“You know, I lost my father recently too,” she said slowly, feeling the child’s eyes upon her. “But I know he’s close, and I know he’s watching me from the same place as your daddy.”
“From where?” the child asked, and Seraphina gestured up into the night sky, pointing with one steady finger at the luminous full moon.
“Our parents love us to the moon and back, and that never stops, not even after death. I believe that when my parents died, they didn’t leave; they didn’t stop loving me. They’re just watching over me from a special place, a bright and shining place that’s so high up they can still see everyone and everything. A place where their love will shine down on me every night as I lie down to sleep. Your daddy is up there too, little one. He’s up there, looking down at you, smiling at you, happy and proud of all you’ve done and will continue to do as you grow up into the strong and wonderful woman he always knew you could be. He isn’t gone.”
“He’s on the moon?” the child replied in awe, grasping the full extent of Seraphina’s metaphor instantly. The princess smiled down at the child, whose eyes were now affixed upon the moonlight.
“Every night, from now until forever, you need only look up at the moon and remember the light your father still shines on your life.”
The girl turned her head toward Seraphina, tears still glistening but with a smile now etched across her face.
She flung herself forward, wrapping her tiny arms around the queen’s neck. Seraphina returned the hug, pulling the child in close with a gentle yet firm squeeze. The girl held on tightly for nearly a full minute before stepping back and smiling up at her once more. Seraphina wiped a few stray tears out of the cherub’s face and leaned down to kiss her on the forehead.
“Thank you, Your Highness,” she whispered, running back to the window and gazing into the night sky, looking up at the moon with the love of a young girl staring into the face of her father. Seraphina smiled and stood back to her full height, dusting off her pants as she continued back into the center of the room.
With alarming suddenness, the hazy disconcerting tingle returned with astonishing severity, so much so that Seraphina had to brace her feet shoulder length apart to keep from losing her balance. It moved from her brain throughout her entire body, bunching together in her heart, exploding out of her with such an intense fervor that she could hear a voice in her head scream one solitary word.
Danger!
Sections of the walls and ceiling exploded inward, raining shards of heaving projectiles in all directions. Seraphina gestured wildly, calling upon her magic to grab the girl from the window and pull her to safety while simultaneously using the same spell to try and deflect as much of the debris as she could away from the wounded. Still, despite her efforts, the heavy dropping stone pummeled many of her people. They vanished beneath the dark avalanche amidst sounds of screams and crunching.
The little girl who had just lost her father landed at Seraphina’s feet, and the princess threw herself down, covering the child with her body and forming a blue shield around them, which repelled the rubble easily. There was a solitary moment of stillness in the wake of the chamber’s implosion, and through the dusty haze kicked up by the chaotic death rain, a shadowy figure slowly stalked into the room.
Seraphina knew with alarming suddenness exactly to what that strange sensation had been alerting her. She could sense the darkness. She could sense him in much the same way she could sense Valentean. Seraphina gazed around at the devastated chamber, at the dead or dying rebels who struggled to draw breath. Then her eyes slowly rose up to glare at the shadowy mass that strode confidently out of the smoke. He was smirking cruelly down at her with a face so eerily reminiscent of her beloved yet so astonishingly different at the same time.
“Princess,” Kayden said, “your time is up.”
X: Return to Grassan
The steady clank of booted feet upon floor alerted Maura to Nahzarro’s location. She walked into one of the larger barracks aboard The Heart of Casid to find the Grassani prince restlessly pacing back and forth, hands on his hips as he murmured wordlessly to himself.
“Nahzarro,” she said, trying to halt his ceaseless movement. If the prince had heard her, he did not show it. Finally, Maura stepped directly into his path, and the posh prince’s hastened steps skidded to a halt.
“What?” he insisted roughly.
“We’re going to be lifting off soon.”
“Finally! One more day of this maddening pause and we would have been too late!”
