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

by Raymond Burke

Netherlord cringed inwardly. He and Archron had decided to hide the truth about Lord Aeon's death. It wouldn't have been taken well and they needed Zasandra on their side. She wasn't a Knight Destina by blood.

  The siblings story had unfolded to the rest of the Astrals that he, Archron and Aeon had tracked Synther. Aeon and Synther had fought. To Zasandra they had added in confidence that Destina had intervened helping Aeon to kill Synther. She had then revealed herself to her sons and they were reunited. While they fought off other Lore, Aeon had disappeared unbeknownst to them. Before her sons had returned to the Chronopolis, Destina had chosen that time to give them their missions to bring forth the Storm of Stars. She thought it was their only option for peace. They had duly accepted and were now prepared to leave. And since their version of events was different to the one told to Helexius to protect him from the truth, it was easier for Zasandra to believe them.

  “Yes, my mother can help us, but there is a lot to be done. We'll find Xathanius and restore peace to the universe with the Storm of Stars, but we have to leave soon,” he repeated the oft rehearsed lines. “We need you and I also want Celestra with us. Helexius just wouldn't understand our plans. And Phasia can't be trusted.” He paused before continuing, trying to work out how much Helexius would have confided in her. “And where is Phasia?” he asked casually.

  Zasandra huffed with mirth. “That is the question of the hour! She disappears as she does and Helexius has been tight-lipped about it.” She laughed again, but it was cold and sharp. “I have two brothers who never paid attention to me, a human mother who died when I was too young, and a father who lied to me and now is a Lore. What a family, eh?”

  She walked back to the bed and sat beside Netherlord and looked him in the eye.

  “You've never lied to me,” she purred. “I will follow you where-ever you need me.” She looked deeply into his dark eyes. “Have I ever told you how much I love you?” she asked, trying to remember their heady married days back in ancient Greece before they knew about their Astral powers.

  Netherlord smiled wryly. “Not recently, but I know.” He caressed her chin, any guilt melting away.

  “Come, love.” She pulled him across the bed, Netherlord obliging.

  They kissed gently, lying on the bed, their passion working up, their armour and clothing disengaging themselves from their bodies as they made love for the last time in the Chronopolis.

  Weeks later.

  “We're leaving, too!” Aristedes stated boldly. “We really want to search for our father! We need him, no offense, uncle.” He stood defiantly with Zane beside him, in front of Helexius and his daughter Lightstream with Spheron the Younger and his daughter, Sola. He continued his case, “We all know Netherlord and Archron have abandoned us; you know that!” he shouted in reiteration, punching the air with a clenched fist. “They won't return to help us if attacked; we haven't even heard from them or even know where they are! Any one?” he challenged them to answer him. “Zane and I are of age—”

  “Barely,” interrupted Lightstream, a little too loudly. Spheron scowled at her, which she ignored.

  Aristedes glared at his cousin. She was only a year older than him, yet as the son of Xathanius, Lord Aeon, he would lead the Astrals one day. For now, until it was certain his father was gone—he couldn't bring himself to say the word—then it had been agreed Helexius would command.

  “Please, uncle, we can do great good out there.” Aristedes pointed in a random direction. “We will keep in touch, we promise, but we have to try!” he pleaded.

  Zane was close to tears, her black fringe hiding her eyes as she stared at the floor. Aristedes, headstrong, yet empty of arrogance let his words echo around the throne room.

  Helexius sighed, shaking his head slightly. Aristedes took this as a sign of rejection.

  “Aristedes,” Helexius began, “You have grown up so much in these last few months after the war. I am not disappointed in you,” he said with a thin smile and a glint in his eyes. “Your father would be proud of you, both of you, as I am.” He studied the two closely, knowing their determination would not be quelled. “Do you promise to keep in touch?”

  The siblings' faces brightened in pleasure. “Yes!”

  “Do you promise to protect each other?”

  “Yes!” they chorused together again.

  “Do you promise to find your father?”

  “Yes, uncle!” They bowed their vows to Helexius.

