tales from
voterria ( voterria )
as told by foxglove
i. vyrse teckla returns to kolene vyrse teckla returns to kolene.
What will he think? What will Jado think of his child finally coming home? Vyrse had spent years alone, working as a smuggler in all corners of the galaxy. Doing things they’d rather not disclose, things they would probably omit when catching up with their father. When trying to catch up with their father. Their father. They had thought of him often, and fondly, despite what he had put them through growing up. The abuse — verbal, mental, physical — had always seemed so endless, so impossible to escape. Yet Vyrse did manage to escape. So why were they going back home? Despite the torment, they did still love their father. They never fully blamed him, they never could. He changed when mother passed away, and everything had only ever gone downhill since then. So incredibly quickly. How quickly their relationship had deteriorated, how difficult it had become to survive.
What will he think? Vyrse would soon find out. They were getting closer to their childhood home, a little house in Kolene. It wasn’t anything special, just four walls and a roof. Enough to keep Jado and Vyrse warm when it was freezing outside, enough to keep them dry when it rained. Not much, but just enough for a broken family. What will he think? What will he say? Will he even care? Anxiety was building in the usually confident pilot, and it only got worse when they saw the smoke. Thick smoke, expanding into the air and only getting closer as Vyrse neared their old house. Surely it wasn’t coming from where they thought . . . right? Horror as the house was finally in view, nearly crashing as they landed, no regard for their own safety.
How? How could it be? They should’ve come home earlier . . . they had so many opportunities . . . no, no. They couldn’t have known. There’s nothing they could have done. Vyrse cannot blame themself for not knowing better. Perhaps it was just the fear of rejection from the man they’d grown up both despising and adoring that kept them from coming home sooner. Their father. The house was no longer their concern — their father had become their concern. A man who hardly had a care in the world for them . . . but their care for him was enough to make up for it. Guilt crept back in as they searched the ruins of their home — anguish settled when they saw him. “No . . .” A useless whisper.
Their gaze had landed on the limp body of their estranged father. And for once, their mind had gone quiet. For not even one with thoughts as loud as theirs could think of much else when faced with the realities of life. It was clear what had happened here — it was the doing of the First Order. What they could have possibly wanted with a poor miner, Vyrse would never find out. No, they wouldn’t be sticking around long enough to find out. They knew now what they had to do, and what they had to do was join the fight against them. They had to avenge their father, whether he would’ve done the same for them or not.
ii. a cathartic reunion a cathartic reunion.
The restraints are much harsher than one would expect. And they seem . . . a bit much for this visitor. Why, it was the Empress’s own flesh and blood. Why treat her as though she were a stranger who had the unfortunate pleasure of being a guest on Voterria? As though she were a prisoner, headed towards her execution? As though she were some threat, one that needed to be contained? Bezella remained resilient in the face of this danger, a danger she hadn’t expected to be victim to. Perhaps, the taglatio had not known that she was Feota’s younger sister . . . an idea that did tear at her heart. She grew up looking up to her big sister, Feota had always been there to protect her . . . to know that she had become something awful, and that she no longer thought of or concerned herself with her . . . oh, how it hurt. But, it was expected. After all, the great Empress of Voterria had had her own husband and his parents executed. Ushered into the golden throne room by perhaps the
most menacing equotis known in the whole of the Vaelmis Taglatio, Bezella was faced with the monster her sister had become. It looked like Feota, of course, but it wasn’t Feota. Not the Feota she knew, not the Feota she grew up with. “Bez.” The Empress’ voice seemed to soften for the first time in a long time. She still cared for her, she still cared for Serena, but these were feelings she’d had to put behind her in order to succeed in her new life. “Oh, I apologize for the restraints, truly. One can never be too sure these days about the motives of visitors to the palace — ” “I am your sister, Feota. There was never any threat.” Bezella had interrupted? This was . . . unexpected, to say the least. Perhaps time does change things, it seemed Bezella had learned how to speak up. Unfortunately for her, the Empress did not like to be interrupted. “I know.” She snapped back, quite suddenly too, as Bezella had jumped back a bit in response. “Why else would I have had you rescued from Solelle before its destruction?”
