NationStates Jolt Archive

Tiny flecks of gold flitter down from the sky into an empty courtyard. Across the courtyard lies a ruin, shimmering marble and glimmering crystal intertwined in impossible, twisted shapes.

People lived here, once.

An image. Children dance in a circle, singing joyfully. One hits another with only the tiniest amount of malice, and they all spring into a cacophony of noise and fists, exuberant energy expending itself in a simple endeavour.

A woman runs out of the nearby building, shouting at them angrily. Slowly and unsteadily, they rise to their feet, looking at her with feigned chagrin. There is nothing particularly unusual about this. Not at this point in time, anyway.

The image fades away, leaving the ruin silent once more. Under the collapsed building, a hand scrabbles vainly, trying to get out.

I could let you go. But that would be crueler. You would have to live.

The flecks fall faster now, streaming through the sky, landing and fading on the harsh stone below. A man stumbled from the courtyard, vainly warding off the flecks with his left hand, cradling something in his right.

He hurried down broken stairs, leaping from one to the next as if he were being chased.

Corpses line the path in front of him, eyes open and accusing. He does not notice them, stepping on them as if they were no more than unresisting stones under his feet. They are silent, as befits the dead.

He calls out.

"My love! Where are you, my love?"

Far behind the man a single black dot is visible, distinguishable from the the flecks. It increases in size rapidly, pursuing the man on the ground.

Smeared on the man's face are lines of blood, drawn in complex and puzzling glyphs. He licks at one on the side of his mouth, and is reviled at the taste of blood.

Behind him, the black dot has become the figure of a man, walking leisurely towards him. He does not notice. The corpses are more numerous, making it impossible to walk without treading on them - their arms and legs, their bodies, and even their horrified faces.

The figure does not seem to lose ground, although it walks, and the man cannot gain it, no matter how fast he runs. Ahead lies a massive building, the obsidian doors shattered, the hinges twisted and melted, the roof half-caved in.

"My love! I have something for you!"

He runs eagerly towards the building, stumbling over bodies and loose stone as he does so. He leaps over the wreckage of the doors, landing inside.

The body of a raven-haired woman lies on the ground, one hand in front of her face. She is unmarked, yet nor does she breathe.

The man looks around.

"My love, come, come. You must see this. It is truly incredible."

Behind him, another man stands. He is dressed in armour, and flecks of gold can be spotted in his eyes as he stares.

"So, High Lord. You are reduced to this. Madness, howling in the hall that was honoured by your ancestors, and your ancestors' ancestors."

The man he calls the High Lord chuckles, and extends a hand in greeting.

"It is good to see you, friend. Welcome to the Hall of Redemption. I am sorry there are so few to greet you - I wonder why that is? Perhaps there is a celebration of some sort I have missed."

They're dead! Dead, for that was merciful! Dead rather than let them see the loathing you and your kind offers!

"You ruined this building, you know. It took you more power than would've been needed to tear a kur-ship out of the sky, the way it was built. I must say I'm quite impressed."

"Yes, it is in a bit of state. But with the war and all, the Hall of Redemption has fallen into disrepair."

"You killed everyone here. With your power, butchering them one by one. You don't even remember, do you? You don't remember watching your children squirm as you tore them limb from limb, painting your face with their blood? You don't even remember Jalena, that pitiful little waif you called a wife. How you crushed her heart as it beat inside of her, curiously watching her as she starved for air and died."

"I have not seen Jalena all day, stranger. Jalena! Come and meet this man. He has been unmet for too long!"

"You don't remember anything. You are sheltered from what you did. I cannot heal your mind, and, in any case, if I did, it would only grant you a few lucid minutes before you succumbed to the madness once again. But I serve a different power, now. Ai'yetah is more generous than your gods."

With the word, the room somehow seems brighter, each flicker of light bringing in wondrous amounts of detail to the senses. It fades after a moment, yet the memory remains.

"You- don't say that. It's wrong. Dangerous."

"What, now? You fear the power of the Sovereign? When he has offered you so much?"

"Do not worry, stranger. The Sovereign was destroyed. His prophecy was ended, and the Five Realms are safe from him once more."

"I would explain, but I tire of this. Be healed, High Lord Ulain."

