers made that unit an exceptional military formation, where loyalty to one’s brothers and sisters in arms went beyond the usual bounds of Ordis camaraderie. She accompanied them in all their training, shared their bivouacs, led assaults alongside them… She immersed herself with them on the ground, creating that unique esprit de corps that so many came to praise.

In 364 AC her father, now retired, received an express request from the Basileus himself. Because of his feats and his closeness to Zephyr, he was the ideal candidate for a project Avkan ruun-Heshkari was mulling over. Despite his advanced age, Shan-shu did not dare oppose the wishes of Asgartha’s ruler. He became, with his swan, one of the first to constitute an Exalt, to prove that the Musubi’s result was reproducible. But despite the success of the experiment, Shan-shu’s health suddenly declined. It was clear he would be unfit for service when the Rediscovery Endeavor took off. And the repeatedly postponed timelines only reinforced that impossibility.

The laurels Zhen won with the Raptors—in the form of medals and decorations—earned her the rank of Commodore under the supervision of Rear Admiral Gaj. Then, to crown her career, she rose to the rank of Rear Admiral herself, succeeding her superior. Her more sedentary duties now allowed her to visit her father at their family home. There she would find him surrounded by memories, his demons, and regrets. And remorse—although she didn’t know that then. Despite his frail state, he had persevered to the point that both father and daughter had white hair and skin lined with wrinkles.

But during her last visit she found him bedridden and confined to his room. She scolded the household staff for not alerting her, before learning that it was her father who had forbidden them to do so. There, in his bed, in the dimness of his room with the shutters closed, Shan-shu waited, patient for death to take him. As she squeezed his bony hand, her father looked at her with obvious affliction. Tears ran down his cheeks as he suddenly begged her forgiveness—for the distance he had put between them, and for his crimes. Feverish and consumed by illness, he asked Zhen to hear his confession. Because it was his fault that her mother had died. She tried to stop him, but the old man, drawing on his last strength, asked her to listen.

He admitted that he had caused the tragic fall of the Mesektet, that he was responsible for all those deaths. Saving some from the wreck did not atone for the evil he had done. His whole life had been lived in imposture, in lies. Of all the honors he had received, he deserved none. Stunned, Zhen demanded he tell her more. Why? That single question hammered in her head incessantly. Why? Shan-shu then mentioned her mother’s name, then reconsidered. And even though she urged him to continue, to tell the whole truth, the old man at death’s door shook his head and merely smiled benignly. His last words were for her, to tell her how proud he was of her, even though he had never known how to show it. His hand fell limply on the bed. His milky eyes continued to stare at her for a long while before she finally decided to close them. Outside, she heard Zephyr whistle and trumpet—a lamentation. A plaintive cry.

Only after several days did she allow herself to leave the manor. The burial had taken place two days earlier during a pompous ceremony in which the admiralty rendered him every honor. She was careful not to reveal her father’s words, so as not to tarnish his image or memory, and the wake was quickly concluded. While she walked through the gardens, replaying her father’s words over and over, she realized how much her entire existence had been built on lies. She scrutinized her life and theirs. Unfortunately, all the details about the Mesektet crash had been sealed.

What was happening at the Cebir? What had her mother been working on? Who were the people who visited her at regular intervals? Why was her father ashamed of what her mother did? Why had she been ordered aboard the Mesektet just as it was about to attack Cingula? All those questions floated in her mind like a school of venomous jellyfish… And Zephyr—what about him? She widened her eyes, suddenly remembering the Chimera’s existence. She found him in the veranda, curled up near the artificial pond. Weak, without even the will to live. Was the Musubi bond so strong that he was letting himself die now that his other half had passed away? She tried to share Mana with him, to stimulate him, but nothing worked. The swan continued to languish, losing feathers, its body wasting away irreversibly…

She urgently sought out a Muna enclave to seek counsel from those who mastered the Musubi. Even they admitted they did not fully understand the nature of the bond, but they mentioned the possibility of saving him by performing a second Musubi. The druids warned Zhen that this could be a risk for her, because if the Chimera were to disappear, it could affect her to her core. But after only a few seconds of reflection, Zhen shook her head at the mention of this danger. She too had lived enough. If there was a chance to save Zephyr, she had no choice but to expose herself. During the ceremony, as their beings mingled, she was overwhelmed by memories as they surged through her like a raging torrent.

The experiments in which his Mana was siphoned, the vats, her mother’s face, her father’s… Everything blended together. And through this testimony Zhen began to grasp the extent of the secret. She saw through his eyes her father’s suffering, the episodes of despair, the crises he hid from those around him. She felt his guilt, his disgust, and his wish to end it all to stop the torment. But at the same time she remembered the faces of those who had participated in the cabal: De Graaf, Falani, Singh… Those who had stayed here on multiple occasions. The memory visions were too fragmentary, too blurry, but Zhen now had certainty: her home had been the scene of a dark conspiracy, the true nature of which had been deliberately suppressed…

She investigated at length, preparing the ground for further action. The information about the Cebir and the Mesektet had been sealed. Singh was now at the head of the Rediscovery Endeavor, with De Graaf at his side. Only Falani remained. After a long pondering, on the eve of retirement, she applied to become an Exalt, to take the place her father should have taken. She followed the reconquest of the Cebir from afar and snooped to obtain preliminary reports in secret. During her training, while learning to master the bond that now tied her to Zephyr, she learned with elation that the Mesektet wreck had been found. There was a chance to shed light on everything that had been played out in her past, without her knowledge and to her detriment. Gradually it seemed to her that the pieces of the puzzle were finally beginning to appear, and that it would soon be time for her to complete it.