by Marc Mulero
Coe chuckled and carried on, ripping off the layers of filthy armor on his way to his quarters.
Sabin stood tall with Mars at his side. Confidence lifted his stature, built by the Rogues surrounding him and their willingness to follow. The hunter had never felt this much pressure before, to be responsible for so much more than himself and his wolf was a strange feeling. Though, his growing pride was nipped by a void within him.
The overseers miss their families who are held hostage, and I miss mine. The Sins, Lesh. Being away from her makes her image that much brighter in my mind. Coe was right about one thing, I suppose. Our hearts do rule us. If she could see me now, I’m sure she’d be fighting extra hard to hold back a smile. There’s something missing without that cold woman watching my back.
Sabin felt eyes on him, returning him from his world of thought. He lifted his gaze to find the Rogue guarding the entryway looking his way. The soldier was bashful having once denied Sabin from leaving the facility. He sheepishly peered at the one transforming their rebellion into something more.
“You going to let my wolf pee this time?” His smile grew from ear to ear.
The man laughed, happy that the overlord dispelled his embarrassment. “Not a chance!”
Sabin left with a grin on his face, making way to his father’s old study. The great hall of oversized gears and exposed mechanical workings was a place of modern art as much as it was functional. Conversing Volt Units dispersed from the scene upon seeing Aldarian’s son.
As he entered, he took a deep breath, running his fingers across the golden String Blades strapped to his side. His father’s presence was still in this room. Their short reunion lingered in his thoughts, and being in the space where it was all revealed to him evoked a greater sensation. Pain and appreciation smacked him all at once.
“If not for you, Mars, I’d truly be alone, wouldn’t I?” he said to his wolf, still looking to the geared ceiling.
Mars’ ears suddenly became alert. He sniffed the air and his tail stiffened. Sabin furrowed his brow, keen to his companion’s sense.
“What is it, boy?”
Mars growled at a Volt Unit skulking in the corner before beginning a cautious pedal forward. Something was awry. His trod quickly accelerated into a sprint and incessant barking sprung an alarm in Sabin’s head that made him clench a String Blade with concern.
The targeted soldier pushed off the wall with a pulse-gun in hand, unfazed by the deadly wolf charging forward.
Sabin’s heart thumped in his chest as he wound his weapon. He could feel his hair standing on end… a threat to his wolf, to him, here? Was this soldier about to raise a gun?
So much raced through his head so quickly that the burden made him reel back his arm. It was decided. Yes, he would draw blood in his father’s chamber. No, he wouldn’t let them act first… not if it was a threat to Mars’ life.
But his arm was still frozen. A contradiction. An instinct. A good thing too, because Mars suddenly stopped inches before the armored soldier, tail wagging.
And just like that, tension was diffused.
Sabin wasn’t sure if he had ever exhaled any harder. Seeing Mars nudge his head into the Rogue’s leg crying lovingly, it made him drop his guard completely with relief and make his way over. He squinted when the soldier removed the helmet. What was he seeing? Dark, shoulder length hair?
That faraway face was familiar, someone he knew, for sure, but he couldn’t quite register who. It was a her, with a slim body, perhaps not ready for war like it once was. Whoever this person was, she’d changed.
Then it clicked. He halted his step in astonishment.
“Volaina,” he mouthed.
There she was, staring forward through pained eyes before averting her gaze to the wolf begging for her attention. She’d come all this way to make amends.
He was happy… well, wanted to be happy, but the feeling was quickly pulled away by an overflow of grief they had shared.
“I… I told myself that this would be my final mission,” Volaina admitted, still petting Mars. “I said that I would likely fail this last task. But here I am, Sabin, not quite sure how this would play out. But I know in the depths of my heart that I had to try. I have to seek forgiveness.” She stood with tears readying for release.
Emotions were high. Contagious. All that Sabin could have had was taken for the grandness of their rebellion. Volaina was the tool that made it so. The spy, the executioner, and now the broken soul that wished she could take it all back. Sabin shared her pain. The thought of his lost kin and the sight of a damaged friend formed a tear that fell from his eye. He took a giant step forward and embraced her in a hug.
