POV - PERSEUS MANGAL-GRAH
Perseus stiffened, his muscles tensing as the voice materialized, its giggle child-like but with an undercurrent of malevolence that chilled the air.
When the form fully took shape before him, a shiver ran down his spine, the scene around them seeming to darken, the shadows growing deeper as if drawn to her presence.
She was a girl, no older than thirteen or fourteen, swathed in a gown of such deep black it seemed to absorb even the darkness around her. Her eyes were voids, black pools that reflected nothing, set in a pale face that was almost ethereal in its starkness. Her hair, long and dark, fell to her shoulders, and from either side of her head, two horns protruded, giving her an otherworldly, demonic appearance.
As she giggled, the sound was like the tinkling of glass in an empty hall, cold and echoing, her hand covering her mouth in a gesture that was both playful and sinister.
Perseus's mind raced, the air around him thick with the unsettling power she radiated. How could this child, with her youthful appearance, harbor such immense power? The question echoed in his mind as he watched her.
Perseus, both fearful of the girl and irritated by her incessant giggling, finally broke the silence. "Who are you?" he demanded, his voice a mix of authority and apprehension, "Are you one of the World Enders?"
The girl stopped her giggling, tilting her head in a gesture that seemed almost confused, then, the laughter returned, lighter, mocking. "No, silly," she chirped, speaking more to herself than to him, "But wouldn't that be something. Little Anastasia, a member of the high families - an almighty."
She turned her attention back to Perseus, her expression shifting to one of mock seriousness. "I'm merely a servant," she explained, "serving the esteemed..." She paused, her dark eyes narrowing as she pointed at Perseus, "Wait.. Why am I talking to a dead man?"
Perseus's frown deepened, his face a mask of irritation mixed with a begrudging acknowledgment of her audacious confidence, which he feared was well-founded. Even with the torrent of power coursing through him, victory was uncertain.
His life force ebbed away, and he sensed the urgency to hurry, to extract any last scrap of knowledge before his time ran out.
"What do they want? Why do they go from planet to planet, ending species?" he demanded, urgency lacing his words.
The girl's smile turned dark, her voice dropping to a chilling tone, "How should I know? I get orders, and I carry them out. Things like motivations or reasons are irrelevant to me."
Perseus mused silently, realizing the child was but a pawn, yet what he'd learned might still be of use...
His thoughts were abruptly interrupted as the child's voice cut through his contemplation.
Her face darkened, the playful facade slipping away to reveal an ominous seriousness.
Her voice, once light, now carried a weight of displeasure as she spoke, "The pocket dimension from which my pets spawn was a gift from my almighty lady, and your son closed it, put a lock on it. That wasn't very nice, you know?"
Perseus, seeking to unsettle her, taunted, "Why didn't you try to stop him then? Was it fear?"
She scoffed, waving him off with an air of nonchalance. "Give me a break," she retorted, her tone one of lazy indifference, "Hard work requires so much effort, you know, and I'm fundamentally a lazy person. Your son was no threat to me, but it would take more than ten percent of my powers to beat him. That's too much work."
She went on, her eyes narrowing with a mix of amusement and calculation, "Besides, I could sense his life force burning. It's always best to let things play out naturally."
10%? Perseus thought, his mind reeling at the implications. How strong was this child?
He shook his head as if to dispel the creeping dread. Then, he posed another question, his voice steady, "What are your orders?"
The girl's face lit up with a return to her playful demeanor, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Ah, that's a question I can answer," she chimed, almost gleefully.
But then she paused, her expression turning pensive, her finger tapping against her lips. "But should I?" she mused aloud, her voice a whisper of uncertainty, "I don't know if I'm allowed to say anything. I slacked off and didn't attend universal conquest classes. What to do, what to do?"
Then, as if struck by a sudden, brilliant idea, her face brightened, her eyes narrowing with a cunning glint. She clapped her hands together and leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "I'll tell you," She said, a smile playing on her lips that didn't reach her cold, dark eyes, "since I'm going to kill you anyway."
Perseus felt his throat tighten, the weight of her words like a noose.
"You will try," he managed to say, attempting to infuse his words with cold defiance, but they came out weak, hollow.
The girl giggled, the sound both mocking and laden with promise of doom, before she began to speak.
She spoke, her voice carrying a grave, almost scholarly tone, "The high families have designated some planets as defiant, those that house descendant species of the now extinct first men—the Homo sapiens. These species will never yield to anyone or anything, and so, the high families want them exterminated. They have no need for a universe with rebellious species."
She paused, her eyes glinting with a dark pride, "And so, servants like myself are tasked with the great cleansing."
She waited for a response, her eyes boring into Perseus, seeking acknowledgment. But Perseus was silent, his mind frantically piecing together the tapestry of doom she'd just woven, trying to comprehend the scale and the horror of what this meant for not just Mars, but countless other worlds.
The girl pouted, her face showing exaggerated disappointment. "You could have at least answered," she chided him, her tone mockingly hurt, "That was a lot of work, you know?"
Ignoring her complaints, Perseus's voice carried a desperate edge as he inquired, "What about Earth? Has your great cleansing taken place there?"
The girl averted her gaze, her face momentarily betraying a flicker of something dark, as if she was guarding a terrible secret. "I don't want to talk about it," she murmured, her voice suddenly guarded.
But then she turned back to face him, her voice dropping to a sinister whisper, "Is that where your family is headed?"
Perseus remained silent, his silence speaking volumes. She interpreted his quiet as affirmation.
She shook her head with exaggerated, almost theatrical vigor, her voice laced with a chilling mirth.
"No, no, no," she intoned, her words a dark prophecy, "It's better for them to die here than go there. You're lucky I'll kill them after you. You should thank me for that, you know. I'm saving them from that godforsaken planet."
Perseus was consumed by confusion. Whatever the girl was hiding must have been significant enough to unsettle her. The doubt gnawed at him, making him question the wisdom of sending his family to Earth.
Yet, the stark reality was clear—no future existed for them on Mars but death. He chose to gamble on the unknown; whatever had happened on Earth, there was at least a sliver of hope there.
His gaze hardened as he focused on the girl, his voice resolute, "I'll take my chance. You'll only get to my family over my dead body."
The girl's response was a nonchalant shrug, her voice flat, "Okay."
In that instant, Perseus channeled the full, fiery force he had borrowed, his body igniting with a radiant, unstable energy. He felt his life force blazing, a supernova within, as he launched himself at her.