Autumn 2027

  St. Louis, Missouri

  Kira never knew the world before the awakening, having been born in 2011. The world she knew was a world of chaos and strife, living on one of the front lines of the Great Civil War. She remembers being in third grade, when her teachers announced that the United States had bombed Atlanta and as a result of that, Missouri, Iowa, Minnesota and Wisconsin immediately declared independence from the United States. However, for reasons that Kira didn’t fully understand at the time, those states didn’t join the New South Confederacy of States, and instead formed their own protection pact called the Conference of Free States, or more often just the CFS.

  As Kira walked the halls of her school following the end of her day, she made a mental note to herself that despite nearly a decade as a military academy, Jay Nixon Missouri Military Institute still had that prep school feeling to it that it never quite shed from its prior life as the Mary Institute and St. Louis Country Day School. And yet to call the JNMMI a simple military institute, like it was just a common boarding school is to do a disservice to the school. Its campus is just a little over a hundred acres and provides instruction and housing for children as young as five. While the curriculum at JNMMI all focused on creating effective and efficient battlefield leaders, there was also a heavy mix of science, technology, electronics and mathematics because the truth of the matter was that since a majority of the “cadets'' at JNMMI would never serve on a battlefield, or even in the military, most of them would go on to private universities and continue to prove that with social standing comes privilege and the only social standing that the world cared about was money. Still, the Institute (as it was often called), was one of the first places to recognize and start honing the skills of those that were able to manipulate the yet to be fully understood force of magic. Kira was tested as a young girl, but she never showed any aptitude for magic, unable to produce even the faintest of light, something considered the easiest thing to conjure.

  It wasn’t her magic ability that set her apart, Kira was one of the few students that attended the Institute that didn’t come from an affluent family. Her mother is a single mother that has some debilitating medical issues that limit her ability to work, as such, Kira and her mother live off of a modest fixed income provided by the government and is eased by the local parish helping provide some of the more expensive necessities that are often overlooked by government assistance. Her mother could never afford the tuition for Kira to attend the Institute, instead she would be resigned to attending the failing public school system, which in Kira’s mind wouldn’t be horrible. Despite some of the issues, like the books that the Pattonville-Ritenoir Joint Unified School District uses being two decades out of date, and there being almost no cultural enrichment education due to the budget constraints of not having the large United States Government grant money like the districts had when they were separate, prior to the Great Division (The “Great Division” is the chain of successions that happened following the Californian Referendum, and is one of the direct causes of the “Great Civil War”). With the lack of cultural enrichment funding, art, music and some foreign language classes had disappeared from the public schooling system. On the flip side of the coin, some of the sports programs, like football, cheerleading and baseball are well funded and draw in a large amount of the local community to cheer on the neighborhood kids. Sports were also a large part of the Institute’s identity as well, but it was much less of a community activity and more of another exercise in military-like operations. She sighed and shifted the weight of her bag from one shoulder to the other, careful not to drop her rifle which marked her as one of the elite members of the school’s Cadet Provost. While the fighting has long since been pushed far from St. Louis, and even further from the walled Clayton-Ladue District, all provosts were required to be armed at all times, ready to respond to any threat within moments. While Kira had faced the exceedingly rare raid from stateless marauders, the Provost Marshall always reminded all the cadets to be ever vigilant, for things worse than humans lurked in the shadows. And while the Night of the Blackened Wings was a documented fact, and beings that defied scientific definition where irrefutably responsible for the wholesale slaughter of a swath of land from Pueblo, Colorado to Kansas City, Missouri, there hadn’t been a single reported event of another “daemon” attack since that day, but the rapid and widespread destruction also put the Civil War on hold, as all the militaries involved wanted to be sure of what happened and that they could defend themselves and their own citizens, should another night like the 14th of August, 2026 happen again.

  Slipping her bag off her shoulders so she could put the books that she did not need for the night in her locker and take the books that she did need in her bag for her walk home, when unexpectedly, Kira is shoved into her locker, her forehead smacking the top of the locker and splitting open.

  The giggling voice of Gwen flooding the hallway behind her, “Oh, careful there Kira, you know, we have to be ever vigilant for threats” Kira could feel the venom of the words pump through her veins as she extricated herself from her locker.

