The Destinia Apocalypse (The Starguards - Of Humans, Heroes, and Demigods Book 4)

by Raymond Burke

  Destina sighed dramatically. “Phasia, hah! She lied to you, too, then. She knew,” Destina contended. “Oh, yes, we were infected with a Lore virus . . .” she confessed, “but over time we would have become Lore, fought with you, and destroyed Earth. We didn’t want that so we left Earth; we split up and roamed the universe. But Synther found me!” She threw him another disdainful glance. “He offered me a truce in return for a cure for my ailment. Here on this world . . . ” She waved her arms around her. “The Surge are a cure of sorts, absorbing my energies, and allowing me to live a normal life, such as it is. But I always had a far grander ambition!” Proudly she regarded her sons, “The Knights Destina will rise and fulfil their mission; such does this destiny flow through my blood. Through our blood!”

  It took time for the information to sink in. Archron and Netherlord still stood beside by their mother, exchanging confused glances. Aeon recovered first.

  “And that mission?” a fearful Aeon already knew the answer to that.

  “Magna Aura of course, to begin with!” Synther spoke out, bursting to reveal this plan. “The firstborn of the Celestian Knights are of no use to us if they will not join us. What better way to seek revenge against the rest of the Celestian Knights for their rejection of us!”

  “Us?” laughed Aeon. “You mean yourself. You turned your back on the Celestian Knights. You just want revenge!”

  Synther bristled. “Who left you on Earth to rot?” he argued back. “Your father, that's who! Who is giving you back your destiny? I am!” Synther thumped his chest. “Join us,” he indicated Destina, “and take what is yours, before you end up like Magna Aura when we attack again.” His angry breaths joined the wind, whipping through them all as he awaited his answer.

  Aeon stared a hole into Synther. He regarded the other Celestian Knight. “How can you do this, Destina?” asked Aeon, shaking his head. Archron and Netherlord avoided his eyes.

  But she ignored him. “And your daughter?” Destina asked Synther. “Has she not joined us?”

  Synther looked downcast and then angrily at Aeon. “They turned her against me,” he accused Aeon. “The war had been won, Azure would have been mine, but Phasia found your children. Millennius has a lot to answer for: me, you, Azure, Phasia, and more . . .”

  “All this for petty revenge?” Aeon yelled. He backed away from the group, sword pointing forward. “Archron, Netherlord, let’s go! We won't be a part of this!”

  Destina laughed. “How are you going to leave? Walk to the stars? You have no power.” She addressed her sons. “Are you going to let him order you around for the rest of your lives, especially after what his father put us through?”

  “Without my father, you would not have escaped after The Fall and had a life on Earth or bore two sons. You can’t have it both ways, Destina,” countered Aeon, trying not to shout, swallowing down his fear.

  “He’s smart, Destina, I’ll give him that, but tell him the rest,” Synther urged.

  Aeon look exasperated. He had no way to escape. No way to warn the others. Yet he had no choice, he had to do both. For now, he listened.

  None too proudly, it seemed, Destina announced: “There is an alliance between the Lore, the Surge, and the Knights Destina.”

  “What?” Aeon floundered.

  Even her sons balked at this announcement.

  “Why, mother?” Netherlord asked.

  “Look around you,” Destina said. “We have the Lore. And don’t you recognise who the Surge are?” She answered before they could: “They are the People of Matter burned to stone. These are Antiqchronals. This is the Knights Destina’s universe!”

  “Myths, Destina, and superstition,” Aeon scoffed, though a deep down fear at the truth petrified him.

  “No, Xathanius,” Destina scolded Aeon by his birth name. “They are real and we will prove it by summoning the Storm of Stars. We will remake our worlds as they were,” Destina proclaimed.

  Archron and Netherlord turned to each other realising the import of their mother's news. Their destinies were being fulfilled.

  “The Lore have made you completely mad!” Aeon raged, eyes darting around for a way to escape. But they were thoroughly surrounded by Surge.

