The Glade of Eidelorn is a quiet, serene place, a hot springs with an oblong clearing of soft grass and wildflowers, once perfect for homework, gossip, and ice cream.
Not today.
Today, under the blood-red light spilling from the sky, sulfur-scented mists flow over the grass, and the flowers glow in washed-out shades of gray. And the only things gazing across the field aren’t alive.
Three true war bots.
They stand like idols of war—six feet of gleaming alloy, broad-shouldered, their painted smiles stretching wider than any human face should manage. One carries a tube launcher, another a cannon with a bore big enough to swallow my arm, the third flexes manipulators tipped with serrated claws. The air around them shimmers, warping with the low, hungry hum of their power cells. Every few seconds a crimson beam sweeps the clearing, bleaching the grass white and leaving thin curls of smoke drifting skyward.
My gut twists. One, maybe two, we could handle. But three? Even if I land every arrow, even if Frankie breaks her fists on steel, even if Tess outthinks them—we’ll still end up ash.
“I can do this,” Frankie says, pounding her fists together, her soprano voice just a shade too bright for the moment.
“Wait,” I whisper, throat dry. “We need to plan. Together.”
“They’re just machines,” Frankie huffs, trying to surge forward.
“Run by a war-attuned AI,” I sigh.
Jenny gasps. “Those are banned by international treaties.”
“Earth treaties,” Tess hisses. “Look around, princess. We’re a long way from home.”
“But that’s wrong… immoral…”
I rest a hand on Jenny’s trembling shoulder. “You’re right. But those things aren’t here for police duty. They’re soldiers. Worse, they’re guarding the only path we need.”
Doc squints toward the temple, clinical as ever. “Is there another way inside? A back door?”
“Oh come on,” Frankie tweets. “It’s just four toasters.”
“Three,” I correct, smirking without humor. “And these toasters have cannons. If we step out there, they’ll roast us before you land a punch.”
Frankie hovers, fists tight. “Let me try—”
“Damn brainless redshirt. With what? Your fists against particle beams? I’ve got the only ranged weapon, and it barely worked at point-blank.”
She falters. “Shite… redshirt? Are you calling me Trekkie cannon fodder? If you’re so smart, what’s your better idea?”
We’re nose to nose, her breath hot on my cheek, when Tess wedges herself between us. Her voice slices clean. “I know another way inside.”
We glare. “How? Where?”
“I can’t tell you,” Tess sighs. “Heck, I wouldn’t even be allowed to show you if you didn’t have Inanna membership tattoos.”
My hand drifts to my hip, brushing the fresh mark that still felt alien on my skin. “There’s a way inside up there?”
“Yes.”
“And this star on my hip will get us in?”
Jenny’s eyes went wide, then she giggles with muted glee. “When did you join?”
“I was drafted this morning.”
“Lucky you,” Jenny says, squeezing me in a quick hug, her voice pitched somewhere between envy and relief. Glitter shimmers off her gown with the motion, drifting across the air like champagne bubbles.
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
Some of it landed on me. On Doc. On all of us.
And suddenly everything feels… lighter.
My lips twitch toward a grin I shouldn’t be wearing. Doc chuckles. Tess smirks. Frankie’s shoulders shake like she's trying not to laugh.
What the hell?
The war bots still hum across the clearing, carving smoke from the grass, but we’re smiling like drunk girls at a sleepover.
The contrast hits harder than fear.
“Come on,” Doc says with a wink and a smile. He takes Tess’s hand and mine, tugging us back into the woods.
Confusion swirls through me. Holding hands with Doc—even in a woman’s body—lights a bonfire in my core. I want to dance like Jenny, toss confetti, shout nonsense into the sky. That’s the problem. Not the happiness itself—the suddenness. Did Doc take my hand because he wanted to? Because Jenny dusted us all with whatever glitter mojo she carries? Or is this the warm blur after a shot of whiskey, loosening knots we aren’t ready to untie?
We follow a well-trodden dirt path winding upward through the trees, the hill gradually rising beneath our boots. Halfway up, Tess skips ahead, flashing me a wink and a flutter-fingered wave before vanishing around a bend.
This is nice but… should I let go?
