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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/PSHoffman on 2026-02-20 14:53:32+00:00.
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The two avians locked themselves together. It didn’t seem to matter that Agraneia was still standing in the room.
Agraneia coughed awkwardly. “I’ll, uh, see you two later.” She didn’t think either one of them heard her as she slid the door shut behind her.
She knew she should be glad for Eolh and Ryke. They deserved all the happiness that life could offer. Agraneia should feel relieved that the Scar hadn’t crushed the Ark into dust, and that their xeno patchwork of a civilization would find a new home …
But she couldn’t feel it. No relief. No joy. Nothing but her bruised flesh and sharp pains where the Sovereign’s monster had tried to break her.
There was someone Agraneia needed to see, only she wasn’t sure if Talya would want to see her. After all, Agraneia had left Talya—more than once—to seek out some stupid ideal. To do the right thing. And, if the gods demanded it, to get herself killed.
But the gods demanded something else. And that was turning out to be far more difficult.
And now, Agraneia was afraid that she didn’t deserve to see Talya again. Maybe Talya doesn’t even want to see me. Is it cruel to seek her out? Or just selfish? Hells, it was possible the Queen’s wingmaiden had already found someone new. Someone who wasn’t an emotionally-stunted coward with a monstrous past.
But her legs knew something that her mind didn’t, because they were already in motion. Agraneia limped through the Ark’s corridors and crowds of xenos (disheveled and exhausted and crying with relief). Without really meaning to go, she found herself standing in the hospital ward. Nurses with bloodstains and sleep-deprived doctors fretted to and fro like bees tending to a hive, worrying over patients in their cots. The scent of dried blood and old sweat and sharp disinfectants stung at her nostrils. Shouts for sedatives competed with the screams of some poor soul who was being carried away for an amputation. Heart hammering in her throat, Agraneia unconsciously wrapped her hand around her liquid arm. Feeling a surge of dread and sympathy for the unfortunate patient.
“Patient intake?” A plump red-feathered nurse came charging past her elbow, eyeing her impatiently. “What’s the nature of your wounds?”
“Oh, I’m not here as a patient.”
“No?” she clucked doubtfully, eyeing the burned bands of flesh around her wrists and arms.
“I’m looking for someone.”
“Family or loved one?”
“I … I think so.”
“You think so? Well, you can find a list of patients over there, but I’m warning you now, it’s long.”
“Not a patient. Looking for someone who works here. Talya?”
The red avian’s brow feathers rose a few inches, and her crest feathers spiked. “Oh,” She uttered icily, “I see.”
Agraneia swallowed. “Is she here?”
“She is.”
“Can I … see her?”
“If it were up to me?” The nurse sighed heavily, shaking her head as if to say ‘not my problem.’ “Talya’s in the back.”
Agraneia thanked her, and the nurse gave a curt toss of her head, before tending to the next xeno.
The back was quieter, though the antiseptic smell was stronger. Almost intoxicating, but far from pleasant. A tech was mopping a long, bloody stain on the floor. Agraneia limped through halls crowded with cots and barely conscious patients. In one room, a family was sobbing over a body, covered with a towel, while a nurse gently urged them to take their grieving outside, so they could make room for other patients.
Talya was in the last room on the left, helping a blue-feathered nurse peel the bloody wraps off a patient. Both their white uniforms, and Talya’s white feathers, were stained with blood.
Agraneia stood in the hall. She couldn’t bring herself to step inside. Maybe she doesn’t want to see me. Why would she? Frozen by indecision, gritting her jaw, Agraneia just watched the wingmaiden work. Two techs hurried down the hall with a gurney, shouting for Agraneia to move out of the way.
Talya kept working, but her partner glanced at the doorway. The nurse’s face darkened. “Talya,” he whispered, and nodded at Agraneia.
First, the wingmaiden turned. Her eyes widened. Her beak fell open in stages.
“I …” Agraneia rumbled. “Talyam I’m …” The room was spinning, and she couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t find the words. She never had the damn words.
It didn’t matter.
“AGRANEIA?” Talya screamed. A few conscious patients lifted their heads.
