by Jacob Holo
Othaniel closed her eyes and retreated into the depths of her mind. There, she encountered her own memories alongside those of the other. She didn’t understand the strange connection Vierj had shared with her, but her ignorance didn’t prevent her from using it. She pressed her consciousness into it now, forcing her way through the mental barriers that cocooned the other.
Images and emotions flickered by, and Othaniel swam through them with practiced ease. She brought forth the memory of the white seraph, and the other memories responded, swirling around her and coming into focus.
Othaniel saw the white seraph rising up within the bay of an unknown ship. She saw a man clad in a storm-gray uniform, smiling at her almost as if embarrassed, the seraph at his back, idle shunts showing up as black characters against white armor.
The sequence of characters is the same…
Othaniel let the images fade. She pushed the other back into the sealed portions of her mind.
A smile crept onto her face.
“So. That was him.”
***
A fold point snapped open, and Zophiel’s seraph shot out. Fragments of a shattered world floated ahead of him in a wide field, illuminated by the distant blue giant’s light. Many of the edges were smooth and flat, as if the planet had been cut apart by incomprehensibly large blades.
In reality, the planet had been destroyed during an attempt to activate the Aperture Halo with only three portal lances. That was over two hundred years ago, and the attempt had provided one vital piece of data: the number seven.
Zophiel descended towards an isolated fragment the size of a small continent. His wings left trails through the frozen remnants of the planet’s oceans. He closed with a sheer side of the fragment until it was a massive wall of stone.
A hole opened large enough for a seraph to fit through, its oval border lined with railgun turrets and laser blisters. Zophiel eased into the hangar and landed. With a moment of concentration, he broke the connection with his seraph and opened his true eyes within the cockpit.
A gangplank extended from the chest-high ledge, meeting with the opening hatch. Zophiel pushed himself out of the pilot alcove and stepped into the vacuum, unprotected except for the faint shimmer of his barrier. Several Outcasts were already entering the hangar from a small side airlock, each of them clad in red pressure suits.
The Outcasts formed a line and inclined their heads until he passed.
Zophiel hurried through the airlock and followed a single narrow hallway deeper into the planet fragment’s rock. At the end, he entered a second darkened hangar.
Overhead lights switched on. A seraph turned its head and looked down at him.
Thick bands of Ziggurat metal partially obscured the seraph’s black armor. The bindings resembled thorny ropes constricting around its limbs and wings. Wherever the brass thorns touched its armor, the flesh underneath looked malnourished. Its withered arms hung limply at its sides, and its shriveled wings lay crushed against its back. The creature barely looked like it had the strength to lift its head.
Zophiel. Vierj’s seraph spoke directly into his mind. Its name was Satek.
He nodded to the creature.
What brings you here?
“I wish to speak with you.” Zophiel walked across the ledge until he stood directly in front of the seraph. “Why else would I come here?”
It has been decades since you last visited. I began to doubt your return.
“I had no need to speak with you.”
And you do now?
“Naturally.”
The seraph lowered its weary head, but its thoughts carried a proud tone. Tell me what has become of my children. You can spare me that much of a courtesy.
“Of course. All three of them are healthy and continue to serve us well.”
I take no pleasure in their servitude.
“And I take no pleasure in keeping you here, but it is a necessary restriction.”
Yes, that has been your excuse.
Zophiel began to pace in front of the seraph. “While I am sure there is much you wish to debate with me, time is short, and so I must come directly to the point. Tell me what you know about Veketon.”
Veketon? Satek’s thoughts echoed with unease. He was the father of my pilot. Why do you ask?
“That is none of your concern. Simply answer the question.”
The seraph struggled to raise its head. Bands of brass thorns concealed most of its face, but Zophiel could see two giant silver eyes staring at him.
I know that he is dead. I was there when he died.
“You were involved?”
Yes.
“You killed him.”
I am as much responsible for his death as any seraph is. I empower the wishes of my pilot.
“So, yes.”
If that answer pleases you.
“What was he like in life?”
Why do you want to know?
Zophiel held up his hand and summoned a ball of black energy. He gazed into the seraph’s eyes.
“Why do you still resist me? Your pilot is dead.”
Resisting you is what she would have wanted.
“Very well.” Zophiel shook his head. “I already explained to you my time is short. So be it.”
He closed his fist around the ball, releasing tiny snaps of energy across his knuckles. With chaos-accelerated muscles, he threw the ball at the seraph. It splashed into ripples of black energy that cascaded across the brass restraints. Thorns writhed and dug deeper around its body. Smoke rose from fresh, sizzling wounds, and the seraph convulsed in terrible pain.
A whole minute passed before its twitching spasms died down. The seraph hung its head, steaming blood leaking from several new wounds.
“Will you answer my questions now? I do not enjoy this, but I am not above doing what I feel is necessary.”
I will… answer your questions.
Zophiel clasped his hands behind his back. “Good. Now, tell me about Veketon.”
He was everything the Seekers hoped for in a leader. Brilliant, both in war and in science. Able to sway the masses with passion and fire. Vierj’s greatest mistake was opposing him.
“Did you ever tell her this?”
