Humans stink. Not metaphorically—though they reek of weakness, fear, and self-importance—but literally. Sweat, dirt, livestock, whatever vile concoction they rub into their skin. Sometimes I wonder if the Governor assigns me to the worst Projects on purpose, as if my nose is part of the entertainment.
Today was no different.
PROJECT V Beam. My district. A cesspit of would-be warriors and would-be poets who were neither.
I perched on the railing above the assignment hall, wings half-spread, watching the crowd of drones shuffle in with their scrolls. Katasra Luna had already stormed off with hers, muttering about her new "pig farmer." I nearly choked on the irony. Perfect fit.
The drone handed me my scroll with trembling hands. Good—it should tremble. I exist to inspire fear.
I flicked the seal open.
Human Candidate: Taylor Darthvale
Age: 19
Occupation: Apothecary apprentice. Fond of 'healing.'
I laughed loud enough to make the rafters shake. An apothecary. The Governor thought I—Venomous Airs, the jewel of sarcasm, the blade of elegance—should babysit a bottle-mixer who probably faints at the sight of blood?
"Pathetic," I sneered, holding the scroll aloft. "These wretches couldn't brew tea without poisoning themselves."
The demons near me glanced up, unimpressed. Their loss. My commentary deserved applause.
The hall lights shifted, flashing that same warning from earlier:
SYSTEM INTERRUPTION. RULE CODE ALTERED.
NOTICE: HUMAN LOYALTY PARAMETERS COMPROMISED.
The crowd hissed like a nest of snakes. So it was true. Jinsen Ayawoo had moved his hand deeper into the game.
I grinned, baring sharp teeth. "Delicious."
Endivel Xi materialized beside me, silent as ever. He looked down at the humans' names flickering on the board, his expression unreadable.
"Don't tell me you're worried," I teased. "It's just treason, betrayal, a collapse of loyalty. Humans were made for this. They'll eat each other alive, and I, for one, can't wait to watch."
Xi didn't respond. He rarely did. That was fine. My voice filled the space well enough for both of us.
I looked back at the scroll. Taylor Darthvale. My assigned idiot. He would faint, he would whine, he would fail—but perhaps, in the chaos Ayawoo had unleashed, even the weakest creature might learn to bare teeth.
And if he didn't? Well. I'd at least be paid enough shards to drown out the stench of his incompetence.
"Come along, little apothecary," I murmured to the paper. "Your new master is waiting."