Stories and Book Talk

Tag: Theria Guild Guardian

  • Theria Guild Guardian: Code and Courage – 9

    Theria Guild Guardian: Code and Courage – 9

    Kiel Iram sat in the main mess hall at Swala Force’s compound. He chose a table in the middle of the room that could seat two. His black uniform with five gold chevrons on his shoulders had the young cadets giving him a wide berth. The mess hall was relatively quiet. It gave Kiel the convenience he needed to log in to the main network and report his findings on the previous night’s attack to command.

    When he finished his report, Kiel pulled up the map of the Empire of Afrotheria. He filtered the map to show the Theria Guild zone boundaries and their assigned Guardian forces.

    Since the attack on Gathu Village in Teru Province, Commander Demus had been studying the movement of the Theria Guild teams in the surrounding zones. Teru Province had a weakness.

    The Swala Force stationed in this oasis was largely made up of cadets and officers fresh out of training. The seasoned Sokwe Recon trainers were not enough to run a serious team. However, they managed to utilize the cadets to a satisfactory result. In any case, Swala Force should have been able to respond to a distressed village like Gathu in time to avoid casualties.

    Kiel tapped his finger on the number of casualties in Gathu Village and let out a sigh. It was over fifty, which was quite a number for a village not near the barrier. Perhaps there was a breakdown in communication. Swala Force’s general was hard to handle, but he would have taken a call to arms from Simba Force in Zone 7 without protest. The Sokwe Recon team in the oasis should have also been able to respond in time.

    Kiel picked up a slice of ugali from the bowl next to him and chewed on it in deep thought. A message beeped, and the notification appeared in the corner of his screen. It was from Commander Demus.

    “Instructor Kitonyi wants to recommend a trio of cadets to our side. Check them out. He’s a good friend with a good eye. He won’t ask for a favor without cause.”

    Kiel replied with an affirmative answer, promising to talk to the three cadets. Demus Kiima rarely asked for favors. When he did, they were very important.

    “Thank you. They’ll find you in the mess hall.”

    Kiel closed his glass tablet, folding it back into the size of a small cell phone. He slid it into his pocket and pulled out a pair of glasses instead. Pulling his tray of food closer, he concentrated on eating while he waited for his three guests.

    Zev breathed out his anxiety as they reached the mess hall. It was a little past seven o’clock. Most of his fellow cadets had already eaten and rushed off to complete duties.

    The place was relatively quiet and empty. It was easy to spot the general sitting at a table for two in the middle of the dining hall. He sat with his back straight. His hair was cut very short and neat. He wore a black blazer with the gold chevrons of his rank, five on each shoulder. Zev wondered when he would ever get there.

    A gentle touch on his right shoulder had Zev turning to find Instructor Kitonyi watching him.

    “General Iram will conduct an interview. Answer his questions without hesitation. The rest is up to how fast you get your twentieth battle,” Instructor Kitonyi said.

    “Thank you, sir,” Zev said, saluting the taller man. He glanced at Saul and Noah, then nodded as he led the way to the general’s table.

    Kiel was watching a surveillance video of the Gathu Village attack when three cadets reached his table. They saluted him in a neat movement and greeted him.

    “Good morning, General.”

    “Mm. Good morning,” Kiel said, reaching up to touch the side of his glasses. The video paused and started a recording of the three cadets. Kiel cleared his throat and folded his arms across his chest, giving all his attention to the trio.

    They looked young, barely twenty. Fresh-faced, eager, Kiel mused. They made him keenly aware of his own age. He was turning thirty-three soon. He had already stopped adding chevrons to his arms to mark his successful battles. They were too many now, and the gold chevrons on his shoulders were enough to mark his current rank. Still, he kept his qualifying twenty on his arms because they were a reminder of his days in training.

    “At ease,” he said now to the three cadets. “Name, rank, left to right.”

    “Staff Sergeant Zev Mablevi, squad leader.”

    “Sergeant Saul Nkoba, team member.”

    “Sergeant Noah Bala, team member.”

    “How old are you?” Kiel asked.

    “Twenty-two this year,” Mablevi said.

    “Twenty-three,” Saul answered.

    “Twenty-four,” Noah said.

    “Interesting,” Kiel thought, his gaze resting on Mablevi. The two young men didn’t mind following orders from a younger squad leader. Kiel studied them, too, for a second longer.

    Mablevi stood in a standard military stance. His hands clasped behind his back, his back straight, his shoulders straight. He stood stock-still, assured in his qualifications, unlike the other two who shifted slightly with nerves. Their gazes shifted to Mablevi occasionally.

    It looked like Mablevi had built a small pack. They probably worked quite well in a team setting.

    “How many battles have you completed?” Kiel asked. “Staff Sergeant Mablevi, answer for your team.”

    “Nineteen battles, sir.”

    “One more and you can qualify out of Swala Force. You can join Simba Force in Thuka Province, or Tiger in Yole. If you qualify high enough, you can even join Sokwe in Kirit Capital. Why do you need to meet me?”

    Mablevi glanced at his teammates before he answered.

    “We’re hoping to join the Strike Force Team.”

    Kiel hid a smile at the clear ambition in Mablevi’s tone.

    “What if you can’t?” Kiel asked.

    “Then we’ll join Sokwe Recon, sir.”

    “Do you want to relocate to the capital, Kirit?” Kiel asked.

    “We hope that once we join Sokwe Recon, we can find a way to enter the Strike Force, sir,” Mablevi answered.

    Kiel nodded.

    The Strike Force was a grand dream for any Guardian in the Theria Guild. To join it would mean working directly under Commander Demus Kiima and himself. Recruitment did not include joining Sokwe Recon. Instead, it was based heavily on unique ability.

    Kiel did not divulge the truth of entry into the Strike Force to Zev Mablevi. Instead, he decided he wanted to see this little team in action.

    “What would you like to hear from me?” Kiel asked, wanting to catch a glimpse of Mablevi’s thoughts.

    “Sir, we are one battle away from twenty chevrons. Once we return, whole and hale, please consider recommending us to Sokwe Recon,” Mablevi said.

    “What if the transfer separates you?” Kiel asked, narrowing his gaze. Mablevi looked qualified for Strike Force, but the other two did not seem ready.

    Zev swallowed hard this time, then answered, “As long as we are able to work up the ranks, it will be to our benefit.”

    Kiel scoffed because he could see Mablevi’s unwillingness to separate from his team. Still, he admired Mablevi’s determination to move out of Swala Force.

    “All right, I’ll consider your transfers when you achieve your qualifying battle. I’m not promising anything. Your ability determines where you end up,” Kiel said.

    Zev’s smile was fast, a quick curve of his lips that quickly disappeared. He brought his right hand up in a formal salute, prompting the others to follow suit.

    “Thank you for meeting us, sir!”

    “Thank you, sir!” Noah and Saul echoed.

    “All right, leave me to my work. You’re dismissed, cadets,” Kiel said.

    “Yes, sir.” Zev and his team gave him a final salute and hurried away, making their way to the buffet line.

    Kiel chuckled at their obvious excitement, once again wondering if he was ever that young. He pulled out his phone and called Demus.

    “How do you feel about recruiting a gifted team leader?” Kiel asked.

    “How old?” Demus asked.

    “Twenty-two,” Kiel said. “He’s a natural adhesive, holding together a team of two for now.”

    Kiel studied Mablevi receiving a tray filled with food from Saul and grinned. “They seem to eat, sleep, and fight together. He’s older than his teammates, which means they are following him after careful thought. It would be interesting to play with their dynamic and see how it fares in the Wildlands.”

    “He must be interesting to have you talk about him,” Demus said. “Forward their stats to the Strike Force recruitment council1. Use their qualifying fight as a test.”

    “I’ll find Instructor Kitonyi to set it up,” Kiel said.

    “What about the Gathu Village roundup?” Demus asked, shifting to the reason Kiel had needed to visit Swala Force.

    “I have five men following the ghost wraith routes,” Kiel said. “These wraith routes seem planned, though I cannot explain how that is possible. Ghost wraiths should not be able to make a decision.”

    “Unless there is interference,” Demus said, his tone thoughtful. “I’ll reach out to Nico Riithi at Strato. He will know what KISTech is working on and if it has to do with wraith control. Keep at it. I want a clearer picture.”

    “Yes, sir!” Kiel said.

    He waited for Demus to end the call before he focused on his food. After his meal, he went in search of Instructor Kitonyi to learn more about Mablevi.

    <<Previous | TOC | Next>>

    Footnotes:

    1. Strike Force recruitment council chooses team members for the elite strike force team based on a guardian’s merit. ↩︎

  • Theria Guild Guardian: Code and Courage – 8

    Theria Guild Guardian: Code and Courage – 8

    It was a dark Thursday evening, and Zev had just turned twenty-two. He rode in the back of a military-grade utility truck used by the Theria Guild for transport, keeping his attention fixed on his squadmates and the mission at hand. Their four-man team was en route to the open lands bordering Thuka Province, near the steel barrier that divided their territory from the Wild Lands.

    Guardian intelligence had identified a likely ghost wraith attack on a weak point in the barrier. The nearby villages, already under close watch, needed the Guild’s protection.

    Simba Recon was stationed in the area but had requested backup from Swala Oasis, hoping to prevent civilian casualties. Swala’s forces often supported Simba Recon during major ghost wraith outbreaks.

    “Squad Leader Mablevi, Sergeant Nkoba, and Sergeant Bala,” the team leader called out.

    “Sir,” Zev answered, with Saul and Noah echoing him.

    Zev glanced at the man in charge of their four-person squad, known only as Hunter. It was customary for recruits to adopt new names upon joining the Theria Guild. It was a way to leave the past behind. Zev had refused to change his name, holding fast to a connection he would not abandon, so that if Amare was out there somewhere, she might still find him.

    “They call it a ‘suspected attack,’ but we know better,” Hunter said. “Ghost wraiths don’t come to play. Keep your eyes open, your heads down, and don’t let yourselves get eaten.”

    “Sir, yes, sir!”

    “Check weapons,” Hunter ordered.

    Zev’s hand fell to the long blade1 sheathed at his right hip. Close combat was his strength, and he trusted the blade more than anything else. Still, he carried two modified Santi Corp hyper-comp pistols2, each holstered on a thigh. He double-checked his ammo clips, each loaded with liquid-steel bullets designed to burn through a ghost wraith’s green blood like acid. Speed and accurate aim were key. One well-placed shot to the head could end the threat permanently. If that failed, a swift beheading with the blade was standard procedure.

    Satisfied with his gear, Zev gripped the hilt of his sword and gave Hunter a quick nod. There was little need for words before a mission; Guardians understood they lived and died by each other’s trust.

    Their transport lurched to a stop. A crackling voice blared through the truck’s intercom.

    “Strike Force Commander reports a confirmed sighting,” came the driver’s clipped voice. “Three packs of approximately ten ghost wraiths each are stalking the village at midpoint. Simba Recon has deployed to the east. Swala’s units will cover the west. I’ve brought you as close to the border as I can.”

    “Roger,” Hunter said, hitting the button to release the doors.

    He leaped out first, helmet locked in place, pistol ready. Zev followed, his own helmet sealing with a soft hiss, and behind him came Saul and Noah. Five other Swala units spilled out around them.

    They found themselves in front of a dense forest. A narrow road led toward the village, but ghost wraiths rarely took roads, preferring shadowy undergrowth for cover while hunting. With a curt nod to the team leaders on either side, Hunter signaled for everyone to move into the thick greenery.

    Zev inhaled the moist, earthy air, keenly aware that his helmet had already begun recording every second.

    “Proximity: four hundred meters,” announced the AI’s measured voice, echoing in Zev’s earpiece.

    He left his blade sheathed for the moment, opting for his pistols. Their first shots would give away their position, so every trigger pull had to count.

    “Two hundred meters,” the AI announced a heartbeat later.

    Zev slowed, muscles tense. He could hear the rustling of something large moving through the brush. Adrenaline thrummed in his veins. He chanced a glance at Hunter’s black cloak, which marked him as a higher grade. If Zev could survive enough missions, log enough successful battles, he could eventually earn that black cloak, and perhaps catch the eye of the elite Strike Force Squad. Their presence tonight, even if brief, might be an opportunity for him and his team.

    Their presence tonight, even if brief, might be an opportunity for him and his team.

    Hunter crouched low, weapon raised, and Zev did the same. Beyond them, he spotted the roving pack of ghost wraiths. Some prowled the ground; others leaped from branch to branch with sinuous ease, their dark skin glistening under stray moonbeams. Each creature had a spiked, porcupine-like tail and a jaw lined with rows of sharp, lethal teeth, fully capable of tearing a man apart in seconds.

    A memory flashed of two such beasts devouring Gen, and Zev shuddered.

    “Focus,” Hunter’s voice cut into his earpiece.

    Zev steadied his breath, pushing aside the haunting image.

    “Fire in five,” Hunter said quietly, counting down. “Four. Three. Two. One. Mark.”

    Zev aligned his sights on the closest ghost wraith, squeezed the trigger, and watched his bullet find its mark near the creature’s head. It dropped to the ground. Around him, the rest of the squad fired in near-unison, felling several wraiths. With their numbers reduced, the remaining wraiths charged the Guardians in a frenzy.

    Zev holstered both pistols, drew his long blade, and braced for the clash. Lightning carved the sky, thunder close behind, and an unearthly chorus of roars and screams filled the forest.

    The blade’s handle was etched with symbols: a flame to represent the Theria Guild, and short lines beneath it for every battle Zev had survived. He had fought eighteen so far; two more would qualify him for a chance to ascend the ranks, and bring him closer to discovering Amare’s fate.

    “Proximity: two meters,” the AI announced just before the first wraith lunged.

    Zev swung the blade in a brutal arc, connecting with the creature’s neck. Its head hit the ground in a splatter of iridescent green blood. He sprang out of reach of another wraith’s jaws, driving his blade into its forehead when it staggered. Faster than he’d imagined, he was locked in a deadly dance, slashing, shooting, and sidestepping gnashing fangs and lashing tails.