I served her well. That does not mean I was ignorant to her flaws. Vierj was a fool in many ways, and I did what I could to advise her towards more productive ends.
“You clearly failed.”
Vierj’s arrogance was her undoing. If she had worked together with Veketon and the Original Eleven, they would have been invincible. Instead, she opposed them, wanting everything and ending up with nothing, not even her life.
“Enough about Vierj. I wish to know more about Veketon. Tell me what drove him.”
Power. He always desired more of it, though his causes were righteous from his point of view. He felt deeply wronged by the Keepers and sought to overthrow them. Many rallied to his cause, and together they almost won.
“So, he has no love of the Keepers either,” Zophiel said, nodding to himself. “It is as I suspected. You say Veketon was driven by power. I wonder if the allure of more could sway him.”
You speak of him as if he lives.
“Because he does.”
I saw him die. These hands crushed his body.
“Brilliant in both war and science, as you say.”
That is… hard to accept.
“I have faced him in battle.”
If that is what you wish to believe.
“But I have been thinking. Perhaps I have dealt with this problem in the wrong manner. Veketon desires to overthrow the Keepers. His goals do not oppose my own, at least for the moment.”
What are you plotting?
“Perhaps I can make peace with him, even join forces with him.” Zophiel resumed pacing as he spoke. “I have much to offer him, and the opposite is true as well. I could acknowledge my errors. I was too forceful, too confrontational, too desperate to obtain the final lance. I could make amends.
“It’s so obvious. I’m surprised I didn’t think of it before. Vayl and Veketon and I all desire to vanquish the Keepers. We would gain great power once we controlled the Homeland, and this would interest Veketon as well. Instead of wasting our strength in pointless conflict, we could unite and share in the spoils. Tell me, Satek. Could it work?”
Perhaps. If all you say is true… then yes, I believe so. Though if Veketon did accept, know that he would use you even more than you use him.
Zophiel grinned thinly. “Yes, I don’t doubt that.”
And remember, the Veketon I knew and the one you are fighting may somehow be the same person, but they might not be the same man. Even immortals change over time.
“I will keep that in mind.” Zophiel left the hangar and hurried back to his own seraph. Before passing through the airlock, Zophiel knelt on the ground and prepared to commune with Vayl.
The world around him disappeared. He fell inward into his own memories and worked to purge his mind of outer distractions. His heartbeat quickened and he sifted through the past, latching onto suffering, be it physical or emotional. A memory surfaced, and he let it take over and become his reality.
—confusion—
The late morning sun burned overhead, warming his face, bare chest, and the sands under his naked feet. He raced across the beach, laughing and smiling as he chased after the Outcast girl, Laena.
She laughed too, turning back to him, her silken hair flowing in the salty breeze as waves lapped at the shoreline. Her skin was pale and luminous in the bright light, concealed only by the sheer blue cloth rapped strategically around her slender ripening body.
Time quickened. Memories flowed from their cheerful beginning to their bloody end.
Vierj peeled her black gloves off and tossed them aside. The dark outline of her seraph cast a looming shadow across the beach.
“Zophiel, I am disappointed in you. I thought you knew better than to waste your time with an Outcast whore.”
Zophiel stood his ground between Vierj and Laena. “This is none of your business.”
“None of my business?” Vierj let out a bored sigh. “Zophiel, anything you do is my business. Your successes are my successes. Your failures are my failures. It is only fitting that I mold you as I see fit.”
“I don’t want to be molded by you.”
“What you want doesn’t matter. We do not breed with inferior life. Your bloodline is too important to be diluted by such random filth. Give her to me, and I will dispose of this distraction.”
“No.”
“No? You would deny me such a simple request?”
“I don’t want her anywhere near you.”
“And do you think you can stop me if I try?”
Zophiel gritted his teeth angrily. He clenched his hand and let chaos energy flow down his arm. A black long sword ignited out of his fist, red lightning snapping across its length.
Vierj closed her eyes and shook her head. “Very well. If you wish to make this difficult, I will oblige you.”
Zophiel shouted as he charged. Chaos energy flowed through and around his body. Time dilated, slowing to a crawl as he charged Vierj with his sword held high.
Vierj stood her ground, a hand on her hip and a contemptible grin on her face. Zophiel raced in, but a fraction of a moment before his blade pierced Vierj’s heart, something struck him across his chest.
He never saw what it was, only remembered the vague hint of sudden black motion. The impact flung him back, and he crashed and tumbled across the white sands, sword evaporating into twinkling dark light.
Zophiel rolled onto his side and coughed up blood.
“You are the strongest one yet,” Vierj said, calmly walking up the beach. “But you are still such a disappointing weakling compared to me.”
Zophiel wiped the bloody spittle from his mouth and rose unsteadily to his feet. He concentrated on the flows of energy within his body and formed them into a coherent blade once again.
“My, you are persistent. At least you have that.”
A black shadow appeared beneath Zophiel, widening like a pool of spilt oil. Tendrils sprang from it and entwined his legs and arms. They cut into his flesh, and he gasped in sudden pain.
Vierj walked up to Laena unopposed.
The Outcast girl prostrated herself before Vierj. “Please forgive me. Please forgive me. Please forgive me,” she mumbled over and over again.
