The Assâvi are the oldest and most ancient sentient race in the known cosmos, hailing from an uncharted system on the mythical planet Tôl Assâvnûm. In the dawn of their civilization, their existence was fueled by an insatiable desire to explore and understand the vast complexities of the universe. However, given their immense longevity, the passage of millennia altered their collective psyche. Slowly, their interest in the outer cosmos waned. They turned their focus inward, isolating themselves from galactic affairs as their entire culture shifted toward pure spiritual enlightenment and self-preservation, stalling their physical expansion.

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The Exile of House Arâthvîn

While the rest of their race chose stagnant contemplation, one bloodline refused to abandon the stars: the high aristocratic House of Arâthvîn. As the most powerful and vision-driven dynasty among the Assâvi, they never ceased their deep-space exploration, relentlessly researching and cataloging distant star systems. Unable to endure the stagnation of their people, House Arâthvîn welcomed their eventual exile from Tôl Assâvnûm, choosing a destiny of active leadership over isolated decay.

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The Golden Throne of Tôl Fûsähel

Today, the legacy of House Arâthvîn thrives at the absolute apex of galactic society, ruling over the Savrös nation from the imperial home world of Tôl Fûsähel.

The imperial dynasty was founded by Empress Wënüliën, the visionary architect who united the realm and established the Savrös Empire. Upon her stepping down, her son, Emperor Alcavarënte, ascended the throne.

Known throughout history as The Builder of Balance, Emperor Alcavarënte is revered for his profound deliberation, unyielding sense of justice, and a masterclass ability to balance overwhelming military strength with sophisticated diplomacy. His reign has been defined by the massive fortification of the Empire’s defensive networks and sweeping structural reforms aimed at protecting allied frontier worlds. He is a ruler who seamlessly intertwines supreme authority with absolute responsibility.

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The Imperial Bloodline

While Emperor Alcavarënte rules with the unwavering support of his consort, Alcavë, the hearts of the Savrös people truly belong to their two daughters:

• Alaviën: The eldest daughter and the direct successor to the imperial throne. She is being meticulously prepared to inherit the crown and carry forward the delicate balance of the Empire.
• Aliviën: The younger daughter and the most beloved figure within the entire Arâthvîn lineage. Operating as the official Emissary of the Savrös Empire, Aliviën acts as a vital “voice between worlds.” Her expertise in intercultural relations and her proactive nature ensure that wherever critical galactic events unfold, she is always among the first on the scene, representing the wisdom of her house.

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The exact location of the Tâsir Slaver Empire remains shrouded in mystery. According to calculated estimates by Savrös explorers, it lies deep within uncharted space, far beyond the boundaries of the known systems. According to available intelligence, the Empire is not ruled by a single monarch, but by a shifting cabal of the most powerful aristocratic houses. These high dynasties exist in a state of perpetual friction, constantly scheming, posturing, and measuring their military and political might against one another.

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The Demography of Domination

The foundation of Tâsir society is shaped by a critical biological crisis: a severe deficit in the birth rate of the male population. Female births vastly outnumber male births. To maintain absolute male supremacy—driven by the cultural belief that men possess the necessary cruelty to rule—the Empire engineered a ruthless social system.

The premier aristocratic houses maintain a tightly guarded core of fifty or more males who reside exclusively within the central high palaces. All women, with the strict exception of those born directly into high aristocracy, are relegated to the slaver districts.

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The Reproductive Cycle and Conscription

The survival and hierarchy of the Tâsir race are governed by a brutal, clockwork breeding system:

• The Birth of a Daughter: If a female slave gives birth to a girl, she is permitted to raise the child until the age of 12. At that point, the girl is forcibly taken and moved into a specialized slaver training complex. She is released into active duty only upon reaching the age of 18.
• The Birth of a Son: If a boy is born, he is instantly stripped from the mother. All maternal bonds are permanently severed. The male child is brought directly to the aristocratic palace, where he is raised in isolation from the lower castes to become part of the ruling elite.

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The Role of Female Castes

Though barred from the highest echelons of political power, Tâsir women operate the entire infrastructure of the Empire. They occupy nearly every essential role, serving as domestic staff, maintenance crews, skilled artisans, and heavy miners. Crucially, they also undergo rigorous military training to form the backbone of the military forces. However, the supreme command of these armies remains a privilege reserved solely for the male aristocrats.