Maura looked down and shook her head, trying to let the prince’s rudeness slide in the face of the awful strife he must have been feeling. It had been four days since Aurax’s morbid invitation to burn along with Grassan, and in that time, Mitchell and Michael had worked nonstop with the Karminian engineers to restore The Heart of Casid to its former glory. Nahzarro, though, had not taken time to revel in this feat of engineering excellence nor had he congratulated the brothers on their hard work. He simply paced within the bowels of the vessel, anxiously awaiting their departure.
“They’ve done a great job repairing the ship. We will be in Grassan long before Aleksandra strikes.”
“We should have been airborne days ago,” Nahzarro replied, gazing at the floor.
“They’re doing the best they can do.”
“Their best isn’t bloody good enough! Ridiculous shorm science-worshipping maggots!”
“You don’t mean that.”
“How do you know what I mean?”
“Because I know how you’re feeling.”
“You know nothing of how I feel, Maura.”
“Don’t I?”
“No! How could you possibly? I’m the prince of the most gifted nation on Terra, and in just one short day, the greatest evil the world has ever known is going to descend upon my home and obliterate everything I’ve ever known and loved. I’m helpless in the face of that!”
Maura stomped up toward him, pulled back her arm, and punched him across the jaw.
The royal captain stumbled back and caught himself against the bulkhead, looking wide-eyed at Maura, with mouth agape and a spot of blood trickling down his lip.
“How dare you?” she roared to him. “I sat helplessly on a street and watched a monster pull my father’s head from his shoulders like a cork from a bottle! I stared up into the face of death, holding my father’s severed head in my arms as purple horror obliterated everything I’ve ever known and loved! If you dare to say that I don’t understand how you’re feeling again, I will jam my blades through your eyeballs, you putrid, egocentric moron!”
She had expected him to react violently, perhaps even strike out against her with the righteous pride and indignation she had come to know him by. Instead, Maura saw a tear squeeze its way out from Nahzarro’s left eye and followed its path down his cheek until it dropped off his chin and splashed onto the floor.
“I’m sorry,” he said slowly, sounding as though they were the most difficult two words he had ever uttered. “I wasn’t thinking.”
Maura was shocked at the prince’s admission of guilt, and while it had felt good to get out some of her lingering anger and unresolved feelings concerning the destruction of Lazman, she felt guilty over her violent outburst.
“Look,” she said, slowly approaching Nahzarro and gazing up into his sad raw eyes, “I shouldn’t have hit you. I’m sorry for that. You just make me so mad sometimes with your attitude.” The prince nodded but offered no words. “I just wish you would understand that all of these people you look down upon and criticize are just trying to help you, to be there for you. I know that this bravado you put on isn’t the real you. I’ve seen you without it all; I’ve met that person. I like that person, and I…” Her voice caught in her throat. “Come here, you idiot.”
She grabbed him by the shirt with one hand and pulled the Grassani captain toward her, standing on tip toe to impact his lips with her own. She felt his body recoil momentarily before relaxing a
s his arms snaked around her waist and pulled her in close. His tongue poked against her pursed lips, and she opened her mouth to receive it. Maura felt a flutter of tingles throughout her stomach as she finally allowed herself to admit that this moment had been on her mind since their ordeal in Kahntran.
Their breathing quickened in pace as the two groped at one another, all of the sorrow, the tension, and the awkwardness melting away in the passion of their moment. Finally, they separated. The only remnant of their moment of release was a stray strand of saliva that still connected their lips together. Maura could feel Nahzarro’s arms tight against her waist and pulled back, breaking the embrace and wiping at her lips in nervous embarrassment.
“That was…” Nahzarro started to say, a quivering half-smile upon his lips.
Maura halted his thoughts with a raised hand, color flooding into her cheeks. “You aren’t alone, Nahzarro. You’re never alone.” She turned and left the room in haste, not looking back even as those nervous tingles continued to reverberate throughout her body.