Doc’s fingers squeeze mine tighter—just a fraction, but enough to scatter my thoughts.
Jenny dances past with a gobsmacked Frankie in tow. She bumps me square into Doc.
Zing! Sparkles!
Thump.
We crash into a tree and tumble into a nest of leaves and bric-a-brac, tangled in limbs and laughter.
“Oops,” Frankie chimes. “Sorry!”
Jenny giggles. “No we’re not!”
A chorus of mechanical roars erupts behind us from the direction of the Glade of Eidelorn. Humor vaporizes. “Come on, Doc,” I snap, rolling off her and dragging her upright before running again.
“Call me Lenard.”
“But you’re a—”
“Guy trapped in a woman’s body.” He squeezes my hand, running with a wide gait, leaning forward, pumping his arms, breasts bouncing in a mortifyingly uncontrolled rhythm.
Tracks crunch over branches and motors whir behind us, pitch rising.
We crest the hill and slam into Jenny and Frankie.
“Frack! Why did you stop?”
The noise behind us deepens as the war bots begin climbing.
Nobody answers. All eyes lock on something ahead.
I peer past Frankie’s broad back and fluttering clothes. “No…”
Another war bot stands in the center of the glade.
I draw an arrow then pause. This machine is a cool blue above, fiery red below, with green accents. Unmistakably female in form and motion, it stands with regal posture while chatting with Tess. A glamour of light forms around its upper body, casting the illusion of a commanding Middle Eastern woman. She motions, waving us closer.
“Come, children. My prophetess suggests you are worthy of further education.”
“Inanna?” The question slips from my lips before I can consider the implications.
A diadem floats from above, a M?bius loop of sapphires, alternating men and women formed from lapis lazuli and emeralds along the single edge, and on the crest an eight-pointed star—just like the one on our hips, packed with precious stones—settles upon her head.
She waves a dismissive hand toward the hill behind us. Tracks clank, servos groan, and the warbots back away. Inanna rolls her eyes and shakes her head like an owner dismissing unwanted hounds.
“I never liked the Gallu-series—stronger than special forces and dumber than a Sumerian conscript.”
The name lands like a stone in my gut.
I freeze inside the circle of standing stones. One part of me wants to kneel, like a peasant watching a legend step off the page. The other part wants to bolt into the woods.
My legs compromise by locking in place.
Wonderful. Drafted into a religion I never asked for, now standing face-to-face with its goddess.
I glance at Tess, ready to melt with reverence. Jenny practically glows, silks scattering glitter like incense. Frankie clenches her fists as if preparing to box a deity.
And me? My mouth’s dry, pulse hammering, brain empty except for:
What in the Highlands am I supposed to say to her?
Beams slide from Inanna’s eyes—more torch than weapon—sweeping over Tess, Frankie, Lenard, Jenny, and finally me. Warm light scans me head to toe, lingering on the symbol at my hip. Her lips curve in a hopeful teacher’s smile.
“Lucky child. So much opportunity to learn, to grow, and improve…”
No, please don’t tell Lenard how hopeless I am in the sack…
Her gaze shifts to our clasped hands, then into his—her—eyes. This is so twisted.
“Lenard Richmond, are you enjoying being a woman?”
“No offense, my Lady,” he says carefully, “but I would rather be myself.”
“Gender is part of identity, but it need not define who you are. Enjoy this opportunity to learn and gain understanding and empathy for the complementary sex.”
“As you wish, my Lady.”
“Miss Loren.” Her tone softens into a snicker. “I assign you the task of teaching Lenard to be a woman.”
“Me?”
“You. Teaching is one of the best educational experiences.”
“What can I teach him?”
“Everything. All eight rays have male and female aspects. Let Tess guide you while you guide…” Her gaze slides to Lenard, eyes gleaming with private amusement. “…Lenora.”
Doc gapes, lips working soundlessly.
“Lizzy and Lenora, sitting in a tree,” Jenny sings under her breath.
One warning glance from the Goddess silences her. A heartbeat later, both of us giggle anyway.
“It is time for you to move forward,” Inanna says, motioning toward the central altar. A polished block of marble splits open, cushions spilling down a staircase revealed beneath it. With a final wave she gestures us onward.
Tess leads into the hill, and we follow.
