This is a piece of Earthborn’s history, recovered from a long-corrupted file. It’s the very first time I introduced Noemi, and the world looked so different back then. Eirran was especially different. He doesn’t appear in this chapter (which is exactly why I chose to share it first), but the version of him who existed in this early draft came from a much younger me, before life – and time – reshaped both of us.
I wanted to show you these raw foundations, the early sparks of a story that has grown and evolved over the years. You’ll notice many unfamiliar terms and ideas. My original worldbuilding was far more intricate and layered before I gradually streamlined it to make the story more accessible. For example:
Gonnath – the name for a stormy season.
Callai – humans (from callum allai, “born of earth”).
Alleviati – the winged beings (later renamed Ilari).
Sellath – half-breeds.
Even the Ilari themselves were different. In this draft, they aged like humans although with slightly longer lifespans (I’ve increased it later due to honor a life experience that deeply touched me); the idea of their unique biological aging process also came much later, along with other traits that made them more alien and otherworldly. The political and economic systems were also more complex – details I later refined and simplified to better serve the story.
This chapter is rough and unpolished, translated and edited to better fit the spirit of English language. It was first written more than a decade ago, but the heart of the conflict is already there. Noemi’s fierce determination to fight in her own way burns through every line, the same spark that would eventually shape everything that followed.
I hope you’ll enjoy this glimpse into the past.
—–
Southern Selavetia
Northern part of Sechvennat of Win’Tarra
It was one of those black, stifling gonnath nights without lightning or wind. An eerie stillness spilled over the empty Selavetian valleys. In the absolute darkness, the faint hearthlights of the Callai villages flickered in place of stars.
In a tiny village of barely a dozen stone cottages, the night had crept beneath the thatched roofs. Only in one small house a lamp still burned. The hour was late and the main street lay deserted.
They were waiting.
A dark figure turned and gave a brief nod toward the shadows. At the signal, two more shapes stepped out of the gloom. Without hesitation, they moved toward the light.
Inside, the oil lamp painted six shadows on the rough walls. Around a worn wooden table sat five men and a single woman, their eyes fixed on the black windows. Two men slowly puffed their pipes, wrapping themselves in a whitish haze of sweet–bitter smoke. A black-haired girl nervously bit her lip and kneaded the edge of her skirt. She started when the dead silence was broken by sharp blows on the door.
Knock, knock, knock.
Three knocks.
They had come.
A broad-shouldered, dark-haired youth rose from his chair, but a thin woman’s hand suddenly gripped his wrist.
“Elimar…” Pale green eyes looked up at him pleadingly. “Please…”
He wrenched free and strode to the door.
She could not suppress a shiver when the three Sellaths stepped beneath her roof. Wrapped in black cloaks, they seemed more like apparitions than men of flesh and blood. Entering one by one, they removed their cloaks and revealed people not so different from the Callai themselves. All three were tall and powerfully built – two brown-haired, the third black. Sun-darkened skin, rough complexions, faces shadowed by stubble. By all that, they could easily have been mistaken for Callai – if not for their eyes.
The eyes betrayed the Sellaths. Larger and more elongated than Callai eyes, their wide crimson, amber, or silver irises, dusted as if with diamond powder, flashed beneath the lamplight and gave them a predator’s look. In those eyes was something that filled Noemi with unease and distrust.
“Noemi, wine!” Her brother’s voice pulled her from her trance.
“No need. In times like these the blessing of a clear mind is far more useful,” replied the black-haired Sellath with pale, silvery eyes. He looked to be around thirty, perhaps over forty – Noemi never could guess their age. She knew the lives of Sellaths were longer than those of the Callai. This Sellath was tall, sun-browned and thick-muscled, his palms rough and scarred. Life had not spared him – that much was clear. In a way she pitied them. But she never felt at ease in their presence.
“Then bring water! Why are you standing there? Go!” Elimar ordered.
“Your sister is indeed as lovely as they say,” the Sellath said with a faint smile as she turned.
“Hands to yourself, Austin,” Elimar snapped, fists tightening. The very thought of a Sellath near his sister churned his stomach. Austin only smiled thinly.
“Don’t worry, Elimar. I’m not here for that.”
“Yesterday there were riots in Lissa,” said Ion, a red-haired Callai of about thirty-five, speaking through a cloud of misty smoke to break the tension. “The governor sent enforcers to quell the protests. Someone was wounded and the crowd went wild.”
“We heard,” said Khali, a young Sellath with chestnut hair and enormous black eyes that glowed red in the lamplight. “The mob gathered on Esshal Hill, outside the regent’s palace. They demanded his resignation, shouted. He sent guards and a brawl broke out. Several dead, a dozen arrested. The rest scattered.”
“People are fed up. They’ve had enough of Alleviat oppression and humiliation. The hour has come. If we don’t seize the chance now, we may never get it,” Austin added.