    Overhead, thunder rumbled in a punishing staccato, matched by the sickening crunch of steel slicing into flesh. Zev fought on, determined to outlast the storm.

    ****

    By morning, Zev stood in the shower stall of his quarters at Swala Oasis, hot water pounding against his sore muscles. Days like this felt surreal. As a child, he never imagined becoming a guardian. That dream had belonged to his younger brother, Grey. But after Grey and Silas died, and Amare went missing, the Guild had offered Zev the only outlet for his raging grief.

    He rubbed at a knot of tension under his shoulder, remembering how Amare would wait for him outside his class with a ready smile and a small bag of sugarcane. The memory stabbed him like a dull blade. He closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against the cool tiled wall, forcing himself to breathe until the pain dulled. Wherever she was, he prayed she was alive, that she would find a way back to him, or he to her.

    Taking deep breaths, Zev slapped the shower button off and grabbed a towel from the shower-stall rail. He dried fast and stepped out, grabbing the second towel on the rack to dry his short locs.

    Barefoot, he walked to the sink and peered into the mirror above it. He pulled the towel off his head and leaned in to look at the fine line on his neck.

    Tonight’s mistake, he thought, running his index finger over the fine cut.

    A ghost wraith managed to dislodge his helmet at the thickest moment of the fight. One of its claws scraped his skin as he fought to get free from beneath it.

    Zev opened the medicine cabinet hidden behind the mirror and retrieved a large tube. He smeared on a dab of the Guild-issued medicinal cream and felt the sting recede.

    His hair was cut short on the sides, with his locs growing long on the top of his head. He let them grow because of his sister, Amare. Ignoring the fact that his locs were still damp, Zev picked up a leather tie from the counter and secured them in a tight ponytail.

    He dressed quickly in a T-shirt and shorts, depositing his damp towels in the laundry bin.

    When he stepped into the main room, his two best friends, Noah and Saul, were already there. Noah lounged on Zev’s bed, the glass screen on the far wall playing cartoons at low volume, while Saul perched at the reading desk, feet propped up, tapping at a video game on his phone.

    “Squad Leader sure likes to take his time in the shower,” Noah teased, tossing the remote onto the bed and rotating to face Zev. “Did the green goop3 clog your locs?”

    “Shut up.” Zev managed a small grin. “Why are you guys here this early?”

    “We wanted to check on you,” Saul said, rising from the desk and crossing the room. He gently lifted Zev’s chin, examining the cut on his neck.

    “You almost got eaten out there,” Noah added, scooting upright.

    “Your head looks best right where it is,” Saul said, dropping his hand. “Try not to lose it.”

    Zev let out a breath. He appreciated their concern. The night’s battle had cost three Guardians their lives. Hunter would oversee their final rites. The Theria Guild would manage the funerals, and Guardian Command would notify the families.

    Zev hated to imagine how his own parents would react if ever faced with that dreaded knock on the door. Not that he had heard from them in the last four years. His father had stopped sending him messages on his birthday.

    Zev rubbed his forehead. Still, he didn’t want to put his parents through more pain, so he needed to train harder.

    Saul cleared his throat. “Because we lost three, we’ll be getting two new recruits from the qualifiers in the fourth squad.”

    Zev stifled a groan. He knew what that meant: more responsibilities for him, Noah, and Saul. Their four-man team was ranked first among the cadets in Swala, which always earned them the task of training newcomers.

    “Give them a copy of the new training schedule,” Zev said, dragging himself to a shabby couch and sinking onto the cushions. He rested his head back, closing his eyes for a moment.

    “We also came by because there’s news from the main office,” Saul said, folding his arms.

    “What kind of news?” Zev asked, sounding more indifferent than he felt.

    “There is a Strike Force commander in-house,” Noah said. “He stopped here on his way to the capital city, Kirit. He wanted information about last night’s mission.”

    Zev sat up fast. He had waited so long for a chance at the Strike Force.

    “We can try to meet him in the mess hall,” Saul said. “We can ask him how to join the Strike Force. Either that or how to move to Sokwe Recon in the capital. We each have one more battle left before we strike twenty. We’ll be qualified to move up the ranks.”

    A spark of excitement flared in Zev’s chest. He had been working toward the Strike Force for years. If this commander had taken note of their squad’s performance, it might be the break Zev, Noah, and Saul needed.

    Black tattoos decorated his arms from his wrists to his elbows. Black chevrons4 to count the number of battles he had survived. Just like his sword, the chevrons reminded him of the number of times he returned alive from battle. He was two chevrons away from reaching twenty battles.

    After last night’s battle, he needed to add one more chevron on his right arm today, making them nineteen. This meant he only needed one more battle, and he would be at twenty.

    Twenty was a qualifying number to shift squads. Sokwe Recon would take him, Noah, and Saul. Then they could find a way to get into the Strike Force.

    Zev sat up straight. “It’s nearly seven,” he said, nodding at the clock on the screen. “Breakfast. Let’s head to the mess hall. If the Strike Force commander’s still around, maybe we’ll get lucky.”

    Wearing his socks and boots, he led the way.

    Behind him, Noah and Saul fell in step, their camaraderie as steadfast as the bonds of any true family, and for Zev, it might be the only family he could really trust until he found Amare again.

    <<Previous | TOC | Next>>

    Footnotes:

    1. Long blade – This is a specialized close-combat weapon used by Guardians of the Theria Guild in their fight against the ghost wraiths. ↩︎
    2. A hyper-comp pistol is a specialized firearm developed and modified by Santi Corp for use by Guardians in the Theria Guild in their fight against the ghost wraiths. They are referred to as modified Santi Corp hyper-comp pistols. The pistols have a compact black slide and silver barrels. They utilize specialized ammunition known as liquid-steel bullets. The technology for these bullets is calibrated by Santi Corp. ↩︎
    3. Green goop refers to the ghost wraith’s green blood. ↩︎
    4. Black Chevron tattoos -The chevrons are used to count the number of battles cadets have survived. They are pictured below. ↩︎
    Zev Chevrons

  • Theria Guild Guardian: Code and Courage -7

    Theria Guild Guardian: Code and Courage -7

    Zev returned home after finishing his session with Miss Leya at the academy. He carried a folder containing his class transfer paperwork and an admission letter to the Theria Guild Oasis nearest his home, Sokwe Recon Oasis, which managed the cadet program called Swala Force.1 Upon stepping inside, he found his parents still deep in mourning. Grief clung to every corner of the house, so heavy that he could not bring himself to speak of his decision.

    Luca Mablevi, his father, had moved out of Amare’s room. Though lucid again, he burned with a single-minded obsession: to find Amare. Each morning, he left to track down Officer Kwaro, determined to uncover even the smallest clue. Zev feared Officer Kwaro would never rest until Amare was found. Luca did not return home most nights.

    Zev’s mother, Elina, was even less present. She had locked herself in Grey and Silas’s room, shutting out the rest of the household. She paid no mind to Zev or his intentions.

    On the morning Zev departed for the Sokwe Recon Oasis, he told his grandmother only that he was going to school. She nodded in distracted acknowledgment, then carried a bowl of porridge to Elina, who lay curled on Grey’s bed. No one accompanied Zev to the training compound. Instead, he boarded a public Mobibus2 alone, one duffel bag in hand. It held a single change of clothes and a photograph of his family.

    When he arrived at the Sokwe Recon Oasis Training Compound, mid-morning rain drummed on the rooftops. An officer in a khaki uniform met him at the gate and escorted him to the admission hall, where Zev formally registered with the Theria Guild. From there, he was taken to the disbursement center, where two cheerful officers handed over three sets of uniforms, three pairs of socks, two pairs of boots, two sweaters, and a Theria Guild blazer. They stamped his name and officer number on a pair of tags, directing him to the trainee quarters.

    In what felt like the blink of an eye, Zev, at seventeen, became part of the most powerful army in the Afrotheria Empire. He had joined one of the most feared and revered forces in the land: the Theria Guild Guardians.

    In his heart, he knew why. The rage that consumed him traced back to the night he watched a pack of ghost wraiths tear apart his brothers, Grey and Silas, and leave him powerless to protect Amare.
    If not for those ghost wraiths, he might have kept Amare safe. That thought tormented him, guilt and grief roiling beneath every breath. He forced the darkness aside but could not silence it completely.

    The next morning, he found himself on the training field, lungs aflame and side aching as he sprinted for the red line painted across the track. Sweat stung his eyes. He pushed himself harder and managed to cross the finish line just as his legs threatened to buckle. He collapsed to his knees, gasping for air.

    “Again, Mablevi!” the instructor roared, his whistle shrilling in the damp air. “You’re too slow. One second too late, and you’re ghost wraith bait. Get up and do it again!”

    Zev glared at the instructor, torn between resentment and admiration. There were fifteen cadets in his class, and their merciless trainer intended to whip them into shape through endless drills and punishing runs. Every muscle in Zev’s body burned. His lungs felt as though they might never inflate properly again.

    A firm hand grasped his left arm, pulling him upright before he could even consider surrendering to the tarmac. Zev looked up, meeting the friendly grin of an older boy.

    “He won’t stop hollering until you quit collapsing at the line,” the boy said. “I’m Saul. I joined a month before you. The trick is to stay on your feet until you’re off the track.”

    Zev nodded, though he doubted he could remain upright another moment. A second boy, about his age, appeared on his right.
    “I’m Noah. I can pace you so you cut your time,” Noah offered.
    They returned to the starting line, Zev wedged between them.

    The instructor blew the whistle, and they bolted forward. This time, Noah and Saul stayed at his sides, giving him a sense of unity he hadn’t felt since losing his brothers. For a moment, it felt as if training might be bearable.

    Three days later, Zev realized how over his head he truly was.
    He stood in a Santi Corp Simulation Training Room3, wearing crisp white cadet armor and a pair of smart VR glasses perched on his nose. In his hand, he clutched a Santi Sword specially modified for simulation battles.

    “Mablevi, you’re seventeen and have never set foot in a simulation room,” the instructor’s voice echoed around the domed chamber. “You’re behind everyone else, so you’ll need to work twice as hard to catch up. We’re starting you at the most basic level. Here’s your first test: You’re in a forested village in the Teru hills, under threat of a ghost wraith reap. You don’t know how large the incoming pack is, only that it moves fast and will decimate any unprotected area. Your objective is to neutralize any ghost wraiths heading your way. Mission Commence: Cadet Mablevi, Basic Simulation 001, start!”

    At once, the training room went dark, and a lush forest materialized before him under a bright sun. Birds chirped overhead in an almost cheerful cacophony. Zev had barely stepped forward when a ghost wraith lunged out of nowhere. His reaction came too late.

    The simulation ended.

    “You are dead,” the instructor announced flatly. “An entire village would have fallen, Cadet. Rule number one: focus. This is not a game. No one’s coming to save you, you’re the one who must do the saving. Mission Commence: Cadet Mablevi, Basic Simulation 002, start!”

    No one’s coming to save you, you’re the one who must do the saving.

    He died ten more times, managing only two steps each attempt.
    By the fifteenth session he managed five steps. He hoped that by the thirtieth he might at least see the wraith before it shredded him. The ghost wraiths’ speed shook him to the core, and he couldn’t help but wonder if he had what it took to become a true guardian.

    Time marched on, and Zev turned eighteen at the Sokwe Recon Oasis. On his birthday, two messages arrived on his Theria Guild console. The first was from Officer Kwaro, who wrote that two more girls had vanished after Amare, leaving only the faintest traces behind.

    The second message was from his father, Luca: “We’re doing better. Happy birthday, Son.”

    Zev replied to neither. Instead, he immersed himself in training. He had just received his Theria Guild combat armor4, far heavier than the white cadet gear he’d worn before. Crafted from advanced metal and flexible fabric, it conformed to his body while shielding him from most ghost wraith attacks.

    Still, a ghost wraith’s bite was brutal enough to tear through an arm if it latched on hard and long. Only speed and skill could keep him safe.

    The armor came in two pieces: trousers and a matching vest. His feet were in steel-toed military boots that required a fresh kind of dexterity to run and fight in. Fine black steel gloves protected his hands, while a helmet, engineered by Santi Corp, offered communication, real-time health tracking, and mission monitoring.

    Every strike, dodge, and clash against a ghost wraith was recorded and analyzed by KISTech Researchers, who studied ghost wraith behavior, and by Theria Guild technicians, who used it for weapons development and advanced training.

    Sometimes Zev caught himself studying the helmet’s inner workings, an echo of the technological fascination he once held. But that dream had evaporated with the old life he’d left behind. Now he was a Theria Guild Guardian whose sole mission was to protect the people and destroy ghost wraiths.

    Finally, he received a cloak, clipped to his shoulders. Its color changed by rank; his was green5. The most revered cloak in the Theria Guild was red, reserved for the elite Strike Force Squad; an elusive unit that enjoyed unfettered freedom and resources. None knew exactly how to join, only that they accepted the absolute best.
    Zev vowed he would someday wear that red cloak.

    For four years after his eighteenth birthday, he lived, breathed, and trained for one goal: to earn a place in the Strike Force Squad, and to avenge the brothers and the life he had lost.

    <<Previous | TOC | Next>>

    Footnotes:

    1. The Swala Force is a unit within the Theria Guild Guardians, which is Afrotheria’s powerful army tasked with protecting its citizens from ghost wraiths. It serves as the starting point for newest recruits in the Theria Guild. ↩︎
    2. Mobibus – a public bus powered by solar power. ↩︎
    3. The Santi Corp Simulation Training Room is a specialized, large, dome-like chamber used by the Theria Guild Guardians for training purposes. Cadets, such as Zev Mablevi, use this room to practice combating ghost wraiths in simulated environments. ↩︎
    4. The Theria Guild Combat armor is a sophisticated and heavy protective gear worn by Guardians, the members of Afrotheria’s powerful army. This armor is distinct from the lighter cadet gear worn by new recruits during simulation training. ↩︎
    5. The Theria Guild Guardians wear cloaks, and the color of the cloak indicates a Guardian’s rank. Green Cloak: This is the color worn by Staff Sergeant Zev Mablevi, indicating his rank. Black Cloak: This color is worn by a squad leader. The Red Cloak is the “most revered cloak” in the Theria Guild and is reserved for the elite Strike Force Squad. These Guardians are the “absolute best” and are part of an elusive unit with unfettered freedom and resources. ↩︎
  • Theria Guild Guardian: Code and Courage – 6

    Theria Guild Guardian: Code and Courage – 6

    Zev never reached Gen.

