“You may come with us. Your minds should be suitable,” replied Gordell.
“If a Fifth can do it then so can I,” Urana said. She placed her hand on the others. “Come on, Aerl, show us some spontaneity. Altair would have done it!” she grinned.
Sceptre sighed. Altair would have done it. He actually missed his brother-cousin. And this was definitely a cousin of an idea. He walked over and placed his hands on theirs.
“What about my lancesword?” Decion asked, fastidiously clutching his most prized possession.
“No material objects can come with you, but you can recreate them in your psionic state. If you want to fight with your lancesword; if you want to be your lancesword, you can,” explained Gordell. He knew what the response would be.
“Be the lancesword?” boomed Decion. He grinned. “That I would like to see.” His bulky frame lumbered forward and he slapped all the other hands down. “Redemption begins here. For the memory of my brother, Alpha Rion, who I aggrieved.”
They waited for Azure to join them, but the youngest Starguard could not. She was staring up at the sky, mesmerised and literally glowing.
“There are too many Lore here.” Her eyes were already burning a deeper blue. “I can hear them calling to me and my powers are aching to get out. I can do more this way. See you on the battlefield.” She took off into the air and through the open dome, the Sky Warrior Loremaiden joining Millennius and the Lore above the Earth.
The rest watched Azure as her blue radiant energy flared up when contact was made with the Lore. She glowed like a new star.
Zane smiled. “Gordell, what can I do?” She looked at him expectantly.
“Zane, you can’t come with us, not like this,” replied Gordell.
“Why not?”
“You’re an Astral; your mind is not like the others. It is of time, which we cannot inhabit. It is here and there; I cannot explain it.”
“But I’m half human,” Zane pleaded. “Surely you can hold onto that.” She wasn't sure she entirely believed him.
“I’m sorry, Zane,” Gordell answered truthfully. “But the temporal unpredictability would be too much. We could lose you.”
Zane smarted at this. She’d come so far. “Fine,” she kicked the ground. “Go without me.” An angry spark of heat coursed through her body, Zane wondering what it was.
Gordell let her be.
Casually, Valtare announced, “We will also need what you call, a pilot.”
“That’s me!” replied Force excitedly. “What do you want me to fly?” Force was eager to know.
“I will show you in due course,” Valtare said.
“D'accord, it is time.” Gordell called over the Chryrians. He addressed one, the name sounding like a high-pitched whistle.
There was a fluttering as a handful of wispy Chryrians formed a circle above and around the mortals. The Starguards and humans braced themselves.
“Don't worry, it won't hurt,” Gordell said to them. Much, he thought.
The air was lit up with flashes of light as the Chryrians began to pulsate with energy. They descended upon the mortals and into their heads. There wasn't time for any of them to react to the momentary pain.
The bodies of the humans and Starguards slumped into the arms of attending Surge as the Chryrians embraced their consciousnesses within their own. Gordell let the Chryrian guide his and the others’ minds so they got used to being non-physical entities.
>God, this is so freaky< Force psyed. >How am I even hearing and seeing all of this?< He could see all the others looking like transparent versions of themselves.
>This is the purest life can get< Gordell psyed back.
There was laughter as Valtare thought >And for so long, you thought us abominations, Gordell. How many Chryrians have you killed in your lifetime—hundreds? Thousands?< The bitterness was in his voice, but he added >But I find myself privileged to fight by your side<
>We will speak later of this, Valtare. There are many things I should tell you about the Chryrians we hunted. But for now, we must fight< Gordell finished. >Valtare, please ready Force for his role<
Valtare guided a floating-bodiless Force to another part of the fortress into what looked like a Surge version of a computer room, full of blocks of metal with crystals embedded in them, which rapidly changed colour.
>Okay< Valtare finally said, >Are you ready?<
Force was confused. There were no spacecraft anywhere in sight >What do you want me to fly?<
>The fortress, of course< psyed Valtare without a hint of humour >The fortress is made from Surge material. It still responds to psionic commands. This is the command hub at the heart of the fortress. One of the Surge who remained, Sine, will be the captain, the rest of us will provide the defence, and you will pilot<
>How? Are you kiddin’? I can’t touch anything<
>I don’t know. How do you pilot anything?< asked a patient Valtare.
