They call us the Pyros.
We are just like Them-in size, in manner, in form. We speak the same language. We walk by the same synchrony of nerve and flesh and bone, and more importantly-intention. One leg out in front of the other. Switching legs, and repeating.
We breathe the same way as Them - the involuntary movement of muscle, the rising of our chests, the filling of our lungs. We may require more oxygen than Them, but in the end, oxygen is a luxury indispensable to both kinds.
We share the same senses, for the most part. The sense of taste, of smell, of sight. The sense of hearing-listening to the melodious sounds of nature, music, and laughter intertwined with the cacophony of the city during the day, and the wolves that howl at night. We share the sense of touch-of intimacy, of sensation, of emotion.
And the sense of betrayal, and the agony that accompanies it.
My mother used to say that the Humans had accidentally destroyed their past home, and had nowhere to go. They needed a place to stay, and We had our home to offer. We welcomed them to Ignis, with open arms, and all-too-trusting smiles.
I don't believe in accidents.
And subsequently, betrayal became the only sense We knew.
It was only a matter of time before Humans completely destroyed the Earth. With the weapons they amassed, and the pollution that wreaked havoc on the environment- it was in inevitable their home would become uninhabitable.
That was the genesis of the Great Migration. Hundreds of millions of Humans were relocated to the distant planet of Ignis, pre-inhabited by the native Ignites, a superhuman species.
At first, there was unity. Ignites and Humans lived peacefully among each other, without problems.
Then, there was discrimination.
And then, there was genocide.