Elimar blinked several times, absorbing the words.
“What are you saying? That we go to war? Did I hear you right?”
“You’re surprised, and I’m surprised at you, Elimar. We both know why you called us here tonight. Five iron mines stopped deliveries just last week. People are gathering – small groups in villages, larger ones in towns. They’re emboldened. Here and there they protest. They refuse the new levies, as you have done. You refused the tax and drove out the collector. A great victory – congratulations! That same collector will return in a few days with thugs who’ll break your bones to settle the debt.”
“Let them come! We’ll break their bones first!” shouted a young Callai who had, until then, sat in silence.
Austin gave him a pitying glance but said nothing.
“In short, all you’re achieving is drawing Win’tarra’s attention to this wasteland,” he said calmly. “Elimar, you summoned us to help protect your village from reprisal.”
“We’ll give you all the coin we have if you help us.”
“If that’s what you want, so be it. But I offer something else. I offer the end of a thousand years of servitude to those winged parasites – if you’re willing to fight beside us,” said Austin with a sigh. “My brothers and I have been gathering an army… anyone who can hold a weapon. You have the iron from which weapons can be forged.”
“You’re serious?”
“Deadly serious.”
“How many of you?”
“For now about thirty Sellaths and fifty Callai, but I count on you to help win the trust of your Callai brothers. As much as we’d like to fight this war alone, it’s impossible. We are too few. We need your help.”
“Callai brothers, you say,” spoke up a fair-haired Callai who had sat quietly in the corner until now. “As far as I know, the winged vermin you speak of are as much your kin as ours. Why should we trust you?”
“Filin, by the breath of Ellevath, shut up!” Elimar barked. “They came to help us.”
“No, they came because we offered money. We all know who and what they are. Alleviat mercenary bastards. Whores for the highest – ”
The flash of steel was quicker than a blink: the edge of Austin’s sword was already at his throat. White teeth gleamed in fury – and Noemi shivered when she saw that some were sharper than the rest. Another Alleviat trait, she thought.
Having proved his point, Austin swept the table with a cold, metallic gaze and slowly sheathed his blade.
“Does anyone else think you can stand alone without us?”
Silence.
“You need us and you know it, or you wouldn’t have called. And I offer a pact. We’ll help you defend yourselves from reprisals and we ask no coin. All we want is that you join us in fighting for your own freedom. For the chance to rid yourselves of the yoke that robs you of the food you earn and leaves you naked, barefoot, and starving while the winged scum cool their tails in Win’tarra! And you” – he turned to Filin – “you who doubt us because their blood runs in our veins… look first to your own kind. Alleviats and Sellaths hate each other, but we share one thing: we do not betray our blood. You Callai turn whichever way the wind blows. You are the most numerous and the only ones who can change the order,yet you sit on your backsides, whining and doing nothing! Were it not for your submission, the winged vermin would never rule this land. There are too few of them. For centuries you’ve let them trample you. You till THEIR soil, dig THEIR mines, cut THEIR forests – for what? For crumbs they toss you, scraps after they devour the fruits of YOUR labor! Shall I remind you who the guards are that arrest the protesters? Who enforces justice at the command of the Winged? Your own brothers, Callai. They give you a sword in one hand, silver in the other – and you immediately turn on your own! And you dare call US mercenary bastards and question OUR motives?! Yes, we are mercenaries, but we choose for whom we fight. None of us has ever taken a coin from the Winged. Never! Which is more than can be said for your kind.” He spat the word. “We share the same goal. We have the skill and strength you need. You have the numbers we need.”
A long silence fell over the table. Austin had spoken the truth – and all of them knew it. The only sound was the dull trickle of water as Noemi filled the brass cups. Elimar looked at his four companions, then turned to Austin.
“Then you also know the risk we take simply by refusing to pay the surplus. Everyone at this table is bound to the Second Canton. We’ve been told that until we deliver the demanded iron and timber, the other cantons will cut off food and clothing, forbid trade…”
“It isn’t the cantons, it’s the canton governors. The Winged,” Austin said with a smile.
“Same thing.”
“It isn’t. If you trust your Callai brothers in other cantons, trade can be arranged through unofficial channels. The question is: how much do you trust them? The answer tells us whether this resistance makes sense at all.”
“The First Canton has already refused to deliver grain,” Ion said through a bluish puff of smoke. “My wife’s cousin is among them. We could get grain from them if our people supply timber. It’s still gonnath, but the nights are getting colder.” He looked at Filin, who nodded.
“Wood will not be a problem.”
“If we’re caught…”
“That’s the risk you must accept. You know what you’re entering. I’ll tell you the truth: you are putting your heads on the block and you will likely lose them. Are you ready?”
“Everyone at this table is ready to do what must be done – including armed revolt. But persuading the others to follow won’t be easy.”
