KIMBER: Book One of The Elyrian Chronicles

By L.K. Hingey

Genetic modification is knocking on humanity's door, adorned not only in vast potential, but in its controversial morality. In the critically acclaimed science fiction saga, The Elyrian Chronicles, the coming, undoubtedly explosive, byproduct of Man playing God is unleashed-the battle for genetic equality. In KIMBER, book one o

• Language: English
• Publisher: L.K. Hingey Books
• Release date: Jan 26, 2022
• ISBN: 9781087874531

L.K. Hingey

L.K. Hingey enlisted in the U.S. military at the age of 17, going on to get her degree in aeronautics. After incurring spinal fractures while piloting the UH60 Army Black Hawk, L.K. left the military to pursue interests outside of aviation. The inspiration for the KIMBER series was born while L.K. backpacked 2,000 miles on the Appalachian Trail. Other influences include Hingey's many passions. As a Certified Personal Trainer, real-estate enthusiast, and author, L.K. is constantly breaking barriers and in turn, pouring the heart and soul of her experiences into her writing. Upcoming works include Books Three and Four of The Elyrian Chronicles.

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KIMBER

Book One of The Elyrian Chronicles

L.K. HINGEY

KIMBER | Book One of the Elyrian Chronicles

Text © 2021 L.K. Hingey

Cover by BEAUTeBOOK

The author asserts the moral right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act of 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.

All Rights reserved. With the exception of brief excerpts as part of a published review, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the author, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

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Table of Contents

Part I

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Part II

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

About L.K. Hingey

A wind of revolution blows, the storm is on the horizon.

—Alexis De Tocqueville

Kimberly’s eyes fluttered shut. She could feel the pressure behind her brow bones, constant and unrelenting. The sensation swelled and throbbed, threatening to take over her sight completely. Kimberly inhaled sharply and felt a solitary tear drop off her lashes. The sickness was consuming her. She steadied her breathing, trying to find refuge beyond the shapeless grey haze that her world was turning into. But it was here in Kimberly’s own mind that the demons raged the fiercest.

Kimberly had no doubt that the council was to blame for the cancer that was devouring her frontal lobe. The illness was too swift, too unnatural to be organic. It did not matter anyways. In some twisted way, Kimberly felt she deserved this. She deserved to have her sight stolen from her and her body consumed from within. She had stolen more than that from individuals much more innocent than herself, in the time of the great panic over twenty years ago.

Shadows impregnated Kimberly’s sinister thoughts, and she was taken back in time to the underground laboratories. She was placing something in a jar filled with a strange yellow fluid. What she was holding was too obscure to make out. Kimberly’s memory splintered and she shook her head in discomfort. The pressure pulsed between her temples. Kimberly felt unhinged. Disconnected. No matter how hard she tried to anchor herself on the pain of the present, her memories kept dragging her back into the darkness.

She was on a cold metal table. Or was that someone else? Kimberly’s thoughts drifted up to the surface world. Panic. Such unprecedented panic. A solar explosion had just been detected and astronomers forecasted the subsequent cloud of radiation to impact the Earth’s atmosphere in a matter of days. She recalled the footage of the hellbent flare, lashing out from the Sun’s engorged surface, looping nonstop on every media outlet. Kimberly’s consciousness drifted back down the four levels of the subterranean laboratory. She looked around in her mind’s eye, committing each atrocity of the Bureau of Race Preservation to memory. Images that she would normally only revisit in her nightmares flooded Kimberly’s mind. She forced her eyelids to remain shut, compelling herself to stay locked in memory.

She knew she had to face her past in order to brace herself for the dark days to come. It did not matter anymore if her actions had been right or wrong. All that mattered now was the safety of her daughter. Kimberly’s hands found their way onto her stomach and her eyelids fluttered again. She could feel the phantom kicking of a baby’s feet. Kimberly flushed with warmth, the tender memory igniting her courage more than any amount of anger towards the corrupt council ever could.