  Helexius nodded in satisfaction. Lightstream and Sola seemed less than enthused. It meant more chores for them.

  Spheron strode forth, clapping the young Astral on the shoulder. “Well done, I am proud of you, too, as my father would have been.” He embraced Zane, who smiled broadly back at him.

  Helexius had another question. “Where will you start?”

  Aristedes answered, “Well, with Lexa's help,” he smiled at Lightstream, whose eyes narrowed in suspicion, “we've narrowed it down a few time periods, including twenty-third century Earth.”

  “Earth?” Helexius grew concerned. “Are you sure about that? Why would your father go there? Synther died a galaxy away.” He stroked his chin, knowing not to second guess his daughter's abilities. “Well don't get involved with anyone or change anything—promise?”

  “Yes, we promise,” chimed Aristedes and Zane.

  Aristedes had already seen glimpses of the Earth-Axala war, but neglected to mention it lest Helexius balked at their leaving.

  It took a week, but after discussions on temporal diplomacy, shared dinners, and long goodbyes, the two youngest Astrals were gone.

  Years later.

  Helexius reminisced about times past since Destina's sons and his sister had deserted the Chronopolis, followed shortly after by Aristedes and Zane. At least they had kept in touch, though recently they had been quiet. The war with Axala, he had since learned about, must have been at a critical stage. They still had not found their father.

  His handsome face had grown out of its boyish charm; now long and sharp. His long blond hair was braided down to his shoulders, complementing his dark purple, gold-embroidered armour. His belts laid diagonally-crossed at the waist. They would need adjusting soon against his expanding waistline.

  He cursed his human genes. How have we ended up this way?

  The mighty Astrals, time travellers, now divided and powerless. At least he still had his daughter with him, currently patrolling the Magna Aura system; Spheron the Younger manning the Colonnade defences, and the latter's daughter, Sola, rebuilding a comms relay—by hand no less. She was the most technically-gifted of the Astrals. The two daughters had each other for company at least. But most of all Helexius thought of Phasia.

  She had confided in him she had been receiving strange messages via a contorted time wave, a signal she suspected originated from her father who had disappeared a generation ago. If he, or someone, he knew was sending a message they could be allies. So she too, had left for destinations unknown. And he had kept that to himself.

  I wish I knew where you were Phasia, he told himself.

  Just then, Lightstream time-ported in from Magna Aura. Helexius' welcoming smile faltered as her face betrayed her emotions, which she could never hide from him. Her fraught features were a mixture of fear and confusion.

  Sola entered the room in good spirits, no doubt sensing the temporal signature of Lightstream returning, such were they attuned to each other. She was so like her father, dark-skinned, inquisitive, and wise beyond her years, but more of an engineer. What that meant for the future of the Spherons, chief exegetes to the Celestian Knights and the Starguards, no one knew.

  “What's wrong?” Helexius asked, fearing the worst.

  “Where to start?” Lightstream looked tired.

  She preceded to tell them of the system field she had discovered around Magna Aura and the fact that Decion and Alpha Rion were also missing, no doubt stolen from the planet by Timechantress. They had been betrayed by Netherlord and Archron.

 
; Sola groaned. “More bad news! Phasia has disappeared, Zeus knows where, and with the universe at stake, it's like the whole universe is falling apart on us!”

  “Hades' breath!” Helexius cursed pacing the room.

  But then Lightstream had dropped her bombshell, showing them images she had taken on her small diamond-shaped crystalator, uploading the holo images to the main crystalator orb in the chamber.

  “What are those?” Helexius squinted at the images.

  “Ships,” Lightstream said. “Possible alien ships.”

  “At Magna Aura?” asked a confused Sola, looking at the huge angular shapes.

  “Yep, Lightstream confirmed, enlarging the images. “I have looked at all the Celestian files and these ships do not match anything in their records. They're huge, bigger than any swordship I've seen, like city-ships, and without identifying sigils. They might be new Magna Aura designs, but the timeframe is a strange.”

  “Strange how!” Helexius wanted to know.

  “Well. . .”

  BOOM!

