Zane's breath left her as she sank to her knees in horror and shock. Her senses felt obliterated. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she looked at Phasia for answers.
Phasia only confirmed her worst fears.
“Yes, Zane, they are returning: the Storm of Stars. We are at war with the Gods!”
“Zane! Wake up! Zane!”
Zane sat bolt upright. Her body was being shaken. She felt her mind still wide open to the Zater Jen psi-link, from which she was being awakened. But the vision before her was different.
She saw through a lingering psionic haze they were in the same room with its high dark dome they had been ambushed in and surrounded by Surge. Archron, Decion, and Valtare stood at the front of the Surge wall arguing with Sceptre and Gordell. But Zane couldn’t hear them. And she was still being shaken.
Zane's head lolled over to see Azure shaking her, words coming out of her mouth which she couldn’t hear, either. Zane shook her head to clear it, but the only thing she could hear was a buzzing in her mind, like the voices of three billion Zater Jen conversing within her head, until it reached a deafening crescendo . . .
Phwoosh!!
Zane fell sideways. Unable to reconcile all the physical, temporal, and psionic realities assailing her, she retched. There followed a deafening silence, slowly replaced by familiar harsh sounds of people shouting . . .
“. . . awake. Zane are you okay?”
Zane wiped the sticky residue from her mouth. She recognised Azure’s voice. But she could only look at the Sky Warrior in stunned silence and smile blissfully like a goof.
There was only one thought on her mind: Phasia's wrong! We won’t lose this war.
“. . . No, Sceptre, you are the prisoners and you will listen to me—join us or die. The universe is changing in our image. We will lead.” Archron made it sound like some kind of great game.
Defiantly, Sceptre shook his head, peering over to Gordell beside him who was listening with both ears and mind. His psi-presence was picking up strange chatter from the Surge. They were uneasy; their disquietude reverberating out in distorted psi-waves. But his silent queries for information were rebuffed. Anxious or not, they weren't divulging anything to him. He turned to Sceptre and discreetly shook his head. They were going to have to fight alone.
Sceptre turned to Urana and Azure who were tending to Force and Zane, respectively, both still unconscious. Urana's eyes watched him fiercely—your fault! her stare accused him.
He was about to refuse Archron’s devil’s pact, when he was interrupted by Zane awakening.
Sneering, Archron looked down disdainfully upon his fellow Astral. “So, our dear departed leader’s daughter has grown up, but is still weak. Aren’t you supposed to be dead?” he smirked.
Zane stood up uneasily, stomach still rolling, still weak from her ordeal. She wished she had a mint. However, after dusting herself down, she regarded Archron in his faux Roman armour, and nonchalantly shot back (breath stinking): “Not as dead as your brother!”
Her words provoked an immediate reaction from Archron who clenched his fists for a fight.
“Don’t provoke him,” Azure whispered under her breath, spreading out a protective arm.
Zane ignored her, walking forward to Archron, challenging him.
“Not so big without baby brother to back you up, eh, uncle Cal?” Zane goaded, knowing Netherlord was dead without totally knowing how, as she hadn’t been there. Had she? She tried to remember as she grinned at Archron for extra measure.
Archron snapped. Before anyone could react, he snatched up his voidspear, pointed it at Zane, and fired.
Nothing happened. Or rather nothing happened to her.
Zane should have been disintegrated, ripped apart by entropic energy, but it swirled around her and drained away as if sucked into another dimension.
“Spearhead!” Archron spun angrily at the Surge, blaming them for interfering with his powers.
“It wasn't them!” Valtare stirred uneasily, also at a loss. His rudimentary communications with the Surge had confirmed this. He felt the Surge were holding something back, but he couldn't tell what.
Secrets within secrets, he thought darkly.
Inwardly, Zane smirked, silently thanking her Zater Jen guardians for the protection. At least she hoped it was them.
Angrily, Archron stared at his voidspear, stunned, then at Zane who didn't flinch, then back at his voidspear. His helmeted face hid his swirling emotions as he stepped back.