The freedom of her daughter, whom Kimberly had lovingly named Kimber, was at stake and though Kimber was no longer a child, Kimberly knew she would do anything to protect her. Even if it meant sacrificing everything. Kimberly knew things that no one else in the underground refugee city knew. She knew of secrets, dark truths of illegal genetic manipulation, and crimes committed not only by the council, but by her own two hands. Kimberly had sworn to keep her knowledge silent in exchange for her daughter’s safety and had prayed every night since to never have to breech her vow.

In light of the tyranny behind the recent ordinances and the impending governmental decrees though, Kimberly knew the time had come. The council, charged with the care of humanity’s last surviving city, had grown bold in the segregation of the humans and the grafted. They used fear to control and manipulate their citizens, quietly forcing Kimber and the twenty-two other Auroreans into a life of subservience. Kimberly knew she did not have much time left in this world, but before she would draw her last breath, she would see to it that the truth was exposed.

A water droplet fell from a nearby stalactite, the sound bouncing off the cavern’s walls and echoing into the distance. Everything was so still that it seemed time itself had frozen. Kimberly exhaled slowly. This was the calm before the storm. Her daughter would soon inherit the torch of freedom and be asked to weather a tempest so terrible, that the thought alone drew another tear down Kimberly’s cheek. Kimber was Inanna’s only hope. Kimberly prayed for her daughter’s safety. She prayed for her daughter’s swiftness. Above all, Kimberly prayed for her daughter’s forgiveness.

Part I

The Grafted

Chapter 1

Kimber rolled over on the cool stone of the cavern floor. She was not normally allowed to lounge around, and when she could, she took full advantage of it. She always came here to the living records room, her favorite spot in the world. She never could quite put her finger on what it was about this place that she loved so much. The youth in the caves, the humans and the Auroras alike, usually went straight for the games rooms, the common rooms, or one of the many deep pools scattered throughout the underground system. But not Kimber.

Perhaps she liked the solitude, for there never was anyone else in here. Or perhaps it was the dim lamplight, casting shadows that danced endlessly upon the dewy walls, which sparked her imagination. Maybe it was the collection of books on history, art, and the religions of the past, a vast majority of which she had found on the surface and brought into the cavern herself. Or maybe it was the memory that it was here that her mother would bring her to escape their subterranean world. More often than not, Kimber and her mother could be found whispering and laughing, thicker than thieves, into the pages of the books until deep into the sleep cycle.

Not to mention that the damp chill of the smooth stone helped calm Kimber’s itching skin. Twice a year she went through a shed. They all did, just not in sync. The process occurred over a ten-day cycle during which the Auroras were more vulnerable to the sun’s radiation than normal. This meant no surface excursions, no supply runs, and no war games. The Auroras relished the brief respite that their sheds gave them, even if they were incredibly uncomfortable the entire time. Kimber rolled over again, this time onto her back, sighing and letting the cold seep into her.

As Kimber gazed up at the ceiling, she let her mind wander. She had seen the murals hundreds of times but could never get enough of the view. Over twenty years ago, an artist had painstakingly adhered piece after piece of colorful stone and glass to the ceiling, creating the most glorious mosaics imaginable. Though the decades had done some damage, and missing pieces were becoming more common, the original splendor could still be felt. Amazingly detailed images of the sleeping religions looked protectively down upon patrons of the records room.

Ganesha, the elephant goddess of the historical religion of Hinduism, occupied the brilliantly colored space in the center of the ceiling. She was exquisite, shimmering with thousands of orange, purple, gold, and pink pieces. Ganesha’s body was adorned with gold baubles and she was clothed in luxurious robes that tucked into the deep folds of her skin. Her trunk and naked breasts glowed in the lamplight, and Kimber could always detect a flicker of wisdom dancing in Ganesha’s human-like eyes.

