Prologue
And Enoch lived sixty and five years, and begot Methuselah. And Enoch walked with God after he begot Methuselah three hundred years, and begot sons and daughters. And all the days of Enoch were three hundred sixty and five years. And Enoch walked with God; and he was not, for God took him. ~ Book of Genesis 5:21-24 (KJ21)
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In the realm of Earth, the children of the Divine Mother walked in harmony with her essence, enveloped in the grace of her presence. Yet, from the distant stars, the Sirians descended, spreading chaos and capturing the souls of the innocent, binding them in servitude upon the moons of Sheramda, where their sacred connection was stripped away. In response to the anguished cries of her beloved, the Divine Mother, manifesting as the Goddess, She-Who-Once-Was, descended into their plight, striving to restore the lost heritage of her children and reestablish the sacred bond that was severed. ~ Book of Sheramda
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SHAMHDI, A MOON OF THE PLANET SHERAMDA
The year 5,265,240 of the Sirian Empire standard calendar
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Neea was seated at a table in the kitchen, holding Lilja in her lap. The infant looked at her with wide, trusting eyes. Tiny fingers curled into loose fists. Neea's eyes were closed, and her left hand cradled the baby's head, her weathered fingers sensing the subtle energies flowing beneath the delicate skull. The old woman's lips moved as she prayed to the Divine Mother, each sacred word falling into an ancient rhythm as she swayed from side to side in a trance. The kitchen's warm air hung still around them, holding this moment of communion in perfect silence.
Aili stood motionless across the room, staring at her daughter in Neea's arms. She was paralyzed by dread and fear, fingers digging into her palms as she watched. This was the sixth time Neea had performed the Mittaaminen assessment ceremony on one of Aili's babies. Each time, Neea left with the infant, vanishing into the cold desert evening with another piece of Aili's heart, and Aili never saw the child again. The woman was the village healer, respected and feared equally for her role in these ceremonies. Through a window behind Neea, the solar system's star, Aurinko, set behind the Halti Mountains in the distance, painting the sky in shades of amber and violet that Aili perceived through her anxiety. Dear Mother, Aili thought, her silent prayer tinged with desperate hope. Don't let Lilja have the gifts like the others. Please let me keep her. Just this once, let me raise my child.
Heikki, one of her four husbands, stood beside Aili and held her hand, his calloused fingers offering silent comfort. The other men were away working in a nearby cerauniam mine. They arranged their schedules so that one was always at home for Aili's protection, a necessity in these troubled times. Women were only ten percent of the common people in the country, and even in remote mountain villages like this one, abductions occurred with frightening regularity. Aili was disconsolate from losing five children due to this ceremony, each loss carving deeper wounds into her soul, and the community was concerned that she might injure herself. They had found her once before, standing too close to the edge of a cliff, her eyes distant and unfocused. Since then, she has never been left alone.
Aili was a tall woman with long chestnut brown hair and blue-green eyes, her lithe frame carrying the weight of her burdens with quiet grace. As was usual in mountain communities, she married at puberty. Although young, worry lines creased her forehead, and she seldom smiled, her once-bright expression dimmed by years of heartache.
Aili’s clothing reflected the craft traditions of her mountain heritage—a long skirt in earth tones with rust and ochre geometric patterns marking her village. Her indigo-dyed blouse was rolled at the elbows, cinched by a leather belt carved with protective symbols. A pouch hung from it, holding ancestral talismans. Her beaded leather boots and embroidered work apron with deep pockets were worn. A wool band matching her skirt's patterns held back her hair.
After what seemed like an eternity, Neea sighed, opened her eyes, and looked at Aili fixedly, making the truth even more challenging. Her weathered hands wavered as she reached for Aili's. "I'm sorry, child, but this one is also gifted. We must place your baby with the Sapmi to protect you and Lilja. They can raise and guard this one as they have your other children."
Aili gasped, her legs giving way beneath her as she sank to her knees. The rough wooden floor bit into her skin, but she was oblivious to the pain. "This can't be," she sobbed. "No child in this village ever had the gifts. How can all mine be afflicted?"