  Destina rebuffed him, shouting, “No, Xathanius, you see, my Lore visions have revealed to me the secrets of the Knights Destina. I saw the Storm of Stars. They are not dead, only sleeping. It is my intention to awaken the Gods, to ask their forgiveness for disobeying the prophecy that the Celestian Knights should not have entered through the Alphatronius' vortex during our war with the Lore, and that we may rise again. But in order to succeed, we will need all the Antiqchronals and the Fifth's energies to open the portals for them and to bath the Gods in enough energy to awaken them. I want to set the universe right,” she proclaimed.

  Aeon laughed, galled at her insane ambition. “There’s nothing wrong with the universe,” he said, “Just you. And why should the Surge join you?” he asked. “Surely they would hate the Lore for what they did to them.” He looked at the mute impassive metal-like sculptures.

  “The Surge are, if nothing, a proud people, full of justice. And justice to them would be a reformed universe where all the Antiqchronals were equal as never before. This will be their rebirth,” Destina answered smartly.

  Aeon sweated. He was running out of arguments and option. “At the cost of everything else, including all our lives,” he realised glumly.

  “Maybe not,” Destina threw him a bone. “The Gods may look kindly upon us and spare us,” she said. “Who is with me?”

  Without hesitation her sons joined her side. Synther crossed his arms in satisfaction, surrounded by the unmoving Surge. The wind had died to a whisper waiting for whatever came next.

  Unsurprisingly, Aeon stood alone.

  “Zasandra and our daughter, Celestra, will also join us,” Netherlord confirmed.

  “Naturally,” Destina grasped her son's shoulder. “They will be welcomed.”

  “Over my dead body will my sister join you,” vowed Aeon. He wished his powers were back.

  Destina considered Aeon for a while. Her lips twisted in a firm but sad smile. “So shall it be. Kill him,” Destina instructed no one in particular.

  Aeon raised his sword, ready for the attack, pointless, he knew against so many. But he hoped Phasia's tempered blade would protect him.

  “Spearhead!” Destina didn’t need to finish her sentence as Synther flared up into his blue Loreself, released from the Surge's energy-absorbent influence.

  Aeon crouched into a defensive position, searching for any cover or advantage. But before he could defend himself, Synther blasted him with corrosive Lore energy. Aeon seemed to blur in the blast and swayed uneasily as Synther halted his slaughter.

  Smouldering and bloodied, Aeon fell to the ground, still clutching his sword. His blackened dead body smelled foul in the wind, which had chosen that moment, as if in spite, to pick up again.

  Archron and Netherlord stood in silence not sure whether to show shock or to be worried Synther would attack them. Then they felt their own energies return to them as Destina ordered Spearhead to release them as well.

  “Mother!” Archron shrunk back in fear. He cried in heaves.

  Netherlord shaded his eyes, staring open-mouthed.

  To the shock of her sons, Destina herself had transformed into a large green Lore with voluminous wings and a fiery crown of dark hair.

  She tried to mollify them. “This is now my true form, my sons.” Destina’s voice was almost unrecognisable beneath the crackle of energy. Looking down at the burned body of Aeon, and seeing the looks of uncertainty in her sons' eyes, her voice betrayed no emotion. “Bury him,” she ordered. “We must leave here, quickly. The Astrals will surely search for him. I have chosen a place and prospective future time on Earth from where to witness the rebirth of the Storm of Stars.”

  Archron and Netherlord hesitated a split second. The lingering moment was rent by a blast of energy crackling p
ast them as Synther gouged out a shallow grave. He kicked and rolled the semi-cremated body of Aeon into the hole, back-filling it with another gust of energy.

  He stood back, landing a look of gloating pleasure at Destina's sons. Neither looked back. Neither said a customary prayer.

  “Thank you, Synther,” Destina said, a little disappointed in her boys. “Cal Xarien,” she continued. “I want you to do whatever it takes to find the Peoples of Time and Psyche, the remainder of the Antiqchronals. Make me an army from them.”

  Archron nodded swiftly, keen not to seem weak again in front of both his mother and Synther. “We had problems with Psis on ancient Earth. I will search them out for help, willingly or not.”