While undeniably monstrous, this dystopian framework is terrifyingly efficient in sustaining their civilization.

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Xenophobic Expansion

The Tâsir are aggressively expansionist and fiercely xenophobic. Within their borders, slavery is strictly limited to their own species—they do not keep other alien races as slaves. When conquering new territories, they do not seek to subjugate foreign populations; instead, they ruthlessly displace or eradicate them to claim the pristine land exclusively for the Tâsir race.

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Feudal Hierarchy and Ownership

The apex aristocratic houses do not rule alone; they are surrounded by a vast network of lesser aristocratic houses. These subordinate bloodlines swear absolute loyalty to their overlords, frequently managing the vast estates, resource sectors, and outer holdings of the ruling elite.

As a permanent reminder of their status, every female slave bears the branded sigil of her owning aristocratic house burned directly onto her face.

Author: An unknown Lûvian traveler

Published in the magazine: Bärinar Wanderings

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A Lûvian traveler visits one of the oldest homesteads in Mâr Bärinar. What he discovered among the fields of apples and grain forever altered his understanding of what it truly means to have a home.

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Hûfäm niv Kämûv – Where the Apples Outscent the Wind

When I left Ost Jômil and took the northwestern path, the landscape opened up into a vastness known only to Mâr Bärinar. The light here is not harsh, but serene. The fields stretch to the horizon, and the wind plays with the grain as if guided by an unseen hand.

Nine kilometers from the settlement lies a place of which I had heard long before I even set foot in these parts. Hûfäm niv Kämûv. A farm that has stood here almost since the very first months of Ost Jômil’s existence. Founded in the same year as the settlement itself, it was named after the Kämûv Plains, which early explorers once marked as the most fertile part of this land.

At first glance, it does not appear ostentatious. The main house is spacious, well-structured, and sturdy. Surrounding it are orchards and fields, several barns and silos, and smaller dwellings for the farmhands. Everything feels orderly, functional, and devoid of needless pride. And yet, one senses something more than mere labor here.

Perhaps it is the scent.

The apples here smell different than anywhere else. The air is sweet and pure, mingled with the fine dust of grain and the crisp coolness from a nearby pond that supplies the farm with water. A stream quietly flows past, and the landscape is so open that one feels as though they can see all the way to the Kämûv nämûnän itself.

The Lärkän lineage has held this farm for generations. The locals speak of them with respect, yet without grandiosity. “Hardworking. Reliable. Good people,” a shopkeeper in Ost Jômil told me when I inquired about them. And she was right.

Nine family members reside permanently on the farm. The grandmother, a petite woman with a firm voice, remains the head of all matters. Not loudly, not harshly. Simply naturally. Her son with his family, her daughter with hers. Generations sharing not only the soil, but the very rhythm of the day.

During the harvest, up to twenty-four people move across the grounds. The fields come alive. Heavy wagons set out at dawn, small machines whir between the trees, and the aroma of food for everyone wafts from the large communal dining hall. Outside of harvest time, the pace is calmer. Four adults tend to the work, with the grandmother occasionally lending a hand. Apprentices come to learn about saplings and the careful selection of trees.

The apple trees are the pride of this place. New saplings are propagated in glasshouses, while old trees are replaced only after meticulous consideration. The timber of the felled trees possesses a peculiar grain—a blue-green core and a silvery-blue bark. It is often sold before the tree even hits the ground.

The apples make their way to the Jômil market, the local shop, other settlements, and Bärinar itself. Most frequently, however, they end up in the Jômil bakery. There, they are turned into pies that are spoken of in taverns dozens of kilometers away.

The grain from Hûfäm niv Kämûv is destined primarily for the breweries of Bärinar. Five silos stand in a row like guardians of the harvest. It is said that the malt from this grain is of extraordinary quality. I am no connoisseur of beer, but during an evening in Ost Jômil, I indulged in one. And I must admit, it possessed a fullness of flavor I had not tasted in a long time.

The farm is by no means cut off from the world. Two cargo trucks for grain, one for the daily transport of apples, multi-purpose vehicles for field work, a harvester, and a heavy plowing vehicle—everything operates with the aid of advanced Savrös technologies. Cooling systems in the barns, an automated apple-processing line, and irrigation managed more precisely than the human eye could ever estimate.