"Dear one, I understand this is heartbreaking for you, but it is a blessing, not a curse," Neea said, her voice firm as she stood over the younger woman. "The Divine Mother sent you to us. It is a miracle that all your children are gifted. Their protection is our responsibility." She stroked Aili's hair reverently.
The village was populated by the Orja, a class enslaved by the country's Mestari elite. Their harsh existence weighed on everyone but perhaps most cruelly on the women. Only about one-third of the community's women were fertile, and those only bore one or two children. Most of their offspring were male, many of whom were sterile. This made Aili's fertility both a blessing and a curse, marking her as different from her people.
"How can you be certain of this, Neea?" Heikki said, his weathered hands clenching into fists at his sides. "Other than ours, I've only heard of one gifted baby. It was a boy, and that was years ago in Viipuri. The security forces took that one."
Mestari security forces conducted Mittaaminen tests on one-year-old infants born to Orja women to identify children with more than two active strands of DNA. Additional active DNA strands were markers for advanced cognitive and psychic gifts. Children found with these abilities were taken away, their fate shrouded in secrecy.
"I can sense the girl's life force. She possesses telepathic and empathic gifts," Neea said, her voice unwavering. "The Vastus resistance forces have the medical equipment to test the infant, but I am certain. These genetic abilities appear more frequently in our babies than we realize. The security forces conceal how many infants they've taken. They aim to keep us enslaved and ignorant."
"The Sapmi are savages. I'll never see my babies again!" Aili sobbed, her shoulders shaking with each ragged breath. The pain of repeated losses sapped her will to live. "The Mestari say that any children with the gifts are well cared for, and their parents can visit them."
"It's a lie," Neea said, her voice sharp with bitterness. "No one has ever seen one of these special children again. The security forces kill the little ones they take from us. Their promises are as empty as the cradles they leave behind."
"I've dealt with the Sampi," Heikki said, drawing himself up to his full height. He was a tall, powerfully built man in his mid-thirties with shoulder-length dark brown hair. His pale blue eyes shone with hope. "They're a free and honorable people. The Sampi are fierce warriors and can defend themselves against the Mestari. They can protect our children."
Heikki wore an Orja miner's garments. His thick charcoal-gray tunic displayed protective symbols in indigo and rust at the collar and cuffs. With sleeves rolled up, his muscled forearms showed the marks of years in the ceraunium mines. Earth-brown canvas trousers tucked into metal-toed leather boots. His carved leather belt and vest bore mining scars over the tooled patterns. His hair was tied back with a village-patterned wool band.
Given the scarcity of Orja females, it was typical for their women to have multiple husbands, and her own four provided protection and companionship. Of Aili's husbands, only Heikki was fertile, and his virility was a rare gift in their struggling society. His connection to Lilja was evident in the child's matching cerulean gaze. Only one other of Aili's husbands was born as a baby from his mother. The other two were created as adults in Mestari biotechnology labs, their artificial origins marked by a faint silver scar at the back of their necks.
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"Lilja is eleven months old. If she is in the village next month, a Mestari doctor will test her," Neea said, her weathered hands clasped together nervously. "There are informers among us - perhaps even your friends—and if we're discovered trying to shelter a baby from the Mittaaminen ceremony, the security forces will conduct reprisals against the entire village. The consequences would be brutal and swift. If they find out that you've borne multiple gifted babies, they'll kill you without mercy or hesitation.
"The Sampi will cherish your children and incorporate them into their tribe. Their ways are ancient and untainted by the Mestari's influence. If your children are fertile and pass the gifts to their descendants, we can use their DNA to change our society and combat the Mestari."
"If other babies have the gifts, why are you taking mine?" Aili said, her voice tinged with desperation. "Can't you find others? There must be other likely children."
Neea leaned forward, her eyes glittering with religious zeal. "Your children possess something extraordinary. Unlike most Orja, you and Heikki emerged from actual mothers rather than laboratories, and now you've produced multiple gifted offspring. The Divine Mother has marked your bloodline." Her voice dropped to a reverent whisper. "The ancient prophecies describe exactly this lineage."