  The three were violently thrown to the ground as alarms shrieked. The Chronopolis shuddered and tilted.

  “What was that?” Sola shouted, scrambling to her feet.

  “Sensors are down!” Lightstream yelled back, looking at the crystalators consoles. “Massive temporal disruption. We're under atttack!”

  “Impossible!” Helexius shouted wildly.

  There were quick heavy footfalls as Spheron the Younger, cape flying behind him, came running into the hall. His face was creased with sweat and fear, his mouth locked on one word.

  “Lore!”

  Destinia.

  Archron had returned to ancient Earth upon leaving the Chronopolis. There he duly sought out the disparate groups of Exmoors, Devouts, and the Chryrian-merged humans trying to forge peace amongst them. Each had their own attributes, but he needed them in one group.

  “No!” had been the simple answer from the Exmoors.

  Though closely allied to the Astrals, they had rejected Archron's Knight Destina agenda, to his great displeasure. And to add insult to injury they had devised anti-temporal defenses against him utilising their ancestors' crystalators. Adantus' kin would not bend to Archron's will. They took their own path, not interested in world domination, but in guiding from the background. This had led the Exmoors against the Devouts and the Chryrian-merged humans. Archron knew they would be his natural allies.

  There had been no unified response from the psi-humans. He knew what the Exmoors had done to them and the rest had simply blended into the human fabric of life. The psis had no love for the Astrals or Exmoors. The early days of the Astrals had been fraught with actions bordering on genocide. He never wanted to think about it again. At first the Astrals and Exmoors had told themselves it had been for the best, to protect Earth, but in reality they had abused their power and compromised their morality. Lord Aeon had convinced Phasia, the other Astrals, and the Exmoors that their actions had to change. And they had. But Archron knew he would expect no help from the Devouts, unless he offered them the one thing they craved—revenge. Revenge against the Astrals and Exmoors.

  “You preach against your own people?” The question was asked with intrigue behind it, made all the more potent as Archron lay in bed beside his inquisitor.

  “Yes,” had been his simple answer. He kissed the woman who responded with affection.

  Archron had not expected his ploy to end in love. Much less with a Devout leader. But he had been so taken with her from the very beginning. She seemed so far beyond her years even as a Devout; otherworldly, timeless, and mysterious. She was as volatile as her fiery red hair, as insatiable as her intoxicating beauty, and as mercurial as her intelligence. He knew she had several other lovers, both male and female but he could never resist her summons.

  Adra Van Tager was a self-styled Archwitch of the Devouts. She claimed to hold power over a holy object called a Lore stone. As she never judged Archron on his Astral heritage, he never judged her, at least to her face, on the Devouts' worship of the Lore, his enemy—his alliance with Synther notwithstanding.

  While Archron had never seen this stone, he believed Adra's claim the Lore stone could manipulate human DNA, giving her the ability to create more Devouts, but crucially, male Devouts with powers. Such powers would give the Devouts an advantage over the Exmoors who only possessed longevity as their natural asset.

  As Archron had come and went on Earth over the years, fulfilling his mother's plans, he had Adra had agreed he should stay in the shadows, not revealing himself to the Devouts to ally their fears he was just another man trying to control women. But it was also to protect Adra's daughter.

  In all the years he had known Adra, Archron never knew if her daughter, Elisabeth, was his child. When Adra had told him of Elisabeth's impending marriage to a Chryrian half-breed, he had raged for days; wanting Elisabeth to be pure or married off to Celestian stock. Likewise, Adra had threatened to kill Edgar de la Valtare many a time if he had interfered with Devout ambitions. To placate them both, Adra – the Archwitch, an alchemist at heart had made it so Elisabeth could never have children with Valtare. She had then devised a plot to separate them and advance both their agendas.

  Thus had been born the E-Corps plan for the future and the beginnings of Archron's army, through Valtare. Archron had lamented how Adra had never lived to see any of that, killed by the Exmoors soon after he had time-ported Elisabeth to the twenty-first century. He had vowed to protect Elisabeth as his daughter since then. Now he had to inform Valtare he had not heard from his wife.