And yet, nothing here feels cold.

Every morning, I would see the grandmother using her personal vehicle to drive her grandchildren to school in Ost Jômil. On her way back, she would gather provisions and return to the fields. It is a small thing. But it is precisely those small things that hold the world together.

As I was leaving the farm, the wind rose, and the fields billowed like the sea. I realized that some places are not significant because they are grand or famous. They are significant because they preserve continuity.

Hûfäm niv Kämûv is one of those places.

It is not merely a farm. It is the living memory of the land of Mâr Bärinar.

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Author’s Notes:

• Hûfäm niv Kämûv is historically linked to the Lärkän family, who have managed it since its inception.
• The ancestral lineage of the character Arëvin Lärkän originates from this farm; her story is captured in the book series Stories of the Savrös Empire I – The Journey of Young Arëvin.
• “Nämûnän” means plains in Old Savrös.
• “Hûfäm” denotes a homestead or farm in Old Savrös.

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Bäsëkûn Rälkë serves as the vibrant stellar cradle of the Lûvian nation and the economic backbone of the allied worlds. Spanning four key planets, this system is a sprawling, dynamic network of trade routes, massive logistics hubs, and independent merchant fleets that keep the lifeblood of galactic commerce flowing.

The system is centered around the diverse and historic world of Tôl Bôviras. It is a system shaped by a long history of resilience and political transformation, most notably the recent integration of the Federation of Rasûnar Provinces (TMR) alongside the prosperous trade sectors of Mâr Bärinar and Mâr Käsevnir. This unification has turned Bäsëkûn Rälkë into a major sovereign powerhouse, establishing its position as an equal and vital partner to the Savrös Empire. The orbital lanes here are permanently filled with heavy cargo haulers, independent vessels, and diplomatic couriers securing the future of the Confederation.

[Further planetary records and regional histories are currently under compilation. New data sectors will be unlocked gradually.]

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Fûhäsëgôh Rälkë is the undisputed heart of the Savrös civilization. As the central solar system of the Empire, it is a realm where ancient noble traditions seamlessly blend with pinnacle technological marvels. Heavily fortified and meticulously organized, the system is anchored by eight unique planetary bodies, each contributing to the intellectual, economic, and defensive strength of the nation.

At its core sits the magnificent capital world of Tôl Fûsähel, the sovereign seat of House Arâthvîn. The surrounding space is a bustling yet serene network of orbital shipyards, advanced research installations, and deep-space jump gates. It is within these highly secure sectors that the legendary Jûra intergalactic exploratory super-colossus are forged and maintained. Despite the peaceful nature of its inhabitants, the system currently maintains a state of absolute military readiness due to the ongoing Tâsir threat at the frontiers.

[Further planetary records and historical archives are currently classified. New data sectors will be unlocked gradually.]

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The formation of Rëntëfä Mâr Bôviras (RMB) marks a monumental turning point in modern galactic history, reshaping the political landscape of the planet Tôl Bôviras and significantly elevating the Lûvian diplomatic standing in relations with the Savrös Empire (TSE).
As the first unified Lûvian power block, the Confederation brought together prosperous commercial sectors, resilient logistics hubs, and newly liberated territories under a single cooperative banner.

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The Crucible of Mâr Rasûnar & The TMR Federation

The geopolitical cornerstone of the Confederation’s rise was the dramatic collapse of Mâr Rasûnar, a massive northern realm that had long been fractured by tyrannical rule. Due to its sheer size, the nation had originally been divided into individual provinces under a single supreme ruler.

The path to liberation was forged through decades of blood and secrecy:

• 815 s.l. – The First Spark: The Western Province, pushed to its limit by the ruler’s tyranny, rose in open civil war.
• 820 s.l. – The Secret Alliance: The Southwestern and Southern provinces secretly joined the resistance, beginning a long, underground war of attrition.
• 873 s.l. – The Summit in Tôvërhäl: After nearly sixty years of conflict, representatives of the Western, Southwestern, and Southern provinces gathered openly at the historic Summit in Tôvërhäl. Here, they officially founded the Federation of Rasûnar Provinces (Tëfä Mârënäm Rasûnar – TMR), presenting a unified front against the tyrant.
• 874 s.l. – Liberation & Unity: The TMR officially and completely severed ties with Mâr Rasûnar, leading to the ultimate dissolution of the old regime.

