Prologue
The young woman walked through the halls of Fort Hollist with a steely expression on her face, an expression usually likened to those who were about to be tried for crime or sent to jail. However, she did not appear to fit either of these circumstances - she wore a sharply cut black leather jacket, black leggings and sleek black boots. An emerald choker was clasped around her copper-colored throat, accentuating her bronze complexion and wavy black hair. This odd appearance, black clothing and dark skin, instantly set her apart from the others in the fort.
So they did what people instinctively do when they encounter something different - they drew back and watched, dozens of blue and green eyes following her brisk footsteps down the hall. She ignored those around her, jaw set, striding directly down the hall towards the office of General Wilding.
She looked defiant yet troubled, the emotions showing in every line of her face - her set jaw, her thinly pressed lips, her narrowed eyes. Spectators whispered behind hands, questioned by throwing looks at her - all of which she ignored. At the end of the hall, she knocked once, sharply, on the closed door bearing a gleaming plaque: GENERAL A. WILDING.
The door opened, and the young woman vanished inside. The people in the hall stared at it for a few minutes, wondering, questioning - then turned away and resumed their lives.
“Michaela Greene, you have completed training in the Women’s Troops. You are of age, at seventeen. You will now be rechristened Michael Greene, son of Emily Ellis Greene and the dearly departed-” The blonde woman, dressed in simple leather armor and holding both hands of a slim, tall girl with her same blonde hair and green eyes broke off, tears brimming, spilling, flowing down her face. Her daughter squeezed her hands tighter, more tears splashing down her own face. She smiled painfully at her mother - Emily - and whispered, “It’s all right, Mom.”
The women surrounding the two all nodded, smiling encouragingly at Emily and Michaela. One of them, looking a few years older than the surrounding middle-aged and teenaged women, said, “Go on, Em - you can do it. You know Michaela - Michael - is doing this for Nate. Just like you.”
Emily drew encouragement from the woman’s words, and turned to look again at her daughter. “And the dearly departed Nathaniel Greene,” she said. “You will join Troop 17 in the Hollist Army, fighting alongside Quintessential and against the Land of Gremitrovakia to beat them and protect the Southeastern Countries. Long live the Women’s Troops. Long live Hollist!” Her shout was echoed around the circle as the group of women, who had trained for long hard years to join the army and avenge their lost husbands and fathers, disguised as men, cheered for their newest member.
The small, western-Hollist town of Nightingale was soaked through. Weeks of looming, ominous thunderheads had finally given way to two days of downpour, creating endless waterways through the cobbled streets and drenching anyone who stepped outside the safety of their homes. It was through this downpour that Bridget Elks walked, shoulders curled in under a small yellow umbrella, curly brown hair frizzed by the humidity.
“Dratted rain,” she muttered to herself. “Never seen so many people with colds in the medic’s at once. We’re full to bursting.” She carefully stepped past a massive puddle, pausing to gaze at the distorted reflection of the Nightingale Medical Center in it. Having trained to be a nurse for the past year and a half, she considered herself, at sixteen, ready to go to the battlefield medic’s tent. She hummed a soft melody to herself as she walked along, eventually coming up to her home - a small yellow one-story building sandwiched between many of its twins.
“Mom? I’m home,” she called, stepping inside and shutting the dripping umbrella. “It was a really slow day at the medical center today, sorry I’m late,” she explained as her mother, Ella Elks, appeared in the hall.
“I’m sorry to hear that. I picked this up today, and I thought you might be interested,” Ella said, handing her daughter a newspaper.
“The Daily Update! There’s been a development in the war?” Bridget eagerly unfolded the newspaper. While her father had died in the war before her birth, he had been a front-line soldier, and in his memory she followed the war zealously. “Rumors say that Quintessential is behind the attack on the Paloma town of Calida. Citizens speculate that the East Asian country may be exiting its alliance with the Sixteen Plan?”
“That’s crazy,” Ella whispered. “The Sixteen Plan is at war against Grey to protect all of Asia and Europe from invasion. It’s an Asian country - if they exit the alliance, they’ll lose the protection from the countries of the Sixteen Plan! Gremitrovakia - Grey - will double their attacks on it...Quintessential may be the richest country on Earth, but they can’t stand alone against Grey. That’s why our country is fighting! Hollist leads the Sixteen Plan countries to war to fight for justice and freedom for the Asian countries...but the Quints won’t get our protection if they exit the alliance.”
“Right,” Bridget agreed. “The Sixteen Plan countries help those who can’t help themselves. No single country can defend themselves against Grey, and so many of the European and Asian countries are so small. But the Quints were able to form an alliance because of their money - something the other countries don’t have. Exiting the alliance means that they’ll have to fend for themselves. But it’s a pretty wild rumor,” Bridget added. “And unless they want to join the Fourth Wind alliance - and you know those countries are only in the war because they want to try and take power from Grey or the sixteen countries in the Plan - they’re basically powerless against Grey.”
“Well, you know how quick people are to believe rumors. We’ll find out soon enough - anyway. According to the Update, and it’s not a rumor this time, General Wilding has hired a spy!” Ella read off a different page. Bridget raised her eyebrows. “It’s about time! Anyway, I think I should go study. The pre-final for mathematics is tomorrow. Just a few more weeks and I’ll have graduated from the Nightingale Medical High School! And I’ll be able to go work in the field, helping the soldiers…” Bridget trailed off, gazing at the ceiling. A low hum filled the air, deep and vibrating, and Ella narrowed her eyes. “Is that-”
Before she could finish her sentence, a blast of flame broke the world apart.