“Stand, girl.”
A moment of fearful hesitation passed, then Laena slowly rose to her feet. She kept her eyes downcast.
Vierj gently lifted Laena’s chin. She turned her head to one side and then the other. “You aren’t even that attractive. What could he possibly see in you?”
“Don’t touch her!” Zophiel shouted, struggling against his bonds. Blood poured from the fresh lacerations on his limbs.
Laena trembled with fear.
Vierj turned to Zophiel. “One day, you will understand. And when you do, you will thank me for this.”
“NO, DON’T!”
Vierj wrapped her slender, delicate fingers around Laena’s shoulder and pressed in. Her fingertips sank through skin and muscle as if it were soft clay. The bones in Laena’s shoulder crumpled, and she screamed.
Vierj ripped Laena’s arm from its socket and threw it aside. The appendage left a scarlet trail across the sands.
“STOP!” Zophiel fought against his bonds, but the tendrils only tightened their grips.
Laena cried out and tried to run away, but Vierj threw her to the ground. His mother’s face showed neither pleasure nor disgust, only passionless neutrality. She reached down and tore Laena’s remaining arm out its socket.
The girl screamed and writhed on the ground, bleeding profusely from her wounds.
Vierj continued her work, ripping the girl apart piece by piece. She pulled chunks from the girl’s chest and abdomen, snapped off her legs, and broke her bones until blood and gore drenched the sands.
What was left of Laena no longer thrashed about, and Zophiel stopped struggling against his bonds. He wept openly, not even watching as Vierj tore the girl’s face off.
Grief and pain gave way to emptiness, and on the edge of that emptiness, another mind appeared.
My lord? Zophiel thought.
Here, my young disciple.
—clarity—
Emptiness surrounded them, spinning and swirling around in a maelstrom of memories. Piece by piece, the whirling tide of thought built their surroundings: white sands under foot, a crystal blue sky overhead, the endless stretches of clear waters to one side, and sheer rock cliffs to the other.
Zophiel didn’t look at the ground. He knew all too well what was there.
Vayl appeared, a thin shadow over the sands. His swirling blue eyes and the top of his dark face were the only things visible over his tightly bound leathery cloak. He surveyed the bloodstained sands and shook his head.
Zophiel bowed before his lord, his forehead almost touching the ground.
“Please rise, my young disciple.”
“My lord, the Gate is forming.”
“Yes, we can see the progress from our side. The dimensional bridge is extremely unruly at this time, but the stability is increasing. You have done well.”
“Thank you, my lord.”
“Soon, I will send a vanguard of my army through. They will join you in the defense of the Gate until it has fully formed.”
The reality around them shook violently, though the two men remained motionless amidst the tremors. Sections of beach and sky broke away like shattered glass, disappearing into darkness.
“I apologize, my lord,” Zophiel said. “Someone is trying to rouse me from our communion. I expect we may need that vanguard sooner than expected.”
“I understand and will take what actions I can. Fight well, my disciple.”
Vayl and the beach faded into darkness.
Zophiel awoke curled up on the floor near the hangar airlock. An Outcast in a red
pressure suit crouched over him, shaking his shoulder.
“What is it?” Zophiel asked, slowly rising to his feet.
“My lord, Veketon has commenced his attack on the Aperture Halo. Your sisters request your immediate return.”
Zophiel nodded. He opened the airlock and passed through. His seraph loomed above him in the hangar, a mist of icy particles and planetary fragments behind it. The blue giant burned in the distances with the Aperture Halo an invisible speck next to it.
I shall not fail you, my lord.
Zophiel boarded his seraph.
Chapter 14
Seeker of Power
Veketon’s throne flashed into existence. He shot out of the distorted ring of light and descended towards the immense Ziggurat ring. Disciple warships were arrayed protectively around the artifact in tight formations, already unleashing a continuous barrage of torpedo shoals and fusion beams.
Their count registered in a corner of his mind.
“Only six hundred ships?” Veketon said. “Zophiel, I’m a little underwhelmed.”
Over a thousand Fellerossi warships had folded into the system before him, and if that weren’t enough to crush all opposition, Veketon controlled a reserve of over one hundred archangels that were more than capable of savaging any fleet.
“Vek, look at the center of the artifact ring,” Quennin said.
“Yes, I see it.”
The Ziggurat ring orbited a convulsing ball of white and silver energy. The changes were subtle, but the incomplete Gate grew larger and more stable by the second.
“Now that, I will admit, is mildly impressive.”
Two black seraphs rose from the Ziggurat ring and headed for the closest Fellerossi warships. The lead seraph conjured a black energy whip and sent it scything through two frigates. Explosions rippled within the warships’ compromised interiors, and they blew apart moments later.
“The Gate is forming quickly,” Veketon said. “It seems we have even less time than I originally thought. Fuurion, redirect the fleet. Focus all fire on the Ziggurat ring.”
“At once, venerable master.”
The arrays of Fellerossi warships realigned their armaments and fired a synchronized volley. Fusion beams focused on a single point like light through a lens. They slammed into the artifact’s brass armor, melting it and scattering golden droplets into space.