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A New Era of Galactical Diplomacy

By integrating the newly formed TMR Federation alongside the established regions of Mâr Bärinar and Mâr Käsevnir, the newly born Lûvian Confederation (RMB) instantly secured a vastly superior bargaining and negotiating position.

No longer just a scattered network of merchant guilds and war-torn provinces, the RMB emerged as a unified economic and sovereign powerhouse, ready to stand as an equal and vital partner to the Savrös Empire (TSE) in maintaining cosmic stability.

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Originally established as the Savrös Republic, the nation thrived through deep-space exploration and interstellar trade. However, guided by a collective desire for lasting peace and higher knowledge, the Savrös people themselves implored the ancient, highly noble Assâvi house of Arâthvîn to rule over them, placing their legendary wisdom upon the imperial throne.

Today, the Savrös are a proud yet profoundly peaceful nation. Their crowning achievements are the Jûra intergalactic exploratory super-colossus, massive marvels of engineering that roam the cosmic frontiers, proudly bearing the imperial abbreviation TSE on their hulls. Despite their peaceful nature, the Empire currently finds itself locked in an open state of war, defending its borders against the brutal aggression of the Tâsir.

• Governing Body: Imperial Aristocracy (guided by House Arâthvîn)
• Home System: Fûhäsëgôh Rälkë
• Home World: Tôl Fûsähel

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Status (as of 834 s.l.): Graduate of elite Tâsir combat training, specialized aristocratic bodyguard / Fugitive

Affiliation: Formerly the Tâsir Court (Incognito); currently aligned with the Rasûnar Western Resistance

The origins of Lû’fän are bound to a dangerous cosmic secret. In 815 s.l., a noble Tâsir aristocratic house fled their home world, seeking asylum with the ruler of Mâr Rasûnar on Tôl Bôviras. Eager to gain technologically advanced allies, the Rasûnar ruler granted them sanctuary in deepest incognito. Beneath the surface of the province, the Tâsir constructed a secluded quarter complete with a lavish palace and a brutal slaver complex, keeping their Tâsir slaves strictly isolated from the local Lûvian population.

Born a year after this escape, Lû’fän was raised within the confines of this hidden enclave.

Appearance & Demeanor: Lethal Loveliness

At first glance, Lû’fän is the epitome of the delicate Tâsir aesthetic so highly prized by the aristocracy. She possesses exceptionally fine features, large, perceptive eyes, and an almost childlike expression of innocence that invokes a false sense of absolute security and dominance in her masters.

Beneath this fragile exterior, however, lies a body hardened by a relentless, six-year physical drill. Her movements are entirely economic, noiseless, and lightning-fast. She is incredibly agile, maintaining absolute composure in the heat of conflict, and favors short knives, concealed blades, or a garrote wire in combat.

Yet, what truly sets Lû’fän apart from her kin is her capacity for empathy. While the brutal training broke others into mindless, cruel tools of execution, Lû’fän retained an intelligent kindness. Her gentleness is not a sign of weakness, but a conscious choice born of inner strength. Combined with a sharp intellect, she is capable of anticipating an opponent’s moves long before they even manifest.

The Year 834 s.l.: Dawn of the Tempest

For Lû’fän, her sister Nû’fän—who was born on the Tâsir home world before the exile—remains the only immovable anchor in a ruthless world. While Lû’fän is entirely prepared to lay down her life to protect her sister, Nû’fän desires the exact opposite: she wants Lû’fän to finally experience true life and freedom.

The turning point arrives in 834 s.l. Upon Lû’fän completing her agonizing training, Nû’fän uses her established influence within the hidden Tâsir court to “claim” her sister for a faked assignment of personal service at the palace. Instead of entering the golden cages of the nobility, the plan is set in motion: Nû’fän orchestrates her sister’s daring escape over the outer walls, sending her directly into the safety of the Rasûnar Western Resistance. While Lû’fän successfully flees into the sanctuary of the rebels, Nû’fän herself remains behind, staying within the shadows of the court.

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From the Chronicles: Before the Walls of Näsû Rasûnar

“You look like the most fragile blossom in the princess’s gardens, little sister,” Nû’fän whispered as she watched the horizon. “But I know that within your palms slumbers a tempest that will shatter their chains.”