>Ah!< Force understood. He was in the psychic realm. He could do anything his mind wanted to do. >Okay, here we go<
Force concentrated. He had always wanted to fly a vintage World War II bomber and here was his chance to do so. As he thought about it, the outline of a B-17 took shape, the fuselage, the huge wings and tail, all the panels, the engines and propellers, the guns and cockpit, the instruments, the bomb bays, the pilot seat, and even a uniform. Force imagined his body and slid the goggles onto his head.
>Chocks away< his mind called. He gunned the throttle and the machine began to move, inching across his imagined runway.
The fortress rumbled on the ground, its metal walls and foundations heaving against the ground. It threw Zane off-balance as she jumped from the fortress to the ground. It finally wrenched itself off the desert, rocks, dirt and sand dropping below, leaving behind a half-mile-wide crater. It rose into the sky, all the open ports, doors, and roof closing automatically.
The rectangular shape became more muted and aerodynamic as Sine moulded the fortress by touching its metals walls. The fortress now resembled a vast, rectangular, metallic zeppelin with short crenelated towers sticking out at various points.
The B-17 took off, Force looking out of the small cockpit windows. He could hear the engines roar as he pulled back on the stick. He steered it straight up toward the blackest storm clouds he had ever seen. But Force wasn’t scared; he was having the time of his life.
>Now this is what I call a flying fortress!<
“Good luck,” Zane shouted, waving after them. She was the only person left on Earth. The only Peoples she could fight beside were the Zater Jen, but they were nowhere to be seen.
I will die alone here, she thought.
=Look how they attack= Prime Star sang in admiration.
=They have discovered the hypermind. Our kindred are in danger= Prime Star fretted.
=Let them destroy the Shadow Stars, then there will be order= Prime Star trembled with excitement.
=No, brother. Without the Shadow Stars there will be no balance. We will be destroyed too. The Five will destroy us= Prime Star stated reprovingly.
=That is not true. There is no cause to attack us= Prime Star inferred.
=But our kindred call to us for help. Shall we not interfere= Prime Star questioned.
=No, their fate is decided. We are content to watch= Prime Star announced confidently.
=We are not= Prime Star rebelled.
There was a thunderous crackle of exploding energy and one Prime Stars broke free of their formation. It hurtled toward the battle, solar flares arcing out into the mortal forces who now fought on two fronts. Four more Prime Stars railed against restraint racing to the Shadow Stars, hurling more flares into the system and the planet below. The remaining Prime Star stood alone stranded contemplating the situation.
Wordlessly, Millennius divided the Lore, engaging each of the incoming Prime Stars. But in the midst of battle, Spheron departed, leaving Azure in charge of his force.
>Where are you going?< she psyed, surpr
ising herself with this ability. I'm a Lore whisperer, she mused.
Spheron pointed downwards.
>I won't be long.< He ported down to Earth.
Within Millennius, a part of him surged when he felt Azure so close by. The blue spark began to grow.
The cosmos lit up as fierce energy sliced through the vacuum. The heavens quaked and stars shuddered amidst a battle the likes of which had never before been witnessed beneath the skies of the universe since its epic creation.
Whole waves of Antiqchronal Lore, Zater Jen, and Surge clashed with the Storm of Stars and fell. Space ripped apart with fury as the Zater Jen tore reality. The Lore corrupted, twisted and warped time with unerring death and destruction. The cosmic shock blew atoms apart, system-spanning lightning bolts, brighter than the heavens sheared the stellar darkness, striking down friend and foe, bringing fear even to the mystic hearts of the Storm of Stars as they battled for survival. Space buckled, strangling those unfortunate to be too close, washing over them in waves of temporal energy, sweeping them away into depths of coldest space.