  He could only think the Starguards had arrived on Earth, helped no doubt by the other Astrals and prevented Elisabeth from fulfilling her mission.

  Had Synther failed in his plans? he thought. There had been no word from or of him since his mission to the Chronopolis.

  But his greatest loss came with the news that his brother Lazeron the Netherlord, had died, at the hands of Aeon’s son. He had not been told, had not witnessed the death. His voidspear had felt it, temporal ripples emanating from the nethersword, its matched partner. The power of the ripple had thrown the voidspear off the wall to the ground in his chambers. The ancient engraved runes upon its shaft had lit up in a foreboding glare. Archron had grabbed the voidspear. His hands involuntarily clenched the spear which shook; jolting him with temporal sparks replaying the memory of the nethersword to him through the voidspear's crowning orb.

  He saw Netherlord’s triumphs in opening the portals and dimensional gateways for the Storm of Stars, Zane being killed, and the final battle with Aeon's son, Aristedes. The scene had ripped Archron apart. He had fallen to his knees in grief, not moving for an hour. The voidspear wept its own eulogy over its lost twin, now alone, bereft of family. The runes finally shimmered away into darkness, the purplish metal blade and bright orb returning to their originals states.

  Destina had not been as distraught by the loss of Netherlord as he had been. Her reaction had driven Archron to the edge.

  “Weak!” his mother had shrieked. “He was always the weak one; always trying to emulate you. Then he even married Millennius' daughter, the fool. And where is she now? Copulating with that Starguard on Magna Aura no doubt!” Destina sneered her hatred.

  Archron didn't want to think about it. Magna Aura had been sealed of from them in an apparent betrayal by Timechantress with Cirrius. But he wouldn't believe she was now with the Starguards. He had to stand up for his brother.

  “But Lazeron accomplished his tasks!” Archron had bit back. “Let me travel back and save him, change time,” he begged.

  Destina brooded. “No!” she forbade him. “Such an event could affect the outcome. It was meant to be! As you state, he has carried out his part. When the Storm of Stars return, all will be restored in peace!”

  For the first time in his life, Archron did not believe his mother.

  After that day, Destina became more erratic, having even more tumultuous visions about the ret
urn of Millennius and the more mysterious Time Empress.

  Archron was left with almost nothing. Only Valtare, Decion, and a meager amount of two hundred or so Fifth warriors had arrived at his fortress.

  And so Archron drank his memories away. The wine from his ancient home he and his brother use to share, his only comfort. He didn't care if Valtare and Decion disapproved. He could see it in their faces. They were nothing but pawns in his plans. The Storm of Stars would decide all their fates.

  Then he had found himself tested even more when the Starguards had somehow arrived in their future time. And most unexpectedly, as predicted by his mother, Millennius had returned at the head of the Lore.

  Synther had indeed failed. That thought at least had warmed Archron's heart.

  Or is that the wine? he mused with a lopsided smile.

  Now more than ever, Archron knew the Knights Destina's fate was drawing close with the awakening of the Storm of Stars.

  Deep Space

  The Spheron Lore had time on his side.

  But it would have still taken him hundred of years to find Millennius in all the vastness of the universe. Spheron could have searched in all the places he thought Millennius could go: back to Earth, around Magna Aura, the Chronopolis, phase space, inter-galactic space. He had searched uncountable reaches.

  Then it hit him. He knew where he would be. Millennius and Destina were polar opposites. If Destina had gone to the far future of Earth to await the end then Millennius would go back to . . .

  . . . the beginning.

  Spheron reached the end of the temporal portal. Before he had even exited, a brutal solar storm reached in and wrenched him out. He spun backwards out of control in the vortex's hellish grip before regaining himself. And Spheron found himself at the Great Breach; Alphatronius’ gigantic rip in the universe from whence the Celestian civilisation had escaped to Magna Aura and from where the Celestian Knights had defiantly followed.

  And there off to his right, hovering cross-legged and staring at the centre of the Great Breach, was Millennius, Celestian Knight—Lore.