Decion and Valtare looked toward their Lord, knowing the balance of power had shifted. Something was happening which they didn’t understand.
So Zane helped them out.
“I want to see her,” she demanded. “I want to see her now!” She resisted stamping her foot like a petulant child.
“Zane, what’s going on?” Sceptre questioned. He was interrupted before he could get a reply.
A sudden commotion behind them made them turn toward the sound.
“Wha' da Desus goin' on?” a recovering Force slurred himself awake. His eyes widened at the sight of the Surge. “Heh, tin men.” Seeing the stern faces of the Starguards staring at him, he shut up.
“Time lag,” Zane explained to Sceptre. “His brain will catch up soon.” They looked at Force again, tongue hanging out, eyes glazed.
Sighing, slightly embarrassed by the interruption, Zane turned her attention once again to Archron. “As I was saying, why don’t you show us, Archron?” Zane goaded the elder Astral, who would be King of the universe. “Show us the secret the Knights Destina have been hiding all this time.”
Archron was hesitant, but even Decion turned to his erstwhile Lord. “What is she talking about, Archron? We were promised a war to end the Lore once and for all. We were promised a battlefield on the last world at the end of time. We were promised a new beginning as Gods of a new universe. What is happening?”
“I don’t think you would understand, Decion,” Archron stated in a low growl. “There is so much more going on than our little battle here with the Lore. There’s everlasting peace on the way.”
“You could have fooled me,” an emboldened Zane retorted.
“Enlighten us then, Archron,” Gordell spoke; his Chryrian minds impatient, understanding more of why the Surge were jittery.
Archron regained some composure, smiling as he said: “I’ll let someone else do the explaining.” He stepped away from them, directing his vision upwards.
The others, even the Surge in their stiff manner, followed suit, all eyes drawn to the top of the dark dome where something large fluttered in the shadows. Abruptly, the figure dropped down, a flicker of green wings circling in the air. Before anyone registered what it was, the figure, a great Lore female, landed beside Archron.
“Wha' da hell zat?” cried Force wildly. He raised his arms trying to use his powers but they wouldn't work. Urana forced his arms down, shaking her head. “Dodal nightmare,” he wailed.
Urana smiled weakly at him. “Finally something we can agree on!” She, Azure, Gordell, and Force watched as Sceptre and Zane confronted the new arrival.
Sceptre looked at the creature, at first thinking it to be Phasia, finally betraying them. But as he looked closer, he found he recognised the features of the woman. He recoiled in disbelief, taking a step back. It couldn’t be. She was dead. Long dead.
Archron smiled again, knowing Sceptre recognised the woman beside him, even though the others, besides Zane, didn’t. They looked at Sceptre, sensing all was not right.
“Yes,” chuckled Archron, “that’s right, Sceptre. I’d like to introduce you to my mother, Destina, last of the Celestian Knights.”
The Starguards stared at the being in front of them. The Magna Auran Starguards could barely recognise the former Celestian Goddess before them, but it was her: Destina, daughter of Millenniar, sister of Millennius, mother to Netherlord and Archron—Lore.
The Celestian Knight regarded Sceptre and the rest of the Starguards coldly. Her ra
gged mouth of energy twisted open and harsh sounds poured forth with sparks of wispy plasma:
“You are kin of my kin. The Gods have sent you to me. We will all be here together when they arrive and remake our worlds so that we may all live in peace.” Her mouth closed.
Sceptre just stared at her. “Gods, we have no Gods. The beings that supposedly made us never existed. Myths!” he dismissed Destina with an angry back wave of his hand.
“You are wrong, Aerl,” Archron said, almost compassionately. “This is the truth of the Knights Destina texts. The Gods, the Storm of Stars, are all around us. This will be their home. It was mine and my brother’s mission to open the universal portals so that they may pass through. But there were forces ranged against us. You, for instance; the one they call the Time Empress; the errant Phasia, and most importantly, the Lore horde when they arrive here.”