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Related Content

The Journey of the Tâsirian Lû’fän: Follow her footsteps directly from the shadows of the Tâsir Quarter into the unknown. A captivating short story mini-series that explores her desperate flight, the cost of freedom, and the inner tempest of a girl who refused to become a mere weapon in the hands of the aristocracy.

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He had been a pilot since the days when ships flew under the banner of the Central City Warehouses of House Althväntë. Following the distribution reform, he went independent, acquired a mid-class cargo ship named Jälûs, and began flying on his own account. He had plenty of contracts, and he gradually built a reputation founded on sheer reliability.

Yet, some losses cannot be balanced by labor.

After his wife’s death, he spent more time on the space routes than at home, and some evenings ended more quietly than they should have. Even so, he raised Arëvin alone. Unostentatiously, stubbornly, and in his own way.

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⟢⟡⟣ First Time in the City ⟢⟡⟣

The restaurant at the metro station was filled with sounds Arëvin had never known before. Metal clinked against ceramics, steam hissed somewhere, and the air was heavy with a mixture of food, coffee, and the cold draft that crept into the room every time the doors from the station hall slid open.

She sat on a high stool, her feet barely reaching the floor. A bowl of soup sat before her, the spoon resting beside it, untouched. Arëvin watched the people around her and the entirety of the restaurant. Many did not stay long; they simply picked up their food at the counter and immediately headed onward with certainty, bags slung over their shoulders.

Her father sat opposite her. His broad shoulders and confident facial expression felt safe, almost comforting. He held a mug with a hot drink in both hands. For a while, he remained silent, looking from the restaurant toward the escalators, from where the deep, rumbling sound of an arriving train echoed.

“So,” he said at last.

Arëvin raised her eyes to him.

“This is where we are going to live,” he continued calmly. “In Bärinar.”

He paused for a moment and took a sip. “It is a grand city. A beautiful city. You will get used to it.”

Then he added more softly: “I have work here… a lot of work.”

Arëvin nodded. For a moment, she gazed past him at the wall, where several framed pictures hung, and in the center was a shelf with paperweights stacked so tightly they could barely fit next to one another.

“You will go to nursery school,” her father continued. “You will make new friends. It will be good.”

It sounded more like an reassurance than a promise. For a split second, it appeared as though he himself doubted it, but then he gave her a warm smile.

The floor trembled slightly as the metro train rumbled beneath them. The glasses on the table rang softly. Arëvin started and instinctively looked around.

“That is the metro,” her father explained. “The underground railway. It carries people all over the city.”

Arëvin stared at the door. People came and went fluidly, without hesitation. She had never seen so many people gathered together. It felt strange to her that they did not greet each other, that they did not even look at one another. They merely passed by and vanished.

“Where is everyone rushing to?” she asked quietly.

“To work, my dear. Would you like some bread with that soup?” an older woman with a kind smile asked from beside them. Arëvin had not noticed her approach at all.

“No, thank you,” she replied politely, offering a small smile.

“You are a beautiful and well-mannered girl,” the woman said, stroking her light brown hair woven into a thick braid. Arëvin looked up at her, gently blinking her blue-green eyes.

“Eat up then, before it gets cold,” the woman urged and walked away.

Arëvin took her spoon and tasted the soup. It was already lukewarm. Beneath them, the metro rumbled once more. This time, she did not flinch. She began to eat, and questions started to gather in her mind. Where they would live. What the nursery school would be like. Whether there would be more toys than in Ost Jômil. Surely yes, after all, it was the city.

And while she ate, swinging her little legs beneath the table, her head whirled with thoughts of everything she might experience here.

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Yet, this did not mean Arëvin grew up lonely. Her father rented an apartment near the central city warehouses in a quiet residential district, inhabited mostly by people working in the warehouses and the nearby docks.

The buildings were three stories high, with long, quiet corridors and doors positioned close together. Opposite their apartment lived a girl named Iräna with her mother, Düvine. Düvine worked in civil clearance at the docks and was a woman capable of handling many things—and gradually, she took care of Arëvin’s childhood as well.

Düvine had known her father for years, and it was she who had helped him secure the apartment. When he was away on voyages, Arëvin often stayed with them. It was not an explicit rule, but rather a silent understanding between the doors facing each other.