Before Agraneia could open her mouth to say another word, Talya threw herself across the room like a feathered missile. She slammed against Agraneia’s chest, and wrapped her arms around her waist, squeezing exactly where the Sovereign had broken her ribs.
Agraneia toppled over with the smaller avian still holding on. Together, they crashed to the floor, and Agraneia gasped in blissful agony.
“You’re alive!” Talya squealed between a barrage of kisses, “You’re alive!”—kiss, kiss, kiss—“You’re alive!”—kiss, kiss—“By the gods, you’re alive!”
There was nothing sanitary about this, and Agraneia was pretty sure Talya’s hands were still covered in someone else’s blood, but Agraneia was damned if she was going to stop her.
***
The city built by the xenos on the Ark’s habitation deck was in ruins. While the experts searched for a new home, the xeno survivors had to share the rest of the ship. People slept in shifts in the barracks scattered across the bowels of the ship, or made their homes in tucked-away corners in the halls and corridors of the Ark’s mazelike interior.
Talya had claimed a prime spot in the aftward grow labs, where green stalks grew out of hydroponic beds and broad leaves tickled at the ceiling. Grassy smells and the insect-like buzz of growlights gave it an almost pastoral feel. There were other xenos, other families, scattered through the growing crops, but spread out enough that Agraneia could almost pretend she and Talya were alone. If not for the hallucinations …
The dead faces lurked in the shadows of the ripening nangka fruits and sugar grasses. Their eyes weighed on her, their whispers rustled as soft as leaves. Agraneia fought to keep her eyes on Talya, who patted her bedroll, inviting the cyran closer.
“Agra? What’s the matter?”
“Hmm,” Agraneia hummed through her frown. Shouldn’t it be easier now that they were safe? But the words were stuck in her throat.
Talya watched her, but didn’t rush her. Ever patient, she waited in silence.
Agraneia growled at herself. If Talya could be patient, then why can’t I find the strength to speak? She squeezed her eyes shut, and took a deep breath, and spoke in a rush. “There’s something wrong with me, and it’s been broken for such a long time that I’m afraid it can never be fixed.”
Talya reached out. Feathers brushed over scales as her fingers intertwined with Agraneia’s. And, silently, the wingmaiden waited.
“I …” Agraneia hesitated. The words were getting stuck again. Her chest was tight, and not just from the bandages wrapped around her torso. Agraneia growled, trying to force it out. “Wanted to ask—you—I’m asking—Maybe if you could—”
“Agraneia,” she said, soft and sweet. “Are you asking for my help?”
Agraneia swallowed. And nodded.
“Don’t you know that I love you?” Talya asked.
“But I left,” Agraneia's brow furrowed. “I left you on your own.”
“Because you stopped loving me?”
“I always loved you.”
Talya’s smile was like a sun burning through the clouds. Yet, just as swiftly, it was gone again. “Then why did you leave, Agra?”
Agraneia stared into the green walls of plants. A sprayer hissed as it showered another crop a few rows over. It didn’t quite drown out the whispers. They were talking to her. About her. Saying all the things she didn’t want to hear. Some of them were even true.
“Because I hate myself,” Agraneia finally said. “Because I don’t think—I didn’t think—I was worthy of your love.”
“Do you want to change that?”
Agraneia’s eyes shot back to hers. “More than anything. But I’ve always been this way. I don’t know if I can change…”
“Back when Gaiam was occupied, Queen Ryke used to tell me things about the gods. About their great works. Their magical artifacts,” She nodded at Agraneia’s liquid arm. “But Queen Ryke always said these things were nothing compared to their greatest power. What separates mortals from the divine? They had the power to change themselves—with nothing but will.
“And when the Magistrate’s forces took hold of the Cauldron, Ryke always told me to remember one thing. That we are descended from the gods. Even you. If they can change, then why can’t you?”
***
When the xenos chose a new world, it didn’t have a proper name—just a string of letters and numbers in the Ark’s sensor data logs.
The xeno people were still arguing over what to call it as the Ark descended into the new world’s atmosphere. Without Yarsi to guide the Ark, the descent was more than a little choppy. Teams of navigators, engineers, and other officers chattered and squabbled as th...
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