Nevick drummed his thick fingers against the armrest of the command chair upon the airship’s bridge. He felt none of the trepidation that once gave him pause the first time he was to embark away from the former site of his home. Casid was gone. He had accepted that as a sobering fact of a cruel reality. His village, his people, they were all gone. And while he would carry their memory in his heart forever, he could not spend the rest of his days wallowing in their grave.
Now, Nevick fought for a new cause to ensure that the pain and loss he felt every day of his life would never overcome another. The nightmare creatures that shredded through his life were coming for the homes of others, the families and friends of countless human beings throughout Terra.
No more.
The Grassani Prince was not Nevick’s favorite person in the world. In fact, were he to make a list, the posh captain would likely not rank within his favorite five hundred people. But his home was in jeopardy, thousands of people were in danger, and on Nevick’s soul, he swore he would aid Nahzarro, regardless of how many times he insulted their compatriots. He might punch him in the neck when it was all said and done, but Grassan would survive under his watch.
“How much longer?” Nevick called down to Mitchell, who bustled about the bridge, overseeing the work of their guest Karminian engineers.
“Minutes at this point.” The inventor beamed, clenching his hands and fidgeting with his spectacles. “I have to say these extra hands really sped the process along.”
Nevick grunted in response. The presence of the Imperials was still a sore subject for him. Inviting the enemy into their midst was not his idea of furthering their mission, but he had been watching them with the fierce attention of a hawk and had thus far seen no wrongdoing. That didn’t mean, of course, that he was going to let his guard down. Far from it.
The shuffling of wheels alerted him to the presence of Deana moving onto the bridge, and he turned to flash her a toothy smile. The sight of her in that chair still tore at his heart, and their mission to protect the people of Terra had to take precedence over his promise that she would one day walk again. He had not forgotten such a solemn vow, and every time he saw her struggle within the confines of that chair, he chastised his own weakness and doubled down on his vow to find a cure.
“I can’t believe it’s almost time,” she said, wheeling herself in front of the raised platform that housed the command chair. “This ship has certainly transformed!”
Nevick nodded in agreement, noting that the aesthetic alterations the brothers had made to the craft certainly made it seem more in line with their morals and mission. The exterior had been stripped of all red and black coloring, replaced with a shining white, which blazed in the daylight. The interior of the ship as well had been scrubbed of all Aleksandryan influence, from color schemes to décor. This finally felt like their ship at long last.
“The boys have certainly done a great job,” he replied. The visual differences had been applied prior to Aurax’s ominous threat. Now, in the aftermath of such a heinous prophecy of destruction, haste had become a priority, and getting the ship airborne superseded all else.
“You seem tense,” Deana noted, inclining her head toward her beloved.
“I have no idea what we’re rushing into, Dea.” He walked down the steps leading to the bridge floor. “I’ve fought before, but this is going to be a war zone.”
“We didn’t know what we were walking into in Kahntran either.”
“That isn’t helping your case. We almost died there. This… It could be a lot worse.”
“You think…he is going to be there, don’t you?”
Nevick’s jaw tightened, and a breath locked in his throat. “Yes,” he hissed.
“We don’t know for sure Zouka survived.”
“He’s alive. I can feel it. And I’m nowhere near strong enough.”
“Nevick, you beat him once.”
“Because I had help from you and the boys. Next time, I could be on my own against that…monster.”
She laid a soft hand along his immense forearm. “It’s natural to feel afraid, my love.”
The big man shrugged his arm away from the woman who gave meaning to his heart. “I’m not afraid. I’m furious. I stood face to face with the thing that finished off our home, and I was bounced around like a child’s play toy.” He saw a look of pity darken Deana’s eyes, but he continued on. “I gave it all I had, and that wasn’t good enough. I need to get stronger before I face him again. I need to avenge our people.”
Before Deana could respond, a disheveled-looking Maura burst onto the bridge, patting wrinkles out of her pants as she sighed deeply.