Thus, Arëvin grew up between two worlds. Between the serenity of Düvine and the restlessness of her father, who coped with his loss in his own way. Yet, she lacked nothing essential. Their home was modest, but her father’s work provided them with stability.

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⟢⟡⟣ A New Home ⟢⟡⟣

Her father pressed his hand with the bracelet against the panel in the middle of the door. It glowed blue, and the lock clicked softly. The door automatically slid into the wall, and Arëvin beheld her new home for the first time.

“So, this is where we will live now,” he said, gently patting her back and gesturing for her not to be afraid to step inside.

The little girl was enthralled. It was not as spacious an apartment as the one she knew from Ost Jômil, but at first glance, it possessed its own charm. She took a few steps inside, looking around. An L-shaped sofa, a large window, a dining table, and behind it, a kitchen separated by a low counter. Everything was new and empty. No pictures, no trinkets. Just the essential furniture.

“So, what do you think?” he stood beside her, lightly tapping her shoulder.

“It is not fully furnished yet, but we will manage. Together. What do you say?”

“It is beautiful, Dad,” she breathed. “That window is as grand as a shopfront display. And where will my room be?”

Her eyes darted across the apartment from side to side.

“Right here,” he led her into a short corridor next to the stairs. He opened the door at the end.

“This one is yours.”

The room was small but bright. A large window, a bed, a small table, and a writing desk beneath the window. Nothing more.

“I know,” her father began, “it is not like Ost Jômil.”

“I like how tiny it is,” she interrupted him.

He embraced her tightly.

“Everything will be fine, my girl.”

At that moment, the doorbell rang. Her father patted her hair once more and left for the door. Arëvin remained in the room alone. She sat on the bed, touched the coverlet, and looked out the window. Tears welled up in her eyes on their own.

She sat in the silence for a while, alone with her thoughts. Then came a knock on the door. She quickly wiped away her tears and straightened up.

A girl her age entered the room.

“Hi, I’m Iräna.”

“Hi, I’m Arëvin,” she replied, offering her hand.

“We live right across the hall,” Iräna looked around the room and sat on the bed. “You don’t have much here, but I can easily lend you something.”

“Thank you,” Arëvin smiled. “Dad said we will buy things gradually.”

“Will you go to nursery school with me?” Iräna asked.

“I think so,” Arëvin shrugged. She smiled. Perhaps… perhaps this could be her new friend.

“It’s huge,” Iräna beamed. “Full of toys. And the teachers are very kind.”

She grabbed Arëvin’s hand. “I’m glad you moved here.” And she hugged her.

Her father entered the room with Iräna’s mother. They paused for a moment and exchanged a look upon seeing the two girls holding onto each other.

“I am glad you two get along,” the woman spoke softly. “My name is Düvine. I am Iräna’s mother.”

She stepped closer and gently stroked both girls’ hair.

“We will do everything we can to make you feel at home here,” she added with a calm smile. “And whenever you need anything, our door will remain open for you. Besides, you will be going to nursery school together.”

Arëvin sensed a kindness in her voice that felt intimately familiar. It reminded her of her mother. And that was more than she could bear. Tears rolled down her face once again. This time, however, they were not born of sorrow. They were born of happiness.

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Before Arëvin reached the age of six, her father tried to take shorter routes to be home more often. On his days off, they flew longer routes together, and Arëvin watched from the cabin as the landscape of Mâr Bärinar slowly unfolded beneath them. From high above, the city seemed smaller, the borders further away, and the world more open.

After she started Primary School, her father’s voyages grew longer. He was away more frequently, sometimes overnight. Arëvin, however, was never left alone. Düvine accepted her without distinction, as naturally as her own daughter.

Evenings in the apartment had a different rhythm. As soon as she learned to read, she began to fill them with books. Her favorite choices were the exploratory short stories by the writer Hälsen. During the day, she and Iräna ran through the city, discovering new corners and inventing their own adventures. And somewhere in the midst of it all, a quiet need to look even further was born within her.

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⟢⟡⟣ An Evening with Hälsen ⟢⟡⟣

The light in the kitchen was sharper than in the other rooms. Arëvin turned it on only halfway, just as she was accustomed to. She opened the cooling unit, rummaged through it for a moment, and finally pulled out something that could be prepared quickly. She wasn’t hungry enough to take great care. It was just that kind of evening hunger—calm, quiet, and still.

