Chereads / Scythe of the Empire / Chapter 5 - Lone Wolf

Chapter 5 - Lone Wolf

The girl stands up. She lifts her chin in stubborn defiance, darkness brewing in her obsidian eyes as she grips the cage bars. Tendrils rise from her feet. They tangle themselves around her body, and she writhes beneath their vice-like grip. Slowly, the shadowy tentacles reach through the cage bars.

Empyreans are always like this—using children, forging them into mindless soldiers, luring enemies in with their lame tactics. Unlike the others here, the girl doesn't bear the Empyreans' insignia on her neck. She plays dead on a battlefield, only to stab enemy soldiers when they're close enough. Ash told me about the suicide patrol before.

I slice the girl's tentacles, making her scream until a vein throbs at her temple. Once that's done, my knife finds the sheath at my belt. This is just a warning. I don't kill unless necessary because the scariest part of this job is getting used to it. As the girl slinks away into a corner with heaving breaths, I glimpse the Empyrean insignia burned onto her tongue. Grimacing, I thrust my gaze to the floor.

"Remember this?"

Regan pulls out a glistening crystal from her pocket. Quiet gasps escape the prisoners, many of them leaning forward like they're witnessing the impossible. It's a prophecy crystal the Prisoner of Fate stole before she died. Now, a surviving piece of Empyrean treasure belongs to us, though it's just a minor victory on our end.

Why would Regan show off our only advantage?

She snickers and shoves the crystal back into her pocket. Walking down the next connecting hallway, she soon disappears into the endless abyss and yells for us to follow her. We slip inside a trapdoor at the end of the tunnel.

Regan lights up all the lamps with a quick flick of her finger, illuminating the cramped meeting room with a warm glow. Out of the shadows, the ghostly silhouette of a man materializes. He's slumped in a chair. Blood oozes from his crooked nose and split lips, dyeing his sparse stubble crimson. Sweat drips down his bruised eye. The man's shirt clings to the dips of his willowy frame, the thin material barely concealing his bruises.

"How's he still alive?" Kyro whispers. I shrug and stare at the former Empyrean commander, Sol, who's now reduced to the shell of a man. He coughs weakly, every breath growing more labored than the last. "My men are coming."

Regan chuckles mirthlessly. She drives her knee into Sol's face, and his tooth flies across the floor in a bloodied mess. "Last I heard, you were in exile."

Sighing, Hera takes the prophecy crystal from Regan and lifts it into the air. "It's about time you know the truth about the Great War, what the Empyreans are really after, and why you're fighting. Without a purpose, a soldier is just a mindless killing machine. Also, everyone here is under oath. None of you will reveal anything about what you're about to see."

She waves her hand in the air. A surge of electricity flows through my veins, reminding me that only death awaits if I break the vow. While the crystal glows in Hera's hand, it hums a low, melancholic tune of death. The grim melody echoes through the space. Cracks start to form across its iridescent exterior, turning the gem into a dark ball of energy. I watch as the crystal slowly dissolves until all that remains is a pile of dust. With her other hand, Hera opens up a swirling, thunderous portal on a wall.

"W-Wait, what are you doing?" Sol screams. He slides down his chair and crawls towards the destroyed relic. "You're killing the only source of Empyrean knowledge."

"Sol, the Crimson Army is ready for anything, even the impossible," Hera says knowingly.

"Don't tell me…."

She turns away from him. Regan curses and drags the disgraced commander back to his chair, and she points to the expanding portal. "Get inside and see for yourselves."

As soon as the first person makes it through, everyone else follows. We fall into the swirling depths of a raging storm. Columns of burgeoning clouds surround me. The tempest howls mockingly, spitting debris carried by the whistling winds. Shouts fill the air, but I can't make out what they're saying as their voices cackle and disappear.

"Hello?" I yell.

Only silence fills the void. My voice melds with the furious gale until I can't hear myself anymore. Still, as the air beats against me, the portal eagerly swallows my cries. A familiar aura rises from my body. Power seeps through my skin, consuming my muscles with a scalding vengeance. The violet energy rises to the sky, and I watch helplessly as it leaves for a distant planet, going back to where it came from before I inherited it. While strength drains from my body, I stare at the faint silhouette at the end of the storm. It starts as a moving shadow that bends beneath the weight of time that runs backward.

As I approach the end of the hurricane, the shadow morphs into letters, like someone painting the words with elegant brush strokes.

Polaris Era, The Year 1000

That's the year of the Great War.

Finally, I'm on the other side of the portal and floating over the Empyrean planet. A brilliant sunset paints the golden sky. There's a brief moment of serenity in a world so far away from the chaos lurking beneath. After peeling away the beauty of Empyria's atmosphere, what remains is a tainted race marked by betrayal. I descend through the clouds, and the smell of smoke and dust assaults my senses. Blinking away the prickling sensation in my eyes, I watch helplessly as the sprawling buildings draw closer.

The punishing atmosphere slaps my cheeks, beating against my body. Looking down, I watch as a concrete roof draws closer. I brace for the sound of splintering bones. Please let it be quick. Closing my eyes, I wait for the end to come.

There's nothing. I crack my eyelids open, finding myself hovering inches from the speckled ground. Whatever force held me in place sets me down gently, as though I might shatter. My skin touches the cold surface. Electricity trails from my head down to my body until I hear its mesmerizing hum in my ears. The source of life is nearby.