    Strong hands seized him by the shoulders of his jacket, hauled him back, and slammed him flat onto the grass. His face pressed into dirt, his mouth filling with the taste of grass and dirt. He tried to twist free, but someone held him down with unyielding strength.

    “Stay put!” commanded a harsh voice above him. “Alpha Team, we have five targets around the compound, unknown civilian casualties in the cottage. One survivor here, in custody. Send a suppression team.”

    Zev struggled, barely able to move under the warrior’s grip. “My brothers,” he gasped, spitting out pieces of grass. “They’re behind the house, seven and five, there’s a six-year-old friend with them!”

    The unseen speaker relayed that information calmly.

    “Young survivors reported at the rear of the house.”

    “Let me go!” Zev snapped, desperation swallowing his fear. “I can help, let me find them!”

    “We let you go, you’ll get yourself torn to shreds,” came the brusque reply. “That little axe of yours won’t do a damned thing.”

    “How would you know?” Zev spat. Fury coursed through him, but the man clamped down harder.

    Then, just as quickly, the pressure lifted. He found himself hauled upright, forced into a kneeling position. From that vantage, Zev glimpsed five figures in green armor charging the ghost wraiths skulking near the shattered walls of Gen’s house. He recognized the armor immediately, Theria Guild Guardians.

    One Guardian leaped onto a towering wraith’s back with terrifying agility. A silver sword crackled with lightning in his hands, and he drove it deep into the wraith’s neck. The creature collapsed in a splatter of green blood, its roar abruptly silenced.

    “Think your axe could pull that off?” the same gruff voice asked, a hint of grimness in his tone.

    Zev’s stomach twisted, and he sank back, trembling at the sight of the other wraiths shrieking in rage. Thunder boomed overhead, and lightning streaked across an angry sky.

    In a deadly dance of violence, the Guardians clashed with the pack, blades sparking, monstrous roars rising to the heavens. Blood, thick and green from the wraiths, bright red from wounded Guardians, splashed the debris-littered yard.

    The fight was ferocious and short: five minutes of savage chaos. Then, eerie silence fell.

    Zev’s captor released him, but Zev no longer had the strength to stand. He remained on his knees, breath quivering, eyes fixed on the front door of Gen’s home. He could not bear to imagine what awaited inside, could not let himself think of Gen. Nor could he stop thinking about his little brothers somewhere in the back.

    “Kijana1,” the Guardian called from the threshold, switching abruptly to a terse directive in a language Zev recognized all too well. “We need identification. Kuja hapa2.” Come here.

    He rose shakily, dread fueling his stumbling sprint to the door. The man who beckoned him had removed his helmet, revealing dark war paint around his eyes. His red cloak, clipped onto the shoulders of his dented armor, was ragged at the ends.

    Zev swallowed, fighting nausea. The Guardian clamped a firm hand on his shoulder, steering him deeper into the ruined house before he could protest. A familiar sunny yellow paint covered the living room walls, but rubble, splintered furniture, and smeared blood painted a far darker picture.

    “W-where is Gen?” Zev managed, voice unsteady.

    The Guardian’s tone softened. “I’m sorry.”

    Zev blinked at him, not understanding at first. “Why—?”

    “Ghost wraiths leave nothing to claim for a funeral. Today is an exception,” a second guardian said, pointing to the small hallway leading to the kitchen.

    The second guardian wore his helmet, so all Zev saw was the black body armor stained with green ghost wraith blood. Zev followed the pointing finger, and a shout wrenched out of him. He saw small sneakers, bright green, Silas’s favorite color. He forgot every other presence in the house, lunging across the broken remains of chairs, shards of glass crunching underfoot. When he reached the kitchen doorway, he fell to his knees.

    There, just inside the rear door, Grey lay motionless across Silas, both of them still. Blood seeped through torn clothing, and Zev’s mind whirled with dizzying denial. He lifted the small sneaker in trembling hands, a keening sound tearing from his throat. It drowned out everything: the Guardians, the thunder in the sky, even his own heartbeat.

    His family did not survive the reckoning that the ghost wraiths visited upon Gathu Village. The election-day bustle and the newly tallied votes became meaningless in the face of such loss. Gen’s son and Zev’s two younger brothers, Silas and Grey, were simply gone. Any fragment of normalcy shattered the moment Zev realized the ghost wraiths had claimed them.

    Standing in the wreckage of Gen’s home, Zev felt numb as the Theria Guild’s Guardians coordinated with the local policing department and medical officers. He couldn’t bring himself to say a word when his parents arrived, the Theria Guild officer in charge stepping in to explain. Elina Mablevi spent hours holding her sons’ still forms, sobbing inconsolably. Luca, wrestling with his own grief, finally asked one of the officers to escort Zev home, worried about Amare.

    Zev moved in a daze, climbing into the Guild’s utility vehicle without protest. His mind barely registered the route or the fact that the driver already knew where he lived. All clarity returned, however, when he saw the front door of their house standing ajar, its wood splintered.

    “Amare!” he shouted, fear tightening in his chest. He bolted out of the vehicle, dashing through the ruined doorway. “Ama!”

    A Guardian stood at the threshold. “What’s wrong?”

    “My sister,” Zev said, tearing through the main room and into Amare’s bedroom. Switching on the light, he found only a neat, empty bed. Panic thundered in his ears. “She’s not here. Amare is not here!”

    The Guardian alerted his team, but they found no clue as to where she had gone or who might have taken her. The house itself showed no sign of a wraith attack, no claw marks, no structural damage other than the hacked-apart door. It was clearly the work of a human hand.

    And so began the search for Amare Mablevi, who vanished on the same day the ghost wraiths ravaged the village. Her belongings lay where Zev had last seen them, untouched.

    The Theria Guild deemed her disappearance a criminal matter, one for the Gathu Village Police Station rather than their own scope.

    Despair settled heavily over the Mablevi home. Grief consumed Elina, Luca, and Zev, each wrestling with the deaths of Silas and Grey. The family buried the two boys three days after Amare vanished, alongside numerous other victims of the wraith invasion. Any flicker of hope was smothered by the absence of their missing daughter and sister.

    Unable to remain in that sorrowful house, Zev practically lived at the local police station, hoping for any development that might bring Amare home. Two weeks dragged by. Two weeks marked by silence.

    One afternoon, Zev found himself seated in the station’s small lobby, staring blankly at a large glass screen on the far wall.

    News outlets broadcast the swearing-in ceremony of the new Elderon, Izra Taj, and his Chancellor, Kakura Jafar. Elderon Taj had paid tribute to Gathu Village, promising more Guardians for the Swala Oasis, but Zev couldn’t fathom how that helped him or his shattered family. Zev scoffed at the screen, uncomfortably aware that it was too late for his parents or for him. His family was down to him and his parents. The thought made him feel sick to the stomach.

    On the screen, Izra Taj placed his right hand on an ancient charter book, reciting his oath before the Head of Justice. “I, Izra Taj, do swear with honor that I shall guard the founding charter of the Empire of Afrotheria…”

    Behind him stood a woman and a girl about Zev’s age. She wore black, her long braids pulled back tightly, a sorrowful expression on her face. Zev wondered vaguely what might trouble the Elderon’s daughter. But his thoughts snapped back to the moment when the doors to the inner office swished open.

    Officer Kwaro, charged with investigating Amare’s disappearance, approached.

    Zev leaped to his feet. “Any news, Officer?”

    Kwaro shook his head, eyes flicking with sympathy. “I’m sorry, Zev. It’s been two weeks, and we still haven’t found any leads. I must be honest, the trail’s getting cold. We don’t have the manpower or resources the Theria Guild does.”

    Zev’s stomach twisted. “Then what am I supposed to do?” he asked, voice low and tight with frustration. “Why isn’t the village head doing more? Malachi hasn’t said a word about all this.”

    Kwaro glanced around the lobby, noticing other families waiting for their own updates. Lowering his voice, he clasped Zev’s arm and guided him out through the station’s main door and into the stark sunlight of the parking lot.

    “Look, Zev,” Kwaro said softly, genuine regret in his tone. “I see how much you care. You’re here every day, sleeping on that bench some nights. That alone tells me you’d do anything to find your sister. But I need to be straight with you. Four other girls have gone missing this year under the same circumstances: home alone, door hacked open, not a single clue left behind. We haven’t recovered a single one.”

    The words struck Zev like a physical blow. He swayed. “So…Amare is the fifth?” he whispered. “How is this not public knowledge? How can Malachi stay silent?”

    Kwaro’s gaze shifted, troubled. “I can’t speak for him, or what’s going on behind closed doors. I only know there’s an open case, five missing girls now, including your sister. And we’re nowhere closer to finding them.”

    Zev’s breath shook. “If you can’t do anything…who can I turn to?”

    “The Theria Guild,” Kwaro said simply. “They have resources and networks we don’t. We’re a small village force. We manage routine crimes, petty disputes. For something on this scale, we need help from a higher authority. But we have no direct line to the Guild, there’s been little cooperation.”

    “I’m not trying to scare you, Zev,” Officer Kwaro said after a moment. “I promise I won’t stop looking for Amare, but—”

    A cold weight settled in Zev’s chest. “You’re telling me I should join the Guardians?” he asked, a sense of horror creeping in. He thought of his little brother, Grey, once fascinated by the idea of becoming a protector. Grey would never get the chance now. Grey’s dream had died with him.

    Kwaro placed a firm hand on Zev’s shoulder. “I know it sounds extreme, but it might be your best shot. The Guardians live in a closed world, but if one of our own joined them, we could finally access their resources. They might be able to find those missing girls, your sister included.”

    “I’ve tried to reach out to the Guardians but had no luck. Our village has had no volunteers for the Theria Guild, so we have no allies among them. You also know how wary everyone in the village is of the Guardians. The Guardians are not comfortable working with us, or us with them. If you join, we’ll get an advantage because you know us. It will be different with you, Zev. I don’t know what else to say. I’m sorry this is the best our station can do. You think on it.”

    Zev shut his eyes, grief and fury tangling into a knot that threatened to crush him. He was days away from an apprenticeship at Santi Corp, set on a path in the Tech Class. And yet here he stood, faced with a choice that contradicted everything he’d planned.

    Officer Kwaro gave him a moment, then spoke again, voice quiet. “I won’t stop investigating, Zev. But to be frank, we’re out of our depth. It’s no coincidence that all these abductions took place during times of chaos, like the wraith attack on Gathu Village. Whoever is doing this knows exactly when to strike. We need more resources, or we may never find them.”

    Tears burned at the edges of Zev’s vision, but he forced them down. His parents were mired in their own grief, too shattered to offer direction or solace. His little sister was out there, somewhere, taken by a stranger or strangers in the middle of a cataclysmic ghost wraith attack. He felt emptier with every passing hour, every unanswered question.

    He looked at Kwaro, voice hoarse. “Thank you, Officer. I—just let me know if anything changes.”

    Kwaro nodded. “Of course. And remember what I said: the Theria Guild might be the one place equipped to uncover the truth.”

    Zev could only muster a numb nod. When he finally walked away, he saw the reflection of his haggard face in the station’s glass doors. He looked like someone who’d lived a lifetime in two weeks, someone whose world had been torn to pieces.

    Home was lost, and the ones who might have helped him were drowning in their own sorrow. If he wanted answers, if he wanted any hope of bringing Amare back, he would have to find them on his own, even if it meant walking into a world he had never planned to enter.

    In that moment, Zev understood that his life had been irrevocably altered.

    For the first time, he truly confronted the possibility that his only chance of finding Amare lay in joining the very guardians his village held in deep awe and wariness. A bitter, hollow ache wrapped around his heart. Everything in him recoiled at the idea, yet the thought of those four other missing girls gnawed at him. If he did nothing, Amare’s trail might vanish forever.

    The prospect of giving up his future at Santi Corp and embracing a life in the Theria Guild terrified him. But as he stepped into the dusty street outside the station, Zev realized he might not have a choice. If he wanted to save Amare, he needed to become the very thing his family had always feared.

    Zev walked home beneath a sky dimming toward twilight, Officer Kwaro’s advice echoing in his mind. Along the way, villagers stopped him, offering condolences for his brothers’ deaths and well-meant hopes that Amare would soon return.

    Yet in their eyes, Zev saw shadows of doubt. Most believed she, too, had been lost to the recent ghost wraith attack. But he refused to accept that. Amare was alive, taken, perhaps, but alive.

    He stepped through the gate of his family’s home, finding the front door ajar. Inside, his grandmother quietly moved through the house, preparing the evening meal and tidying up. She caught his eye as he entered but said nothing, her expression heavy with sadness.

    The muffled sound of his mother’s sobs drifted down the hallway from Grey and Silas’s room. His father, he knew, was in Amare’s bedroom, sitting on her bed without speaking or moving for hours at a time.

    The entire house felt stifling with grief. Every breath Zev took felt weighed down by sorrow. He managed a few sips of warm milk in the kitchen before retreating to his own room, shutting the door against the unbearable ache saturating the air.

    He sank into his chair, logging into Luna VR and entering the Pink Piggy workspace he’d built over three years. The virtual space flickered to life, revealing rows of digital cards and prototypes scattered across long code tables. Waweru—Weru—waited for him there, concern etched into his avatar’s expression.

    “I’m so sorry about your brothers,” Weru said, pulling Zev into a rough, virtual hug. “And Amare…I still can’t believe she’s missing. How are you holding up?”