The Sampi was a confederation of tribes residing in the vast wastelands of Shamhdi, where they mined cerauniam and conducted smuggling operations. They had long evaded domination by the human Mestari and the extraterrestrial Sirian race before them. Occasional border skirmishes punctuated an uneasy peace between the Mestari and the Sampi.
The Sampi population had equal females and males and could reproduce without using biotechnology. Unlike the Mestari, who possessed four active strands of DNA, the Sampi only had two and did not have telepathic or psychic ability. For generations, Orja infants like Aili's, suspected to have more than two active DNA strands, were clandestinely placed with the Sampi. Unfortunately, despite careful breeding and observation, none of these children had yet to pass the trait of additional functional DNA to their offspring.
Most of the Orja were created as sterile adults in biotechnology labs. The Mestari minimized the number of females and, through the Mittaaminen ceremony, ensured that the enslaved population only had two active strands of DNA. The Orja's leadership strove to create a population that could procreate with equal numbers of fertile males and females. Their efforts were thwarted by the Mestari, who kept most of the slave population dispersed among mining and agriculture camps, thereby limiting attempts by the Orja to acquire technical and genetic knowledge. Those who showed an aptitude for science often disappeared without a trace.
Heikki helped Aili to her feet and into another chair at the table, his strong hands gentle against her trembling form. Taking Lilja from Neea, he tenderly handed the baby to Aili. Clasping Lilja to her chest, Aili could smell her daughter's sweet scent and feel her rhythmic breathing. Dear Mother, why have you done this to me? she thought, her heart shattering anew. You gave me perfect, beautiful babies and then took them away. I can't bear this anymore.
"Please leave Lilja with us and come back tomorrow after dinner," Heikki said, his voice rough with emotion as he positioned himself protectively beside his wife and child. "We need time to say goodbye to our daughter."
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Sheramda dominated the night sky above the valley as it rose behind the Halti Mountains. The moving multi-colored bands in the clouds of gas covering the planet's surface were visible in the light of Aurinko, which had set an hour earlier. The reflective light of the giant orb cast a bright silvery glow across the village, painting the stone walls in ethereal shades of blue and silver. People were moving about in the evening as the heat of the high desert dissipated, their shadows elongated and ghostlike against the illuminated buildings. An anti-gravity craft descended onto the village's outskirts, carrying miners returning from their shift.
Aili sat on a bench inside the bars of her house's three-meter security fence, her fingers absently tracing the worn wooden slats beneath her. It was a place where she could be alone after dinner with her husbands, a sanctuary where she didn't have to maintain her facade of strength. She was dressed warmly as the temperature would soon drop, wrapped in a thick shawl that still carried the scent of mountain herbs used to wash it. She planned to sit here awhile, letting the night air numb her thoughts. Shaken by yesterday's events, Aili needed time to collect herself, to process the raw wound of another loss.
The evening's dinner had been a quiet affair during which the family took turns holding Lilja, memorizing every detail of her tiny face and delicate fingers. Afterward, Heikki recited a prayer of Thanksgiving to the Divine Mother, his voice cracking at the final verses. One of the other men, who had a fine tenor voice, lilted a ballad reflective of the ongoing struggle of the Orja to free themselves from the yoke of oppression by their Mestari overlords, the ancient words echoing with generations of sorrow. Then, too soon, Neea returned with four Vastus fighters to take Lilja to her new family among the Sampi, their boots crunching on the gravel path leading to the house.
Through the fence, Aili watched several village children playing tag in a vacant lot across the dusty lane in front of the house. One of them was Kesia, a nine-year-old girl with windswept dark hair and skinned knees. A father stood nearby, his weathered hands clasped behind his back, watching over them with the vigilance that had become second nature to their community. The children's laughter carried on the mountain breeze. The community only had a few children, and the villagers guarded them like the treasures they were.