“Here I am thinking I’m doing well as a leader, then you slip right in like we have no defenses. I’m a jackass.”
“To be fair, I am a pretty good spy.” She laughed through her tears.
In each other’s arms, they cried together, letting the moment endure.
He broke the hold to look at her, scrutinizing her new appearance. “You look… cute.” His eye twitched, puzzled as he said the word.
Her mouth straightened into a line. “Not my proudest time, I know.”
They both chuckled as they wiped the wetness from their faces.
He gripped her fragile shoulders firmly. “From what I’ve gathered over the months, Al and Tes would have made the same decision you did that day. Hell, they would have never forgiven you if you hadn’t maintained cover. The people here, creating refuge for citizens of the world, would all be dead if not for your tough choice. I forgave you a long time ago, Volaina. It’s time that you forgive yourself.”
A flood built up again in her eyes, then her shoulders caved forward. It hurt. It always hurt. And so she sobbed into her usual pool of regret. At least this time she was grateful not to feel so alone. She had her friend back to thrash along with her.
Mars jumped in between them and licked Volaina’s neck. “Oh Mars…” She bent forward, laughing through her pain while cuddling the beast.
After minutes of letting everything out, she cleared her throat. “Good thing the Hiezers don’t have this guy. I would have been dead a long time ago.” She nudged Mars’ head.
“I would’ve been dead a long time ago too if not for him,” Sabin agreed. “He’s been with me since the dark days of hunting for food for the Hiezers. Even though Blague would be offended, I consider this pup my oldest friend.”
They sat in silence.
“Take him,” Sabin offered.
Volaina looked up in shock. “What? No! Never… are you trying to kill me where we stand?”
“Our missions are only growing in intensity. It would be selfish to keep him at my side. Why risk his life on the frontlines with me when he can stalk in the shadows with you?”
Volaina sighed. “My days of espionage are over, Sabin. I didn’t come to join the Rogues or bring you messages from the Sins. I came here for peace.”
He laughed. “Even better… teach my companion here what that’s all about. He’s a veteran soldier, after all. Show him something different in his golden years. Show him peace.”
Volaina looked Mars in the eyes. “I… I couldn’t.”
“You will,” Sabin said. “Besides, part of the deal is that you’ll have to come visit once a month so I can hang out with my buddies.”
She finally got back to her feet. “I can’t even begin to thank you…”
Sabin smiled. “Shhhh.”
Chapter 20
The time for gathering had come. A march to Nepsys, and not the peaceful kind either. After all of the planning from all corners of the hierarchy, the rebellion had come to speak. Determination finally overcame fear in humanity’s trials. It kept them moving forward, all the way to the city of the elite.
Drino clenched his jaw at the head of it all, eyes squinted from the reflective shine in the distance. The city was heavenly, as though not meant for human eyes. Just as Mulderan would have it.
“My o
ld barracks is in there, and I’m going to tear it the fuck down.”
His attention was pulled to the jets landing beside him on the left, one after the other like a rolled out red carpet to bolster his arrival. And to his right, sleek silver crafts representing the Dactuars perched on whatever flat land could be found.
Pistons purred as wind from the engines sent small rocks tumbling. They weren’t here to be quiet. No… they were here to storm.
More black Sin aerials swarmed their mark, powering off engines so fighters could meet their commander. The Champion and physicist flanked the ex-general, watching as their forces gathered.
“We’re a mile out from anti-air defense range,” said Drino. “Make sure coordinates are marked. One trip with our jets would trigger mayhem.”
He turned back, his Sin mark burning as a beacon to rally behind. Twenty thousand strong had already begun their trek from the backlands. Citizens from all over the exiled lands heeded the call, despite the dangers ahead.
“I’ll say this one more time, butterfly.” He jerked Biljin forward by his collar. “They can incinerate this horde with the snap of their fingers. If you’re not crystal on this assault and your defecting Hiezer, our deaths are on you.”