“You . . . you knew?” “Of course I knew, fool. It was I who gave the order.” Bezella could hardly believe what was being said. Their home . . . gone seemingly forever, everything they knew, completely vanished now . . . and it was Feota’s doing? How could she be so . . . heartless. “Why would you do such a thing? Something so . . . so awful? So cruel? Serena did not deserve that, I did not deserve that.” “Bezella, my darling sister.” Feota took graceful steps toward her, arms outreached and seeking to join hands with the younger daughter of the House of Vaelmis, but Bezella had taken a step back when she was in range. Feota’s eyes grew cold now. Rejection, from the one who once craved her praise? As much as she was deserving of every harshness to come from anyone from her past, Feota could not accept that reality. “Acisti.” Feota’s tone remained monotonous, eyes still
fixed on those of Bezella. The eyes that held fear behind the strength she tried to portray — and behind the fear, sadness. For Bezella so missed her sister, and now it seemed she would spend the rest of her days missing her. This monster before her . . . it could never be her sister. “Get her out of my sight.” Feota turned on her heel and walked back up to her gaudy gold throne — truly, an eyesore. Especially in comparison with the rest of her palace. Classic architecture, carefully crafted marble sculptures, and a larger than life golden throne slapped in the middle of the room. Suited Feota’s taste anyhow, and all were too fearful to tell her anything other than how amazing and breathtaking it was. As Feota sat down in it, Acisti had been restraining the traitorous sister once more and dragging her out of the room. “Serena would hate all of this, you know! She would never forgive you!” Bezella screamed back in protest, fighting with all her might to remain in Feota’s sights. That’s the thing about Bezella, though — all her might is no match for Acisti. Her efforts are useless, and though
Feota did hear her, she chose simply to laugh and shrug it off. But inside, it killed her.
iii. there’s a flaw in my code there’s a flaw in my code.
“Hello, and welcome to the palace.” The first voice he’d heard since being collected, was that of an android. R6-66, the only companion the Empress had who would live as long as her. He knew exactly what it meant. That soon, he would lose everything and become only a number. Become a mindless, obedient soldier of the taglatio. Inflict the same pain upon the people of Triaba that he had endured from them in the past. He dared not even look around the room, though he was curious how many others had been taken — or, as they called it, “chosen” — by Equotis Pithe. “You are a lucky batch of soldiers, chosen to serve our Empress. You should feel proud that you are here today.” R6-66 continued in her droning, monotonous tone. A quick glance to either side confirmed his suspicion that he was one of many, he counted 5 others there with him. A few scared, a few proud — all unwillingly volunteered. Equotis Pithe stood beside the android, sternly watching the group of 6 segins to be. “There is only one more step you must take. The reconditioning program. Only the fittest will survive — and I
do hope all of you make it out alive.” The 6 are ushered into an area far below the palace — it seemed that it was so far so that no one could hear the screams. They’re each separated into different rooms, each strapped onto a table tightly. “Now, we begin your reconditioning. You have spent so many years with an identity, with your individuality — that ends today. Individuality leads to opposition, to resistance and to defiance. I’m sure you understand why we must do this.” The same droning voice of R6-66 is projected in each room, just before the procedures begin. And he is terrified. His eyelids are held open by machines as needles are lowered into the irises of his eyes, injecting some unknown substance. It deposits decades of propaganda, the decades long story of Empress Vaelmis and her valiant efforts to bring the planet to its full potential. As he’s digesting all this, as it seeps through to his brain, he feels the jabs of a million other needles. He feels his memories slipping, his family and friends, his dreams and aspirations, all slipping away . . .
But he fights it to the best of his ability. He is desperate to hold on to something, anything at all. And he does. At the very least, he holds onto his identity, and a few of his fond family memories. Everything else . . . it slips away into nothing. He can remember being 12, he can remember sitting at lunch with his crush for the first time . . . he can remember those little moments of joy, but not much else. Screams of agony can be heard in the others rooms, some of them fading out to nothingness. And then — it’s done. Every needle is removed from his body and he is freed. Groggy, but freed. He is pulled off of the table, forced to stand at attention outside of the door. Another quick glance from side to side. Only three of the others are standing in the hall with him, with glazed over gazes and perfect posture. He follows suit, fearful of being caught with a free thinking mind. Footsteps are heard approaching. Feota and Equotis Acisti come into view. “Two are dead.” R6-66 reports. “Leave them with the mystics, I’m sure they’ve worked
up quite a hunger by now.” Feota responds, nothing but evil behind her grin. “Acisti, take those who remain to the training grounds to meet with Pithe.” “Of course.” Acisti bows her head, then motions for the four to follow her. He is hesitant for a moment. “TPI-076. What’s the problem?” Acisti growls when she turns around to see him 2 paces behind the rest. He looks down at his chest and sees his number, confirming that he no longer is an individual, then back up to her. “Nothing, nothing at all. Just, getting feeling back in the legs.” TPI-076 responds, masking any of his fear that remained. Something he would have to continue doing for years to come. “Alright. Keep up, or you won’t survive your next test.”
iv. there is beauty even in the darkest places there is beauty even in the darkest places.
