The lands of the Vastaya once roamed the entire planet,
far and wide, turning from forest to sea to desert. Now,
they are confined, chipped away with every passing year
as humans force their way into the wilderness. The elders
spoke of peace, of understanding, and when she had
been young, cradled in her father’s arms, she had
listened, had agreed. Why not share? This planet was
not only theirs, but home to others as well.
And then she had traveled outwards, had directly seen
the destruction brought to those who disagreed, those
who spoke up about the stolen land,
the tamed magic, the dying trees.
She returned without a home or a familiar face in sight.
Xayah’s hatred for the humans had reached a breaking
point, and with every bloodstained feather, she felt it ease
into a sense of justice. Humans were greedy, unkind
creatures, who took and took and took until those they
took from were no longer there. She could not
forgive them, would not forgive them.
So how had she found herself in the company of one?
She glances briefly at the figure near her, a frown deep
set on red lips. Her instinct has stopped her from
abandoning or killing the stranger - instead,
she keeps near, waiting, waiting, waiting.
“And you know where the source of this shadow magic is?”