Intermix Nation

Nazirah squeezes his hand in gratitude,gradually sliding her arm out from under his. “I’m fine, Cato,” shesays, mustering inauthentic cheerfulness. “I’m just especially abitch at the moment. The food here doesn’t help.”

Cato shrugs. He reaches over Nazirah’s body,nonchalantly spearing some of the loathsome vegetables she has beenpushing around her plate. He lazily pops them into his mouth,gri

Nazirah’s face burns with embarrassment andindignation builds inside her. Damn Cato! Even after thirteen yearsof friendship, he is still a cheeky bastard. Her voice is a littleshrill as she responds, louder now because she wants those boys atable over to hear as well. “No, it’s actually not, jerk,” sheinforms him, punching him harder than necessary.

A

Nazirah is surprised whenever she findsherself smiling. She always feels guilty about it afterwards, likeall of the happiness in her should have died the day her parentsdid. It nearly had, she has to admit.

“Hey, that hurt,” Cato says. “Lay off theprotein.” Expressions exaggerated, Cato drops his fork and rotateshis shoulder, rubbing his arm. His dark eyebrows arch in a perfectimitation of i

Nazirah looks at him, unfazed. “Whatever,you clown. You deserved it.”

Nazirah is momentarily distracted from theirconversation by loud laughter at a nearby table. She looks up,gazes around the main mess hall. Long wooden tables line theotherwise mundane room. Faded and cracked linoleum tiles lift fromthe floor, while dusty old windows frame the walls. This used to bea thriving dining hall, she was told.

Rebel headquarters are stationed on thegrounds of an old Eridian boarding school, where wealthy Eridiansonce sent their children to learn away from intermix and theimpoverished. It was abandoned for several years, until the rebelsrenovated it for a base. They had transformed it and thesurrounding grounds into a defense compound, a network of buildingsreplete with concrete, steel, bunkers, and misery. Nazirah idlytraces her finger around the names carved into the table, watchingthe rebels converse around her. Even with the threat of war loomingon the horizon, the majority of them look happy and at peace.

Idiots, she thinks sullenly.

“So …” Cato’s eyes dart around and he leansin conspiratorially. “Who’s got the lovely Nazi so pissed off thisafternoon?”

“Really Cato, that name’s not helping youhere,” Nazirah admonishes, lowering her voice a bit. “Besides, whatmakes you think it’s a who?”

Cato laughs, dark brown eyes full ofmischief. “Please, Irri. With you … it’s always a who.”

Nazirah smiles genuinely this time. He isright, after all.

Back in their coastal hometown of Rafu, asubset of Eridies, Nazirah was never known for her grace orcharisma. She inherited her father’s loud mouth and it often gother into trouble.

After her parents died, the rebels welcomedNazirah with open arms. They fed her, sheltered her, trained her,and provided her with the safety that she had so brutally lost. Butthat wasn’t enough for them. Her brother was a Commander, who hadbeen stationed at the base for nearly two years. The rebelsexpected Nazirah to follow eagerly in his footsteps, taking uptheir fight against the government with no questions asked. Theyexpected her gratitude and enthusiasm, but Nazirah could offer themneither.

Nor does she want to.

Nazirah hears what they whisper about her,in combat training and in the hallways. She is Nazirah Nation, thebitch who lost everything because of the government, but doesn’tcare enough to avenge her parents’ deaths or take up their cause.She is Nazirah Nation, the girl who won’t even cry over her loss.Most people steer clear of her, claiming she needs space and timeto adjust. But Nazirah knows the truth: she’s a disappointment.

Let them stay away. That’s perfectly finewith her.

But secretly, what theythink bothers Nazirah. Of courseshe yearns to avenge her parents! She wants tosavagely maim, castrate, decapitate, and slaughter the monster whomurdered them. Visions of vengeance keep her awake at night. Shetosses and turns, sweating and screaming and biting hard into herpillow. Burning hatred is what keeps her feeling, even aftereverything else goes numb.

And that scares Nazirah. It scares herstraight to the core. Because lately, she isn’t sure of the realreason she can’t sleep anymore.

Yes, Nazirah advocates what the rebels arefighting for! What intermix doesn’t? Centuries ago, after the FinalWar ended, the survivors of the Old Country pulled themselves fromthe brink of destruction, uniting to form a new nation. Blame wascast around in spades. Every possible vice, belief, and ideal wasshrouded in a negative light, as the self-appointed leaders of theNew Country tried to figure out what went wrong. With their uniquepower, influence, and wealth, the Medis were a beacon of hope in atumultuous time. Their singular goal was to form a nation of peaceand justice, unheard of in the Old Country.

Ultimately, the Medis blamed the Final Waron America’s diversity. No country, they said, could ever runefficiently with so many cultures, religions, and ethnicitiesinteracting together. Ready to clash and kill at the slightestprovocation.

A central capital was established.Surrounding territory lines were drawn: Zima, Osen, Eridies, andthe Red West. People were relocated. Millions were killed, all inthe name of serving a higher purpose. And in the end, a new nationarose.

Renatus.

Reborn from the ashes of what had beenlost.

Kasimir Nation, Nazirah’s father, was anOseni from a small village called Valestream. His skin was thecolor of wispy clouds against the sun. Nazirah used to joke abouthow easily he burned during the Rafu summer. Kasimir was tall andbroad, with sinewy muscles from a lifetime of eating forest game.He had a grisly brown beard to match his grisly brown eyebrows, anda deep, bellowing voice. He made his living hunting, logging,trapping, and trading on the black market.

As a child, Nazirah loved bouncing onKasimir’s knee, listening to legendary stories of his childhood inthe Oseni wilderness. Nazirah grew up hearing of evergreens so tallthey blocked out all light from the sky, of rolling hills andwinding rivers that a man could get lost in forever. Nazirah lovedhis tales, no matter how tall. Kasimir’s heart never left thewilderness of Osen. Even years after his departure, he would stilltear up at the thought of its beauty. He would never admit to that,though. There was always something in his eye.

But Kasimir had fallen, and he had fallenhard.

On his most fortuitous venture to Mandar, asmall town in coastal Eridies, Kasimir was trading with a wealthymerchant when he spotted the merchant’s youngest daughter,Riva.

Riva Martel, soon to become Riva MartelNation. Riva was fragile and delicate, with olive skin sun-kissedand salty from the ocean, so unlike the strong forest girls ofValestream. Riva’s face was heart shaped, her exotic almond eyeslike honey.

With one glance, Kasimir knew he neverwanted to look at another girl again.

Riva’s parents wept, called her a whore andblood traitor. How could she possibly marry someone not of Eridiandescent? How could she voluntarily exile herself from her people,from her family? How could she ever love a wild, disgusting, vileOseni ogre, who would leave her once he found someone younger andmore beautiful?

Riva could not be persuaded and was shu