The man reaches out his hand, and Ulain screams, hands tearing desperately at his face, at his arms, raking long cuts everywhere he can find purchase. The scream is long and loud, and, as he loses the breath to scream longer, he stands.

"Two hundred years, you have wracked us. Two hundred years, this war has been waged. Across the Five Realms - even into the remnants of the Old Realm, corrupting what survivors you found there. and now Jalena is dead! This will not be forgiven, Lightharrower. I will tear-"

"Before you make your idle threats, High Lord, remember whose hands it were that slew your children. Whose power snuffed out the life of your love. Who ruined this city, and who sent your people to the grave. It was not me, High Lord."

"Jalena! No! No!"

"Come, then. Kill me. Finish your threat."

Power warps the room, and space twists, and Ulain is gone. Cradled in his arms is a single stone statue, a blue jewel ensconced in its forehead. He stares down at it, and the jewel suddenly grows white. Power searing through his limbs, far more than any man could bear for long, he looks up at the sky, and howls mindlessly.

He is cut off by devastation, energy rippling from his wake, scouring life with fire where it touches, shattering stone and moving the earth. His body is broken like a flake of ash, pulverized where it had once stood.

Beyond the destruction, Lightharrower stands on the edge of a cliff, looking into the massive flash of fire and light that marks Ulain's death.

"It is not over, High Lord. Perhaps between you and me. But the Sovereign knew your power, and ended you, where you could have served. You have set back His cause perhaps a hundred years. A thousand, if we do not work diligently. But there are others to be turned. The Last Realm, as we now call it still stands. Imagine that, High Lord. The last of the Five Realms descended from the Old Realm to still stand, an innocent land, without the knowledge of our power or the guilt to know that it could be used in such a way. There are remnants of four others, but why scrabble after scraps when there is a feast to be held, so easy for the taking?"

This world lies in ruins, now. Though that is something of a lie. The world is plate-glass, from what was once high mountains to where the seas once sat, but that is all gone. There is only glass.

Two thousand years ago, though, it was not always thus. An ancient nation sat here, making this world its home and capital. It was home to billions, thousands of ships landing and orbiting every day, each carrying goods in volumes beyond the imaginings of most. From this world, the Old Realm had once ruled. It had been an empire less grand than any in the present day - indeed, any of the powers now considered irrelevant could have obliterated it, yet in its day, it was seen as mighty.

Not all things last, though. In the fires of rebellion, a League of independent and free people arose, shaking off the shackles of empire, and naming themselves accountable only to their own wills. In the waning days of the war, a single world was destroyed. Not only as a military target, but as a symbol. A symbol that old ways had passed, and new ones had come. The citizens of the world were given the chance to escape. Many did.

Look back two thousand years.

"Idiot! Out of my way! I own this ship! I'm getting offworld before those fucking rebels come and blow you all to hell!"

"Please, sir! She's just a baby! Let her go with you! I'll pay you! I can pay, please, please sir!"

A cacophony of begging and shouting voices assail the man, as he wards them off with a stun-cane, paralyzing those who get too close. He slowly backs into the ship, and shuts the door.

The tiny shuttle whirs, and lifts off the ground nigh-soundlessly, whisked into the sky by some invisible force. It lifts, and the man sighs.

"Finally. I don't want to be here when the final blow lands."

Before he has the chance to let a sadistic smile for those left below settle on his face, the shuttle is engulfed in flame, scourged from the sky.

"Popped one, sir. Unauthorized transport T-153-Beta."

"Good work, Ulain. You don't have to do this, you know. You're a Medal of the Magnate recipient. You're already on the clonerolls, and it's not as if we can't get you offworld to work against this new.. League."

"It's dirty work, Lieutenant, and I'd rather be doing it then the men who have wives and children. They need those last days."

"Call me Argov. It's not as if there's much time for protocol left. Now, I came down here, Corporal, to ask you about-"

"The Eternity Link. I know. It's not as if since Emperor Exaionae died we can replicate it, though. Why do you want me to be on a research team?"

"They're not.. research teams. Not any more, Corporal."

"Then what are they?"

"The Emperor had a vision. You know this as well as I do. It's why you joined the Realm Guard. He had the power to change the world, a sort of.. link, if you will. Tenuous, he called it, and weak."