  “Good,” she said. Turning to Netherlord, she ordered. “Lazeron, I will show you how to open the portals for the Storm of Stars. They will have to be created in precise locations, dimensions, and times. You will have to destroy or manipulate space-time in order to create hyper-dimensional corridors for their passage.”

  “Understood, mother,” her younger son acknowledged.

  Again, Destina paused, scrutinising her sons and their commitment. “And as for the rest of the Astrals who don’t join us, they will have to be eliminated,” Destina commanded.

  “Mother, we can’t . . .” Netherlord started.

  Destina shot her son a withering look leaving Netherlord feeling ten years old again.

  “I will do that,” Synther interrupted, gladly offering his services. “But it will take time to find another horde and re-establish the Helstar.”

  Netherlord glared at him. “Wait until my family have left the Chronopolis,” he said darkly, backed up by his brother.

  “Naturally,” purred Synther. His wicked grin left them less than confident.

  Destina continued, “And I especially desire that Millennius’ lineage be excised from the universe. No younglings thirsting for revenge.” She fixed both her sons with a hard glare of sparks. There was no way to get out of it. Their hands would be getting bloody.

  Netherlord nodded silently. Archron embraced his role further.

  “We should also take control of Magna Aura negating any resistance. But I’m sure a few of the Starguards would be willing to join us. I believe the Alphatronius Clan are sympathetic to the Knights Destina, are they not?” Archron asked, knowing the data on his crystalator was correct.

  Destina smiled, warming to the idea. “Yes, so the legends say. Try to split the Starguards. Divide and conquer. Our family will rule the universe.” Her sinuous lips parted in a cruel smile. “I am so proud of you, my sons.” Her Lore eyes couldn’t well up, but the emotion was there.

  “Don’t forget the Lore,” Synther added, somewhat less than ecstatic his plans of domination were being suborned.

  “Of course,” Destina outwardly smiled. “The Knights Destina and the Lore will rule,” she affirmed their alliance. “Come.” She held out two energised hands. Archron and Netherlord reached out and held one each. “Synther, I will meet you up-time on Earth, once the Chronopolis is destroyed.”

  Synther hissed agreement. He traced a circular motion in the air with his arm, a blue flash of energy erupted before him. He vanished through the created portal, which snapped shut with a decidedly tempestuous electrical hiss.

  With Synther gone, Destina regarded her sons in turn. “We need the Lore, but we don’t need Synther. All we need is control of the Lore. And the Surge can do that.” She indicated Spearhead and the thousands of Surge around them. “We will take care of Synther once he has completed his side of the bargain. There is no sin in betraying a traitor,” she laughed. “Are you ready, Spearhead?” she addressed the Surge leader behind her.

  The great red Surge bowed; his forces were ready.

  Destina blew into the air in front of her and a portal whirled out of thin air, the temporal vortex within beckoning her to join with it. She soared into the portal followed by Archron and Netherlord. Spearhead signalled to several thousand Surge who streamed into the portal departing the strange little world, littered with dead metal bodies.

  Only one Surge was left behind to watch over the dead. In a few days, he would detect a large, unknown object approaching the planet. The jet-black Surge would engage the alien intruder, not knowing his actions would bring the Earth-Axala war into his life.

  Spheron fell out of phase space.

  Even for a Lore he was exhausted. He had followed Lord Aeon and the sons of Destina, if only to see the end of Synther. Instead of recklessly time-porting down shadowing the Astral trio, he had stayed hidden in phase space as a precaution.

  From there, he had witnessed the treachery of Destina, her astonishing alliances with Synther and the Surge, and her plan for the Storm of Stars, which was even more frightening. It had taken all of his power to keep from being detected by the Surge and having his powers absorbed from phase space. And to his ever-lasting bitter regret, he could only watch helplessly as Aeon had been murdered.

  Now he glided over to the grave, gently uncovering Lord Aeon's head, looking upon the burnt, almost unrecognisable face of a warrior whom he had practically raised as a second son and who had now died too soon.

  “I'm sorry, Xathanius. I failed you.” He tried to cry, found he could not, which made him want to cry more.