    Zev rubbed a hand over his face as though he could banish the exhaustion. “We’re not doing great,” he admitted. “My parents are…shattered. And I don’t have any leads on Amare.”

    Weru’s sympathy showed in the slump of his shoulders. “I wish I could do more. Everybody at school’s been worried, waiting to see you. Miss Leya wants you to confirm your apprenticeship paperwork for Santi Corp.”

    A chill darted through Zev. He thought of the conversation with Officer Kwaro, about how only the Theria Guild might help him find Amare. “I’m…not sure I’ll do that,” he said quietly. “Things have changed.”

    Weru’s eyes widened. “You love tech. Santi Corp is your dream.”

    “I can’t talk about it,” Zev muttered, shaking his head. The mere thought of giving up the Pink Piggy, a creation that Amare had enthusiastically championed, stung. “What about you? When do you leave for KISTech?”

    “Next week,” Weru answered, managing a subdued smile.

    “Congrats,” Zev said, though the word tasted hollow on his tongue.

    Weru hesitated. “I could come by, you know. Visit your house instead of meeting like this in VR.”

    Zev pictured his mother’s tear-stained face, his father’s vacant stare. “It’s…not a good idea,” he managed. “I can’t really explain how things are right now.”

    Weru nodded, understanding flickering in his gaze. “All right. I’m here if you need anything.”

    “Thanks,” Zev murmured. “I need to log off. I’ll call you soon.”

    Zev waved at his friend and logged his avatar out of their shared space. Removing his Luna VR glasses, he found Dahlian’s UserID and sent her a message.

    Pink_Piggy to Dahlian: Are you free to talk?
    Dahlian to Pink_Piggy: Now you decide to show up? I’ve sent you countless messages and got nothing. WTH?
    Pink_Piggy to Dahlian: I’m sorry. It’s…personal stuff. Do you have time?
    Dahlian to Pink_Piggy: Sure. Meet at the Pink Piggy?
    Pink_Piggy to Dahlian: No. Invite me to a private room. I have something to give you.
    Dahlian to Pink_Piggy: Done. Check your DM for an invite link.

    The private room turned out to be a charming virtual café, complete with cozy tables and a window overlooking a digital re-creation of Kirit’s bustling streets. Dahlian, looking unexpectedly relaxed, sat at one of the tables. A steaming mug of coffee rested in front of her. Even in this avatar form, Zev noticed how her warm brown skin contrasted with a sleek black outfit, and how her braids framed her face.

    He kept his Pink Piggy mask—white cartoon pig ears and all—though she had chosen not to hide herself. The difference only highlighted the dissonance between their worlds.

    “Fancy place,” Zev remarked, sliding into the chair opposite her.

    She flashed a playful smile. “I wondered if you’d keep that mask. I’m glad you did, it’s nice to see you again, Piggy.”

    “You’re…unmasked,” Zev said, noting details of her appearance. She was striking in a soft, subtle way that made him feel a pang of wistfulness.

    “This is my private domain,” Dahlian explained. “No one else can see me here, so I’m not worried. Besides, you’ve never tried to dox me or anything.”

    Zev gave a halfhearted chuckle, his gaze drifting to the café’s virtual window. The simulated traffic crawled past in endless lines. “Is Kirit really that crowded?”

    “It is.” Dahlian shrugged. “I wouldn’t know what to do in a quiet place. Probably go crazy without the horns and MobiGari noise.”

    Zev swallowed. “I’m from the countryside,” he admitted, though he wouldn’t specify where. “It’s…different.”

    She studied him with open curiosity. “So, what’s this about? You asked me here. Something about your code?”
    Zev thought about the code Dahlian wanted to use. He had completed it the night before the elections.

    He had wanted to do more before sharing it with her, but the decision he needed to make now meant he would not get the chance to develop it further.

    He thought she was the only person who would have use for it.

    Zev sighed, retrieving a small digital card from a pocket in his VR interface. He placed it on the table between them.

    “I updated the code you want, though it is still a work in progress. I’m giving you permission to use it in your research. This card holds the full version. It’s yours now.”
    Dahlian’s eyes lit up, and she picked up the card gingerly. “Thank you! But…this feels like a goodbye, Pink Piggy. Why?”

    “I’m going away,” Zev said, letting go of a lifelong dream. He let out a soft sigh and faced Dahlian. “I’m closing the Pink Piggy. At least for now. I won’t be able to maintain it.”

    Alarm flickered across her features. “Close it? You built this brand from scratch, helped so many with your plug-ins. Why give it up?”

    Zev shrugged, his gaze going back to the busy street. He would have liked to visit Weru at KISTech in Kirit. Maybe visit the Santi Corp Headquarters in the capital when he was older. That would have been a sight to see.

    “It’s just something I have to do,” Zev said, voice tight with emotion. “I can’t…explain it all. But I need to step away. If—if things work out someday, maybe I’ll return to it and make it a real store. My sister always wanted that.” He paused, throat constricting. “But for now…this is the end.”
    Dahlian glanced between the code card and Zev’s mask, concern clouding her expression. “If you really need to stop, I understand. Still, if you’d rather someone keep it running in your absence, I can help—”

    He shook his head, the memory of Amare’s animated chatter about a future Pink Piggy storefront hitting him like a wave. “No,” he said quietly. “It just hurts too much right now. I—I’d rather it stays dormant.”

    For a moment, she said nothing. Then she gently tucked the card away.

    “All right,” Dahlian said. “If that’s what you want.”
    “It is,” Zev said. “I wanted you to have the code I’ve been working on in case it helps you find a breakthrough on fighting the ghost wraiths. Promise to work on it.”

    “I promise I’ll work on your code. It’s too brilliant to go to waste. You have my word.”

    Zev nodded, pushing back from the table. “Thank you. I won’t forget this.”

    She stood as well, stepping close enough to rest a hand on his arm. “Something bad happened, didn’t it?” she asked softly, searching his masked face. “I can tell you’re hurting.”

    Zev swallowed hard, unable to keep the tears from falling in the real world. He had no way to explain the absolute tragedy ravaging his family. “It’s complicated.”

    Her voice dropped to a comforting hush. “If you ever want to talk, or just sit here and stare at digital Kirit, this space is open to you. I won’t change the link code. You’re welcome anytime. Deal?”

    Zev smiled and looked at the glass windows and the virtual view of Kirit Capital beyond.

    “I suppose staring at the MobiGaris packing the street is soothing in a way,” Zev said.

    “I’ll update the street view to match the actual street often,” Dahlian said with a grin.

    He exhaled slowly. “Deal,” he managed, summoning a faint smile. “See you, Dahlian. Good luck with your research.”

    She answered with a gentle nod, her eyes full of concern. “Good luck to you, too.”

    Zev logged out, removing his VR glasses with a trembling hand. He had never felt so uncertain about the future.

    That night, he methodically shut down the Pink Piggy’s virtual shop, archiving years of work with a few taps. Each click was a small heartbreak.

    Morning found him at the academy, standing outside Miss Leya’s office. The halls were emptier than usual, students either graduating or off to new classes.

    At her desk, Miss Leya reviewed the final forms for apprenticeship placements. She looked up in surprise when Zev presented a different document.

    “You’re submitting a change-of-class form?” Miss Leya asked, stunned. “I thought you were set for Santi Corp.”

    Zev held himself stiffly. “I can’t do it anymore. I need to switch from Tech Class to the Protector Class.” He swallowed, recalling how helpless he’d felt watching the Guardians fight the ghost wraiths. “I have my reasons.”

    Miss Leya’s face tightened with sympathy.

    “Zev,” she whispered, “I know about your losses. But please, reconsider. Transitioning to the Protector Class is difficult. You’ll be behind students who’ve trained for years.”

    “I have no choice,” Zev cut in, blinking back tears. “If I’d been stronger, my brothers might still be alive. My sister might still be here.” The weight of that realization pressed down on him until he could barely stand.

    Miss Leya pressed trembling fingers to her mouth. “You can’t know that,” she said softly.

    He shook his head. “I know how I felt that day, helpless. I can’t go on that way.”

    She glanced at the form, then back at him. “And the apprenticeship? You’re a rare talent, Zev. I hate to see you throw it away like this.”

    “I’m not throwing my tech skills away,” he said, voice low but determined. “I’ll use them in the Theria Guild if I can. Whatever it takes to protect the people I have left, and maybe find my sister.”

    For a long moment, neither spoke. Then Miss Leya sighed, picked up a stamp, and pressed her seal onto the form. She returned it to Zev, her eyes brimming with concern.

    “Zev Mablevi,” she said, standing from her chair to offer him her hand. “I suspect this is the last time we’ll meet like this, as teacher and student. The next time you’ll be in the guild, and I’ll have to address you by your rank.”

    His throat felt tight, but he managed to clasp her hand. “Thank you, Miss Leya. For everything.”

    She nodded, offering a shaky smile. “May the almighty creator guard your steps, Zev.”

    He slipped the authorized form into his bag. “And yours,” he answered.

    Then he turned and walked out of the office, out of the academy, leaving behind the only life he had ever planned for himself. His fate now pointed in a direction he could scarcely imagine, one that might ultimately lead him to Amare, or at least to the truth.

    And even through the haze of his grief, a spark of determination took root: he would not give up, no matter how impossible the road ahead.

    <<Previous | TOC | Next>>

    Footnotes

    1. Kijana – ‘Young man’ in swahili. ↩︎
    2. Kuja hapa – ‘Come here’ in swahili. ↩︎
  • Theria Guild Guardian: Code and Courage – 5

    Theria Guild Guardian: Code and Courage – 5

    Zev’s work at the Village Center on voting day felt straightforward. He answered questions from voters, explaining how to use the voting machine, and shuttled bottles of water to other volunteers. In between, he coordinated with security to keep order in the lines.

    During a trip to the supply room, he noticed the metal shelf holding water bottles wobble precariously. With a sigh, he grabbed a power drill, an electric screwdriver, and extra bolts from the adjacent tool rack. Crawling beneath the shelf, he tightened the bolts until it felt secure.

    Just as he finished with the last screw, something jostled his left leg. “Who’s there?” he called out, voice echoing under the shelf.

    No answer came, so he muttered a soft curse, made sure the bolts were firm, and inched out, only to bang his head on the corner above. Rubbing his temple, he scowled when he emerged to find Jiru, the son of Malachi, the Village Head, leaning against the worktable.

    Jiru was a puzzle: never entirely friend, never quite foe. He sat perched on the table that held a basket of bread buns destined for the voting hall staff, his polished black boots propped on the only chair. His hair, styled in a precise box cut, only added to the self-assured aura that Zev found vaguely irritating.

    “What?” Zev asked, still rubbing the sting on his forehead.

    Jiru grinned. “Word is you’re set to join Santi Corp’s apprenticeship at the Swala Oasis,” he said. His tone hovered between genuine curiosity and veiled mockery.

    Zev stood, returned the screwdriver to its case, and stretched, ignoring Jiru’s stare. “You sound interested,” he said, only half-joking. “Thinking of applying yourself?”

    “No,” Jiru replied flatly. “Will you see the Theria Guild cadets while you’re there?”

    Zev dropped his arms at his sides and leaned on the tool shelf.

    “No, actually,” Zev said. “All I saw when I visited for registration was their transport vehicles.”

    “That’s a shame. I’d go find them if I were you,” Jiru said, his tone smug.

    Zev sighed. The conversation was typical Jiru, vaguely smug, perpetually needling. Without another word, Zev picked up the basket of bread buns he needed to deliver. He headed for the door, not bothering to hide his annoyance when Jiru followed.

    Outside, the sun shone brightly on the lines of voters milling about. Many families waited with children, and the tension of the day mixed with a polite hum of conversation. Zev felt a flicker of gratitude knowing his mother and father had cast their votes. His younger brothers would be safe at home soon, and Amare, who couldn’t vote yet, was helping watch the children in a nearby center. His parents were somewhere on the ‘M’ line.

    Amare could not vote yet, so she had to be watching his brothers in the children’s center. The playground at the children’s center allowed kids to play football. He, too, loved the field behind the children’s center. He and Weru sometimes played when they had time. They hadn’t been able to play of late, too busy planning the future.

    “I bumped into your sister earlier,” Jiru said conversationally. “She’s volunteering at the children’s center. I hear she wants to enter the Education Class. My father’s got connections, you know. I could talk to him, help her secure a spot.”

    Zev’s grip on the bread basket tightened. “Amare can qualify on her own.”

    “Sure,” Jiru said, giving Zev a sideways glance. “But I’m always happy to help a pretty girl. Maybe she’ll appreciate it more than you do.”

    That was too much. Zev stopped abruptly, swinging around to face him. Jiru was two years older—nineteen to Zev’s seventeen—and his interest in fifteen-year-old Amare set Zev’s nerves on edge.

    “Leave my sister alone,” Zev said, trying hard to keep his voice low. “She’s not someone you can toy with.”

    Jiru’s grin widened, unperturbed. “Make me.”

    Rage coiled in Zev’s chest, and he nearly spat out a retort when Malachi’s voice boomed from across the hall. Zev forced himself to step back. He found Malachi waving him over to the staff refreshments area. Casting one last glare at Jiru, Zev followed Malachi.

    “Finished with the store?” Malachi asked, stopping by a long table covered with bottles of water and paper cups.

    “Yes. I even secured the shaky shelf,” Zev said, setting the basket of bread buns among the drinks.

    Malachi checked his watch. “Your parents left a while ago. They took your brothers home and asked Amare to stay and help. It’s nearly four. Hand me your token card so I can log your hours. Then you can pick up Amare and head home.”

    Zev fished a small rectangular card from his pocket. Malachi swiped it against a device linked to his phone, nodded at the beep, and handed it back. A quick thumb scan confirmed his new total of four thousand tokens, enough for the next tablet upgrade.

    “Thanks,” Zev said, flashing a grateful smile.

    Malachi returned the smile. “You’ve done good work here, Zev. I know Jiru can be difficult, but try to be patient. He wants to be your friend.”