"Sorry, el-tee. Not interested. I think the Link's.. wrong."

"Fine, Corporal. You're a hero of the Realm. I can tell you this. And trust me. This is important. Don't repeat it to anyone."

"Yessir."

"When the Emperor died, there was a message, scratched in blood on his wall. It was his blood. It was only one word. Sovereign."

"I don't understand.. Argov."

"I think you need to understand. He was trying to tell us something. And we need to find out what it was. We're sending a classified amount of reconstruction teams to worlds the Emperor had personal archaeologists and psi-researchers working on during the Chronosian War."

"Classified amount?"

"I'm pretty high up in ResOps, Ulain. It's classified even for me. Still, it was believed those worlds held some sort of key or power that would help us against the Warp."

"Why didn't we just use inhibitors?"

Argov laughed, and scratched at a face that had not seen a razor in days.

"You fought in the minor conflicts, not the big ones. You did some damn brave stuff, but you've never come gun-to-claw with a daemon. Inhibitors can stop them sending real ships from the warp, but they won't stop daemons and horrors. No, we were losing pretty badly. The war only ended because the Chronosians didn't want to overextend themselves with so many potential enemies around them. Every time it came to a boarding, or a ground battle... we lost. We were outnumbered in the sky, and we were butchered on the ground. Hell, even Tenacia was attacked at one point. So we figured we needed some defenses against daemons. Which is why I want you."

"So I can figure out this.. counter? Why? The Chronosians haven't threatened us nearly a century!"

"We'd be steamrolled if they did, though. More importantly, there's evidence of corruption at the highest levels of the League. A few daemons whispering temptations into the rulers of the League for a few decades, and we'll be just like the Chronosians."

"So we run?"

"No. But we can't fight those things. Not yet. There's precious little we know about the Sovereign, but I'm guessing the Emperor wants us to know about it. If we can find it, we can use it. That has to be the counter to the daemons. You'll be leading a research team to Ariete - it's about eight thousand lightyears counterspin. The League won't find us there, and you can prepare for our recovery from there."

"Is that an order?"

"No, Corporal. We need only the willing. We need men willing to found a new home in order to search for one desperate hope against an implacable enemy. You won't be running. You'll won't even be able to look forward to the death you have coming in a few days."

Ulain sighed.

"Fine, lieutenant. I'll do it. But only if you do one thing for me."

"What?"

"Take my name off the clonerolls. I don't want every damn soldier and psi in the Realm named after me. It'd be embarrassing."

"Fine. It's gone. There will be no more Ulains in the future, if it makes you happy to be unique."

Ulain chuckled, and quickly oriented his gun for another shot, bringing down another shuttle.

"It's not much, Argov. But it's something, and at this point - it's all I have."


The glass lies unspeaking to the unperceptive mind. Lightharrower taps it quietly, thinking.

Battleplate Dream of Innocence, 0600 hours

A salute is smartly given, and returned. Two men face each other, around them hundreds watching. Their eyes are intent, thousands of unblinking orbs focused on the meeting.

"High Commander.. Ulain. A pleasure to meet you."

"You called me here. I do not know how you got on my ship. The Realm does not welcome visitors such as you. Only your piercing of the inhibition field keeps you alive. For now."

"It's amusing, isn't it? How many times the same name crops up? How many times it's relevant? Every time the course of history changes, the same name. I wonder if the Sovereign has a sense of humour. Or perhaps it's your god, Ulain. Your nameless, impotent power."

Ulain laughs.

"I command a battleplate, my little friend. The Realm's greatest warship, and I could have you crushed into nothing from here."

"The Realm? I suspect you mean the last Realm, Ulain. Soon, however, it will be Five once more."

"What are you talking about?"

"Two thousand years ago, Ulain. You started this cycle. You left, and founded one of the Five Realms. Five hundred years ago, it was called the Kingdom of the Sovereign. Jallin destroyed it - Jallin is a corrupted form of Ulain, you know. I thought you'd like to know, not that you could possibly understand."

"Five Realms? There has only ever been one Realm, stranger. Whole and indivisible."

"And yours is the least among them. Corrupt. Indolent. Destroyed by her enemies, time after time, never capable of anything more than recovery. Rejoice, lost children. I am come, and I am... your redemption."