“True,” Austin agreed. “But this is the season of gonnath. The time of rains is the only time we can think of an attack. The only time they are weaker.”
Elimar nodded. “True. But say we gather the people. What then?”
“If we can spark a mass uprising, we might dream of overthrowing Alleviat rule in Selavetia and proclaiming an independent province. Who knows – others might follow.”
“You must be joking,” Elimar exclaimed. “This is no longer a riot, Austin. This is a declaration of war on Win’tarra! Suicide!”
Austin’s face and the faces of the other Sellaths remained cold masks.
“We will do what must be done, Elimar. Once it begins, there is no turning back. We are dead whatever we do. I say: freedom or death. But it is not up to us – we are too few. I am told you, Elimar Sakari, are respected in the canton and that people listen to you. Go through the villages, see how the other Callai feel. There are three months of Gonnath left. That gives us three months of advantage – and time to plan.”
Elimar nodded. “I will do as you ask, but I’ll need time.”
“Time is what we don’t have. You have until the Festival. We’ll meet then,” Austin said and rose. His comrades followed.
When the door closed behind the last visitor, Noemi breathed out. Her green eyes, both ice and fire, lifted to her brother.
“What you’re doing is suicide, Elimar,” she said softly. “Give it up while you still have a chance at life!”
“What life, Noemi? You call this life? This… survival?” He spread his hands. “Look at my hands!” He showed her his blackened, battered palms, cracked nails and calluses. “I’m twenty-five and already have rheumatism! I won’t last ten more years like this. We cannot dig as much iron as they demand for the pittance they throw us. Until now they paid us a twentieth of its worth. From now on they plan to pay half of that. We can’t survive on that. We are already hungry. And if I go hunting and their guards catch me, they’ll kill me like a dog! Because everything you see around you, Noemi” – he swept his arms wide- “all of it is theirs. Including you and me,” he added bitterly. “Because we are serfs thanks to a father who gambled away everything he had, curse him!”
“Don’t speak of Father like that!” she cried.
“How else should I speak of a man who had everything a Callai could dream of? He inherited a trade, had enough wealth to marry above his station – and squandered it all on drink and dice, turning his wife and children into slaves. He destroyed our mother. She came from a good house, gentle – she could not endure this life.”
Noemi sighed and rested her head on her brother’s shoulder. He wrapped an arm around her.
“I don’t want this life for you or for myself any longer, Noemi.”
“And what will happen to me if you die, Elimar? What will become of me?”
Elimar sighed but said nothing. Noemi already sensed the answer.
“Fine. If you’re determined, I will accept it. But then you must accept that I have no intention of standing aside. If you fight, I will fight too.”
“What are you saying? Are you mad? A woman in battle? Out of the question! They’d kill you in a minute!”
“I didn’t say I would take a sword and charge across a field. I know I wouldn’t stand a chance.”
“Then what do you intend?”
“There are other ways. Women’s ways.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Suppose… there was a way to place me inside the regent’s palace.”
“Absolutely not! I don’t even want to hear it!” He turned away. “If you mean what I think…”
“Just listen. The regent’s hedonistic tastes are well known. It’s no secret that he chooses his… servants without regard for their birth.”
“It’s just as well known what he uses them for,” Elimar spat.
“As that Sellath said – I am not unpleasant to look at,” she said, lifting her chin. “If I can use that, so be it.”
“And you’d be the whore of that disgusting old cock? Never! Over my dead body!” he hissed.
“And it will be over your dead body if you don’t listen!” she snarled back. “From his bedchamber I could gain information crucial to us. A small sacrifice for freedom! Or is my body holier than our lives?!”
She flinched when Elimar suddenly struck the wall with his fist. Both were silent for a long time.
“As your brother, I cannot allow it,” he said at last.
“Then don’t. And I, as your sister and not your property, have the right not to obey,” she snapped. “We have three weeks until the Festival. I will think on it. You do what you must, and I will do what I must.”
She turned toward the door.
“Where are you going?”
“I need air. I won’t be long.”
Stepping into the darkness, she finally exhaled, though the damp gonnath air still pressed on her chest. She raised her eyes to the sky. There were no stars that night either; a dull moonlight struggled through heavy clouds. She could barely see a hand in front of her face, and a walk was out of the question. She closed her eyes and drew a deep breath. Then she went back inside, just as thunder begsn rolling behind the distant hills.
——
So, what do you think?
Sharing something this raw feels vulnerable, but I believe it’s also a testament to my enduring commitment to this world and its characters – and to my constant effort to bring them to the page in the best way they, and readers, deserve.
If you’d like to see more of these recovered glimpses into Earthborn’s past, let me know in the comments. Revisiting this draft has me thinking about Noemi and Eirran’s tragic romance all over again…
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