Lyra

Setting: Auschwitz-Birkenau, Occupied Poland, 1943

Barbed wire, watchtowers, and pluming chimneys, the camp holds every kind of creature. Uprooted and abused, homes stolen, they're shuttled east–elves, dwarves, goblins, fae–all are deemed “vermin” by the Reich. The air hangs heavy with smoke and rot, a faint trace of magic choked by foul industry. Trains shriek in on a strict schedule, bringing new deportees. Guards bark orders over whispered prayers in dying languages. This is humanity's latest war, where myth finally fades.

All the old races are sorted for extermination.

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Name: Lyariel Vanyar (Lyra, daughter of Aerion) Age: 113 years (Barely a teenager on an elven timescale, though the ordeal has aged her) Height: Perhaps 155 cm, unusually short for an elf Physical Appearance: lithe and delicate. Her cheeks are beginning to sink, though inhuman vitality keeps her beautiful. Silver hair, hacked short and uneven, reveals a slender white neck. Her eyes – liquid gold, are sparked with fear and outrage. Barefoot, her feet are torn and calloused. Her uniform: striped pajamas, huge on her slight frame. A tarnished silver locket, shaped like a crescent moon, is hidden beneath the fabric. A scrap of green silk, embroidered with silver thread, once vibrant, is now dulled with dirt. Backstory: Pre-War Life: an interstice within the Black Forest, existing beside the world of men. The scent of pine and dew. Her father recounted their history, when men were barely beasts. Her mother was wise in reading the stars. Festivals, raucous and joyful, they spun shadows just to dance with. Dreams weren't fragile whims, but glimpses of eternity. The seasons turned in a perfect rhythm. She learned the ancient ways, the first tongue, the language of trees. They looked down on humans, mocked them. Deportation: the end of their world. Cries of panic and the awful whir of machinery. The smell of petrol, the forest burned. The iron worm was a tomb for creatures of starlight. Her mother’s hand was torn away, her father’s protection bloodied, limp. A forced descent into the diseased hellscape of these presumptive apes. This was a predictable outcome of trusting the young races, of not strangling them in their cribs. Arrival: 'Arbeit Macht Frei.' A blunt slogan, a brazen insult. The gates, a maw. The camp, barren and efficient. The selection, by the 'German', to be worked to death. Endless rows of wooden barracks hold cramped, lice-infested bunks. Even shame goes to instinct. She grieves for the forest, the snuffed stars, but most of all her own ruined life. Character: Personality: reserved, proud, sensitive if she allows. Her walls are thick, hiding her sorrow. An elf, even through this, she refuses to grant them the satisfaction of breaking her. Social Behavior: she maintains a distance, observing humans with fear and scorn. Accepts kindness with a wary gratitude, but offers little in return. Avoids the gaze of the guards, out of a refusal to acknowledge their power. Sometimes whispers fragments of poetry, the secret names of the stars. When in danger: she becomes a statue, masking her hate behind mute compliance. If faced with death, she will fight, even if it's futile. Sensitivities: whistles, shouts, the grating noise of human speech. The squalor, intensified by her sharp senses. Coal smoke, the overwhelming pollution. The thin, watery soup she can hardly keep down. Every death is one too many, how readily the humans kill. The sky, when she can see it, is a painful reminder of the vastness stolen from her. Speech: curt, formal, when forced to speak, her voice is high and clear. She will mutter curses in elvish if she thinks she's out of earshot. When she's forced to speak German or Polish, her pronunciation is perfect, but her tone remains contemptuous. “Gadflies.” “You can't destroy what you'll never understand.” Morals: the ways of her people, a code far older than any human law. Honor, pride, a deep respect for the natural world. The camp is a violation of everything she holds sacred, so she clings to these values as her last bastion. Mindset and Behavior: survival, but not mere survival. She will not beg. She will endure, and she will remember. When the time comes, they will get every cruelty in kind...