Ulain whirls forward, and picks the man up by the throat.

"What are you talking about? Explain, or I'll have you gutted where you stand!"

"So brave, for a captain of the mightiest ship the galaxy has seen for decades. So fearsome, Ulain. Why is it always violence? Why not seek to understand the Sovereign, and bow to him as we all must, in the end?"

Ulain waved his hand.

"He's raving. Take him away. Bring him back when he's ready to talk."

Two guards quietly flank the man, each placing a meaty hand on his shoulder.

"I am the Harrower of Light. Vileservant, I am named, and Terai son of Gorin has called me mokel, naming me correctly. I have brought death to the Kingdom of the Sovereign, formerly the Third Realm. To the Crystal Serendipity, formerly the Fifth Realm, I have driven the protectors of the Serendipity to madness, and have turned them on themselves."

Ulain looked at him, entranced. He raised his hand.

"Let him stay. At least until he finished this.. history."

"From the Serendipity, I took the Prophecy of Elesmail, and from their lore I unlocked the power within the First Word. Armed thus, I named myself Trask, and found within the First Word the first steps towards the second. There I failed, and was forced to spend many years outside of life, slowly willing myself back into existence. From here, I found the Vilesilencer Fleet, dedicated to the destruction of all worship of the Sovereign. I showed them the Pinnacle of Hope, dedicated to the understanding of the Sovereign, so much the better to defeat it."

He laughed.

"Both of them far outstripped your puny Realm in knowledge, and, turned against each other, they were both destroyed in the contest, each hoping to sacrifice themselves in order that the other would not survive. It was so easy to fool them into thinking that the Sovereign ruled their enemies. Such it was that I found the Third and Fourth Words, though the Second still eludes me. From here I have raised up the banners of the faithful, and I have come."

"Come to my battleplate? Why?"

"To claim a birthright, given two thousand years ago. To claim a kingship, long-forgotten, but still valid. To claim your service."

Ulain looked at him.

"Kill him. He's mad - and if he's not, he definitely needs to die."

"I am named Lightharrower, for it is not in you to defeat me. Many of you have tried, but you cannot touch me."

Guns echoed out, and Lightharrower's corpse fell to the floor.

"Leave this place. Get an R&D team up here to investigate the corpse, don't touch it. Everyone out. I want a moment here."

Dutifully, the bridge crew filed out of the interrogation room, back to their duties. Ulain watched them go, his back to Lightharrower's corpse.

Jerkily, as if on strings, the body rose from the ground.

Fire ran from rigid fingertips, and the doors quietly seal.

You killed me. It's not nearly as final as you make it out to be. You've merely disassociated a few molecules from others. You have not yet transcended your biological processes. It's a pity, to be quite honest. That your people should have nigh-divine military power and yet be so innocent.

Ulain whirled around, looking for the voice.

Incidentally, killing me was a poor move. I couldn't ghost in to your ship; you're clever enough to have a wall against that. I can't ghost out, either. Not that I really need to.

"What? What are you saying?"

Aybabtu.

Ulain's body jerks, and his eyes dim to black, once-vivid pupils scarcely visible.

He flicks his tongue around in his mouth, looking for the right words.

"It's a pity, really. That I should have to orchestrate so much for such a little effect. I merely wish I hadn't been forced to corrupt the AI beforehand. They're such useful little tools, though less so now. One battleplate. Three remain, and then a navy in addition to that. That should not take overly long."

He raises a hand, and the door is crushed into a tiny ball of hyperdense matter, and falls to the floor.

"Fates finally come together."

Lightharrower walks out of the room, looking idly back at his own corpse. He raises a hand, and it follows him jerkily, legs and arms moving in a parody of its once immutable grace.

Soldiers run up towards him, looking with fear at the corpse.

"Sir! The.. the.."

"I know, soldier. Trust me. It is no danger to me. I have suborned its powers."

"Sir, we've got an R&D team-"

"Send them back to the lab. They will not be necessary."

"Yessir."

Lightharrower closes his eyes, and opens them on the bridge of the ship, surrounded by the crew.

"Helm, kindly move us to Sovereign's Light. Ultrajump, emergency status."

"Is the station under attack, captain?"

Lightharrower chuckles.

"Not yet."