The elephant goddess had four arms in which she balanced various items: the shattered tusks of elephants, a plate of delicacies, a conch shell, and most importantly, the sign of the lotus. It took Kimber a bit of investigation to discover the meaning behind Ganesha and the symbol of the lotus. The records revealed that the goddess’s special power was to remove obstacles from the lives of her worshipers and the lotus was the universal sign of enlightenment. Since Ganesha was also the patron of art and science, it made a wealth of sense to have her gracing the center of the ceiling.

Behind and to the left of Ganesha, almost too obscure and too dark to see clearly, loomed a shadowy figure made of smoky glass. It had two blood red eyes that stood out like rubies and teeth that cut into its black sneer like razors. It took Kimber more research to reveal what this depiction was. The best she could discern, was that the figure in the background was a Hindu demon, called a rakshasa, named Mushikasura. In the ancient scripts, Ganesha had ultimately defeated this rakshasa, but here he was, lurking behind her for an eternity.

Kimber had stared at the mosaic for so many years that she had recurring dreams about the giant elephant. She would dream of Ganesha restoring the world, with one swing of her massive trunk, to the way it was before the flare drove humans underground. Kimber could see it so vividly in her mind’s eye... the green of trees and the peaceful blue of the seas. She wished with every piece of her soul that this all-powerful being would take pity on them and clear even a couple of the obstacles which threatened life’s very existence. But Ganesha never did. She remained silent in her loft, hunted by her demon, ever with a smile in her eyes.

Kimber was not mad at the elephant goddess. She was just disappointed, much like a child becomes after learning their favorite fairy tale is nothing but a pretty story. She knew it was stupid to feel anything but apathy anyhow, because religion had been put to sleep for a long time and for good reason. Kimber’s gaze shifted directly above her head, amusement now flickering in her own eyes. Ganesha may have been as helpful as a dew drop on a stalactite, but it was not like the angels of Christianity were doing much more for the world’s plight. There, on Ganesha’s left side, flew four of the most iridescent angels imaginable.

Each of the feather-laden creatures was larger than life, and Kimber absolutely adored them. She had spent many sleep cycles pouring over her books to learn what these beautiful beings were all about. They were God’s four archangels. The angel Michael, shimmering in a light blue gown, was the symbol of strength. Beside him flew Gabriel, wearing an opalescent white gown, the angel tasked with delivering messages from God to Man. Near to him was Raphael, wearing a luminous soft green robe, the angel of healing.

The last angel, Uriel, was draped in deep colors which contrasted starkly with his pastel brothers. Uriel’s robes were magnificently rich purples and golds, and he symbolized the division of good and evil. He was placed strategically between his fellow archangels and the demon Mushikasura. Kimber could have spent hours gazing up at the angels alone, but there was always so much more of the murals to take in, that Kimber kept her eyes moving across the scene.

On the right side of Ganesha was a brilliant golden Buddha in the middle of a vividly purple backdrop. Staring at the purple was like staring into the heart of the cosmos itself; swirling, colorful, and alive with hundreds of twinkling stars. Buddha was enshrined in a delicate gold circle inside of which an intricate outline of flower petals was inlaid with wisps of purple. He was glorious and golden, but above all, he looked serene. Atop Buddha’s head were his classic knots in tarnished brass instead of gold, dipping towards his Urna.

Like everything else, Kimber had demanded to know more about the sanctum of this holy symbol. Much to her delight she had discovered that the dot, the Urna, on Buddha’s forehead, meant a lot in the Buddhist religion. It symbolized a third eye. An eye that did not gaze upon the tangible world, but rather on the world of the divine. With this eye Buddha could see past the suffering of this mundane universe and into a place of serenity.

Kimber wondered if Buddha were to be in Man’s existence today, what he would see. Could even his enlightened self see past this amount of turmoil? Would he continue to turn, not a blind eye, but his divine eye towards beauty beyond the damp of the caves? Beyond the desecrated red crust that was now the Earth’s surface? Beyond the tortured sky that was ravaged by lightning and wind, forever backlit by the Borealis?

