Elan

I was born during the height of the Gittish Empire's dominance. From birth, I had seen the antagonism between Federation and Empire, how my fellows refused to deal in Gittish goods and would spit vitriol against Gittish doctrine.

Though I was a vrael, my Federation heritage and my healing magics promised a loyalty that none could deny. Even so, my parents were especially careful to instil in me the ideals of civilised society, baulking at any early notions I had of sorcerery or violence.

I had thought it unfortunate to be born a vrael, but I soon realised I had the greatest chance of slotting in unnoticed amongst the Gittish spawn and to be accepted into Obraxis Prime, both by its inhabitants and by its pathogens.

The Galactic Federation welcomes all manner of life, it is an alliance, a triumph of unity amongst the stars. However, our war against the Gittish Empire is neverending. Life against death, a tale as old as time. I was not content to just sit on the sidelines of this historic conflict. I was to be an agent, an enlightened soldier for the Federation. I would fight on the side of life.

When I came of age, my mother bid me a tearful farewell as she pressed her forehead against mine and hugged me firmly. She had spied for the Federation herself, back in the day. Her work had been instrumental in many a war effort or the alliance. Since youth, she had drilled in me the importance of discretion, how to avoid the pit-falls of my infernal heritage, and most of all, an unerring loyalty to the planets of my birth.

"Never forget your roots," she told me. "Remember it and love it. Wherever you are, keep the beauty and strength of peace in your heart. It is your compass, it will lead you back home, always."

It became like a mantra to me. Whenever the lure of the hunt, the ache of homesickness, or the horrors of disease threatened to overwhelm me, I would hear her voice in my ear and smell the sweet wildflower blossoms in the air. Never forget your roots.

When I first landed on the desolate planet that would be my post, I was taken aback by my surroundings. Endless dunes and hills of bone-dry sand, littered with the scattered remains of lost travellers. Before my arrival here, I knew only lush green forests and crystal waters. I could not believe people survived in this place, that this is where my ancestors came from.

I steeled my resolve. I was here for a reason, to carry out the Federation's vision. It would be better for everyone if this land of putrid death was transformed into rich, verdant growth.

The air was somehow heavier here, choked full of miasma and dust. I made much slower progress than I expected, having to stop often to catch my breath. My goal was at the centre of this territory, to infiltrate the highest and filthiest of this twisted kingdom, and I would not fail.

I was intercepted by a group of scouts just as I approached the outskirts of the towered city. The trek has left me rattled, and I stumbled through some shaky explanation for my presence. Pilgrimage, I said.

"I want somewhere I can belong," I told them, as if I did not already know the direction of home, the direction of mother and father, in the thriving Federation.

As I was speaking, I took in the scouts. Some of their appearances were appalling; they had gaping wounds and festering scars, many of them covered in blood and grime. I itched to usher them into a healer's grove, to show them herbs and ointments.

On the outside, I kept a poker face, and gave no indication of the turbulent thoughts in my mind. The group cajoled around, seemingly unbothered by injury, indulgently welcoming a foreign-born vrael. They had been training, and they hounded me to join in, their many eyes gleaming with curiosity and malice.

When I declined to participate, using exhaustion as an excuse, they allowed me to observe and resumed the fight I had interrupted. I watched in horror, all my instincts screaming, as they continued their barbaric brawl.

A bloodied and scarred vrael threw wicked strikes on a youngster barely a few seasons old, and bit hard enough to draw blood. The others just jeered from the sidelines in vicious glee, even as the child was pinned and starting yelping in pain.

Though I had been warned, I was shocked at this open brutality. This was sport to them. They found amusement in suffering.

After the fight, the larger vrael approached me and introduced himself.

"No matter how much the forest-crawlers corrupted you, you belong here with your true kin." He told me solemnly. "Your body remembers even if your mind does not. Your instincts will never be lost. Can you imagine a vrael, forgetting how to survive?"

It was then that I learned. The Federation had always been wary of vraels. I thought it unfair until now, having finally seen them for what they are. They are brutal, ferocious creatures, and can only ever be feared. What does that make me?

I was not born here on Obraxis Prime, where I would've had to fight and bully for every scrap. To my greatest relief, I learned good morals and respect for life, I learned how to live and live well, not just to survive and kill. My parents had migrated to greener pastures, and we tempered our savage ways with the incipient hand of the white mages.

It is for my brethren now that I live this dual life. My true loyalties will never be in question. No matter how much I learn the old vrael ways, what acquaintances I make, whose's hatchlings I rear, who I comfort or console, their secrets are not mine to keep. I've woven an intricate web of lies. My duty means I must betray them all, for the Federation, for life, for a family I had long ago. One that I remember only in the scent of flowers. A scent growing gradually fainter in this land of death and decay.

But in my mind's eye, I still see the running streams and forest fields as clearly as I've always had, and the birds flying by each season still sing of home. And every year, for a single, rainy month, the melancholy flowers take their chance to bloom, and I perform those secret druidic rituals taught to me way back when, full of longing and hope and heartache. A reminder, that I have but one family, half a galaxy away. And no matter what, I have a job to do.