Arcanaut felt ripples of time-shifted dimensions tear at his crystalline skin. He sought the source and was astonished by what he found. Not only were the Storm of Stars simultaneously located in several dimensions, but they were also spread over several temporal zones. These hidden realms were their anchors, their power sources, their manifestation nodes—their Achilles heel.
>Lord Cosmogod, I sense the temporal nodal junctures of the Storm of Stars, they are anchored through hyper-tesseract space<
Cosmogod considered this. The Storm of Stars did not just exist in one plane at one time. They were interconnected to the universe in a complex web of temporal, spatial, and psionic strands through multilayered dimensions, which were further warped to extra-dimensional extremes. Their forces would have to cut through every one of the strands, which they could, but not before being destroyed by the Storm of Stars.
A better battle plan was needed or they were all going to die.
CHAPTER NINE
Zane stood upon her ancient home, alone, wondering what she could do to help. A crash of light suddenly split the air before her startling the Astral as a portal opened. Spheron flew out.
She stared at him, her initial shock disappearing, as if remembering something. “Have we met before?” Zane asked, feeling calmer.
“Yes, we have. It is I, Spheron, transformed like Millennius and Destina.”
Zane smiled warmly in greeting. “I know that Spheron. And I’m sorry for what Synther did to you. But that’s not what I meant. Have I seen you somewhere, somewhen else?”
“Ah, yes. Do you not remember? Just after Netherlord tried to kill you, you appeared in phase space. I frightened you. You fired at me and then disappeared.”
Zane cocked her head, confused. It was all a blur, but something was coming through. Whiteness. Pure white energy. She had been covered in it. No, she was the energy. Zane rubbed her head. “I don’t understand,” she shouted as the wind howled across the darkened skies and dust storms snaked around them.
Spheron wondered if he should be the one to tell her. But she had to know.
“Zane, there are times when a Celestian who becomes a Lore fathers a child, a female. She becomes a Loremaiden . . .”
“I know, like Azure,” Zane said dismissively. “But I am born of a half-Celestian father and a human mother.” A mother she barely remembered she realised sadly. She had a sense of an ephemeral motherly figure with long black curly hair, a wide-lipped smile, and always singing. Yes, she remembered her mother's singing—songs about the sea and the creatures that lived within them. They had lived along the coast for a while. Zane smiled at the faded memory. Spheron brought her back to the present.
“Yes, but by then, Millennius was affected by the Lore virus. It got stronger as time went on and sometimes, just sometimes, random genes inherit energies, which might skip a generation. The epigenetic effects of Millennius’ Lore energy have concentrated in you and, yes Zane, you are a Loremaiden,” he told her, sympathy in his voice.
Zane shook her head in disbelief. “I can't be!”
“You are, but a different one at that. Loremaidens usually react in the presence of other Lore, but you do not. You are different, special. Once you were of age, your powers reacted to temporal energy. You act as a temporal cluster, absorbing and channelling temporal energies,” he thought of an apt comparison, “like an organic Surge.”
“You’ve got to be frigging kidding me?” Zane felt the temptation to scoff at Spheron.
But the more she thought about it, the more it made sense. Netherlord had attacked her with temporal energy. She had unknowingly used that energy to transform into a Loremaiden. It had also given her enough strength to repel Altair's attack when they first met in New York. And then at Thane's, the Lorestone would have been packed with more than enough temporal energy, which she would have absorbed and channelled for their escape from the explosion. Her response had been flight rather than fight.
But why have I ended up here then? Why not the Chronopolis where I would have been safe. Or Zero Star? she thought, as she turned back to Spheron.
“Why have I ended up here in Earth's future? It can’t be random. It’s like I’m being guided to places,” she shouted over the howling winds which in turn were chased by vast charges of lightning searing across the skies above. “And why have I aged so fast?”
“I do not know?” Spheron replied in truth. “You may have been somewhere for all those years, but can’t remember. Maybe something happened to you? But I believe, Zane, you have been directing yourself, but the temporal loops woven around you have not caught up yet. Your mind is still trapped in a temporal fugue. It will come to you in time.”
