The Ogarra Project (Primera San)

It has been 25 years of hell. 25 years of suffering. 25 years of waiting.

I have been taken into the Zopellon training and given the title Princess General. I have been taught of their ways, their culture, their methods of killing. They are an empire which travels the stars to find new worlds to subjugate and destroy, to control and manipulate to their inky, oily wishes. If they cannot conquer a world, they will blast it to a heathen wasteland – that is how highly advanced their weaponry has become. They only exist to take and to drain. From these teachings and insights, I have learned them all and learned them well.

Some of the higher Zopellon council members have raised concern—no, protest regarding me. “Why are you taking her in, an outsider? She will raise a rebellion! She will betray us!” They did not know about the deal the emperor made with me.

My younger sister, Ara, has been made Imperial Princess, a flower of the empire. She has been raised away from the eyes of the conquered populace, and most of the Zopellon forces. She has been given all the comforts of life, and treated as the princess she is. Her smiles, her laughter, her innocence and gentle personality would lighten anyone’s day.

In short, she was a hostage. A beautiful bird singing in her golden cage.

And so I become one of them, a Zopellon lackey. Any move to indicate treachery or betrayal, and they will kill her. The only last member of my family will be gone, and that I cannot bear. Each day, after I go and scrape the Zopellon’s boots with my tongue, I go to her side. Even for a few minutes, she is the light into the shadows that have become my life. She is the breeze that wafts into my hell. Her smile is all it takes to relieve my soul. Even for only a few minutes.

But 25 years is a long time. Like any creature of habit, things become routine. Tension will always be there, but attention can be redirected. 25 years is a long time to study their habits, their ways, their lives. I have learned them all and learned them well.

I have protected my baby sister just as my mother commanded. Soon, I will break the golden cage and that will be the start in the song of freedom for my people. And I am ready to pay the price.

The Ogarra Project (Primera Ni)

Our mother died while protecting us; she gave up her own life to infuse what was lost in mine.

She tried to raise a rebellion against the Zopellons a few weeks after their invasion. But, they were still too strong, and we were too unfamiliar with how they fought and what weapons they used to mount any formidable defense. As the meagre troops we gathered valiantly fought the enemy off, mother pulled me and Ara, my infant sister, to safety. We ran into the nearby woods. “Protect your sister, however you can,” she told me as I carried the slumbering babe in my arms. “You and her will be able to get our people out of this misery.”

She was to say something else, but suddenly the ground beneath us crumbled. The next thing I knew, we were on the ground several feet down, my sister was crying loudly beside me and my mother was dead. My clothes were all bloody, and as I whirled to look, I knew the truth: I died in the fall, but she did the S’hura, a magical ritual only the royals can do in order to revive another of their family. The price was the loss of their own life. The shadows that swirled in my mother’s eyes were proof of that.

The Zopellons found us minutes afterwards. The cries of my sister and I were a beacon to them. As they closed in around us, I held my sister close to me, our tears mingling. Even as I began to accept my “second” death, a rage filled me like no other. One of the Zopellon soldiers opened his mouth to release his smoke, but I saw their leader stop him. He must had seen the glare I gave them, a glare a 12-year old should never have. 

“No,” he said, his voice a rasping whisper. He gave an oily grin. “We have use for them. They will live to serve us.”

That was my first step to revenge.

The Ogarra Project (Primera Ichi)

The sudden darkening of the skies was the only warning.

The Zopellons swooped in with their black night ships like ugly ravens dropping down to their unsuspecting prey. We never had a chance to even defend ourselves as their soldiers marched in and corralled our people. Those who resisted were met with instant death as black smoke spewed out of their mouths and enveloped those who tried to escape or fight, to be seen no more. 

My father, the king, was one of them.