Small tears formed in Kimber’s eyes as her mind drifted away from the safe splendor of the records room. The humans did not know how bad the surface was. The Auroras had tried to tell them, to warn them, that home was hundreds of years away. And hundreds of years was a euphemism for thousands of years. The Auroras made no claims to be botanists, but anyone could see that a world with no vegetation was a world that could no longer support life. The humans kept saying that somehow there would be a way to make it, to endure. But they had not seen what Kimber had seen.

The council did not know how poisoned the Earth had become after the Flare. Even if they could somehow see, would it do any good? Would they choose to give up on their crusade to maintain intelligent life? Would they impose even stricter rules on the Auroras? Kimber forced these thoughts, along with her tears, down angrily. There had been enough unfairness to go around lately.

She did not want to think about how out of control everything was getting. Not here at least, not under her murals. Kimber forced her mind blank and shimmied on the bumpy ground, trying to catch some of her loose skin in the groves of the stone. Her head was nearly exploding from the itchiness of her body which meant that the thin membrane above her scales was about to detach. Zen, she thought desperately of the Ancient Buddhist teachings, just be Zen.

Above Buddha’s colorful cosmos hung a large crescent moon. The pale-yellow sliver was set against an emerald sky, which had somehow seamlessly melted in from the purple below. This moon was a host to a silvery temple with a tall spire. The spire itself was topped with its own tiny crescent moon and sat gracefully beneath a single pale star. Kimber’s research revealed that the building was called a mosque, belonging to the religion of Islam. The pieces of the mosaic here were incredibly small. She imagined that this section, although subdued and more choreographed than the brightly colored elephant goddess and Buddha, had taken a long time to plan out.

Similar in delicacy was the monochromatic scene opposite the crescent moon above the heads of the Christian angels. Clouds steamed up from behind the gorgeous white feathered wings, creating a base for a pair of hands that emerged from the clouds. The hands were large, about the size of one angel, and cupped a star as if lifting it towards the heavens. It was the Star of David. Though simple in design, it was exquisite in detail.

The background looked plush and the edges of the clouds glowed a soft pink, differing slightly from the blue and cream scene below. The star was comprised of two overlapping equilateral triangles yielding six points. The lines of two triangles were made up of several thin layers of blues and pinks. Matching the colors of the triangles, were words encircling the star. Kindness, severity, harmony, perseverance, splendor, foundation, and royalty were inscribed in a perfect halo. Kimber had often thought about these words, contemplating the temperament of the heavens. If the gods were real, they certainly seemed to possess all seven of these qualities, severity perhaps more than any other.

Kimber knew the rules on religion. The humans and Auroras could freely study any of the religions of the past, but they were not allowed to worship the deities. They were taught, and encouraged to reflect upon, the damage religion had caused mankind. The scholars during the time of the Harnessing had torn down the proverbial pillars of churches, temples, mosques, and shrines after the Gen-En Wars ended about a century ago.

The Gen-En Wars comprised much of what was now simply lumped up as World War III, the decades of conflict during which an unprecedented level of global panic reshaped the modern world. In a chaotic scramble for resources, power, and energy, the political superpowers of the world were devoured by fear. Compounded by the controversy over genetic modification and religious fanaticism, civilization reached its breaking point.

When the dust finally settled and the peaceful seventy-seven years of the Harnessing began, it was officially declared that science was to take the place of all religion. Furthermore, it was decreed that genetic modification of human DNA was banned. These had been the first declarations of the Global Alliance, and they had not been contested. The nations of the Allies and the Axis powers had sustained so much damage during the war that anything seemed reasonable to keep the peace. The United Nations was officially dissolved, and the Global Alliance took its place. All nations joined, even the ones that had to limp to the table.

As she scraped her body again against the stone floor, Kimber’s thoughts couldn’t help but to get stuck on the ban against genetic modification. Humanity had ripped itself apart for decades over the controversy that was genetic engineering. Then suddenly, the world had a much bigger task to tackle. The debate on tinkering with the human genome was tabled and mankind turned its attention to a now more pressing matter. Elyria, which had started and had ended the war, had handed humankind the key to everlasting energy... if they could harness it. The year was 2113 and the greatest minds of the age worked together to usher the human race into the next era.