  Just as Kira was about to unclasp her rifle, she could hear the bellowing voice of the Provost Marshall from down the hall, “Stephenson, Westin…. Neither of you move”. Kira just smirked to herself, there were cameras everywhere, and it wasn’t surprising, with as close to the Provost Marshall’s office that he would be watching to see what was happening outside of his door. Each of his footfalls on the tile floor cracked with a report reminiscent of a rifle being fired in the silent hallway, as everyone froze to see what was happening. “Stephenson, would you like to enlighten me as to why you felt the need to assault not only a higher ranked cadet, but one of my provosts?”

  “I…. ugh… I…. we… well….” Gwen started to stammer but was cut off by the booming voice of the Provost Marshall.

  “YES!? NO?! FUCK ME! THAT’S EXACTLY WHAT I FUCKING THOUGHT, YOU DON’T HAVE A REASON, MAGGOT! START PUSHING STEPHENSON!”, the Provost Marshall bellowed at Gwen, inches from her face, providing a light sprinkle of spittle.

  “Provost Marshall, sir, if I may” Kira piped up, wiping the blood from her forehead, “I don’t think Stephenson is being adequately acknowledged, she identified her target, did recon on her target, and when her target was at its weakest, she struck. That is exactly what we are taught, if I may, as her target, I would like the opportunity to reply in kind.” as much as Kira tried to hide her plotting grin, the blood from her forehead dribbled down and pooled in the dimple next to her mouth.

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  “Now Westin, I can’t fully allow that, you are an armed provost, I can’t have you just shooting one of my top students” the Provost Marshall said flatly looking at Kira.

  With a single, practiced movement, Kira unclipped the shoulder strap of her M4 and handed the rifle to the Provost Marshall with the barrel pointed at the floor, “Oh of course not, this is a learning experience, not a capital crime, she barely pushed me after all. I just want to demonstrate to her that when you are making a preemptive strike against the stronger opponent; you need to place the utmost importance on making sure it is a crippling blow before you even make the attack.” Kira says, with a mischievous glint in her eyes, to which the Provost Marshall nods and takes Kira’s rifle from her.

  “Stand up Gwen” Kira says, as she faces her, feet shoulder width apart, her right foot slightly back from her left foot. Gwen starts to slowly get up from the pushup position, but when she is about halfway up, she charges Kira, attempting to tackle her to the ground. Even though Kira is about twenty pounds lighter than Gwen, and a couple inches shorter; Kira manages to avoid the unannounced tackle, and almost floats into position behind Gwen. In a single, fluid movement, Kira forces Gwen’s right arm behind her back, and with a knee in Gwen’s shoulder, Kira drives Gwen face first into the tile floor.

  “See, you almost had me that time, but you telegraphed your attack” Kira says, bending Gwen’s arm behind her, “Come on Gwen, stop resisting, if you keep this up, you’re going to get hurt. Come on, tap or submit” Kira said, attempting to twist Gwen’s right arm to the point where she could bind both her right and left wrists together which would mean Gwen’s submission, or Gwen repeatedly tapping the ground or Kira which would signal Gwen’s acknowledgement that she has been bested. It is as Kira reaches from Gwen’s other hand that she notices at the last second that Gwen is trying to charge an energy ball to release point blank against Kira.

  Kira flips her full body around Gwen’s arm, resulting in the macabre symphony of joints being torn asunder, ligaments and tendons snapping, and the unmistakable crunch that bones make as they are being shattered, all to be followed a microsecond afterward by the guttural shriek of Gwen’s anger and pain being given a sound. But to Kira’s delight, the ball of energy that was forming in Gwen’s hand fades. While victory is now clearly Kira’s, she drives the point home with a barbaric knee to the side of Gwen’s head, leaving her completely unconscious on the cold tile of the hallway. Kira and the Provost Marshall in unison callout “Medic” and Kira is struck with just how routine injuries like this are, and that no one really is shocked by the violence that has taken place in the hallway. To herself, and everyone else around them, it is just another day at the Institute.

  Less than fifteen minutes later and Kira is following a long row of trees that provide the appearance of privacy to the houses beyond them, she knows that the end of the trees marks a mile and a half to go to reach the Dielman Gate. She grumbles as she shifts her bookbag on her back, and tries to find a comfortable manner to sling her rifle, finally settling on a standard cross body sling, letting her M4 hang in front of her as she walks, still sore from her altercation with Gwen.