As if that thought triggered a memory, Zane suddenly remembered her dream about Mindscream. The landscape had seemed familiar, considering what Gordell had said about this being Mindscream’s ancestral homeland. This was a coincidence too far. And Mindscream had been trying to tell her something, something about the sky.
She looked up and the first thing she saw was a tiny little star, growing brighter as it battled overhead: the Time Empress.
High above in the cosmic melee, the Time Empress sensed her presence being sought. She looked behind her from the depths of oblivion toward the fractured Earth and at Zane, standing, waiting for her.
Phasia sensed the young girl's distraction. “Is something the matter?” Phasia called out, bracing herself against energy attacks.
“I have to see Zane. Hold the line, Phasia. Wait for me.” She time-ported out before Phasia could do anything.
The Time Empress ported before Zane. She looked at Spheron as if signalling a command.
But Spheron ignored her dismissal. “She must become what she must,” he said, much to the confusion of Zane.
The Time Empress, wide-eyed, contemplated his words solemnly. She understood. “You're prepared to undertake your sacrifice willingly.” It was a statement. Her voice was sad.
“Gladly.” Spheron smiled as much as he could as a Lore. Pre-empting a response from her, he replied, “I do not need your consent or blessing.”
The child laughed, nodding her pale blonde head. Though she smiled thinly, her eyes were cold ice chips.
Before Zane could ask what that was all about, Spheron glided closer to her, almost touching her skin. Zane felt herself almost hypnotised by his energy. And then Spheron advanced even closer, Zane feeling her body evaporate in heat and transform as Spheron melded his energy with hers.
Zane felt exhilarated. She looked around finding herself in a temporalscape all her own, lit brilliant white.
“Spheron, it’s amazing.” She whirled around in awe. “Spheron? Spheron?”
She looked around for him, but he was no longer there. But she heard a faint echo of his voice:
>Zane, I have given my energy—my life—to you. My time is over. I will be no more. Serve your destiny well<
Th
e voice faded and was no more.
“What? Spheron?” a traumatised Zane couldn't believe what she had just heard. Sadness threatened to overwhelmed her. But she held back her tears and fears, feeling only love for Spheron.
Zane looked down at herself. She was bathed in resplendent white energy. Spheron had sacrificed his Loreself to her, like a catalyst, so Zane could self-sustain her energy. She could feel the temporal fields pulling toward her, as air to lungs; she wasn’t just able to travel time, she was time, more so than her brother. She could go anywhere, anytime. She could see through time, much better than Lightstream could read time. Zane was an avatar of time, its personification and will. Her grieving for Spheron's death gave way to revelry as the young girl in front of her came into focus.
She, too, stood in the temporalscape.
“Who are you?” Zane asked the Time Empress, slightly annoyed. Her voice sounded vibrant and in the fluid medium. “Are you the one really directing me through time?”
The little girl shook her head innocently and looked at Zane with sad eyes. And through those eyes, Zane could see snippets of jumbled time, her own past, her future, and her destiny.
“Oh, I see. I was supposed to be dead, but somehow time was changed. Or I was changed. So confusing . . .” She held her head to stop time spinning within it. It throbbed in temporal waves.
Zane knew she was meant to be dead by Netherlord’s hands, but fate or someone had intervened—twisted her time for some unknown purpose. Was she in another universe? A parallel one? Was she even in the right timestream? What was her purpose?
Zane desperately wanted to know what had happened to her.
Spheron, if you’re still there, help me, she pleaded inwardly.
There was no voice. But suddenly a vivid flash of her father, Lord Aeon, in his grave on the Surge world almost blinded her. The line of sight centred on his sword. Even from a million years in the future and countless light years away, Zane could feel the energy from the blade. Phasia had tempered the once-ordinary, man-made sword with Lore energy to counter any Lore threat, but now it lay wasted in the ground with its owner. The vision faded away.
The Destinia Apocalypse (The Starguards - Of Humans, Heroes, and Demigods Book 4) Page 17