Kimber shivered thinking of the broken Met-Blimps on the surface. Humanity had achieved some amazing feats during the time of the Harnessing, one of the most significant was the design of giant blimps that could add moisture, heat, and chilled air into the atmosphere. These meteorological robots put an immediate end to storms. Hurricanes, tornados, droughts, and floods were a thing of the past, along with famine and disease.

Though Met-Blimps had been conceptualized for centuries, there had never been a sustainable way to fuel machines of this magnitude. After Elyria’s impact, energizing these giant machines, and machines like it, ceased to be an issue. When the drifting planet, Elyria, was finally pulled into the sun’s gravity, what most thought would be the end of the world turned out to be its salvation. The introduction of new elements into the sun’s core fueled an increase in the luminosity of the sun’s surface, not only giving people of Earth an endless supply of solar power, but also ending the brutal decades of war fought in preparation for the impact.

After the Global Alliance was created and a worldwide ceasefire was agreed upon, technological innovation charged forward. From the ashes of warfare grew hope and prosperity for all of mankind. Over the years, people became proud of their many advancements. Kimber wondered, did the gods, if they were real, smite down the humans for being so vain? All of mankind’s fancy advancements, along with its hopes and dreams, laid broken on the surface amidst the piles of rusting weather balloons.

Did David’s God intend for Man to go through so much anguish? What about the crescent moon god of the silvery mosques? The gentle angels surely had no part in all of it, Kimber had thought, until she flipped through the Old Testament of the Christian Bible. Wrath seemed to be a common thread throughout all the world’s theologies. Even when Kimber investigated further back into the ages of the ancient religions, she found a lot of divine anger. The Egyptians, the Greeks, the Norse folk, and the vast mythologies of the African nations all alluded to the foul temper of the supernatural.

Perhaps they were ALL real. Perhaps they had pooled their fury and cosmic resources together when they sent the flare to destroy Man’s towers. Or perhaps the council was right, and everything in the universe happened in a perfect and perfectly random manner. Kimber felt the gears in her head spinning. She couldn’t help but reflect on the grandeur of it all when she was in this room. Sometimes her biggest question of all, was why no one else even seemed to care.

Sure, the humans went to school longer. The Auroras were pulled out of formal education and separated from their parents at age ten, whereas the humans kept on with schooling until they were sixteen. But still, didn’t it seem like the library should be frequented more? She had added dozens of books to the collections over the years, and she was quite fond of them. Not to mention a bit proud.

The only other person she ever saw here in the records room was her friend Caleb. He was a kind boy… um man, she corrected herself with a shy smile. They were in their twenties now and she had to remind herself they were no longer playmates in school. Caleb was the only human Kimber had ever been close with. Except for her mother of course. Her mother had been her best friend and the one person Kimber truly looked up to. Kimber missed the days of lounging around in her mother’s arms, listening to her sing-song voice tell stories of what the world used to be like.

Kimber closed her eyes and could see her mother’s smiling face in her hands; beautiful warm cheeks in between Kimber’s tiny scaled fingers. Whenever Kimber would breakdown and start to cry, hating herself for her tough scaly skin so alien to her mother’s silk-soft body, her mother would hold Kimber close to her heart and rock her. Kimber could hear her mother’s heart beating, could feel her warmth, and she would relax listening to her mother sing.

Her mother told her that she had been chosen and that she was more beautiful than any human or any creature that had ever walked the Earth. It was only in those special moments that Kimber would let herself believe her mother’s words. Kimber’s anxiety would then melt away and she would feel safe. Basking in the warmth of that memory was like retreating to an island in one of the encyclopedias on the shelves. Kimber would have liked to stay in that moment, but her peeling outer layer of skin was not about to let her forget why she was here.