The Champion placed a calm hand on Drino’s chest. “We all understand the risks. We believe our contact will stall.”
Drino sneered at the Champion and kept his eyes on Biljin, baring his teeth. “If it’s you who organized our downfall, you will not fall quietly.” He lowered his voice to a whisper, “Two snipers have orders to open your skin for a long painful death, if you betray us.”
Biljin pursed his lips. “Are you done?”
The militant commander let go of the rich collar and shoved Biljin back.
“A brutal killer, sure. But not the brightest strategist.” Biljin dusted his attire. “I could have betrayed you a thousand different ways that would have kept me safer, and you, trapped.”
Drino balled a tight fist. “Not if you wanted to exterminate. If your mind is in line with Mulderan’s, if you believe in this Quarantine, this would be your only move.” He spit next to Biljin’s boot.
“I never would’ve imagined taking up arms again with you, Drino. Especially to topple our old kingdom,” Melissa attempted to cut past the bickering.
Drino unlatched his machine gun with one diesel arm, feeling a touch of deranged excitement. “On our own terms, this time.”
She nodded back with a prideful grin and unhooked her shield.
More were coming, embodying that excitement - Templos jets landing beside them with Wings of Freedom etched into metal. Fitting. The electricity powering the rebellion had arrived.
Jet’s powered down, engines purred into sleep, and then Melissa tensed. There was someone important exiting that aircraft, someone from her past. There, behind the Rogue overlord exiting, sauntered that flamboyant pyro.
Drino laughed with devious pleasure. “Does salt still lick that wound?”
“What’s fair is fair in war. My metallic leg fares better than my flesh one. I should thank Jayce, really,” she tried to play cool.
As the Rogues approached, Biljin gasped and said, “Oh boy.”
Jayce being Jayce, he refused to show any sense of acknowledgement, nor did he look at the leg that he’d claimed years ago. A poker face through and through, and an arrogant one at that.
He just walked on with his chin raised, half-cloak rippling over his chrome harpoon. What was he going to do? What was he going to say?
“That thing impaled your thigh, and then he ignited it without a second thought,” Drino instigated, not out of spite, but because he couldn’t hold back the thrill of glory that accompanied battle. “You’re tough as nails, Champion.”
The pyro pushed past Sabin with pointed shoes clacking against the floor, ignoring the roided ex-general and the bald genius. “It took many deaths on both of our sides. But now you finally see.” He lowered his chin out of respect for his old enemy, locking eyes with her. “Both my daughter and your redemption lie in that oversized ornament. Shall we?” He offered an arm for a truce.
Tension and anticipation clouded the air. All eyes fixated on the offering.
She returned the gesture. Hands gripped on either forearm to secure an old Templos bond that was valued by the Dactuars, burying the past so they could find their future.
Biljin looked almost shy in this moment. The entirety of his IQ couldn’t fathom the resilience behind this armistice. Bad blood that had to be forgotten and pride that had to be overcome. Being the smartest meant nothing around these heroes. Sometimes, facing death and living has more substance than being right.
“Don’t look at me,” Sabin said to the Volt Unit and Rogue soldiers. “Aid the Sins in ordering the mob. Our great stand awaits.”
Coe and Vleece positioned themselves behind Drino, knowing their part in the plan to come. Formations began to take shape and energy began to rise. In the short time that passed, the horizon wriggled with more people - a rough one hundred thousand souls spreading wide on their advance into the Grand City of Nepsys.
The March of Exiled was broadcasted on all Hiezer channels. Sins knew that there was no surprising the elite even if they tried, so they took a different approach - what better option than announcing their own presence, in their own way? Rodest challenged the Hiezer regime in the most profound way he could. To hit the oldest ones, the leaders, all who would remember this recording from their old leader, Orin. To test their conscience.