Zane shook her head. “Your mother lied to you, Archron. Destina is not trying to unite the Antiqchronals, she is re-birthing the Storm of Stars for war. We’re all going to be destroyed.”
Urana shouted over them all. “Wait a minute, why would the Lore be against you and the return of the Storm of Stars? They were the Storm of Stars’ favourite Peoples,” Urana asked, trying to get her head around any of it.
As if in answer, Destina let out a howl of anguish pain, “They are coming,” she hissed. “They send forth their emissary,” she shrieked frantically, staring up toward the dome.
Again, they all followed her gaze as the dome melted away.
The golden ball of energy plunged through the atmosphere of the once blue world. It was once home, but now it would be a battlefield. It roared through the sky seeking out the silver city on the edge of the world. It could hear the shriek of the enemy and her cohorts; there, there under the protection of the Surge who ringed the sky above in a seemingly impenetrable barrier. But their barrier was no protection. They couldn’t absorb the energy from the orb as it brushed the Surge aside in resplendent radiance.
The energy sphere met the dome, crashing through it; hot and unwavering sunshine burst through the room, the bright burning sun shining down like a golden eye of doom.
The golden sphere radiated eye-piercing rays blinding everyone who dared look upon it. All except Zane, who continued to stare defiantly.
As it neared Zane shook her head. “No,” she whispered as she realised what, or who, the sun-like being was.
The energy ball glided through the cracked dome, golden wings unfurling to slow its descent, the light alone causing everyone to fall to the ground. Even the Surge struggled to absorb all the energy to keep everyone from being fried alive.
Destina hissed at the newcomer, who turned full circle in a wave of rippling heat. His eyes met with Zane’s and there was a moment of recognition—of family. But Zane continued to stare at him, not believing that it had come to this.
“Announce yourself, Lore!” her scream echoed through the searing heat. Her heart beat like a pulsar as she awaited the answer.
There was a crackling as a voice of fire emerged: “Behold,” the being spoke. “I have returned—Millennius, king of the Lore!”
INTERLUDE 2
THE EXTRA-DIMENSIONAL ADVENTURES
OF
ALPHA RION AND CHALANT
AMAGESH
“What happened?” Chalant asked, tentatively rubbing her bruised behind.
Alpha Rion, also half-sitting on the ground, looked around. “I think the portal collapsed for some reason.”
They had been dumped onto a very hard and parched yellow land. The air had a faint smell of iron, sulfur and another tangy aroma. They dusted themselves off, getting to their feet. They were obviously on a very different world from the weapons fortress dimension and even from Earth.
Luckily their visors compensated, shading their eyes in the brightness of the almost golden sky. They search the horizon, finding themselves in the middle of nowhere with nothing but the cracked yellow barren wasteland all around them. Not a tree or greenery in sight. An eerily quietness persisted with neither birds or insects investing the skies. And it was hot. Scorchingly so. They did not have to look very far for the cause. Above in the sky was an unfeasibly large sun, almost white hot, hanging unimaginably close to the planet.
“Quite a sight!” Chalant whistled. “And look!” pointing to the other direction.
Beyond the horizon on the other side of the planet hung two small crescent moons.
“Not Earth, then,” Alpha Rion replied, heaving a sigh.
Chalant looked at him, disappointment in her voice, too. “Nope.”
Chalant stared between the sun and moons, her dark eyes squinting as if a memory had suddenly stirred. But she dismissed it; memories playing tricks on her Her blue and silver manoeuvre suit was still dusty. As she attempted to slap more dust from her arms, she stopped suddenly, head shooting up.
Alpha Rion was still cursing their luck, then noticed Chalant wasn’t listening. At first, he thought she was angry with him for pulling her unceremoniously through the portal created by the mysterious sword or was ignoring him, but he suddenly realised she was listening, but just not to him. Her tall, thin body was still, eyes closed under arching eyebrows, her delicate nose and chin pointed up, her full lips slightly parted all attuned to the task at hand.
“Someone’s here,” Chalant spoke, still standing motionless, listening not to any physical sound, but to something else.