The sensation was almost intolerable. She flopped restlessly back onto her stomach and examined her hands. Since they were in continual use, they had already finished their shed, revealing brilliant colors of orange and pink. The scales on the back of her hands were delicate and small, like the scales of a baby snake. She noticed a bit of red dirt under her fingernails. Remnants from the surface. The Auroras were decontaminated after every surface excursion, but copper soil could always be found lingering, no matter how hard they scrubbed.

As Kimber mindlessly began to pry the dirt out, she took stock of her palms and wrists. The shed was halfway down her arms now, and her wrist and forearms shone out in fierce hues of orange and red. The shed always had a strange way of dulling the skin right before detaching, which made the fresh scales seem brighter than ever before. Her palms differed from the tiny scales on the backs of her hands. They were buttery smooth, like a snake’s belly rather than his back, and were soft and pale instead of vibrant and tough. She liked the skin on her palms, it reminded her that she was still in part, human.

Kimber could have stayed there lost in her own thoughts, under her sky of murals, for an entire sleep cycle if she were allowed, but the bells started to ring in the main caverns and she knew it was time to shake out of her reverie. Kimber craned her neck back, looking at the angels and sighed. There they were. Glorious and silent, passing their judgements on the little world of the cavern city. Be thankful that birds don’t need to shed, Kimber grumpily told the mosaics.

She had had many conversations with Michael and his holy crew over the years, some more vehement than others. Her mother used to stifle giggles when Kimber would enter their sleep chamber in absolute fits, damning the scientists who had grafted reptilian DNA with human DNA. Kimber had a serious grudge against the scientists for not giving the Auroras wings, and her mother knew it. The way Kimber saw it, if the Auroras supposedly had all this weight of carrying the human genome into the future, they could have at least been given feathered wings like angels instead of scales and shedding skin like snakes.

With one last roll around on the cold ground, Kimber picked herself up. She was not particularly tall, but she was very muscular. All the Auroras were strong, but just like humans, they were incredibly unique. Kimber carried most of her strength in her legs, and as she grew up, she came to be known for her endurance. When the Auroras turned fifteen, they took their first surface trip. Kimber felt like a thoroughbred being released into the wild. She had never seen open space like there was above the caves. None of them had.

Books and lessons could teach one about the enormity of the sky, about the vastness of the planet’s terrain, and about the colors in the borealis, but until the Auroras saw it, they could not actually conceive it. It was on that day in their fifteenth year, that the many years of physical training paid off. They had had years of classes on strength building, agility, defense, and offense, but their training was always limited to the space they had in the caverns. Kimber had never known such joy as to fully open her stride and run.

Though the Mammoth Caves were immensely long, over four hundred charted miles in length, and some of the cavern rooms were as big as ballrooms, getting up to speed and sustaining it was nearly impossible. Not only impossible, but pointless. No one had any idea what laid above the surface, so the need to ‘train’ for it seemed like a game. At least it had until the Auroras were sent up to survey what was left of the planet. On that day the games ended, along with what was left of the Aurorean’s childhood.

Among the wreckage and ruin, Kimber ran free. She felt closer to her cherished angels than she had ever before. Her legs were her wings as she flew over the bleeding dust that was now the crust of the Earth. She could feel her muscles straining against the alien sand, the colors of her body growing in vibrancy with her exertion. Her breath labored like never before and for the first time, she felt unfiltered joy.

Such an odd sensation she would never forget, and for the rest of her life she would replay that day in her mind. She had felt more at home in the first hour of being on the surface than she had in a lifetime of living underground. But here she was, over five years later, seeking refuge from the same sun that had damned the world above ground. The bells stopped ringing as Kimber walked to the exit of the room. With one last glance over her shoulder, she bid the artwork goodbye.

She would be back of course, probably bearing more books like always, but it would be a whole shed away. Because her murals felt like friends, the six-month intervals seemed too long. She knew she had enough shed left to grant her clemency for one more day, but tomorrow was not a day for lounging under painted ceilings. Tomorrow was the annual meeting of the cavern council that she had to be present for. In part, because it would determine her own future.