“Are you all right?” Deana asked the blond spitfire.
Maura jerked as though she had been unaware of their presence. “Oh…I’m fine,” she replied, turning her eyes from their gaze. “Just…questioning some decisions.”
Mitchell turned from the controls with a smile upon his face. “It’s done.” He beamed, removing his spectacles to rub at his eyes.
“Really?” Deana exclaimed, sitting forward in her chair.
“Yup,” Michael said, stepping into sight from behind them. “We’re ready to launch.”
“How much prep time do we need?” Nevick asked.
“As much time as it will take to get the Karminian technicians off the ship.”
“Wow…” a voice said from behind. They all turned, and Nevick’s muscles tensed as he saw Nahzarro standing in the doorway. What sarcastic, moronic nonsense was the Grassani Prince going to sling at them this time? “Great work. I…thank you.” He inclined his head toward Mitchell, and Nevick nearly pitched forward in shock. No one spoke in the wake of this unexpected courtesy.
“I…” Mitchell said, dumbfounded. “Umm…thank you.”
There was an uncomfortable silence as everyone in the room stared at Nahzarro, and Nevick could see a small half-smile on Maura’s face as she gave him a single nod.
The prince seemed to feel the attention of his comrades, and his skin flushed a deep shade of red. “Now get us in the air already before your simplistic natures cause us to miss the entire battle!” Nahzarro turned on his heel and hurried from the room.
Nevick suppressed a small laugh at the prince’s shuffling retreat and walked slowly up the stairs to the command chair. He sat down with a heavy thud. “Now,” he said as his bulk settled in for a lengthy trip, “get these Karminians off my ship.”
Aurax hovered weightlessly high above the desolate remnant of what had once been the village of Casid. He smiled to himself, baring his pointed, yellow fangs. The fools had met his rather simplistic expectations and were hastily preparing for departure. He watched the series of disgruntled-looking human workers spill from the stolen Aleksandryan airship and assemble on the ground, with an air of cruel amusement. These creatures and their mistrust of one another made them so easy to control.
There was no tension amongst the Skirlack.
There was no suspicion between them. They were united, forged together by the flames of chaos, born of the holy flesh of the blessed mother herself. The Skirlack were united in a way the humans could never be. They were a species of weak-skinned, ill-intending, selfish fools. The human heart was torn between light, dark, order, and chaos, whereas for a Skirlack, whether they be soldier, cleric, or beast, there existed only the blaze. That is why the humans were born to lose.
There was a shudder of activity originating from the bowels of the plundered airship. Aurax watched in pleasure as the massive propellers slowly began to turn, gaining speed and momentum as their whirling kicked up dirt and debris from around the campsite. The banished human workers all ran toward safety, and Aurax instantly forgot they existed. His true prize lay within the gleaming white jewel box that now rose slowly into the air.
As a whole, humans were not a threat, but in these select few, Aurax could see the potential for danger. They carried within them the spark of that which made such simple creatures into formidable adversaries. They had hope. A mixture of this base, ridiculous concept coupled with a miraculous string of dumb luck had brought them this far.
Twice now, the blond human female had thwarted him. She was becoming a nuisance, and Aurax found himself, in his more private moments, fantasizing about her death.
He gleefully visualized the sight of her blood spilling from a series of wounds, splashing onto the ground that would once more belong to the Skirlack. It was a pleasant thought, and it had kept his resolve hardened during the months he spent trapped within the smothering confines of Lokhar.
Returning to the Mother’s side had been an honor, but Aurax knew that his mission, his sole reason for existence, was wrapped up in this tangible world of green and blue.
When the Shogai was no more, when the Mother would cross into this realm, Aurax would once again have that which he so desperately desired: a corporeal form. He would finally walk the world of his ancestors and feel its gentle wind against his flesh. And most of all, Aurax could delight in bringing his blissful imagined murder upon the human female known as Maura, personally.
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