Kesia noticed Aili and detached herself from her playmates, her little feet kicking up puffs of dirt as she ran. Then, waving to Aili, she approached the fence, her face flushed from play. "How is Lilja?" the girl said, excitedly bouncing on her toes. "Can I come to visit tomorrow? I want to hold and play with the baby."
There were few infants in the community, and Lilja was the only female, making her presence all the more precious. Kesia frequently came to the house to see the baby, spending hours singing to her and watching her tiny fingers grasp the air. The two of them had developed a rapport that warmed Aili's heart despite her constant dread.
Aili began to weep, the familiar weight of grief settling over her shoulders. Then, through her tears, she said, "I'm sorry, dear. Lilja isn't with us anymore."
Stunned, Kesia's face drained of color. "Wha... What happened to her?"
"Lilja died today," Aili said, the practiced lie bitter on her tongue. "Her funeral will be tomorrow evening."
Concealing the presence of a gifted infant required fabricating the child's death, a deception that deepened Aili's emotional wounds year after year. Tomorrow marked the sixth such funeral for one of her children. In the district, she was renowned for giving birth to numerous healthy babies, a reality that evoked both admiration and curiosity. That her children rarely survived beyond their first year was seen as a calamity by neighbors, who murmured about curses and bad luck.
Kesia also began to cry, her shoulders shaking. "I'm so sorry, Miss Aili." She reached a little hand to the fence and grasped Aili's proffered fingers, the touch conveying more comfort than words ever could. After several minutes of shared grief, the girl turned and ran off to tell the news to the man standing guard over the children, leaving Aili alone with the weight of her necessary pretense.
Aili was now audibly crying. Sobs wracked her chest, each breath a ragged gasp that tore at her throat. I can't take this anymore, she thought, her fingers digging into the rough wood of the bench. Not only are my babies taken from me, but I must pretend they're dead. Tomorrow, Neea will preside over Lilja's funeral, and the entire village will mourn her death while my sweet girl lives somewhere else, far from my arms.
As she often did when sitting here, Aili's thoughts eventually turned to another life, one that felt as real as the splinters beneath her fingers. One where she lived with her husband in a large house set in a lush landscape of green plants, where the air smelled of flowers instead of dust. In that life, there were no babies, no crushing weight of expectations. Aili was a teacher in a school filled with bright and curious students. It was a happy life, filled with adventurous travel and parties with family and friends, where laughter came easily, and fear was a stranger. In her other life, Aili was the same age as the one on Shamhdi but without the pain and fear of this one, without the hollow ache of lost children.
She often experienced sharp pangs of longing and homesickness for the comfort and potential of this other existence. Although she had never ventured beyond her village district, Aili could vividly picture this life in her mind’s eye. The sky was a lighter blue, filled with clouds, and Sheramda was absent.
After a while, Aili's distress waned, and her equanimity returned. Heikki and her other husbands were protective and gentle, but this house and the village had never felt like home. Aili knew what she must do. On many nights, she sat on this bench pondering the dilemma that was her life, watching shadows lengthen across the dusty ground. Then she felt tranquility descend over her like a cool mist, bringing clarity to her troubled mind. She was going to return to her real home in that other world. After Lilja's funeral, the house would be quiet when the mourners were gone, and most of the men were away working in the mines. She could start the journey with a sharp knife from the kitchen, its blade offering a final mercy.
It was becoming colder now, the day's heat dissipating into the darkening sky. Aili sat quietly, drawing her shawl closer around her shoulders as a chill breeze stirred loose strands of her hair. She felt calm and at peace, having decided, the weight of uncertainty lifting from her. Sheramda was well up in the night sky, its massive form casting a dim light across the settlement's dusty paths and weathered buildings. Heikki would soon come out to check on her and lead her back into the cottage, as he always did when she stayed out too long. His quiet devotion made her heart ache. She cherished her husbands and would miss them, but this place had never felt like home. She longed for her true origins, that other life she had glimpsed, where freedom wasn't just a desperate dream whispered in the dark.
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