  As she walked up to the Old Bonhomme Elementary School, Kira noticed the school guard looking over toward the park. “Hey Derrick, what are you looking for?” she asked, curiosity getting the better of her.

  Not taking his eyes off of the area that he was staring at, “If it’s what I think it is, I’m happy to have the extra fire support, but it might get dangerous” Derrick said, his voice flat, as he adjusted the stock on his shotgun and motioned for Kira to follow.

  Thinking Derrick was just seeing things again, being a Night of the Blackened Wings survivor, Derrick has never fully mentally recovered from the horrors of that night, claiming to still be seeing daemons in the shadows and the like. Kira figured that if that night was as bad as everyone claims, that she was going to cut Derrick some slack. But watching him leave his duty post and slowly walk toward the park and reservoir, Kira had a deep gut feeling that this was different. With a quick pull of the charging handle, Kira loads her rifle and starts to follow Derrick.

  The trees of the park block Kira’s view of the top of the enclosed reservoir, however at the edge of the trees, right before the open ground of the parking lot, Derrick pulls Kira down into a lower rise. Instinctively she goes to yell, thinking Derrick is going to try and overpower her and bring all types of evil deeds to her. She can feel Derrick’s hand squeeze her mouth tightly, but as he hushes her with a low “Shhh” she picks up on something in his tone, he is frightened as well. She forces her mind to focus and push through the panic. Almost instantly, she notices what has Derrick nearly petrified, the unmistakable towering winged silhouette of a daemon. Kira knew this type to be classified as a “fury”. Standing a full ten feet tall, three times as fast as the average human, and having supernatural strength and healing ability. While considered one of the weakest daemons by the Free States Security Forces intel reports, furies are not to be taken lightly and official policy is to withdraw and allow the Special Response Team to handle the situation. Kira could feel the adrenaline return to her bloodstream again, clearing her mind and sharpening her senses. With a silent nod, her mouth still cupped by Derrick’s hand, she lets him know that she sees and understands. As soon as Derrick releases Kira, she starts to slowly walk backwards into the trees, leaving the fury to do whatever it is going to do in the parking lot. Derrick looks over his shoulder trying to ask what Kira is doing. When he turns to follow her, his foot finds a twig and produces a snap that may as well have been a gunshot for all the attention it draws.

  Immediately following the snap, the fury bolts directly at Derrick, covering the distance from across the parking lot to Derrick, about a hundred feet in only three seconds. Kira barely had enough time to get her rifle on target and flip the selector switch from safety to burst before the fury was on top of Derrick. This is unfortunate for Derrick, as he is now forced to attempt to create separation between himself and fury using close combat techniques. Due to the fury’s inhuman strength and size, it easily defeated Derrick’s attempts, primarily by grabbing Derrick’s right arm and ripping it from his body with an unnatural scream that sounded like a mixture of an enraged boar and nails down a blackboard. The trauma sends Derrick into immediate shock as he crumpled to the ground in an already forming pool of blood.

  Kira knew that she had to act, there was nothing she could do for Derrick, and she would be lucky to escape this encounter alive. She squeezed the trigger of her M4, the three round burst pushed the stock of the rifle into her shoulder. Barely taking time to see if her first burst was on target, she pulls the trigger again, sending three more almost quarter inch wide copper jacketed lead rounds. Taking a brief moment to assess her shots, it seems she hit it chest squarely, the black tar-like substance called ichor dripping down its chest. Seemingly unfazed by the six bullets in its chest, the fury snarls and charges Kira. She knows that this is the end, her brief life flashing before her eyes. Memories of her mom dropping her off at school, playing at the local park with her friends, finding out that she made it into the Institute for her first grade year, and now, it was over. As she closed her eyes, just a touch sad that she would die never knowing the thrill of young love, an odd thought she thinks with the daemon inches from her now. Out of pure instinct, she raises her hand in a defensive posture. Then, for a moment, she could feel the leathery skin of the Fury against her palm and then a blinding flash of light that even with her eyes closed hurts and then, nothing. The world faded from around her as she slipped into a state of nothingness.