There's no way I'm still alive. Come to think of it, Hera's ability isn't actually time travel. If it was, no one would've been able to survive that fall, so that means I'm probably in a simulation of sorts, or this is a fever dream. Maybe this is a place where we can only feel and experience some things. Turning around, I head down the emergency stairs and leave through the back door.

Electric sparks of energy fall from the sky. They split the ground, snap the trees, and ignite everything on fire. Cackling embers rise from the cursed flames, spreading out to devour the streets and buildings. Brittle skyscrapers shed their glass windows, and they crumble to the ground.

I thread carefully over the split asphalt. Between the ruptured roads, a shimmering, black aura rises from the gravel and spills onto the streets. Its movements are purposeful as if it had a mind of its own. Moving quickly, it spreads out and coats the ground with its corrupted energy. Sharp screams tear at my eardrums. Desperate cries ring out in the chaos. Instantly, the alleys bathe in a sea of red.

With each step, I feel the portal closing in on me, but I might have some time before I'm sucked inside. Once again, the winds pick up. Dried leaves flutter anxiously around me, but they're slowly turning to dust that rises to the sky and blocks out the sun. Bodies that litter the streets are now reduced to a pile of ash.

The Empyrean planet is dying.

Since the aura can't hurt me, I bend down and run my fingers through it. Recoiling at the black, sticky substance, I wrinkle my nose at the smell of blood that's a few days old. As I take the next step, the portal returns and transports me to an outer-worldly space. This time, there's no support for the landing.

Wincing at the soreness in my body, I wipe my sweaty forehead with my scratched palms. The room is too bright. As my vision adjusts, I keep my gaze fixed on the pearl-like floor, searching for somewhere to hide. The pounding of footsteps is urgent on the other side of the door, but I can't tell which direction it's coming from. Every sound is amplified in a reverent echo. Quickly, I find the curtains and hide behind them just before the door bursts open.

Peeking past the velvety barrier, I nearly gasp at the sight.

A bright light sits on a velvet-backed throne fit for a king. My eyes dart around the massive space until my gaze rests upon a mural that glows from the ceiling. The crisp painting depicts the glory of the Heavens. All around, the orbs of previous Guardians are displayed in glass cases. Their golden spheres bathe the room in sparkling light.

"Pay your respects before the Revered One!"

Thunderous footsteps echo down a hallway behind me. Slipping away into the sanguine curtains, I watch as armored men march inside. They carry no weapons except a large sword tucked around their waist. Guardians in white robes trail after them, heads bowed and hands clasped in front of them. A man with wings like an angel stands among them, and he wears a sculpted, black mask over his face. His ivory-colored hair brushes against his brows, barely concealing a nasty scar.

"Aspen." The voice of the Revered One is deafening. His words are laced with authority that weighs down on me, forcing me to my knees. With each ragged breath, I know that I'm staining the Nexus courts with an outsider's presence.

The Nexus is the judge of our galaxy. It's the only planet that's been keeping the peace from the beginning. At the center of it all is the Revered One. He doesn't have a physical body since his existence is just a partial manifestation of his true form.

The Revered One leans forward in his golden throne, gripping the armrests until his fingers start trembling. "Guardian of the Noires, where's the Chimera Guardian?"

Aspen looks away from the Revered One. "This isn't like you. What's the point of meddling in a war?"

"Empyria broke the armistice with Orion. They're taking off to battle as we speak. It's one thing to break a peace treaty, but doing the same to a disarmament agreement is an open mockery to us."

"There's no such thing as a fair fight, old man. If a stronger guy tries to kill someone weaker, nature will take its course. You can't bring the dead back to life or make them as strong as their killer." Aspen lifts his head and glares at the Revered One. "The Nexus is the Intergalactic Court of Justice. We work out legal issues fairly, but we've got no business fighting anyone's battles."

"Aspen, all I'm asking is for you and the Chimera Guardian to lend your strength to Orion. Remember, I can't do it if the people of Orion are dead."

The Noire Guardian sighs. Taking a step forward, he takes his sword out of its sheath and kneels before the Revered One. For a while, he doesn't say anything. I take the time to study the carvings on the blade, which resemble the patterns of constellations. Aspen sucks in a deep breath and looks at the Revered One, his violet eyes tainted with disdain. "I don't know why you're throwing everything away just for that. Consider this my last favor, Revered One."

Another Guardian stands next to Aspen. She gets down on both knees, unsheathing and surrendering her sword in a similar fashion. Fresh tears course down her cheeks. Between hiccups and ragged breaths, she somehow manages to stare at the bright light on the throne. "This will be my last as well. After this, we'll both surrender our Guardian robes and status."

The Revered One doesn't say anything in return.

I watch as the two Guardians start dissolving into dust. Starting from their feet, every bit of themselves crumbles into faint silhouettes. Whatever remains of them floats down into a messy pile. Their deaths are almost instant. There was hardly enough time to struggle, fight, or scream.

All that's left are two auras where the Guardians once stood. Instantly, I recognize the Noires' and the Chimeras' energy remnants. The Revered One lifts his hand and spreads the energy in Orion's direction. Slowly, I feel the power returning, its familiar, suffocating embrace eating away at me. It travels through my veins as if it memorized every fiber of my being. Then, a voice grazes my ear.

"The Empyreans wanted the Scythes' core. For that, they risked war to save their dying planet."