I remember my first memory. It was not my first step, nor my first word, but that moment when I opened my eyes and saw my parents.
My mother's eyes were the color of pale dahlia flowers. My father's voice was calm, like the sound of warm rain on glass. I didn't understand anything at the time, of course. But even then, I could feel the weight of expectation in the air. It wasn't love that filled the room. It was pride that a Nivarea heir had been born.
I was born on July 20th, 2002 as a Mid-Tier Bloodline child. That meant my life had already been written before I could even cry my first cry. In Altera Earth, everything is about Bloodlines and Flux. Flux is the power that courses through every living being, shaping who we are, what we can do, and how high we can climb. It's both gift and curse. It's your surname written into your soul.
There are six categories of nobility among Fluxers.
High-Tier Bloodlines are the rulers of the Twelve Houses, the apex of nobility.
Mid-Tier Bloodlines are like mine, the Nivarea. We are groomed to be spouses, advisors, and inheritors' parents.
Low-Tier Bloodlines are minor nobles, often used as political leverage.
And then the High, Mid, and Low-Tier Clans, who are organizations that produce Officia Fluxers, serving the Houses through loyalty, commerce, or military contracts.
The higher your tier, the purer your Flux and the less freedom you have. Paradoxical, isn't it? The purer you are, the more imprisoned your life becomes.
Being born into my Mid-Tier Bloodline is a lifetime of preparation for a wedding that may never happen. Our purpose is simple. We have to blend with the High Tier, to temper their overwhelming Flux and continue their lineage. From the moment we're born, we are categorized as "Potential Matches." The House Scholars examine our Flux type, density, and compatibility with various High-Tier Bloodlines. Every Mid-Tier child has a dossier written before their first birthday, detailing which Houses they're best suited to serve or marry into.
As a male, life was an endless lesson in composure.
We were trained to be calm, intelligent, loyal and above all, non-threatening. Males from Mid-Tier Bloodlines weren't raised to lead. We were raised to balance, to soothe and to stand behind someone else's throne and make it look taller. Every word I spoke was evaluated. Every movement like how I walked, how I smiled, even how I breathed, was part of the performance. Tutors would rap their canes on the floor whenever I tilted my chin too high.
"Never above the House, young Nivarea," they'd say. "You may one day belong to them, not with them."
Females, on the other hand, were treated like living treasures.
They were groomed to be graceful and irresistibly polished as living emblems of diplomacy. Their etiquette lessons began at four in the morning. They learned to sing, paint, dance and debate. They learned how to make even silence feel valuable. But, they weren't free either. Their bodies, beauty, and Flux were all currency for alliances. The High-Tier Houses often began negotiating for them before they reached adulthood.
I remember walking through the Nivarea estate when I was ten. My sisters and I shared tutors but our worlds were different. I learned the art of the bow, they learned the art of the gaze. I was taught to protect a future wife of higher rank. They were taught to become one.
We lived in a palace of illusions with glittering halls built to make us forget that our fates were already traded.
By age six, we were already studying the political structures of the Twelve Houses. Every morning began with a session to refine the natural resonance of our energy. Each Bloodline has its own Xana signature. The Nivarea have a Psyche Flux called Resonant Dahlia, a type of Psyche Flux that harmonizes and enhances the abilities of others.
It was beautiful in theory, but in practice, it meant one thing. We were born to serve.
We learned how to bow properly to a High-Tier heir, how to speak only when spoken to and how to read the subtle changes in another's Xana and react without hesitation. They called it empathic etiquette.
At eight, we began our Heritage Studies, which is memorizing the entire genealogy of the Twelve Houses. I still remember the long classroom with walls covered in portraits. Our instructor, Mistress Elvane, used to say,
"You may never become one of them, but you must know them better than they know themselves."
By twelve, we were taught battle not to conquer, but to survive. High-Tier Fluxers sometimes liked to "test" their Mid-Tier candidates in duels. It was both entertainment and evaluation. Losing wasn't shameful. Winning, however… could be dangerous. It made them insecure. We were told never to surpass them publicly.
Discrimination was the air we breathed.
High-Tier Bloodlines treated us kindly in public but there was always a subtle distance, a reminder that our worth ended where their Flux began. A Mid-Tier could never sit higher than a High-Tier in a hall. We could not speak a House name without its proper title.
If we married into a House, our surname was erased. Our Bloodline is recorded only in their archives, not on our children's birthstones.
Still, being Mid-Tier was far better than being a Low-Tier. The Low-Tiers were barely nobles. They lived in service wings and were sometimes used for experimental Flux practice. I hated that term. Flux Breeding. It made people sound like livestock.
And the Clans? They were something else entirely. They weren't born noble. They earned it through skill, strength, and service. But no matter how high they rose, they would never be equals. A Clan Lord could save a kingdom, yet still bow to a High-Tier child. That's the cruelty of Altera's hierarchy. Merit bends to blood.
By the time I was fifteen, I had become the perfect Nivarea son. I was refined, composed, and empty. I had learned the art of complimenting without flattery, disagreeing without defiance and existing without arrogance. But inside, I hated it.
Sometimes I would sneak out at night to the lower districts, where the Clans lived. I'd watch them train by shouting, sweating and laughing. Their lives were loud and chaotic but alive. Ours were silent, polished and dead. That's when I realized something.
Nobility in Altera Earth wasn't about honor. It was about control. The High-Tiers ruled by legacy, the Mid-Tiers by obedience, and the rest by survival. Everyone was shackled, but only the lower classes screamed about it. The higher you climbed, the quieter the chains became.
I was fifteen when I first met a High-Tier heir face-to-face. She was a girl from the Vecria Bloodline. She smiled at me as if she already owned me. Maybe she did.
And I, Richer Nivarea, was meant to be a piece on that shimmering chessboard.
At least… until I learned how lucky I was to be part of my Bloodline.