New Voice

New Voice
Author’s POV…

Well, I did ask you readers not to get used to me directing addressing y’all mid story, and I must say that I have lived up to that statement. Man! This saga has been moving at paces I didn’t even think were possible when I started writing this story. We’ve gotten to know some humans and we’ve gotten to know some Krugs, but now we find ourselves at an impasse, and a drastic change has to be made so we can carry on with finishing what we’ve started; you reading this & me writing it as I observe this particular reality…

Usually, deaths of beloved characters in these fictional realities occur when the tale gets to the point of no return. Where shit hits the fan and it just gets on everybody, and you know it’s only by the hand of Yahweh that anything good could possibly spring forth from the mess that’s about to unfold. 

Princess Trix has been taken out of the game. She’s pretty much dead, if you ask me, but like I said, only by Yahweh’s hand could there be light at the end of what sure looks like a dark tunnel. With the princess removed from this matrix, the fourth spot for a POV has reopened, and there are a few candidates in line to receive it.

We don’t just need a new voice—we need the right voice. One that would carry the rest of the plot with a fresh perspective that puts the scattered plot back into perspective, especially for our dear heroes. I may not be able to directly influence the outcome of this world, but I can help make sure you get to see how and why it happens from as many relevant angles as possible, to obtain utmost clarity and relief once the journey reaches its climax.

We need a relevant voice. The question now is Who’s? I thought Feran’s voice might work, but I’ve been in his head already, and it’s pretty much what everyone else has been describing from their POV. He’s a mad titan who won’t change and is inevitable; this villainy of his is all he’s good for and he has no redeeming qualities worthy of anyone’s sentiment, unfortunately for his soul.

Amara can’t work. Her destiny is tied to Gary’s, and she shares his sentiments too. Which makes the choice for the fourth spot pretty obvious, right? First time we’ll be inside the mind of what’s not a Krug or a human, but a mix of both worlds. And we’re entering said head at the most crucial time; right when the switch from innocent is made, and guilt becomes the new reality.

Who is Abigail? False bridge, or true and misunderstood bridge? Hero or Villain? Friend or foe? Killer or Savior? I can’t wait to see it, and I’m sure neither can you, dear reader.

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Abigail's POV…

I shifted on the mattress. My eyes opened, but everything was blurred. I stared ahead, trying to make sense of the shape standing before me. The room slowly became clearer. The walls. The lights. The cuffs around my wrists. And him. Feran.

I knew his name now. I had heard it enough times. The Emperor. He stood in front of my mattress, studying me as though I were something displayed inside a museum.

"Are you comfortable?"

I said nothing. He smiled. "I suppose comfort is relative."

I watched him carefully. The way his eyes moved over me. He wasn't simply looking at a child. He was looking at an opportunity.

"When the Keepers first told me about you," he said, "I thought they were exaggerating."

He walked slowly around the room. "They spoke of a child unlike anything they had ever encountered. A living vessel capable of carrying properties that could transform the relationship between humans and Krugs forever. So I funded their work. I gave them resources. Laboratories. Scientists. Everything they needed."

He smiled. "And now you're here. Still evolving."

He shook his head. "I still cannot believe you're Trix's creation."

Trix. My eyes moved toward the place where she had been lying. Feran noticed.

"You're wondering where she went. She's in the emergency wing. Our doctors are treating her." He paused. "But it's grim. She probably won't survive."

Something inside me moved. Not grief. Not exactly. Something more complicated. Trix had tried to kill me. But she was also the one who gave me life and saved it several times over. Humans were complicated. Krugs were complicated. Everyone seemed trapped inside the same cycle. Fear. Power. Loss. Revenge.

Feran continued speaking. "Frankly, I'm not angry with her." He sounded almost pleased. "What she did proved something. She proved that your body possesses exactly what we need."

He leaned closer. "The power. The resilience. The potential."

I understood. He wanted to use me. My design.

"You'll be transported back to the mountain tomorrow. The Keepers will finish what they started." He pointed toward my cuffs. "And you will not escape."

I looked down at them.

"If you attempt it, you'll be killed. As valuable as you are, we don't need all of you. Your heart. Your brain." He smiled. "Those will be enough."

I stared at him. He thought he understood me. He didn't. Not yet.

"Get some rest," he said, "You leave tomorrow."

He turned toward the door. I watched him walk away. Then I spoke. "Feran."

He stopped. He slowly turned around. I looked directly into his eyes. My voice was calm. "One day, I'm going to peel your skin from your bones."

His expression froze. "And I'll set your entire empire on fire."

Feran was silent for a moment, then he laughed. A deep, uncomfortable laugh. "You may have many dangerous abilities."

He pointed toward my wrists. "But as long as those cuffs are active, you're just as weak as everyone else.”

He turned and walked out. The door closed. I stared at it. I wasn't screaming. I wasn't crying. I wasn't panicking. I was thinking. That was what they never understood. They looked at my size and saw a child. They looked at my body and saw organs. They looked at my abilities and saw weapons. But I saw everything differently. And I finally understood what I was made to do. Not to serve Feran or the Keepers. Not to destroy humanity or the Krugs. I was made to end the separation.

Humans and Krugs had spent generations building walls between themselves. Borders. Wars. Empires. Slavery. They had created two worlds where there should have been one. I would change that. A single family. A single world. A single existence. One blood. One future. If millions had to die for that future to exist, then millions would die. Humans. Krugs. It didn't matter.

Unity demanded sacrifice. And I was no longer afraid of what that meant. I looked down at my cuffs. They were temporary. Everything was temporary. Including them. So I waited. Sooner or later, my circumstances would change. And when they did, everyone would finally understand the truth. I wasn't their weapon. I was their future.