  What could I have done? he thought savagely to himself. Spheron knew he couldn’t go back and change time; the Surge would already be here and absorb his powers and Synther or Destina would have killed him, too.

  There was only one thing he could do. He covered Aeon's corpse again. Not wanting to leave, but having to, Spheron stretched his arms out and felt space split into the summoned portal. He flew into the portal and imagined his destination.

  If he was to help save the universe then he had to find Millennius.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The Astral Dimension. Long ago.

  “What do you mean you're leaving?”

  A furious Helexius jumped from the throne after his cousins, Archron and Lazeron had suddenly announced their intentions. They stood alone in the central chamber.

  “Why in Zeus' thunder are you going?”

  Nonchalantly, Archron stated, “We're going to explore, search the universe for answers.”

  Helexius did a double take. “Answers? To what?” He shook his head in non-comprehension. “With my brother, our leader, still missing, you're leaving just like that?” a suspicious Helexius added.

  Netherlord gulped subtly at the mention of Lord Aeon.

  “Naturally, we will be searching for him on our travels,” Archron channelled his mother's tone. It was becoming easier for him. “But the war is over. Synther is dead. We are leaving!” he stated with finality.

  “And Zasandra and Celestra are coming with me,” Netherlord confirmed, trying to sound as confident as his brother.

  Helexius opened his mouth to contend this, but couldn't speak. A mixture of anger, disillusionment, fear, and confusion gripped him. His blue eyes closed in deep thought. He took a deep breath.

  Composed again, he asked. “Are you sure Synther is dead?”

  “Yes,” Archron replied assuredly. Standing beside his brother in front of Helexius was actually calming for him. He smiled inwardly, finding it easy to lie to Helexius, who was more worried about his own brother than what they were up to.

  Helexius sat down heavily. Only a week ago, Archron and Netherlord had returned with a tale of an epic battle on a faraway world where Aeon had slaughtered the Traitor Synther, but had mysteriously disappeared soon after. Presumably Aeon had been returning to the Chronopolis but never arrived. The brothers were conveniently fighting off other Lore at the time. And while they saw Synther defeated, they didn't see where Aeon had gone.

  Under intense questioning and a time-port to the said lush green world in another galaxy, Helexius had been forced to believe their story. Signatures of the Traitor Synther's potent Lore energy and DNA had been found in a battlefield along a lake, (the substituted world a
ruse by Destina with Synther providing the samples) enough to convince Helexius of the truth of his cousins' words.

  The Astrals were safe for now in the Chronopolis, watching over Magna Aura. Now the sons of Destina had dropped their bombshell. The timing didn't feel right to Helexius, but what could he do? He couldn't hold them back. They weren't prisoners. And at least they had the decency to tell him face to face, as an equal.

  Reluctantly, he only had one option. “Very well,” he relented. “But I expect you will report in from time to time and return if called to action.” Statement not a question.

  “Of course,” Archron bowed in response. “We are kin after all. And we stand together,” he answered with a crisp smile.

  The brothers were about to bow again, but Helexius stood down from the throne pacing toward them. He stopped and held out his right arm. Hesitantly, Archron first, then Netherlord clasped Helexius' forearm. Eyes met, searching for meaning, secrets, and truths. With a last firm pump of assurance, Archron and Netherlord left the throne room for their respective chambers, leaving Helexius brooding on the throne.

  A look of utter disbelief set on the face of Zasandra, the Timechantress, after her husband told her of his and Archron's plans. And then came the hard part. Sitting Zasandra down and telling her about her father.

  “That bastard! How could he?” she rose angrily pacing their sleep chamber, hands flying about her head. “I hated him, always did for leaving us and now to find out he lied to us—to our faces—his own children!” she fumed. She stood across the room from him, arms folded staring at the wall, while Netherlord sat on the bed.

  He knew whatever she said, she was still grieving over a father she despised.

  Her breathing was still heavy when she asked: “And Destina can help us?” Her tone said it all—But she's a Lore! “I'm sorry,” she instantly apologised. “I know she is your mother, but can she be trusted, even if she helped to kill Synther.”