Alpha Rion stared into the empty distance, heat rippling the alien air. His deep blue eyes off-set the black of his hair and and the red and black of his armour, from which he started to reach for his sword. He thought he could, too, hear something, a faint whisper, spoken not on the air, but in his mind. It suddenly grew stronger, vibrating his mind. Alpha Rion tried to resist, but it penetrated even his strongest mental defences.
“Psi-probe!” shouted Chalant grimacing, trying to protect her own mind.
The sound, like a hurricane of voices, whooshed violently around their heads. They reeled from the din, the oppressive heat conspiring to add to the assault.
And then it stopped.
A little dazed and confused, the two looked around, their minds still ringing, especially in the all-too-eerily quiet.
THOOOM!!
The very air around them thundered savagely, the shock wave knocking them down again as a giant plume of dust covered them. Beneath them, the ground cracked then faulted abruptly, dropping down three meters before halting to a juddering stop, rocks and rubble falling onto them. As abruptly it fell quiet again as the echoing thunder receded.
Up through the dirty haze, on the shallow crater’s rim, the two could make out the figures of half a dozen beings standing above them in a circle. The dust swirled and began to clear.
Alpha Rion instinctively reached to his sides to draw his swords from his dimensional sheaths, but nothing happened. He had no energy. He stared up through the dust waiting for the strangers to attack.
Five of the beings on the crater edge were the like of which Alpha Rion had not seen before——tall, metallic beings with huge wings arcing over them. The last, surprisingly, was an alien humanoid male. His scaly skin or outer covering was the darkest black, neither matte nor glossy, but strangely reflective.
Chalant thought his skin might be metal or an exoskeleton of some kind, but soft organic metal, unlike his surrounding companions. His muscular body betrayed no genitals, but his gender was in no doubt. And while his head was not smooth, but of the same mottled patterning as his body, neither did he have hair anywhere. He was not the tallest of beings and he was thin, but with a strong wiry frame. Pronounced facial features consisted of a sharp nose, protruding brow, thin lips. But it was his eyes which held the life, the spirit of him, shining black piercing eyes. He wore no other adornments or accessories. He held a quiet authority. This was his world.
There was a period of intimidating silence as the two groups stared at each other, wondering what was going to happen next.
But Alpha Rion noticed there already seemed to be some sort of contact between the alien and Chalant. It was a silent, knowing bond between strangers of the mind. Then as suddenly as Alpha Rion had that feeling, it was over.
Chalant stirred, as if released from some invisible grip. She rubbed her head.
Then. . .
“Understand, I never thought I would meet another e'fromik . . . sentient being again,” the alien said, in a hesitant voice, as if unaccustomed to being used or having just learned their language.
Chalant had also recovered her wits. “Uh, I’m Tera ZaVoir. From Earth” She didn’t know what to say or do, standing in a small crater created by their visitor’s forceful landing.
“Earth?” the stranger voiced the unfamiliar word. He tailed off, his thin dark lips stretching into a smile. Then he looked at Alpha Rion, with his piercing black eyes, puzzlement across his features.
“Alpha Rion,” he introduced himself. “I’m not from Earth, but Tera and I travel together,” he added, just to let the stranger know. “And you?”
“Pleasure to be named Amagesh.” His voice sufficiently recovered revealed a deceptively soft, almost lisp-like quality. "Understand, I am from a world you would never have heard of, from another galaxy or universe. You are lost, like I am?" A faint buzz echoed his words.
“Yes,” Chalant answered irritably. “And you don’t have to keep interrogating my mind for information. Just ask.” Her head hurt from keeping him out. He was powerful. She could only wonder if the rest of his race were so.
“Apologies,” Amagesh replied quickly. “Understand, I required to learn your language. Being alone for so long, speaking aloud comes hard to me. Forgive my intrusions.”
He seemed sincere enough, even to Alpha Rion. Chalant nodded and the stifling mental atmosphere seemed to clear somewhat.
The Destinia Apocalypse (The Starguards - Of Humans, Heroes, and Demigods Book 4) Page 8