By the light of Voterria’s moons and the tranquility of the lake is where the younger of two Vaelmis sisters can oft be found. It felt near impossible to find the same peace Bezella had once found on Solelle, sitting out in the warmth of the sun . . . but the lake, it was good enough. She was accompanied by one of the equotis, as always — Pithe, the equotis who had shown her the most kindness. She was known to trust quite easily, hardly stopping to consider that someone might not have her best interests in mind. That trait must be why Feota dragged her out here. She trusted him anyhow. She could tell that he was one of the good ones, despite her knowledge of the harsh reconditioning program the taglatio had to endure. “And this, is a lucivolo.” Gently, she pulled the strangely luminescent flower from it’s spot among others just like it in the ground, to better showcase it to her companion. Few things about Bezella remained unchanged in this new setting. She, of course, had to become stronger to put up with the vile Empress, but she still loved to study flowers as closely as she did back home. “The flowers here aren’t as pretty as they were on Solelle, but they are quite
interesting, and unique. How nature continues to thrive even without the sun . . . it’s fascinating, isn’t it?” “Quite.” Pithe looked at it in awe. As the overseer over Triaba, he hadn’t often had the opportunity to look upon the beauties that Voterria had to offer. All Pithe knew was the sights and sounds of the factory sector of Voterria, hardly even stopping to look at the flowers when he was at the palace or on watch at Nightkeep. Feota had eyes everywhere — moments spent indulging in such things could start to look suspicious, something he couldn’t have, for he was TPI-076. It was he who had survived reconditioning. He had survived for this long without anyone finding out. No one knew, and he’d liked to keep it that way. His life depended on it. This was easier, however. He was sent out with Bezella, to accompany her in the forest since she wouldn’t stop asking for permission to explore it. A stolen moment like this . . . well, he certainly needed it. “How do you already know so much?” “I’ve spent a lot of time reading in the archives.” She
smiled, still admiring the flower held in her hand. “There isn’t much else to do, really. Not much Feota would approve of, anyhow.” “I see . . .” Pithe hesitates for a moment, unsure of how to approach his next question. He scans the area so that he could be certain no one was watching, or listening. “Bezella, can I ask you something?” “Of course.” “What . . .what do you think? Of the empress? I know, she’s your sister, but . . . surely, she wasn’t always like this. You are so different, so kind . . .” Bezella sighs, and rests the flower on her lap. “That is . . . a difficult question, truly.” She is silent for some time, playing memories of Feota and Serena in her head. Everything was so perfect back then, back before Feota was married to the late prince of this planet. Before she grew cold and evil. “I will always have a soft spot for her . . . but, I don’t agree with any of this. I can’t agree with any of this. It’s, it’s wrong.” She finally manages to say. “Whoever the empress is, she is not my sister. Feota is in there somewhere . . . it just, seems impossible to pull her back out.”
That was the confirmation Pithe needed. He had been planning for so many years to try and overthrow Feota, but it was difficult to find others to join him. He was, after all, the only one in history to survive the reconditioning, and to live this long without raising any suspicions at all. He couldn’t speak freely even to the people of Triaba, or his own soldiers in the sector. Any wrong move would out him. But now, in the tranquil silence of the Forest of Nightkeep, with the Empress’ own blood in opposition to her ways, he was hopeful. “My name is Pax.” He says softly. “I trust you, Bez. Please, don’t let anyone know that I survived. We may never save the planet if you do.” Her eyes widened. She hadn’t known it to be possible, to survive such torture. She’d heard the stories from R6-66 of the procedure, and how none of them remember it. She felt pity for Pithe — no, Pax. He remembered all that pain, he remembered his life before becoming one of the few who ranked highest in the taglatio. Before even being a segin. And he wanted to save the people of Voterria as much as she did. “I promise. No one will know.”