The pan hissed, and the air momentarily filled with a familiar aroma. Arëvin stood leaning against the kitchen counter, lightly swinging her legs as she waited. She knew precisely when it was done. Her father might have left it for a little longer, but she had her own way.

She sat at the table and ate slowly. She was in no rush. Occasionally, she raised her eyes to the window. Outside, the city was submerging into the evening. The lights turned on one by one, as if the houses were quietly conveying something to one another. Arëvin imagined what was happening behind those windows. Who was laughing, who was alone, who was making food just like her.

When she finished, she placed the plate into the automated washer without hesitation. She closed the door and looked at it briefly to ensure it had truly clicked shut. Then she ran across the corridor into the bathroom. Toothbrush, water, foam. She did it quickly, almost automatically. The evening had its order, as usual, and she liked it.

The room was in twilight. She turned on only the small lamp on the table. The light spilled across the walls, leaving the rest of the room in peace. She took off her socks, climbed onto the bed, and leaned her back against the wall. The book was already waiting for her, exactly where she had left it that afternoon.

She opened the book Beyond the Borders of the Known World, one of Hälsen’s short stories.

She knew the exploratory stories almost by heart. Yet, every time, she opened the book with the exact same feeling. As if entering a space where everything is grander, more open, and at the same time, clearer than at home.

She read. And when she raised her eyes from the lines for a moment, she looked toward the window again. The city was still there. Noiseless, yet alive. Her father was away, she knew that. She did not ask when he would return. She had learned not to count time. She only knew that he would come.

She immersed herself in reading once more.

The hero in the story stood on the threshold of an unknown territory, deciding whether to turn back or go further. Arëvin paused at that sentence. She ran her finger along the line, then closed the book for a moment. Not because she was sad. Rather because something had stirred in her mind for a split second.

One day… perhaps.

But not just yet.

She opened the book and continued reading. The lamp shone silently, the city breathed outside the window, and Arëvin, tucked away in her own evening, was exactly where she wanted to be.

⋯⟢⟡⟣ ☼INS☼ ⟢⟡⟣⋯

As time passed and the choice of a Specific School approached, Arëvin already knew her mind. She chose the vocational field of structural repair technician, so that she could later pass her piloting exams and draw closer to the dream that had remained with her since childhood. She moved through school calmly and without variance. She was not among the most prominent students, but neither was she among those who lagged behind. She was reliable, and she always delivered her share of the work.

With adolescence, however, something shifted. She and Iräna continued to explore the city, attend parties, and experience the world in their own way. Attention was not foreign to them, but both maintained their own boundaries.

Arëvin learned not to venture too deep. Encounters were brief, light, and without commitments. As soon as she felt she was expected to stay longer, she stepped back. Not abruptly, but rather quietly.

Toward the end of her studies, she became increasingly contemplative. People around her sought certainty and continuation, but she preferred space. Freedom was closer to her heart than promises.

Perhaps her childhood played a role in this. Her father was away more frequently than before, and home had an irregular rhythm. Arëvin grew accustomed to relying solely on herself. To the outside world, she showed a calm, composed face, but she kept her distance as a form of protection.

Not even Arinûs breached this distance. She liked him, just differently than he would have wished. What drew them together was light and fleeting. And she had felt it that way from the very beginning.

⋯⟢⟡⟣ ☼INS☼ ⟢⟡⟣⋯

⟢⟡⟣ Dock G37 ⟢⟡⟣

The apartment was still in twilight, and the city outside the windows was only just awakening. Arëvin stood under the shower, letting the warm water cascade over her. The drops slid down her shoulders and back, washing away the remnants of sleep and the thoughts that had clung to her mind from the night. She closed her eyes and stood still for a moment, sensing the steady rhythm of the water.

When she turned off the shower, the bathroom was already shrouded in steam. She threw a towel over her shoulders and stood before the mirror. She did not examine herself long. Just briefly. Enough to realize that she had changed. It was no longer the body of a child, yet not quite the body of a woman. It was somewhere in between. And she was only just learning to live with it.

She dressed, pulled her hair back, and left the apartment with a light step. This morning felt different than usual. The city held a peculiar serenity within itself, one that it lost during the day. At the main entrance, she held the door for an elderly lady hauling two large bags, and then she headed toward the metro station.