    Zev said nothing. He didn’t trust Jiru’s motives, but Malachi was oblivious to his son’s bullying. Changing the subject, Zev gestured toward the exit. “I’ll go meet Amare now.”

    “Go ahead,” Malachi said, clapping him on the shoulder. “I’ll call you if we need more help.”

    Zev snagged two bread buns from the basket and headed out, crossing the street to the children’s center. A short while later, he found Amare guiding a group of boisterous kids in a painting session. He lingered at the door, finishing one bun in swift bites as he watched her gently correct a child on using a brush. When she saw him, her eyes lit up with excitement.

    “Want to help?” she teased. “When’s the last time you played with paint?”

    He grinned, washed his hands in the corner sink, and joined a table of enthusiastic six-year-olds. They giggled riotously whenever Amare threatened to dab green paint on Zev’s hair. By the end of it, he had a streak of teal running across his left eyebrow.

    When the day wound down, brother and sister left the children’s center and started home at a comfortable pace. Zev carried Amare’s paint supply bag in addition to his own worn book bag. She chattered happily about the joys of teaching small children.

    “So, are you still going to run the Pink Piggy if you join Santi Corp?” Amare asked. “Mom mentioned that you might open a real shop one day.”

    Zev hesitated, memories of his mother’s advice mingling with a creeping anxiety about Santi Corp’s strict policies. “I’m not sure,” he admitted. “If I work for Santi, all tech I develop might belong to them.”

    “I think a real Pink Piggy store would be so cool,” Amare said earnestly. “You help so many people with your code, imagine turning our entire village into a place full of your gadgets.”

    He snorted. “You’re too biased,” he said.

    She laughed. “I’m your sister. I have to be biased.”

    A burst of engine noise interrupted them. A motorcycle sped by, stirring a swirling cloud of dust. Zev instinctively maneuvered Amare to his far side to shield her. They were five minutes from home when a siren screamed across the village, loud and ominous.

    Zev looked toward the Village Center. Dark clouds gathered above the rooftops, and jagged lightning ripped across the sky. Thunder rumbled in quick succession.

    Amare went rigid. Zev seized her hand. “We have to run,” he urged, his voice tense. He broke into a sprint, half dragging her down the road. She stumbled several times, but each time he steadied her, and they kept going.

    As they neared home, a convoy of black Theria Guild vehicles roared past on the main road, heading toward the swirling storm clouds. Panic flared in Zev’s chest. No time to wonder what exactly was happening, only that it was terrible.

    They dashed through the open gate of their compound.

    Zev pushed his sister into the house. Amare collapsed just inside, breathless and terrified. Zev dropped their bags by her side and hurried deeper into the house, calling for his brothers.

    “Grey! Silas! Mama, Baba?” He checked the time on the kitchen’s digital clock. Five o’clock. His parents should have been home by now. His heart hammered even harder when he found every room empty.

    Getting his cell phone from his pocket, he paused in the corridor when he found a message from his mother. His parents had dropped the boys at their neighbor’s house. His mother needed to return to the conservancy center, and his father was meeting a supplier in the next town. Zev and Amare were to pick up the boys from Gen’s house. Zev shut his eyes, fighting back a wave of dread.

    He wished he had checked his phone earlier. Running back to the living room, he found Amare had gotten up, though she was clearly shaky.

    “They’re not here?” Amare asked, her voice trembling.

    “No. Grey and Silas are at Gen’s.” He opened a closet in the living room, removing a heavy jacket lined with a fine mesh of silver netting. Sliding it on, he winced at the weight, but it was their only real defense against a ghost wraith’s bite. Next, he grabbed a small axe stored in the same closet.

    Amare shook her head, tears pricking her eyes. “You can’t go out there. It’s too dangerous!”

    “I have to,” Zev said grimly. “Our brothers are out there. Mama and Baba aren’t back, so it’s up to me. You stay here in case Grey and Silas come home on their own and I miss them.”

    She hurried to retrieve a jacket, too. She struggled to wear the heavy jacket, so Zev helped her zip the coat, hoping it would protect her if something breached the house. Then he pulled her into a quick hug.

    “I’ll be back soon,” he promised. “Keep the door locked and watch for the boys if they show up first.”

    Amare wiped her cheeks, nodding despite the terror in her eyes. Zev grabbed the axe and stepped outside, activating the silver security net. An electric crackle rippled over the roof, forming a protective barrier around the house.

    Screams echoed from the direction of the Village Center. Dark acrid smoke billowed beyond the treetops. Zev swallowed hard, hoping his parents had found shelter somewhere. Right now, all that mattered was Grey and Silas.

    He ran, lungs burning, turning onto the main road. He turned left toward the Village Center.

    Gen was a family friend, and she had a son the same age as Grey. The boys liked playing together, so their mom often left Grey and Silas at Gen’s house.

    Gen’s house was only five minutes away, but each second felt like an eternity. Zev ran like a madman, ignoring the growing screams in the neighborhood.

    As he approached her gate, the sound of something massive striking stone made his blood run cold. A bloodcurdling scream came from Gen’s compound.

    Heart pounding, Zev rushed through the open gate and froze in horror. The cottage roof had a gaping hole, the walls collapsed in a jagged crack. Standing amid the rubble was the largest ghost wraith Zev had ever seen, nearly as tall as the cottage itself. Its slick black skin rippled like oily tar, and a long spiky tail flicked behind it in agitation.

    Before Zev could act, the beast turned to him, revealing a mouth streaked with blood. Its jagged teeth glistened under the storm-dark sky, and a thunderous roar tore through the air. Fear clutched at Zev’s throat.

    Then he saw Gen, desperately swinging a broken lampshade at a second wraith. Blood stained her blouse, and she screamed in pain as it lunged at her. She frantically hurled a chair at its head, then caught sight of Zev.

    “Zev!” she choked out, voice trembling. “The kids… they’re in…”

    Her words died as the second wraith clamped down on her shoulder, silencing her scream. In one horrifying moment, both wraiths descended on her.

    An anguished cry tore from Zev’s lips, but all he could do was watch, helpless, as the creatures ripped into the woman who had been like an aunt to him. Fury swallowed his fear, and he gripped the axe so tightly that his knuckles ached. Adrenaline pulsed through him like lightning.

    He sprinted toward the house, unthinking, determined to reach Gen, or what was left of her, and to find his brothers. If the wraiths killed him in the attempt, so be it. He would not stand by and watch.

    <<Previous | TOC | Next>>

  • Theria Guild Guardian: Code and Courage – 4

    Theria Guild Guardian: Code and Courage – 4

    On voting day, the sun rose with a bright, insistent heat. Zev was among the first in the household to wake, dressing in comfortable clothes before stepping into the kitchen. Elina was already there, her movements brisk as she prepared breakfast. She placed a steaming mug of milk tea before him, along with two slices of toasted brown bread and a serving of scrambled eggs.

    She paused in her work, turning to watch as Zev sipped his tea and eyed the fresh vegetables she had lined up for lunch. “Yes, Zev?” she asked quietly, noticing the thoughtful expression on his face.

    “Are you really against me taking that apprenticeship at Santi Corp?” he asked, careful to keep his tone even.

    Elina dried her hands on a worn kitchen cloth. Setting it aside, she pulled out the chair beside him and sat. “I have my reservations about a company so big it’s become a fixture in every home in Afrotheria,” she said, resting a gentle hand on Zev’s shoulder. “They provide so many jobs, but it’s hard not to worry about the influence they wield. Still, I know how gifted you are with technology. I believe the apprenticeship could help you grow your talents.”

    She offered a small, wavering smile. “All I ask is that you keep some of your energy for yourself. Don’t pour every waking moment into Santi. You already have your Pink Piggy venture in the Luna VR world, maybe someday you’ll create your own real-life tech company. One that helps ordinary people afford what they need.”

    Zev nodded. “You’re right. Maybe once I graduate, I can develop Pink Piggy into a real store.” His lips curved into a shy grin. “Although I’m not sure you’d enjoy shopping at a place called ‘Pink Piggy1.’”

    Elina laughed softly. “I’d go if you owned it, but do consider changing the name,” she teased. “Meanwhile, I’ll trust you to make the best decision for yourself.”

    Her gaze shifted to the hallway, where the faint sounds of his siblings stirring could be heard.

    “As for Grey… we’ll just have to hope he changes his mind about wanting to be a Guardian. You know how children are, they see the armor and the weapons, and it seems exciting.”

    “It’s definitely not an easy life,” Zev said, finishing the last of his toast. “But you never know, maybe he’ll find something else to love.”

    Elina brushed her hand over Zev’s short hair. “When you were his age, you wanted to work in the village greenhouses,” she reminded him. “Look at you now, leaning toward a future in code. People change as they grow, and priorities shift with time. One thing that will never change, though,” her smile deepened, “is how proud I am of you, Zev.”
    He returned her smile.

    As she leaned in for a warm hug, he caught a faint hint of lavender from the soap she used to wash the vegetables.

    “Eat up,” Elina said, rising from the table. “Malachi from the Village Center called earlier to confirm your schedule. Voting starts at eight, but he wants all volunteers on-site by seven. You have half an hour to get there.”

    Zev drained the rest of his tea and hurried to his room to grab his backpack. After a quick goodbye, he jogged out of the house and out of their compound.

    The Village Center lay about fifteen minutes to the east, a route he could cover in ten if he pushed his pace. The academy he attended with Amare was ten minutes from his house to the west of the main road.

    As Zev emerged from his home street and joined the main road heading east to the Village Center, he hoped his apprenticeship at Santi Corp would be as exciting as he imagined.

    Dalia gazed at the glowing voting console in front of her, scrolling through the list of candidates vying for Elderon. She frowned at her father’s name, Izra Taj, paired with his running mate, Kakura Jafar.

    For a fleeting, rebellious instant, she considered selecting the opposition. She was certain that if Izra won, her life at KISTech, and everywhere else, would never be the same. Already, people looked at her differently, and she dreaded the added scrutiny that would come once “Elderon Taj” became reality.

    Yet her parents’ voices echoed in her mind. Family comes first, her father always said. When one member of the family wins, we all win, her mother echoed.

    Dalia exhaled, tapped the tick box next to her father’s name, and signed her name with a digital stylus. The console verified her signature, and she could practically feel the cameras clicking from behind.

    Slipping out of the booth, she forced a quick smile when a photographer captured her exit. Her phone buzzed in her pocket, but she resisted the urge to check it just yet. The city center hall was bustling with voters, each queued according to last name at fifty identical booths. She spotted her best friend in line at the “D” section, and he waved cheerfully. She tried to wave back, but a voice behind her broke through the noise.

    “Dalia,” her mother, Sophina, called out.

    Turning, Dalia found her parents waiting for her by the exit. Her father was careful not to greet or smile at anyone in the hall. He watched Dalia with expectation, his arm tucked around Sophina’s waist. He refused to engage with passersby, no doubt wary of what anything he said or did might imply on such a pivotal day.

    “All set?” Sophina asked as Dalia approached.

    “I am,” Dalia confirmed, ready to head home.

    “Then let’s leave,” Sophina said gently.

    Izra started to mention monitoring the voting progress on the overhead screens (an open feed that tracked the tallies in real time), but Sophina cut him off. “No, love. You’ve done all you can. Today is for family. We’ll head back to the hotel, have a good meal, maybe watch something mindless or take a swim. But no more talk of politics.”

    Dalia couldn’t help smiling when Izra took a moment to process the command, then nodded in agreement, rubbing his stomach with a rueful grin. “I am starving,” he admitted.

    Sophina’s lips curved with triumph. “I’m always right,” she said, reaching for Dalia’s hand to guide her swiftly through the exit.

    They navigated the crowd, ignoring the curious stares and whispered conversations that inevitably trailed them.

    Outside, a black armored vehicle waited: a government-issued ride for Elderon candidates. Afrotheria was generally peaceful, but zealots existed in all nations, and Izra had received a disturbing number of threats in the past week.

    Once inside the cool, tinted interior, Dalia finally checked her phone. As expected, there was a new notification showing a photograph of her stepping out of the voting booth. The caption noted her simple, “utilitarian” style: her white trouser suit and low-heeled shoes. She was dressed in a white trouser suit, her braids in a tight ponytail. She had tried to look conservative, even worn flat shoes.

    “Taj’s only daughter at the polls looking utilitarian. She’s one to watch even as we wait for voting results.”

    Her stomach twisted at the thought. She missed the days of anonymity, when she could bury herself in research, code, and the potential support from the Pink Piggy’s program. Now every move, every outfit, seemed subject to public scrutiny.

    She turned off her screen and shoved the phone into her bag, leaning back against the seat. If her father lost, she could slip into obscurity again, free to focus on the next stage of her project at KISTech. If he won… She pulled in a steadying breath. If he won, there would be no escaping the spotlight, no simple return to the quiet life she loved.

    Her mind drifted to the Pink Piggy. Had he cast his vote yet? Would he choose Izra Taj for Elderon, or would he scoff at the idea, the same way he seemed to mock everything else? She almost laughed at the thought of that mysterious coder standing in line at a polling station.

    The hum of the armored vehicle rumbled beneath her feet, but her thoughts were filled with the Pink Piggy’s tarp stall and a logo of a grinning pink pig. With a sigh, she reminded herself that she needed his decision on that code, no matter how the election turned out.

    <<Previous | TOC | Next>>

    1. The Pink Piggy is the online venture and avatar of Zev Mablevi within the Luna VR world. Zev’s avatar for this venture is known as the “Pink Piggy”. He wears a signature pink pig’s head mask and a uniform of black slacks, a plain white T-shirt under a black vest, and combat boots. His virtual shop in the Luna VR marketplace is distinctive, built with black tarp and marked only by a pink pig’s head above its entrance. ↩︎
  • Theria Guild Guardian: Code and Courage – 3

    Theria Guild Guardian: Code and Courage – 3

    In the Luna VR, the “He-Goat” Dalia had encountered removed his mask and gestured toward the closed door.

    “Who was she?” Waweru asked.