The two smile at each other, but the moment comes to an end quickly as a shadow suddenly looms over them. “No one will know what?” Equotis Acisit had approached as Bezella had made her promise — luckily, she hadn’t arrived in time to catch wind of what was said just before. Bezella and Pax’s eyes widen and Bezella jumps to her feet to confront the equotis. “That his favorite flower is the lucivolo. He’s afraid you guys will make fun of him for it.” She laughs, holding the flower out to Acisti. Acisti looks from the flower down to Pithe, who looks back at her with a blank stare and a forced smile. “No need to worry, Pithe — it’s my favorite, too.” She smiles in return. “Feota needs to see Bezella now, escort her back to the palace with me.” Pithe jumps to his feet as well, joining them in walking out of the forest.
“And, Pithe.” Acisti adds quickly. “Your secret is safe with me, too.” “Thank you, Acisti.” He says calmly, though his heart races. That was too close a call. But, he makes it through another day unknown, and now he’s found an ally to help him through.
v. those days are gone those days are gone.
Hark! Princess Serena Carlisle of Solelle requests an audience with the Empress! Yasq Acisti is tasked with escorting her to the throne room, as Feota prepares for the reunion she thought she would never get. Why, she thought Serena had perished with her planet. Serena’s soft, blonde curls bounce with each step — but her feelings are not in line with the energy such motions exude. For inside of the princess of Solelle lied a certain level of fear — would she be faced with her best friend, or the monster that had taken her place? Serena had only ever heard in passing, the terrors that Feota had orchestrated. And in moments, she would come face to face with the Empress who seemed more and more like a stranger with each passing day. The ornate golden doors are thrown open, and their gazes fall upon one another immediately. Feota’s, a soulless stare, Serena’s, a desperate attempt to reach the girl she once knew hidden beneath the vile exterior.
“Serena.” Feota’s voice booms. “What a . . . pleasant surprise.” Serena wants to run up and hug her, like she had so many times before when all was well. But she holds back — this is not the Fey she once knew. “What have you done?” Serena’s voice is soft, it breaks ever so slightly — as if she were holding tears back. Of course, she is, but Feota overlooks that. Sentimentality cannot get in the way of her goals, no. Even if her heart — or, lack of a heart — breaks for her old friend. “Why, I’ve made Voterria a respectable power in the galaxy, Serena.” Feota says monotonously. “More than you ever could do with Solelle.” “Is that why you had our home destroyed?” “Solelle is no longer my home, Solelle never was home. Home, is my rightful place on the throne. I’m sure you understand.” A malicious smirk grows across the lip of the empress as she speaks, something that only upsets Serena even more.
She is still in there. Somewhere. “Feota, please. You must stop. You know this isn’t you—” “But isn’t it?” Feota rises suddenly from her throne, voice thundering with something adjacent to, but not quite anger. She takes only a few steps forward, “You do not know me, Serena. You never have.” Serena’s breath catches in her throat. Anyone else would have given up by now. Anyone else would have accepted what seemed to be the truth — Feota Vaelmis does not get a redemption arc. Feota Vaelmis is too far gone to even be deserving of one. But not Serena. Serena still believes there is good in her old friend, still believes that the light that once shined so brightly through her eyes and her smile resides within the depths of the heartless shell before her. Careful, dainty steps are taken forward and her arm reaches out just so . . .
“Do you not remember? The days we spent in the sun? Giggling endlessly about sordid love affairs in the shining city?” “No.” “Dancing together in the moonlight? Imagining-” “ENOUGH, Serena. You are losing my patience.” A swift movement made to turn around and sit upon her throne once more, long glittering cape swishing with the motion. “Can I at least know what you’ve done with Bezella?” And at this, Feota freezes. “Why do you care?” She demands over her shoulder, not quite turning to face her again. “Because I care about her, Feota. I care about you both.” Feota stays silent, then gradually faces Serena again. A cold stare, one that could kill if given the chance was shot at her gentle counterpart. “Get her out of my sight.” The words were quiet, but heard
loud and clear by Yasq Acisti. “Feota, Feota no.” Panic is evident in Serena’s voice as rough hands grab at her and begin to pull her back out the doors. “Where is she? Where is Bez?” “Bezella is NONE of your concern anymore. And neither am I. You WILL NOT see either of us again, am I clear?” The two exchange one last look, and once the doors shut, Serena falls to the floor in tears, and with a broken heart. Feota simply stares at the closed doors, unsure of how to feel any sort of emotion, let alone sadness. If she could, she would shed a tear or two . . . but, she can’t. So she just stares. Listening to the sobs of the princess just outside.
© michelle fellin. 2021.