Chapter 2

Thalia sat by the window of her quarters, watching the first light of dawn begin to creep over the horizon. Edenhold was still quiet, the tranquility of the early morning a perfect reflection of the society the women had built here—a world of peace, order, and serenity. But Thalia's thoughts were not as calm. They drifted back to the beginning, to the creation of Edenhold and the other fortresses like it, scattered across the land.

Edenhold had not always existed. In fact, the world outside the walls had once been shared with men—a time before the fortresses, when women and men had lived side by side. But that world had turned dark and violent, shaped by the oppression of women, who had been reduced to property, forced into subservient roles, stripped of autonomy, and subject to constant abuse.

Men had ruled with brutality, dictating every aspect of life—governments, laws, religion. In their world, violence and dominance were celebrated as strengths, while compassion, empathy, and understanding were seen as weaknesses. For centuries, women had lived under the suffocating weight of these systems, silenced and suppressed, until finally, they had reached a breaking point.

It wasn't sudden, but when the uprising began, it spread like wildfire.

Women deserted men as a species. They abandoned the cities, towns, and homes they had once shared with them. In the dead of night, groups of women slipped away, gathering in secret places, far from the eyes of men. They sought safety, liberation, and freedom—free from the oppression that had held them down for so long. It was not long before they began to organize, to build a new kind of society—one that would be free of male domination and violence.

They built fortresses, high-walled and heavily guarded, like Edenhold. These fortresses became the new centers of life for women, offering them sanctuary from the brutal world they had left behind. Armed with snipers and militia women, the walls of these fortresses were a reminder to any man who might try to challenge the new order—women were no longer to be oppressed.

The fortresses, spread out across the lands, became a symbol of a new beginning. Edenhold was just one of many. There were others—New Solace, Everrise, Valora, each a place where women took control of their own destinies. They built a world where life was wonderful inside the walls. There was peace, harmony, and freedom from the violence that had defined the old world. The oppression was gone, replaced by a quiet, matriarchal order that allowed women to thrive.

And most importantly, the fortresses had a purpose. A long-term plan.

The women believed they could breed out the tendency of violence in men. The violence that had dominated their lives for centuries wasn't just cultural—it was in their blood. To end the violence, the women needed to take control of reproduction itself. Only the most docile men were allowed to live within the walls of Edenhold and the other fortresses. These men were heavily regulated, their lives dictated by strict rules. They were permitted to breed but were otherwise isolated, their interactions with women limited to reproduction.

Thalia thought of the breeding program that had been established. Most women didn't even enjoy the company of men. For the most part, they found men dull, uninteresting, and unnecessary for companionship. Women turned to each other for love, for emotional connection. They built families together, and relationships between women thrived.

Men had become tools, their sole purpose reduced to breeding. They were allowed to contribute their genes, but little else. The plan was simple: over time, by carefully selecting only the gentlest, calmest men, the women would gradually eliminate the violent tendencies that had plagued the old world. In time, the aggressive genes would be bred out of the male population entirely, and humanity would be free of the violence that had once seemed inevitable.

For the most part, life inside Edenhold was peaceful and harmonious. Without the oppression of men, the women had flourished. There were no heavy government structures or overbearing rules that dictated their lives. They lived as a community, making decisions together, and the burdens of leadership were shared. It was a matriarchal society, one where women were free to live their lives as they wished—except, of course, when it came to the regulation of men.

Men were different. They were heavily controlled. The docile men who lived within the walls were kept under strict surveillance, their movements limited, their freedoms curtailed. They were only permitted to breed when selected by the council, and once they had completed their breeding cycles, they were exiled from Edenhold.

Even after all the care and effort put into raising these men—breeding them for docility and training them to be calm and obedient—the women of Edenhold still did not fully trust them. It was an unspoken truth. They feared what could happen if men were left alone with women and girls, even the men who had been born and raised inside the walls. There was always that underlying concern, a deep-rooted fear passed down from the old world, that no matter how much they bred out aggression, men could never truly be safe.

The council had never openly admitted this fear, but it governed everything they did. The men within Edenhold were never allowed to be alone with women outside of closely monitored situations. Even after they had proven themselves gentle, calm, and reliable, the risk was too great. It was always there, hovering beneath the surface—a fear that one day, one of these men might revert to the primal instincts of the past.

Once their breeding purpose was complete, they were no longer allowed to remain among the women. They were exiled, just like the aggressive boys, sent beyond the walls to ensure they could never form dangerous bonds with others. The fear of collaboration among men, of them forming alliances, was something Edenhold could not risk. No matter how much progress they believed they had made, that one terrifying truth remained: men were unpredictable.

Thalia had often reflected on this aspect of Edenhold's society. Even the most docile men, the ones who had been raised to show no signs of aggression, were still seen as a potential threat. There was an unease that lingered around them, a sense of danger that could never be fully dismissed. And it was that unease, that mistrust, that ensured men were never truly integrated into the peaceful life of Edenhold. They were necessary—for breeding, for keeping the population going—but they would never be trusted.

She thought of the men who had been exiled after serving their purpose. They had spent their entire lives within the walls, contributing to the society that raised them, only to be cast out once they had bred as many times as allowed. No emotional attachments, no family, no bonds with the women they helped create life with. They were simply sent away, their usefulness at an end.

It wasn't cruelty, she reasoned. It was practicality. The council had made it clear: Men couldn't be trusted, and letting them remain after their usefulness was over only invited trouble.

Still, there was something unsettling about it all. Thalia wondered how long they could continue like this—isolating men, limiting their involvement, while expecting them to be part of the future they were building. How long could they ignore the growing tension between keeping men controlled and pretending they were making progress toward eliminating violence?

Thalia had always believed in Edenhold's mission, in the idea that they could slowly breed out violence and create a world where men were no longer dangerous. A world where women were safe, where no one would ever be oppressed again. For the most part, it had worked. The fortresses were peaceful. Women were happy. They formed loving relationships with each other, they raised families, and they lived without fear of male domination.

Thalia's thoughts drifted back to Kai, to the flash of anger in his eyes. He was not supposed to be like that. He had been raised with care, surrounded by women who had taught him patience, empathy, and gentleness. And yet, as soon as he and the other boys had been separated from the girls and placed with other boys, the old tendencies began to emerge.

The council's plan to breed out violence was faltering. The boys, even those who had been raised in the best of circumstances, showed aggressive tendencies the moment they were placed together. Despite the strict regulations, despite the isolation, the anger, the violence—it was still there.

Thalia rose from her seat and crossed the room to look out over Edenhold. The high walls stood firm, protecting them from the wild world beyond. Edenhold had succeeded, for the most part. It had given women a place to thrive, free from the violence that had once been their daily reality.

But for how long?

The question gnawed at her. The system was starting to break down, at least where the boys were concerned. No matter how much care was taken to breed the right kind of men, no matter how many rules were put in place to control them, the violence persisted. It bubbled beneath the surface, threatening to break free.