    Zev toggled a command, removing his Pink Piggy mask. The dingy stall vanished, replaced by a bustling virtual workroom where Zev developed custom code for his clients. Two large tables bore piles of tools and digital cards, some completed, others at various stages of programming.

    Waweru sometimes helped wrap up these projects, but Zev spent most of his spare time here alone.

    “Her user ID is ‘Dahlian.’ She wants permission to use code I uploaded to the KISTech database,” Zev said. “I’ve been upgrading it for weeks. I’m not sure if I should give her the version I posted initially or hand over what I’ve been working on now.”

    “The difference between us,” Waweru said, collapsing onto the couch opposite Zev’s worktable, “is that you won’t put it up for bidding in the Luna Marketplace. So, what did you want to show me?”

    Zev paused his tinkering with the greenhouse model he was designing for his sister, then pulled a digital card from the desk and passed it to Waweru.

    “What’s this?” Waweru asked, uploading the code into his own virtual console. He studied the lines of text for a few moments before his eyes brightened. “This is a framework for mapping and calculating gradients.”

    “I saw that soil-testing device you’ve been building,” Zev explained. “Not sure if you finished it, but this analysis framework will help architects figure out how best to develop that data. If you can’t fight your father about going to KISTech, you could focus on specialized construction apps there.”

    Waweru arched an eyebrow at him. “And you’re just giving this to me?”

    “I’m not enrolling in KISTech,” Zev said, leaning back in his chair. “I applied for an apprenticeship with Santi Corp, and the academy counselor messaged me today. I got in. That means I won’t have to move to Kirit.”

    Waweru let out a low whistle. “You’ll be more valuable than the rest of us stuck in KISTech. An apprenticeship with Santi Corp means you can really climb the ranks, Zev. Congratulations. I’ll miss you, though.”

    “Did you talk to your parents about switching classes?” Zev asked.

    “Ms. Leya helped me fill out the forms,” Waweru said, “and even wrote me a recommendation for Jenga Construction Technical University. But before I could bring it up at home, my dad handed me an envelope with a KISTech ID tag, an enrollment packet, and keys to a dorm I’m supposed to share with a family friend’s son. He’s already paid for the first year.”

    “Damn,” Zev muttered. “I’m sorry.”

    Waweru shrugged, holding up the digital card Zev had given him. “Thanks for this. I’ll put it to good use.”

    “It won’t be easy,” Zev warned. “All KISTech cares about is research on ghost wraiths, finding ways to fight or eradicate them. Every student ends up focused on ghost wraith projects. You sure you’ll be all right?”

    “I’ll manage,” Waweru said with a tight shake of his head. “Not like I have a choice.”

    Zev nodded. “I’ll miss you too. Won’t be the same without you at the next desk.”

    “We can still hang out here,” Waweru said, motioning around the virtual workshop. “Plenty of ways to call and message each other.”

    “True,” Zev said, smiling. “By the way, Dahlian really did pay five hundred credits just to get into this shop.”

    Waweru grinned. “Her outfit looked great, though. Five hundred credits is a tidy sum.”

    “That fee covered three months of our shop membership on Luna VR,” Zev said. “I was worried I’d have to downgrade to a private room soon.”

    “Think she’d chat with me?” Waweru teased. “She looked like she wouldn’t mind.”

    Before Zev could respond, a long beep echoed in his earpiece. “I need to go,” he said, quickly saving his greenhouse project. He stood, stretched his arms, and offered Waweru a parting grin. “See you at the village center tomorrow.”

    “Sure thing,” Waweru replied. “Meanwhile, I’ll see if Dahlian wants to chat.”

    Zev flashed a knowing smile and logged out. Removing his Luna VR visor, he tapped the monitor to confirm his logout. A green light blinked on the wall behind his setup, it was the household call signal. His sister was buzzing him.

    It meant his parents were home and looking for him. He pushed away from his desk, his stomach rumbling. Straightening the hem of his dark T-shirt over his gray sweatpants, he hurried out of his room in search of something to eat.

    The Mablevi home was neither lavish nor modest. Built in a ranch-style on an acre of land, it had grown alongside the family. When Zev was four and his sister, Amare, was just a baby, the house had two bedrooms, a kitchen, a shared bathroom, and a living room. Now, those rooms had expanded into a cluster of bedrooms for his younger siblings and a larger main living space that opened into a dining area.

    Zev headed down the long corridor toward the kitchen, pausing in the doorway when he found his father, Luca, engrossed in a story. Zev’s younger brothers sat on a bench, listening wide-eyed, while Amare was at the kitchen table peeling potatoes alongside their father.

    Their mother, Elina, stood at the counter, kneading dough.

    “And no one truly knows why Mount Njaro began spewing molten lava,” Luca was saying, his voice measured yet tinged with mystery. “But after the eruption came lightning and thunder, and when the skies finally cleared, the ghost wraiths appeared.”

    Zev’s thoughts wandered to Dahlian, the mysterious VR user who wanted code that might help end the ghost wraith menace. The wraiths were hulking, wolf-like terrors with slick, oily black skin in place of fur and razor-sharp teeth capable of shattering a human in one bite. They moved in packs, leaving devastation wherever they prowled. When the storm ended, so did the ghost wraiths, vanishing until they struck again.

    “It is said Afrotheria became a realm under siege,” Luca continued. “It’s been over a century since that first attack, and yet no permanent solution has emerged. The Sable Council, the empire’s highest authority, poured its resources into defenses for threatened provinces, small villages, and the capital itself.”

    He took a breath. “They bolstered the Protector Class to form the formidable Theria Guild,1 tasked with keeping every citizen safe.”
    Zev frowned, thinking of the men and women of the Theria Guild. They were hailed as heroes for battling ghost wraiths, yet many people still feared and avoided them. Because of this, Guardians often lived in specialized compounds known as oases, each named for the team stationed within.”

    “The Theria Guild is our greatest treasure,” Luca said, leaning in. “Those who survive endless battles advance in rank. The strongest and most fearsome join the Strike Force; the newest recruits start in the Swala Force.”

    “I’ll join the toughest oasis one day!” Silas, Zev’s youngest brother, piped up. Elina gasped.

    Zev bit back a laugh. Their mother would never want any of her children joining the Theria Guild. He glanced at Elina, who stood at the counter, clearly troubled by the idea.

    Grey, third-born of Luca’s children, glanced up from his seat, eyes bright with curiosity. “Has our village ever faced a reckoning?” he asked. A reckoning was the name locals used for a full-on encounter with a pack of ghost wraiths.

    Luca paused, exchanging a glance with his wife, Elina. A quiet remorse settled in his gaze. He continued peeling potatoes, although his grip on the peeler tightened. It was not unusual for him to help with chores; he often did so purely to see Elina’s appreciative smile.

    Amare, their second-born and only daughter, was nearly finished with her share of the potatoes. Grey and the youngest child, Silas, sat nearby, both listening closely. Yet Luca’s gaze drifted to his eldest, Zev, noticing the wary look in the young man’s eyes. Zev was old enough to recall their family’s own reckoning2; there was no sense of mystery or awe in his face, only the lingering memory of loss.

    Luca drew in a deep breath, steeling himself. He finished peeling the potato in his hand, placed it on the tray, and met Grey’s expectant stare.

    “You weren’t born when our village endured a reckoning,” Luca said. “Your mom and I had only Zev and Amare then. They stayed at home with my parents when the thunder and lightning came. The Strike Force Guardians happened to be running maneuvers nearby. They fought off the ghost wraiths and saved us.”

    “Not all of us,” Zev said softly, reminding Luca that the Guardians’ intervention had come at a grave cost.

    “You’re right,” Luca murmured. He looked down, recalling the stark pain of that day. Zev had been five at the time, Amare three. They both still remembered their grandparents with an ache that never faded.

    Luca set down his peeler and wiped his hands on a cloth. He squeezed Zev’s shoulder gently.

    “We lost your grandparents in that attack,” he told Grey and Silas. “We weren’t the only ones in the village to lose loved ones, but our home was spared. Not long after, the Theria Guild built a training oasis here in Teru Province to prevent more tragedies.”

    Grey, who was seven, nodded, his expression solemn. Silas, five, seemed to lose interest, wandering over to the open hearth. He poked the burning firewood with a stick until Amare took it from him, earning a quick pout.

    Luca glanced around the kitchen, comforted by the warmth he and Elina had cultivated. The pit fire built into the wall glowed softly. Elina, standing at the counter with a pot simmering on the range, kneaded dough for chapati. A steel grate installed under the roof offered protection from potential ghost wraith attacks. It was a product from Santi Corp, though Luca silently prayed they’d never have to test its effectiveness.

    “Baba,” Grey asked, “what’s the name of that oasis they built here?”

    “Swala Force3,” Luca answered. “It’s where Sokwe Recon trains new recruits. They may not be the strongest force in the empire, but they’ve kept Teru safe for ten years.”

    Grey exhaled in relief. “I’ll join them when I’m old enough. I want to protect our town, too.”

    Luca felt his heart clench as he met Elina’s worried gaze. Neither had imagined one of their children wanting to become a Guardian. He offered her a small, reassuring smile, hoping Grey’s ambitions would change.

    “What about you, Zev?” Luca asked, turning to his eldest. At seventeen, Zev stood on the brink of adulthood, set to choose a future path. “Where do you plan to enroll after the academy?”

    “The counselor helped me apply for a tech apprenticeship at Santi Corp,” Zev said.

    Rising from his seat, Luca carried the peeled potatoes to the sink, where Elina rolled pieces of dough into thin discs for cooking. A label reading “Santi” gleamed on the tap’s knob. He turned on the water, rinsed the potatoes, and closed the tap when the bowl filled.

    Santi Corp4, Luca thought with a trace of apprehension. The company was a powerful giant in Afrotheria, rumored to have secret research labs near the treacherous lands around Mount Njaro. It rivaled KISTech in Kirit, the capital.

    “Why does your advisor think you’d fit in at Santi Corp?” Luca asked, drying his hands with a paper towel before discarding it in a bin also emblazoned with Santi’s logo.

    “She says I have the imagination they’re looking for,” Zev replied with a satisfied smile. He brought the tray of potato peels to the compost bin, then returned to rinse the remaining potatoes. “I’m glad they accepted me. I’d rather stay here in Teru with you all than move to Kirit for four years. Besides, Santi Corp always needs talented tech apprentices.”

    “I wish you’d consider the Conservation Class like your father,” Elina said with a frown. “Santi Corp has labs in the Deserted Lands, the provinces near Mount Njaro5. I’ve heard it’s too dangerous there.”

    Zev shook his head. “I’m a trainee, Mama. They won’t send me off to the most secret labs on day one. My apprenticeship is based here, sharing a compound with Swala Force. All my classes will be at that oasis, and it’s a scholarship, so there’s no cost.”

    Elina braced her hands on the counter, her unease obvious. Luca couldn’t blame her. Their evening had revealed two unsettling possibilities: Grey’s dream of joining the Guardians and Zev’s acceptance into Santi Corp, an organization known for pushing the boundaries of research, often beyond the edges of safety.

    “All right,” Luca said decisively, hoping to dispel the tension. He clapped his hands once. “Enough talk about the future. Zev, help your mother with supper. Amare, take Grey and Silas to the living room. Make sure they finish their homework first. Then, they can watch a few toons. I renewed the subscription just yesterday.”

    Amare gave Zev a small smile and ushered the younger boys away. As Zev turned back to the potatoes, Luca slipped an arm around Elina’s waist. She let out a quiet sigh and looked up at him, her expression a mix of pride and fear.

    “What if Grey really goes through with this Guardian idea?” she whispered. “He’d be away all the time. People treat Guardians strangely.”

    “He’s seven,” Luca murmured, pressing a comforting kiss to her cheek. “You have years to show him why your work in conservation is so important.”

    Elina managed a quick laugh. She was a brilliant scientist, running a small agricultural lab in Teru Province. Outside this cozy kitchen, she carried the weight of countless experiments and research projects, yet she still radiated warmth for her family.

    “Maybe Amare will follow your lead,” Luca teased. “She’s the only one who loves plants as much as you do.”

    Elina started to smile, but Zev interrupted with an easy grin. “Amare wants to teach little kids,” he reminded them, setting a round iron pan on the lit stove.

    Elina and Luca both sighed in mock disappointment. Zev laughed at their reaction and shrugged. “There’s always Silas. Maybe he’ll turn out to be the future conservationist.”

    A soft chuckle spread around the room. Elina passed the first flattened dough disc to Zev, then guided him as he swirled oil into the pan. The dough sizzled, and Luca, standing beside them, offered gentle instructions on timing so it wouldn’t burn.

    In that moment, amid the comforting heat of the stove and the reassuring presence of family, Zev felt a warmth that transcended the physical.

    Though the future looked uncertain and full of risks, especially with ghost wraiths lurking beyond Teru, the bond they shared here in this small kitchen promised a measure of hope. It was a memory he would carry forward, no matter how far his path led him from home.