The metro train was more half-empty than full. It was no surprise—today was lûsrim, the first day of rest. Even though there were places to sit, Arëvin remained standing. She leaned against the pole, holding on with one hand, and watched the reflections in the windows.

When she disembarked at the docks, she headed straight for the escalators of civil clearance. She walked past the familiar restaurant, and at that exact moment, she saw him.

He stood a short distance away, leaning against the railing, holding a bulky stack of flyers in his hand. As soon as he caught sight of her, he smiled. She knew that smile.

“Good morning, milady. Would you care for a new blouse, or perhaps an embroidered shirt?” he jested, straightening up and kissing her cheek.

“You are full of wit so early in the morning,” she smiled faintly. “What are you even doing here?”

“What do you think,” he shrugged. “Handing out flyers to passersby. Only there aren’t many today, it’s still too early.” He looked at her more closely. “Where are you rushing to, anyway?”

“I’m going to see my father. I’m flying with him to Ost Hûsan,” she replied. For a split second, a memory of yesterday flashed through her mind—of something that had remained unspoken between them.

“So you won’t be around,” he said, giving her a brief look. “A pity. I thought we could head out somewhere again.”

Arëvin smiled. Calmly. Without embarrassment.

“Not this time. I must run now.”

They said their goodbyes, and she continued toward the escalators. She did not quicken her pace out of haste. Rather because she did not wish to be detained by questions she had no desire to answer. She did not want to bind herself. To her, freedom held greater value than promises.

At the civil docks, she turned right toward the entrance to the cargo areas. She presented her badge, the guard offered a brief smile and opened the door for her. Entering the corridor, she headed straight to the left, toward dock G37, where her father awaited her with the cargo already loaded.

As soon as she ran up a few steps, the space opened up before her. The noise amplified, the air filled with metallic echoes, and a familiar silhouette appeared among the ships. Jälûs. She stood there as she always did—sturdy, reliable, and a little weathered by time.

Her father stood by the ramp, and when he caught sight of her, he raised his hand. Arëvin waved back, feeling a familiar warmth somewhere deep within her chest. She quickened her step with a light smile on her face and a quiet thought that they had another beautiful rest day to spend together ahead of them.

⋯⟢⟡⟣ ☼INS☼ ⟢⟡⟣⋯

She was only legally permitted to fly independently from the age of sixteen. Yet, circumstances brought her to independence much sooner. Her father’s returns began to grow irregular, schedules fractured, and contracts accumulated. And Arëvin found herself alone in the cabin more and more frequently.

At first, she merely observed. Then she helped. And ultimately, she took the helm.

According to the regulations, she was not prepared. Life, however, had prepared her differently. She flew routes she knew by heart, handled formalities, and spoke with dispatchers and loading crews. Her father was present at least in body, locked away in his cabin. Where he slept off the nights that were never meant to continue into the following day.

She matured sooner than was customary. The people around her knew it. They did not treat her with indulgence because she was young, but because she could be relied upon. She worked quietly, without ostentation. And she worked well.

The contracts that had originally belonged to her father began to subtly transition to her name. Her name began to echo among the warehouses and dispatchers with increasing frequency.

What began amidst the warehouses and docks of Bärinar was merely the beginning.

⋯⟢⟡⟣ ☼INS☼ ⟢⟡⟣⋯

She has been close to technology since her childhood. The cabin of a cargo ship was never a foreign space to her; it became the one place where she felt more secure than anywhere else. Today, she flies for the Bärinar central warehouses as well as private merchants, and her name is synonymous with precision, composure, and reliability.

Outwardly, she appears steadfast and resolute. In her personal life, however, she carefully maintains her distance. Throughout her childhood, she lacked one thing she never truly came to know: emotional closeness. She longed for it, yet feared it at the same time. Her pragmatism helped her survive, but it rarely allowed her to reveal what she truly felt.

⋯⟢⟡⟣ ☼INS☼ ⟢⟡⟣⋯

Related Content:

• Arëvin Lärkän – Childhood in Bärinar: A childhood spent among books, the cabin of a cargo ship, and quiet evenings shapes her into a calm, reliable young woman who gradually takes the helm of not only her own life, but her entire destiny.
• Stories of the Savrös Empire I – The Journey of Young Arëvin: Her childhood taught her independence. Now comes the moment when she must face the world as a fully self-reliant pilot. Her true journey is just beginning.