Sever Her Wings
For the first time in a fair while, the Dreamer gives us a simple blessing, returning once more to the troubled past of one of our own. We see Isra, physically no different than she appears now, but softer somehow -- not yet burdened by a life of unending oppression. Cornelius sits on her shoulder, little more than a baby, his fur still mangled from a recent ordeal in a tar pit. He glares across a gear-laden walkway at Cromwell, bristling with naive mistrust, especially so soon after his recovery from the wild. Cromwell shows only a placating smile -- meant for both Cornelius, and his scowling ward.
Isra: “Why can’t I go outside?”
Cromwell: “I told you, Isra. The Upper Mantle is dangerous. The Aspis--”
Isra: “I’m not afraid of the Consortium. Everyone else deals with them. Pays the tithe. What about me?”
Cromwell: “You are different.”
Isra: “How? Do you think I can’t handle it? That I’ll reveal your identity?”
Cromwell: “No. No. But you are safer here. Where the Aspis cannot hurt you.”
Isra: “They hurt all of us. Denerin. Mattia. Wendel. How many have we lost, in just the brief span of my life, let alone yours?”
A bead of sweat drips down Cromwell’s brow, and he looks pained. The Haze shows flashes of over three centuries of memories in a blink, all of them filled with horrors unspeakable. Although Isra does not hear it in this far-off past, the Haze dives deeper, as a voice echoes in Cromwell’s mind.
Entity: “Keep her here, Cromwell. She won’t ever find her way out, if you do not.”
Cromwell sighs, and throws up his hands.
Cromwell: “Assaulted from all sides. Fine. You will have your wish, Isra. Come.”
Isra grits her teeth in determination, tucking tiny Cornelius into her shirt, and walks forward. With each step, the Haze shows us another year.
We watch as the horrors of Aspis Consortium rule take their toll, as Isra’s softer expressions grind into a sharper image. We see Isra covered in blood, holding another Android, beaten to death far before their time, sobbing as a new soul takes the body’s place. We see her in the Low Mantle, gathering resources from the various portals that open sporadically all over the planet. We see her in the Upper Mantle, passing valuables to soldiers in red, insectile armor -- trading lifetime’s of wealth for the most basic of amenities. Another step, and the fire lights in Isra’s eyes at last. A call for rebellion. Cromwell’s hesitation, after so many years, and then his acceptance. Isra incites the rallying cry that carries across the planet. The Children of the Forge go to war.
But the Aspis Consortium shuts them down. When the finger is pointed, Cromwell goes to stand before it, but he is stalled. Not by the young man at his arm, seen once before in the earliest dreams, but by the voice of his lady.
Entity: “Do not blame Isra, Cromwell. Sever her wings now, and keep her weak.”
The rest is as you remember. A long trip to Varos, some shuffled paperwork, and Isra steps into the cell of Varos Mining Team 6 -- bringing an old vision full circle. Then, the dream ends.
Isra: “Why can’t I go outside?”
Cromwell: “I told you, Isra. The Upper Mantle is dangerous. The Aspis--”
Isra: “I’m not afraid of the Consortium. Everyone else deals with them. Pays the tithe. What about me?”
Cromwell: “You are different.”
Isra: “How? Do you think I can’t handle it? That I’ll reveal your identity?”
Cromwell: “No. No. But you are safer here. Where the Aspis cannot hurt you.”
Isra: “They hurt all of us. Denerin. Mattia. Wendel. How many have we lost, in just the brief span of my life, let alone yours?”
A bead of sweat drips down Cromwell’s brow, and he looks pained. The Haze shows flashes of over three centuries of memories in a blink, all of them filled with horrors unspeakable. Although Isra does not hear it in this far-off past, the Haze dives deeper, as a voice echoes in Cromwell’s mind.
Entity: “Keep her here, Cromwell. She won’t ever find her way out, if you do not.”
Cromwell sighs, and throws up his hands.
Cromwell: “Assaulted from all sides. Fine. You will have your wish, Isra. Come.”
Isra grits her teeth in determination, tucking tiny Cornelius into her shirt, and walks forward. With each step, the Haze shows us another year.
We watch as the horrors of Aspis Consortium rule take their toll, as Isra’s softer expressions grind into a sharper image. We see Isra covered in blood, holding another Android, beaten to death far before their time, sobbing as a new soul takes the body’s place. We see her in the Low Mantle, gathering resources from the various portals that open sporadically all over the planet. We see her in the Upper Mantle, passing valuables to soldiers in red, insectile armor -- trading lifetime’s of wealth for the most basic of amenities. Another step, and the fire lights in Isra’s eyes at last. A call for rebellion. Cromwell’s hesitation, after so many years, and then his acceptance. Isra incites the rallying cry that carries across the planet. The Children of the Forge go to war.
But the Aspis Consortium shuts them down. When the finger is pointed, Cromwell goes to stand before it, but he is stalled. Not by the young man at his arm, seen once before in the earliest dreams, but by the voice of his lady.
Entity: “Do not blame Isra, Cromwell. Sever her wings now, and keep her weak.”
The rest is as you remember. A long trip to Varos, some shuffled paperwork, and Isra steps into the cell of Varos Mining Team 6 -- bringing an old vision full circle. Then, the dream ends.
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