    <<Previous | TOC | Next>>

    1. Theria Guild is run by the Protector Class. It is like an army of guardians who learn how to fight the Ghost Wraiths and protect the provinces undergoing a reckoning. ↩︎
    2. A Reckoning -a full-on encounter with a pack of ghost wraiths. It is a term used by locals for such an event. Ghost wraiths arrive with thunder and lightning an attack villagers. ↩︎
    3. Swala Force: A training force set up by Sokwe Force to train young cadets as they join the Theria Guild. Each province in Afrotheria has a force that protects them from ghost wraiths. Some forces are more prolific at this like the Strike Force/black force, or Sokwe Recon. ↩︎
    4. Santi Corp -It is a powerful and influential company in Afrotheria, primarily involved in advanced technology and manufacturing. ↩︎
    5. Afrotheria’s provinces – Afrotheria has 12 zones or provinces. Each one protected by a Theria Guild Guardian force.
      -Zero Zone ( Njaro Mountain) beyond Zone Zero there is a beach.
      – Zone 1 ( Wild Lands)
      – Zone 2 (Wild Lands also where Santi Corp has its headquarters)
      – Zone 3 ( Wild Lands)
      – Zone 4 ( Wildlands)
      Zone 1- 4 are behind a blue barrier made of Concrete and steel
      – Zone 5 – Tigre City ( protected by Impala force)
      – Zone 6 – Kirit Capital ( protected by Sokwe Recon| holds Strike force + black ops base) Kirit has a lake called Lake Kirit.
      – Zone 7 – Thuka Province ( protected by Simba Force)
      – Zone 8 – Yole Province ( protected by Tiger Force)
      – Zone 9 – Teru Province ( protected by Swala with help from Sokwe Force) Also Gathu Village is in this province) Teru has a lake called Lake Teru. Zev’s home.
      – Zone 10 – Palan Town ( protected by Hawk force)
      – Zone 11 – Tenge Province ( protected by Nyati Force)
      -Zone 12 – Maan Province ( protected by Chui Force) ↩︎
  • Theria Guild Guardian: Code and Courage – 2

    Theria Guild Guardian: Code and Courage – 2

    Reading Time:

    10–14 minutes

    Theria Guild Command, Kirit — Afrotheria’s Capital

    Glass screens mounted along the walls flared with brilliant-blue laser fire, illuminating the vast command dome. Officers manned support stations, responding to orders and sifting through footage for any detail that might tip the scales in the ongoing fight against the empire’s mounting threat.

    “What’s the count?” Demus Kiima demanded, his voice cutting through the steady hum of data feeds.

    “One hundred fifty,” came the reply from an officer stationed at a central console. “Now one forty-nine… forty-eight…”

    “How far out is support?” Demus asked.

    “Ten minutes, Commander,” another officer said evenly, delivering the grim news without hesitation.

    Demus cursed under his breath and turned to the overhead screens, which tracked the Simba Recon Team’s progress. The ghost wraiths—a vicious breed that plagued the outskirts of Afrotheria—were racing toward Thuka Province’s villages. Demus had every available Guardian on site, but Sokwe Recon was still en-route from a training exercise in Palan Town.

    “We cannot lose the barricades we’ve built in Thuka Province,” said Kiel Iram, Demus’s second in command. “They’re the only real protection for the outer lands. Yole Province and Teru are wide open. Those wraiths move too fast.”

    Demus’s gaze flicked to a display of vital signs, where three Simba Recon members now registered critical. Their distress alerts pulsed like beacons of danger across the screens.

    “We should have increased surveillance in Thuka,” Demus muttered. “Who else is close?”

    “Teru Province has trainee auxiliaries,” Kiel said, “but Yole still depends heavily on Simba Recon.”

    Two more Guardians went down. Demus stiffened.

    “Report,” he barked.

    “Fifteen active officers, five injured,” an officer called. “Ghost wraiths are at one hundred twenty now and accelerating.”

    “Air support?” Demus asked.

    “Sokwe Recon is two minutes out. We’ve launched twenty-five lightning drones from Simba Base.”

    Demus folded his arms, eyes locked on the screens as a swarm of drones swept into the forest clearing. The Simba team retreated toward their stone barricade and the steel entrance to the military base. They carried the wounded on improvised stretchers, while two snipers desperately rained down bursts of blue laser fire to hold back the wraiths, a chaotic, writhing horde at the tree line.

    Each time the lasers burned the wraiths’ slick, dark hides, they shrieked and spewed green blood onto the forest floor. The snipers’ shots were steady, but the team’s retreat allowed the creatures to gain ground. Five men ducked through the steel gates, hauling their fallen comrades, while three more paused at the entry to cover the snipers.

    Demus exhaled in relief when the last sniper scrambled through, slamming the gates behind them. The drones hovered in perfect formation, bombarding the wraiths, who howled and clawed at the weathered stone dividing the dense forest from Thuka’s settlement.

    Demus’s relief evaporated when three wraiths gouged deep grooves into the steel gates. At the sight of an opening, the rest of the pack converged, attacking the vulnerable spot.

    “Activate the highest-ranked trainees from the auxiliary camp,” Demus said. “Authorize Sokwe Recon to take command of Thuka Base Ops. General Kinya can deploy the weapons from Santi Corp. Kiel, send him the codes.”

    “Yes, Commander.” Kiel hurried to a nearby console to upload the codes.

    Demus pressed two fingers against his eyes, recalling that the empire was set to vote the next morning. Entire families, like those in Teru and Yole, would be out in force, casting ballots. Many had no idea how close the danger truly was.

    “Send a red alert to all branches of the Theria Guild,” Demus said, his tone heavy with urgency. “Include the Black Ops Protection Force. We can’t allow a ghost wraith attack to reach any village tomorrow, not when everyone is out there voting.”

    He cast one final, grim look at the footage of the battered barricades and marred steel gates. He could only hope the Protector Class, with all its training and firepower, would be enough to keep this menace from carving a path straight to the empire’s most vulnerable families, families who had no idea how close the darkness lurked.

    ****

    Dalia Taj logged into her Luna VR 1account and guided her avatar to the bustling market center. She had to track down a proprietary app from someone known as the “pink piggy,” hoping to secure the proper permissions for her latest project. KISTech2, her institute, was strict about illegal code usage. Every bit of software there needed to be documented and attributed to its original developer.

    She was knee-deep in a scientific experiment that involved analyzing ghost wraith DNA, a bold effort to design a biotech weapon that might halt the creatures’ reproduction. She knew others at KISTech were on similar research paths, many far more advanced. After all, she was still a student, and her work would first count toward her class grade. Still, a girl could dream of a breakthrough that would change Afrotheria’s future by ending the ghost wraith scourge once and for all.

    She smirked at the thought as she spotted the stall in the virtual marketplace. Unlike the sleek glass or polished wood of surrounding shops, this one was built with black tarp, marked only by a pink pig’s head above its entrance. Suspicious as it looked, Dalia slipped inside without hesitation.

    The interior was awash in flashing lights. Customers crowded around a wooden counter, calling out orders to the two men working behind it. Pink piggy’s code shop was always busy, prized for efficient, user-friendly Luna VR accessories and plug-ins.

    Dalia waved to the assistants and hurried to a bright-pink door at the back of the shop. A faint beep sounded as she touched the handle; she took out her virtual card and pressed it to the lock. Five hundred credits later, the door clicked open.

    “I’d expect a grand welcome, considering how much you charge just to get back here,” Dalia said, stepping inside. She found the pink piggy seated at a desk, engrossed in constructing a virtual greenhouse. “Does it really have to cost five hundred credits for an audience with you?”

    “You’re the one who needs me,” he replied, not looking up from his projected display. “Tell me, do you think women like white?”

    “It depends on the occasion,” Dalia said, crossing to the chair opposite him. “Why? Are you building that greenhouse for a girl?”

    “Maybe,” he said, shrugging. He wore his signature look—black slacks, a plain white T-shirt under a black vest, and sturdy combat boots, as though prepared to bolt at a moment’s notice. She’d never seen his face; the pink piggy head was part of his bizarre mystique. But no one could question his coding talent.

    With a quick click, he switched the greenhouse color to a garish pink that made Dalia wince. Then he glanced at her avatar.

    “You look stunning,” he said. It was odd how she could sense his grin behind the cartoonish pig face. “Do you keep your real-life looks here? You must be dangerous to meet in person.”

    Dalia chuckled. Her avatar was indeed designed to reflect parts of her real self, but not her true face. That would be too risky, given her father’s high-profile reputation. She allowed herself the same curvy silhouette, wore a tailored coat belted at the waist, a pinstriped skirt that ended above her knees, and knee-high black boots with a four-inch heel. A gold masquerade mask concealed her features, and her braids fell long down her back. Reaching into her coat pocket, she withdrew a card.

    “I need permission to use this, Pink Piggy,” she said, holding the card over the table.

    He eyed her long red nails, which stood out vividly against her dark skin, and took the card. “I’d love to know what you look like offscreen.”

    She shrugged. “Same goes for you.”

    He shuddered. “Let’s not joke. If I show my face, half the empire will beg me for cheap plug-ins.”

    “Wouldn’t that just mean more money?”

    He shook his head. “It’s also about how it comes to you,” he said, his brows furrowed as he read the card. “What do you need this code for?”

    “It’s for a science project,” Dalia said. “I’m willing to pay.”

    “It’s not about the money.” He set the card aside, voice suddenly serious. “I registered this code in the KISTech Registry3 on a whim. I thought it might support the ghost wraith fight—”

    “It can,” Dalia cut in. “I can’t give details, but I believe your logic will mesh well with my own. If we manage to refine it, we might have something worth presenting to the Theria Guild. I’ll keep the source code intact and maintain your rights when I submit—”

    “It’s incomplete,” he said, shaking his head. “I’ve been tinkering with it for ages, but something’s missing. I guess I don’t have enough data.”

    “I’m fine with an incomplete version,” Dalia insisted. “Please—”

    “What will you do about the errors I haven’t accounted for? I don’t sell half-baked work, even to beautiful women.”

    She jumped to her feet. “You’re insulting me. You think I’m not as talented as you? I’m not here to grovel for your source code. I only thought you posted it in the registry because you wanted someone with a similar vision. If that’s not the case, I can find another approach.”

    “You have a temper,” he teased, folding his arms across his chest.

    Dalia bristled, folding her own arms. She stared at the oversized pig head he wore. Could he be a fellow student at KISTech? She prided herself on knowing every top-tier coder in her year. If he was one of them, he’d done an impressive job of masking his identity.

    “You must have Tech Class credentials,” he remarked. “Having the funds to open this door means you’re likely well-connected—high enough on the chain to unlock my registration profile.”

    “I’ve got nothing on you, Pink Piggy,” Dalia said. “All I know is that you show up in this stall in Luna VR.”

    “Frustrating, isn’t it?” he asked, chuckling.

    “It is,” she admitted.

    He tilted his head toward the greenhouse design. “So, about these colors—what do girls like?”

    “Not that pink,” Dalia teased with a short laugh. “A light green or an earth tone suits a greenhouse better.”

    “Hmm.” He adjusted the controls, and the greenhouse settled into a more tasteful pale green.

    “I’ll review the code,” he said at last. “I need to see what I have on the Registry versus what’s stored in my private database. I’ll let you know.”

    “How do I reach you?” she asked.

    “Your five hundred credits gave me your user ID,” he said. “I’ll message you.”

    “Please don’t wait too long,” she said, unable to keep the worry from her voice. She needed progress in the next three days—voting day or not. Her class mentor expected a status update right after the election.

    “How long is too long?” he asked.

    “Tomorrow?” she ventured.

    “I’m busy tomorrow,” he said with a sigh. “The day after, maybe.”

    Dalia nodded reluctantly. “I’ll look forward to it,” she said, turning to leave.

    She nearly collided with another avatar wearing a comically large goat’s head. He greeted her with a loud “Meh!” that startled a laugh out of her.

    “Stop scaring our esteemed customer,” the pink piggy said in mock reproach.

    “She looked ready for it,” the goat-man replied.

    Dalia shook her head, fighting off a second burst of laughter. “Looks like you’re building an animal farm in here.”

    “Are we?” the pink piggy mused.

    The goat-man chuckled, and Dalia wondered what it would be like to meet them outside of Luna VR. “See you around, Pink Piggy. And you too, He-Goat. I’d better not run into a giant chicken next.”

    “See you around, Pink Piggy. And you too, He-Goat. I’d better not run into a giant chicken next.”

    She left, logging out of Luna VR as soon as she stepped through the stall’s main door.

    Removing her VR glasses, she set them carefully on her desk, then stretched. Her gaze drifted to the muted television across the room. The news was on, and her father’s face lit the screen as he waved to a roaring crowd in an amphitheater.

    “Unmute,” Dalia said quietly.

    “...Izra Taj and his running mate thank their supporters on the eve of the vote,” the reporter announced. “By this time tomorrow, we’ll know how his campaign has fared. Mr. Taj has led the Tech Class for six years, winning that office three times. He’s expected to be joined by his family when voting begins in just a few hours…”

    “Mute,” Dalia said again. A knock at her door made her glance up as her mother, Amelia Taj, peeked in.

    “Your father wants us all together soon,” Amelia said. “It’ll be easier for the campaign if we’re at the hotel tonight.”

    “Okay,” Dalia said, feeling a pang of exhaustion. She eyed her bed, fully aware she likely wouldn’t return to it until the voting was over.

    “It’ll all be done soon,” her mother added gently, as if reading her mind.

    Dalia attempted a smile. When the door closed, she let out a heavy sigh. If her father won and became the new Elderon, life would not go back to normal. It would only grow more complicated. Still, she hoped KISTech would allow her to continue her research without interruption.

    Heading to the shower, she could only think of one thing: the pink piggy and whether he would grant permission to use his code. She needed that puzzle piece—and she needed it fast.

    *****

    <<Previous | TOC | Next>>

    1. Luna VR is a virtual reality platform within the Empire of Afrotheria, accessed by users through VR glasses or visors. It functions as a dynamic digital space with various purposes, from commerce to personal and social interaction. ↩︎
    2. Kirit Institute of Science and Technology (KISTech). ↩︎
    3. The KISTech Registry serves as a system for documenting and attributing proprietary apps and code to their original developers. KISTech has a strict policy against illegal code usage, meaning any software used within the institute needs to be properly registered and its source acknowledged ↩︎

  • Theria Guild Guardian: Code and Courage – 1

    Theria Guild Guardian: Code and Courage – 1

    Reading Time:

    10–15 minutes

    “Afrotheria is an empire of diverse peoples, flourishing at the horn of the Afro Continent. Our economy has grown quickly, partly because of our relentless quest to rid the empire of the ghost hound menace, and partly due to our abundant natural resources and the fierce dedication of the Science and Technology Class. Now, can anyone tell me why our people are divided into classes?”

    Zev sat at a desk in the back of the classroom, half listening to Miss Leya as he fiddled with his drawing tablet. He scowled at the screen, which refused to render his schematics the way he wanted and realized with a deepening sigh that a visit to the Upgrade Center was inevitable.

