She moved quickly. Methodically.
Her hands still shaking from the fight, but her mind already detached.
Like she was processing an experiment, not pawing through a dead man's pockets.
First: a datapad. Screen cracked, but alive. Still functional.
Second: a small pouch of nutrient paste. Military Surplus, faded label.
She tore one open and squeezed the gritty, rust-flavored paste into her mouth.
The energy hit fast—a small heat spreading through her chest. Not enough. But better than nothing.
She dragged Jed's body behind a rusted shipping container. Hid it from view.
The Peninsula scavengers would find it eventually, but by then she'd be far away.
She leaned against the cold metal wall. Breathed. Let the memories surface.
The original Janae Clark. An offshoot of the Bennett family. Minor. Weak. A D-Class "failure."
Her beast-soul barely flickered. The elders called it a shame.
Her father couldn't look at her.
Her step-sister Camilla took every opportunity to remind her how worthless she was.
And then Donnell.
The engagement had been arranged since childhood.
She had loved him. Truly, stupidly loved him. The way a drowning person loves the shore.
But when her rank was confirmed, when the test results came back—D-Class—he stopped pretending.
"I can't be seen with you."
"I need a mate who can awaken her beast-soul."
"This is for the best, Janae. You'll understand someday."
He had thrown the betrothal token at her feet. Shattered.
She had picked up the pieces. Hands trembling. And he had laughed.
Camilla had been there too. Waiting. Ready to take her place.
Three days later, the exile order arrived.
The Ashfall Peninsula. The Imperium's dumping ground. A place where beast-kin went to die.
And the original Janae had died. Starvation. Despair. A broken heart in a broken body.
Only to make room for someone else.
Janae let out a slow breath.
"Your family," she whispered to the ghost of the girl, "is a nest of vipers. Your fiancé is a coward. And the people who threw you away—" she paused, "—they will never know peace."
It wasn't a wish. It was a promise.
She examined the faint life energy inside her. Plant affinity. Earth-Blessed, some called it. Low-ranked, barely worth mentioning.
But Janae knew better.
She had once mastered this power to its highest degree.
If she could find seeds and soil, she could turn this wasteland into an oasis. That certainty was unshakeable.
But first: shelter. Money. Seeds.
She powered on Jed's datapad.
A prompt flashed: Automatic Genetic Registration – Mandatory for Exiles.
Some Imperium tracking program. The original's memories confirmed it. A way to monitor the outcasts.
She dismissed the prompt with a swipe.
She didn't notice the small icon flickering in the corner. Background Sync. The Imperium's genetic database already had her sequence.
She found the map. The nearest settlement: the Reclamation Center. A hub for scavengers. A place to trade, buy, survive.
Scrolling through cached files, she glimpsed another headline: Genetic Registry Updates – New Match Protocols Approved.
She scrolled past. Irrelevant. What mattered was the path ahead.
There was more on the datapad. Cached messages. She opened them.
From Camilla. Three days ago.
"Sister, I hope you're doing well. Father said you wouldn't be left stranded."
She opened the next. From Donnell. Two days ago.
"We're done. Don't contact me again."
And then—one more. A message that had never been sent. From the original Janae. Drafted but never delivered.
"Father."
"I really am sorry."
"I know I failed you."
"I know I'm not what you wanted."
"But I promise—I won't cause any more trouble."
"Please. I just want to come home."
Janae stared at the screen. The words burned.
She begged them. Even after everything. Even after the betrayal. Even after they threw her away.
She deleted the draft.
"Your apologies," she said quietly, "are wasted on them."
Then she added, to the ghost of the girl, "Your home is gone. But I'll build you a new one. And when I do, they will be the ones begging."
She shoved the datapad into her pocket and dragged Jed's body to the chemical pit—a bubbling pool of corrosive sludge nearby.
She pushed him in. The body sank. Vanished without a trace.
She stood at the edge, watching the bubbles rise.
Jed's voice echoed in her head. "You're either holding the pipe, or you're getting your skull caved in."
He was wrong about one thing. She wasn't getting her skull caved in.
She was going to hold the pipe. And then the sword. And then an army.
And when she was done, Donnell Anthony, Camilla Bennett, the entire Imperium—they would all remember the name Janae Clark.
She started walking.
The ground was soft gray-black dust. It puffed up with every step.
The air tasted like sulfur and metal. Every breath burned.
After half an hour, she saw it: crude outlines on the horizon. A graveyard of steel giants. The Reclamation Center.
Her energy was almost gone. But her will kept her moving.
She solidified her goals. One: find shelter. Two: sell scrap for credits. Three: find seeds.
Her power was gone. But she carried something more valuable. Knowledge. The kind of knowledge no one in this galaxy possessed. That was her true capital.
She clenched her fists, her eyes burning with a fierce light.
She hadn't come here to die. She had come to build an empire.
From the ruins they had thrown her into. From the ashes of the girl they had discarded.
She would grow something from nothing. And they would all watch.
