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((Double Monday -- Page 1 of 2))
They had resided here in Himmekel for over a thousand years, according to the one called Diego. And yet, these “people of the fire” showed no sign of wanting to escape this place. None of the Hun’Sho they spoke with seemed interested in leaving... or even just wanting to know about the outside world all that much.

These people demonstrated a lack of curiosity. Of ambition.

The one called Diego seemed to think it was due to their inability to age, that the Hun’Sho lacked any sense of urgency in their desires because they had all the time in the world to pursue them. Perhaps one day, they would leave and explore the world, but for now, they were content to remain here, where time was all but standing still.

Royo could see the logic in that interpretation.

But he did not trust it.

An entire society which lacked curiosity? Or the pursuit of betterment?

That was disturbingly unnatural. It was hardly even human, to his mind.

The only way Royo could rationalize the existence of a culture of such willful ignorance was by means of some coping mechanism. Perhaps the Hun’Sho had been prisoners in this place for so long that they had grown to love their imprisonment.

They had given up, in other words.

But that made sense. The Hun’Sho were a defeated people. Maybe not quite extinct as had been believed, but certainly broken in spirit.

In the ancient tales passed down by his Hun’Kui ancestors, the Hun’Sho were portrayed as a wicked and terrifying people, monstrously cruel and intelligent. Something to be feared and hated. Yet as he observed them now, beings that should have been legends brought to life, Royo found himself not only disappointed but also hating them for an entirely different reason.

They were pathetic. Shameful.

These people were blessed with immortality, yet what were they doing with it? Nothing. They whiled away the days down here as if time was of no value or consequence to anyone.

He could not imagine a greater insult to mortals like himself.

The superhumans at least seemed to understand that much. While Royo did not necessarily like them much more than the Hun’Sho, he did still have respect for them. They clearly possessed values. Principles. Dreams. Goals of their own. There was sentiment to be admired there.

The most maddening thing, however, was certainly the way that the Hun’Sho did not speak directly to him or any of the other Hun’Kui present.

At first, Royo had thought that they simply did not understand Modern Hunese in the same way that he did not understand their Ancient Hunese.

But then he remembered that the one called Carver was fluent in Modern Hunese. And the man had mentioned teaching several languages to the Hun’Sho over the course of his last five years here.

“Did you not teach them our language as well?” Royo had asked him.

“Ah--I did, yes.”

“Then why do they not answer when we speak to them?”

“Ah, yes... that is rather strange, isn’t it?”