    A sudden pinch on his right thigh made him hiss under his breath. His best friend, Waweru—whom everyone called Weru—arched an eyebrow in warning. Zev ignored him, still mentally tallying the shillings in his wallet. He had two thousand left after his last job at the Village Center, but he had promised his little sister five hundred for her upcoming Conservation Center trip and her beloved plant purchases. That left him with only fifteen hundred, and a tablet upgrade cost four thousand. Another part-time job was in his immediate future.

    “Zev Mablevi!”

    He jolted upright, looking up from the tablet to find his classmates staring at him with various degrees of amusement.

    “I pinched you,” Weru whispered. “You wouldn’t listen.”

    Zev exhaled, set his tablet on the desk, and stood. He tried for a disarming smile when he saw Miss Leya’s disapproving look.

    “Miss Leya,” he said, clearing his throat.

    Miss Leya, their History and Civics teacher, was known for her passionate approach. She expected her students to care about the subject as deeply as she did, a feeling Zev could never quite muster. He found the class dull, though he grudgingly accepted its necessity for his tech certification. It was a true tragedy that his technology training included History and Civics.

    It was a true tragedy that his technology training included History and Civics

    Zev Mablevi, Theria Guild Guardian: Code and Courage

    “Zev,” Miss Leya said, folding her arms, “what are you doing in my class?”

    She rocked on her heels, her braids swaying in a ponytail perched neatly on top of her head. Zev bit his bottom lip, suspecting there was no answer that would satisfy her.

    “I suspect you’ve been more interested in the tablet on your desk than in my lesson,” Miss Leya said, her frown deepening. “You might be the top student here, but that doesn’t give you license to ignore my lecture. Please answer my question.”

    Zev glanced at Weru for help, but his friend only shrugged. Zev stifled a groan. The last he remembered, she was talking about Afrotheria’s Classes.

    “Um, Afrotheria has nine classes,” he said, plunging in. “They’re Science and Tech, Social Welfare, Medicine, Education, Conservation and Agriculture, Justice, Protector Class, Construction and Works, and the Registarion.”

    Laughter broke out. Zev saw Miss Leya’s frown deepen further.

    “That’s thorough,” she said, “but it tells me you haven’t been listening. Read the question on the overhead, Mablevi.”

    Zev scratched his head, then looked at the glass panel on the front wall. It displayed an image of the Registarion Building in the capital city, Kirit.

    “Why does the Empire of Afrotheria vote in a new Sable Council to work with the head of the Registarion every four years?” Miss Leya asked.

    Zev grimaced at Weru, who swallowed a laugh. Resigning himself to Miss Leya’s interrogation, Zev cleared his throat and focused on the prompt.

    “We, the people of Afrotheria, vote in a new Sable Council every four years to encourage growth and development,” he said. “Our greatest hope is to finally rid ourselves of the ghost hound scourge.”

    “Who is the head of the Registarion?” Miss Leya prompted.

    “That would be the Elderon1, who has a second in command called the Chancellor,” Zev answered. “He leads the Sable Council and manages the Registarion2 for the people.”

    “And what is the Registarion’s main role?”

    “They assist the eight representatives on the Sable Council3,” Zev said. “They make sure the different classes have the resources they need. The Elderon also casts the deciding vote when the Sable Council is at a stalemate.”

    “Where are those eight representatives selected from?”

    “They’re each voted in from the nine classes,” Zev said. “They tend to be the top minds in their respective fields. For instance, the technology representative is Vin Saha, the inventor of the helmet used by the Protector Class in its fight against the ghost wraiths.”

    “And why is the Sable Council so important that it sometimes needs that deciding vote from the Elderon?” Miss Leya asked.

    Zev paused, wondering how to answer this question. The Sable Council was important, but it was also filled with politics and power fights. He could never quite fathom why their energy wasn’t wholly spent on helping the people—and dealing with the ghost wraiths.

    “Well,” he said carefully, “the Sable Council is supposed to be the collective voice of each class, working to allocate funding and manage crises, especially keeping villages safe from ghost wraiths. When they can’t agree, the Elderon’s vote breaks the tie.”

    Seemingly satisfied, Miss Leya changed the overhead image to a familiar “Vote Now” sticker.

    “You know your Civics, Zev,” she said, “even if you’d rather play with that tablet than pay attention. We have four weeks together before you move on to your beloved Tech Courses. One day, perhaps you’ll see the importance of these lessons. Now, are you going to vote tomorrow? You’re seventeen, aren’t you?”

    Zev shook his head. “No, Miss Leya.”

    Her eyes widened as though he’d confessed a great sin. “And why not? It is your civic duty to vote, Zev Mablevi. Don’t you want progress for your village?”

    “I’m actually working at the Village Center tomorrow,” Zev explained. “I’ll be assisting with the voting process, so I’m not eligible to cast a ballot myself.”

    Miss Leya brightened. “Well, that’s admirable. What an experience you’ll have. Very good, Mablevi. Sit down.”

    Zev sank back into his seat, exchanging a sheepish grin with Weru.

    “Pay attention,” Miss Leya warned. “I’d hate to penalize our top student for fussing with a tablet.”

    Sliding his tablet into his bag, Zev pulled out a notebook and sat up straighter. Miss Leya continued.

    “Zev has already given most of the answers I’d planned to ask about our governing system. I’ll only add that the Elderon and Chancellor are a pair. Both earn their positions through the people’s vote. Thus, when there’s a stalemate, the Elderon’s vote ultimately reflects the empire’s majority opinion, but not necessarily the entire empire’s. Which leads to an important question: what about those who did not vote for the current Elderon or Chancellor? Weru, care to tell us?”

    Weru stood, clearly reluctant. “They have the minority leader?” he ventured.

    “Exactly,” Miss Leya said. “The minority leader forms a sort of ‘silent branch’ called the Opposition. His role is to monitor the Sable Council and raise concerns on behalf of those who did not vote for the Elderon or Chancellor. This ensures accountability. It’s not a perfect system, but it keeps Afrotheria relatively stable. Some of you will one day work in the Registarion. I hope you’ll fight for progress, both in government and in our ongoing struggle against the ghost wraiths. We all must face that darkness together to protect our homeland. I’m sure you’ll surprise us all with changes and improvements in the future.”

    She picked up a stack of forms from her desk and held them up. “We’ve reached the end of class. Before I dismiss you, pay attention to this.”

    Miss Leya stepped between the rows, handing each student a form. “You’re all at the end of your semester here in our small village academy, eighteen years old, or for some close to eighteen, and just three weeks from senior high graduation. You should know your grades by now.”

    The classroom filled with chatter and a few groans. Zev glanced at Weru, knowing his friend had middling grades but plenty of potential. The main pressure on Weru came from his father, who desperately wanted him to enroll in Kistech, the prestigious Kirit Institute of Science and Technology. Kistech researchers worked closely with the Protector Class, helping develop tech to defeat ghost wraiths.

    Weru wasn’t so sure he wanted that life. Teru Province, quiet and peaceful, offered its own kind of security, a world away from the bustle of Kirit.

    Miss Leya cleared her throat. “This form is critical. It’s an application to change the class you selected at sixteen. After graduation, shifting classes will be incredibly difficult. I encourage you to think hard before committing to a future you might not enjoy. The Science and Technology Class is elite but mentally consuming and demanding. If you don’t genuinely love research, design, and coding, you could end up maintaining basic tech for companies, households, stuck doing grunt work in labs. I’m not trying to frighten you,” she added, her voice softer, “only to prepare you.”

    I encourage you to think hard before committing to a future you might not enjoy

    Miss Leya, Theria Guild Guardian: Code and Courage

    Reaching Zev’s row, she handed Weru a form and turned to Zev with a teasing grin. “Of course, we expect top students like Zev to stay in Science and Tech. Who knows, he might invent the ultimate ghost hound–banishing weapon.”

    Laughter and whistles rippled through the room. Zev grinned. He did love tech, though not necessarily the high-powered pressure of Kistech. He hoped to work at the local lab with his parents and remain close to home.

    Laughter and whistles rippled through the room. Zev grinned. He did love tech, though not necessarily the high-powered pressure of Kistech. He hoped to work at the local lab with his parents and remain close to home.

    Miss Leya finished distributing the forms and returned to the front. “You don’t have to submit this form immediately. We have two days off for the vote and all the related activities. I want each of you to really think about what you want for your future. If you realize you’re in the wrong place, talk to me and I’ll do what I can to help. All right?”

    Murmurs ran through the class. Zev slipped his form into his backpack. He nudged Weru.

    “You could fill this out and switch classes,” he whispered.

    Weru shuddered. “My dad would kill me.”

    “You’re eighteen,” Zev reminded him. “You should be free to do what makes you happy.”

    “I can just imagine me telling Baba I want to move to the Construction and Works Class. He’ll have a heart attack,” Weru said with a sigh.

    “Try asking your mom for help,” Zev said.

    Waweru gripped his own tablet tight and shrugged. “I’ll think about it,” he said, folding the form from Miss Leya, and slipping it into his shirt pocket.

    At the front of the room, Miss Leya rapped a knuckle against her desk to get their attention.

    “The credit belongs—” she began.

    “—to the man in the arena whose face is marred by dust, sweat, and blood, again and again,” Zev and his classmates chorused, finishing her favorite quote.

    This credit belongs to the man in the arena whose face is marred by dust, sweat, and blood, again and again.

    Theodore Roosevelt, 1910

    “Now,” Miss Leya continued, “review the last two chapters in your history texts. We’ll have a quiz when you return. Zev, I’ll expect a full account of your time assisting at the Village Center. Class dismissed. Waweru, please come see me.”

    Zev patted Weru’s shoulder. Slinging his backpack over his right shoulder, he said, “Meet me in the Luna VR at nine tonight. I’ve got something to show you.”

    “Sure. I’ll message you before I log in,” Weru said, gathering his books as he trudged toward Miss Leya’s desk.

    Outside the classroom, Zev found his little sister, Amare, waiting for him with a clear ziplock bag of sugarcane strips. She grinned, handing him the sugarcane bag, and he took her schoolbag and slung it over his shoulder with his.

    “Are you working tomorrow?” she asked as they headed to the school’s front gate.

    “Yes,” Zev said.

    “Oh,” Amare said. “I was hoping you could help babysit our brothers.”

    “I need money for my tablet upgrade,” Zev said, biting into a piece of sugarcane. “Don’t forget. You’re going to the Conservation Garden, remember? I promised you five hundred shillings for the berry plants you’ve been eyeing.”

    “Zev, you don’t have to give me your money,” Amare protested. “I was going to earn a little cash by braiding Mom Ava’s hair.”

    “You hate doing hair,” Zev teased. “Don’t force yourself.”

    Amare chuckled. “Fine. But if you insist on covering my costs, then I’ll bring you lunch tomorrow. The brothers and I can hang back until Mom and Dad finish at the lab, and we’ll all head home together.”

    Zev’s eyes lit up. “Fried potatoes and beef stew?”

    She rolled her eyes. “I’m not taking orders.”

    “Or chapos and beef stew,” Zev persisted. “Or maybe pilau and beef stew. Actually, all three with beef stew would be perfect.”

    They shared a laugh. Walking side by side down the quiet village road, they basked in the midday sun and the easy companionship of home. The ghost wraiths might threaten distant provinces, but here in Teru—at least for the moment—life was sweet and calm.

    And as Zev knew all too well, moments of peace could be fleeting. Everyone in Afrotheria, even here in sleepy Teru, would eventually need to stand together against the darkness for the greater good.

    They walked on, as they always did after school.

    *****

    <<Previous | TOC | Next>>

    1. Elderon – The head of the Sable Council, leader of the Empire of Afrotheria. Voted in by the people with his Chancellor. ↩︎
    2. Registarion – the place where the Elderon works, sort of like Parliament, or an Emperor’s court. ↩︎
    3. Sable Council – A council that represents the nine classes of the Empire of Afrotheria. These classes are divided according to skill. They are: Science and Tech, Social Welfare, Medicine, Education, Conservation and Agriculture, Justice, Protector Class, Construction and Works, and the Registarion. ↩︎
  • Theria Guild Guardian: Code and Courage- Prologue

    Theria Guild Guardian: Code and Courage- Prologue

    Prologue: Njaro Mountain

    Reading Time

    1–2 minutes

    Njaro Mountain rumbled with a deep, earth-shaking roar that struck fear into every living soul. Dark billows of smoke swelled over its peak, thicker than the heaviest rain clouds, and rushed down the slopes as if guided by a malevolent force.

    Within minutes, wildlife erupted from the forests encircling the mountain. Men, women, and children in nearby villages felt their courage evaporate. After all, when lions flee, what choice does a person have but to run?

    Within the hour, seething red lava burst from Njaro’s core. Scalding and furious—hotter than any hell humankind can imagine—it poured down in rivers of molten fire, annihilating all in its path. Neither ancient trees nor birds, insects, or the last frantic animals escaped. Certainly, no human who remained, praying for divine deliverance, survived its touch.

    When at last the flow cooled, it left behind a silent expanse of devastation stretching a hundred miles. Yet out of those hardened vents crawled a calamity even worse than the lava. In a violent twist of nature, new creatures emerged; what the people of Afrotheria would come to call ghost wraiths. These massive, dark beasts sported oily black hides and jaws lined with teeth that could shatter a human body in a single bite.

    Thus, began a new era in the Empire of Afrotheria1, one overshadowed by the menace of the ghost wraiths2.

    TOC | Next Episode>>

    1. Empire of Afrotheria – A fictitious empire found in the horn of Africa with high-tech capabilities. It is the setting of the story Theria Guild Guardian: Code & Courage. ↩︎
    2. Ghost Wraiths – Massive, dark beasts with oily dark hides and jaws lined with teeth that could shatter a human body in a single bite. ↩︎
    Ghost Wraiths image from Theria Guild Guardian: Code and Courage
    Ghost Wraiths: Scary and deadly