ELYSIA MANGAL-GRAH
The underground bunker trembled with great intensity, each shudder a reflection of the battle raging on the surface above. Dust trickled down from the ceiling, coating Elysia Mangal-grah's hair with a fine red powder. The air was thick with the smell of ozone and burnt flesh.
Elysia stared at the quivering ceiling, longing for her son. Only 19, her warrior boy.
The weight of their survival rested on his shoulders—he must clear a path. Every tremor sent a fresh wave of terror through her—he was out there, alone, surrounded by those nightmarish creatures.
She knew Mars was doomed. The Defense Corps fought now only to buy escape time. Elysia cursed the World Enders, their motives unknown, their intent clear: destruction.
Their minions shattered worlds as easily as pebbles—a terrifying glimpse of the power that commanded them, a storm that would engulf all. The Martians were warriors born of a harsh world, but against this foe, they were like a ripple against a tidal wave.
The noise and the relentless shaking of the bunker awakened baby Jove, who had been sleeping soundly in Elysia's arms. His sudden wail pierced through the thunderous booms and the high-pitched whine of energy weapons, a cry of confusion and fear. He was a light sleeper—once awake, he stayed awake.
Now, the escalating chaos fed his fear, and his cries reverberated through their refuge. A wave of despair washed over Elysia as Jove's wails pierced through the din. She knew that a crying baby was a beacon in this chaos.
Protected by earth and enhanced graphene, she did her best to calm Jove. Elysia rocked him gently, whispering soft reassurances, but his cries persisted. Each one was a needle in her already frayed nerves.
In the corner, she glanced at her twin-born children, Romulus and Juno, who somehow managed to sleep soundly, untouched by the clamor.
Their peaceful faces amidst the chaos pained her heart, a reminder they might never see Mars's beauty beyond its wars.
Her thoughts drifted to Athena, her other daughter. There was no worry there; at only 17, Athena was a force to be reckoned with, considered one of the best fighters on Mars, a genius of warfare. She and her father had embarked on a desperate mission: to secure transport off-world for all of them, their only chance at survival in this doomed planet.
Though Ares's success would mean she wouldn't need to lift a finger, Elysia, left in charge of the baby and the twins, prepared herself nonetheless. Two decades had passed since her last fight, a conflict that culminated in Ares's birth on the battlefield. A glorious moment. Years of motherhood and peace had softened her edge, but within her, the ghost of the warrior stirred.
She prayed for her old skills. The 'Witch of Mars' stirred within. Elysia clenched her fists, ready to defend her children.
The shaking ceased, replaced by a silence so profound it felt like a held breath. This was no end, she realized. With a sense of urgency, she moved to prepare. Elysia gently strapped baby Jove to her chest with a cloth, securing him close to her heart. She checked her compact pistol; the display flickered, showing enough power for what might come next. Her aim felt rusty, her draw speed slightly off.
Practicing a couple of draws, aiming at imaginary targets, she felt the weight of the years. Each movement was a reminder of the warrior she once was, trying to shake off the dust of time, hoping her muscle memory would kick in when it was needed most.
A sense of grim satisfaction settled over Elysia as she tested her form, stretching limbs. Each movement was punctuated by the sharp crack of joints stiffened from long disuse. Yet, with each stretch, a dormant fire rekindled within her, her body slowly unfurling, remembering the brutal choreography of combat.
She moved to rouse the twins. Romulus stirred first, his voice a sleepy rumble, thick with the lingering fog of dreams.
"Is it time to leave?" he murmured, eyelids still heavy. A faint smile graced Elysia's lips—a bittersweet flicker of warmth in the face of the encroaching darkness.
"Yes," she whispered, her voice barely audible above the distant tremors, "it's time." She bid them both to stay close, her gaze lingering on Romulus, a mother's unspoken plea etched in her eyes. "Why are you looking at me like that?" he asked, a frown creasing his brow. With a quick jab of his finger towards his sister, he added, "Juno wanders too, you know."
Juno, roused by the accusation, retaliated with a playful cuff to his head.
The twins scuffled briefly, a moment of childhood joy cutting through the bunker's gloom.
Elysia pulled the twins close. 'Listen,' she murmured. 'It's dangerous. We're leaving, just for now.'
Juno's eyes were wide with a child's innocent curiosity. "Where, where. Is it pretty there?"
"It's wonderful," Elysia said, a gentle smile touching her lips.
"The air smells sweet like new flowers, oceans sparkle blue like gemstones, forests are thick like giant gardens, and mountains tower high. At night, the sky's alive with a new moon and stars that dance for you."
Juno's eyes widened, her gaze turning dreamy at the thought of such wonders. Romulus, however, frowned and teased, "Stars don't dance, especially not for you."
Elysia intervened, placing herself firmly between the squabbling twins before their playful jabs could turn serious. But her words were cut short as the bunker was rocked by a violent tremor.
She knew that was the signal. With urgency in her voice, she told the children to follow her. They rushed to the staircase, every step echoing in the sudden quiet. She reached for the door, her fingers brushing the cold metal—silence had never felt so deceptive.
Then, with a sickening screech, a nightmare burst through the gap in the door—a K'tharr's head, its jagged teeth exposed in a grotesque grimace. Instinctively, Elysia's hand blurred, drawing and leveling her gun at the creature's maw.
FSSSSSSS-CRACKLE-BOOM!
The creature's head erupted, showering the bunker walls with blood and bone.
That was close, too close, she thought, her heart still racing. Elysia stepped out of the bunker first, gun in hand, scanning the eerily still landscape for danger.
Finding no immediate threats, she reached back into the bunker, helping the children out. Huddled close, they were a small, vulnerable group in the vast, desolate landscape. Together, they began their perilous journey to their destination.