This is Balon’s story.
Balon is nobody.
Balon is a Zfnoctewoohi. She is one half dark and one half light. Her dark comes from some nobody but her light comes from one somebody. That somebody is Lana.
Lana Zfhi is Balon’s mother. She could mean everything and nothing to the dogma of Zfnoctewoohi. That is because Lana Zfhi is the twin sister of Nielkov Zfhi.
Nielkov Zfhi is the Avatar of Light. Nielkov Zfhi is mad. Nielkov is a catastrophe waiting to happen and so something must be done by someone.
Balon is not someone but she will aid her mother. She will force a chance in the ways of her people to handle Nielkov’s madness. Handle, as in, to change the tradition that has defined the Zfnoctewoohi race since the start. There has never been a deviation.
Until now, if Balon has anything to do with it. The Trinity and the One will have nothing to do with it. It is not their matter. It is Balon’s matter. Because this is Balon’s story.
“Descriptors are of no importance unless they convey some nuance that would…” Rayacha Chajaran paused, then continued, “give some understanding of what that described thing can do or will do.”
A shiver crawled along Hequera’s spine as she thought of how short a time it had taken for a work of the Humans to be reduced to this decrepit presentation of craft. A time that was a mere drop to that of an Empirian.
“Screw you,” Jessica spat at his face. And then she literally spat on the Empirian.
She could take it all. She would take every one of those titles all by herself. She would own this reality. She would own all the choices she made and did not made. All the realities that were spreading out from her wake and front, they would be her own because this was her story.
It was white, Balon ruminated. It was just white, not rainbows or anything more. Balon sighed and flickered her gaze around the place. This place is above you and beneath it. It was a lie all along.