Every highlord and councilmember in existence knew the voice. The message was compiled from recordings of him when he was the CEO of Ingora. Chopped and spliced to sound seamless:
“There will come a time when darkness will cease. It will be a time of reflection. A time of less struggle. Though, how we act now will define how we see ourselves then, in that future,” the voice deepened. “The answer is not to follow out of fear, but to lead out of hope. Hear us now, before action. Take audience before war. For there is much we all can learn.”
The depth of history and the tribulations of mankind eclipsed Mulderan’s hold. Here, the Sins challenged the Hiezers to hear their words through the voice of a great man. A true leader. And soon, the truth would be revealed to the Hiezers, that enemy bonds of Ayelan breed insanity. Though, this was not something that could be convinced. It had to be shown.
A sleek craft soared before them, transitioning its thrusters to block their path just a few hundred feet outside of the trip zone. This armored jet was ancient in its markings, deadly in its build. It could mean only one thing - the Neraphis had arrived, using their own resources to help the world for the first time in a century.
And who better to accompany them than the Sin Leader himself - descending the steps with his shrouded Elder beside him, as if he were visiting from the realm of the dead with a grim reaper at his side. His time in mourning was marked by hair that extended past his shoulders and darkened shadows beneath his eyes.
Although his face was drained, his body said anything but. Finally, he was healed of Rol’s flares… recovered. Ready. Bare arms lined with muscle exuded much needed strength in the stand to come. The vest he chose to wear was a statement too – a testament to the rebellion. And it was of Sin design. His mark was brighter than the rest, pulsing for all to see.
Blague watched the endless line of citizens inching closer behind the army that halted before him. “A dream of dreams. Our vision will be realized,” he spoke loud enough for his commanders to hear on his stride. “These soldiers are prime for battle. Disciplined and strong. Was it you who organized this, Drino?”
The militant commander smirked and cackled, while Sabin blushed behind him.
“Sabin... old friend. My how you have grown!” excitement beamed from Blague’s voice. “Planted seeds, father,” he whispered to himself.
Blague’s presence was mysterious, powerful, captivating. Curiosity piqued from his absence and exhilaration from his reemergence. There was
none better in the face of the rebellion’s greatest stand.
He scanned to see familiar faces, worry for their lives carefully hidden. Good. He knew the fear was there… and that they would need it for what’s coming.
Roaring Bulchevins led the line, representing all of the fire that Lito had created through his leadership, and Uldan, the builder, proud to be amongst them. Morn led his fleet, this time with grounded vehicles, while Rogues who Blague had met in the Centric Crater and fought beside in the Dome watched on with admiration.
“Cherris is in Senation protecting the civilian way of life?” Blague addressed Biljin, awaiting confirmation.
“Sir,” the interim commander replied.
Blague clicked his comm back on. “Rodest, the broadcast is looped?”
“On the hour, every hour,” a response came from the commander radios. “Good to have you back, sir.”
Static blew out from the receivers. “Orders are in place. You are clear to proceed,” the masked Hiezer turncoat alerted.
The Sin Leader stared at his most trusted crew. “My brother will have wanted us to come knocking at his doorstep. Our gamble is placed in the hearts and minds of those around him. We come with faith that the Hiezers are not as corrupt as their dictator. We will push them to the brink of ultimatum. Our pocket ace is the defector. If all falls apart, we rest peacefully in our efforts. On that, we march.” He turned and began the three-mile walk to their final destination.
A deep bellow reverberated through the great barracks of Nepsys, a noise that hadn’t been heard in Hall Shivis ever. These were not test alarms…
Many thought the stronghold to be untouchable, but for the first time in its history, that image was shattered. Invasion sirens blared. The inferior insects dared to trespass, they dared to, and in turn the pulse of the elite raced. A historic birthing ground for the Hiezer Protective Order and a place that housed many generals was about to be put to the test.
Wes Howard roared his orders so they would echo far throughout the vicinity, rallying elites to join him. Boots clamped over marble, loads of them, all in rush to the Gates of Eternity. They pooled out of the armory with translucent shields rimmed in gold, armor black as night.