Fallen Ambitions

by Vann, Eric J.

  Aziel kept running until the passage came to a sudden end. Rubble had collected there, blocking the path completely. He paced back and forth, his heart pounding. He had to get through, he had to find her.

  Letting out a frustrated howl, Aziel unleashed his power. Earth mana rushed from his fingertips to form a rapid succession of symbols, and the very ground began to rumble. Boulders several times his size cracked down the middle as the rubble slowly shifted to either side. Aziel poured more power into the symbols and a small opening began to form at the center of the blockage.

  “Even apart, you will always be in my thoughts. Never forget that,” his mother’s voice continued, her voice soft, as if whispering into his ears.

  Aziel gritted his teeth, desperation overflowing as he squeezed his way through the newly created passage. He was almost there… and with a last effort, he emerged on the other side.

  Into another place entirely.

  He stood panting within a massive, ornate room. A wide rectangular entrance led into a circular chamber beyond, the combined shape reminding him of a keyhole. The high walls, smooth floor and curved ceiling were made of a black stone-like material, polished to a high shine. The floor tiles were arranged into a grid, with what appeared to be diamond-shaped pearls imbedded into each corner.

  It was so quiet, the air so still he could hear his own heartbeat.

  Aziel looked back, and instead of the hole in the rocks he had just crawled through, he was met by a massive double door. Its face was filled with detailed carvings of creatures of many sizes and types, kneeling before a depiction of some sort of crown. Aziel ran a hand over the door’s surface and his fingers slid through it as if he was a ghost—there was no sensation at all.

  He took an unsteady step backward, unable to comprehend what was going on.

  His heart pounding, he turned, and again faced the circular chamber.

  At the far end, he could see a broad flight of steps which led to a raised platform. He felt himself drawn forward to see it better. The platform had twin staircases arching off either side, to connect to an even higher dais.

  On the dais sat a throne.

  It was made of gold, with the seat and backrest finished in a plush red fabric. But that was not the most startling sight: the throne was surrounded on three sides by single soul crystal, an immense curved column that reached all the way to the ceiling, dwarfing all eight of his Capital Crystals put together. It was shaped like a rough hourglass, flaring out at the top and bottom, and narrowing between them. It was as if the throne had been placed within the very base of a hollowed-out tree.

  His steps echoed as he climbed the stairs to the first platform, his eyes taking in the incredible sight. Whatever this place was, it was the first—other than his place of power—to ever contain a soul crystal.

  On both sides of the circular chamber were a pair of high openings in the black stone, their tops curved and their borders lined with even more gold. Windows, it seemed. But there was no light coming from the outside, neither sun nor moon. It was just a void. An all-consuming darkness.

  Looking up, he saw a domed ceiling covered in flickering stars, but after a moment, he realized they were crystals. Every mana type was represented, with some having more than one set. But it was the single and far larger crystal set at the center which caught his attention: a swirl of three crystals twisting around each other, forming what resembled a flower bud. But it was the color of the crystals which gave him pause. There was the gray of soul, the black of necrotic… and what looked suspiciously close to the light green of demonic mana.

  Until this moment, he hadn’t thought demonic crystals existed. Even the possibility of converting a soul crystal into one was too dangerous to attempt. Though his passive healing trait could counteract the effects of Celia’s normally deadly Siphon, it did not mean he was completely immune to the corrupting influence of demonic mana, only that a significant amount would be needed to infiltrate his vessel in any meaningful way.

  The more he thought about it, the more he was puzzled not to have encountered demonic crystals before. Soul mana was rarer than demonic mana, after all, so why would there be one and not the other?

  Aziel examined the ceiling again, seeing a pattern this time. It was subtle, but each crystal or grouping of crystals was connected to another by a slight groove etched into the stone. Each had one to two connections at most—except for one. The swirl of crystals at the center was connected to seven others, the grooves radiating outwards like a sunburst.

  Aziel tilted his head back further. What did these crystals represent? Or perhaps it was only an elaborate piece of decorative art, without meaning.

  All along the upper half of the chamber, facing the throne, balconies were set into the walls. Their high silver railings swelled outward in smooth and attractive curves. Under each balcony stood a statue in the likeness of a race, sculpted out of white and black rock. The statues were posed to look as if they were carrying the weight of each balcony with their hands. The detail in their features, Aziel saw, was breathtaking.

  Each of these races was unique and intriguing. One was spindly, with large oval eyes and tiny tentacles for a chin, while another had large ears and a long trunk along with thick, rounded feet. Of the dozens represented here, he recognized only a few, such as the Grauda and the Valkyrie. There were other insectoid and winged races as well, but just as with the domed ceiling, it was the demonic ones that caught his attention.

  The first was a statue of a woman holding up a balcony while also positioning her body in the most alluring way possible. Aziel was too intimately acquainted with this race to not recognize it. A Succubus. Although her tail closely resembled Celia’s, the statue’s horns were smaller.

  The other demons, however, only resembled drawings he had seen. One was a six-handed behemoth, with two clusters of twisting horns extending upward from its forehead. The way its back was hunched and how it balanced itself on four limbs left no doubt that it was a Fiend—a particularly violent type of demon, if the library texts were to be believed.

  On the other side was a scaled and armored figure, with long hands tipped with wickedly sharp claws and a tail which ended in spikes. Its triangular face and massive forward-raked horns were a perfect depiction of a Devil, one of the more powerful and therefore most dangerous demon types.

  All the statues were similar in size, and since Aziel knew how big the Grauda and Valkyrie were, it was clear that these statues weren’t to scale, just very well-made artistic representations. Aziel took one more look at their faces, and noticed something—or more accurately, the lack of something.

  None of the civilized races were represented. There were no humans, elves, or Beastkin. Nor was there an Arachne or a Dryad.

  A low rumble came from the gate behind him, interrupting Aziel’s thought process. He turned sharply to see the edges of the double doors hum as a warm, white glow spread from the depiction of the crown at its center, before spreading to encompass the whole surface.

  Then the doors swung open.

  A creature at least twice the height of Aziel strode in. It had blue skin and hair, and wore thick black furs, immense muscles rippling under its tough-looking skin. Two blue and pointed horns extended from his forehead. Its eyes, in contrast, were pure white. Aziel wondered if this creature was blind, but the way it maneuvered around the entranceway quickly dissuaded him of that notion.

  As the creature strode toward him, Aziel felt a flicker of recognition: its race was represented by one of the statues. Just as Aziel tensed to fight, the blue behemoth stopped at the center of the chamber, right before the first set of stairs.

  “Welcome, Neruul,” a voice said. Aziel flinched, his eyes flicking back and forth, looking for the source. He had not seen another person in here.

  The creature named Neruul smiled, his teeth—more specifically, his sharp canines—on full display. Then he lowered himself down on both knees. “You called, and I answered,” he rumbled respect
fully, bowing his head.

  A sense of approval washed over the chamber, followed by a deep sadness. “It has been too long since someone walked these halls, to visit this long-forgotten chamber. Neruul, my Herald, know that I will not forget this service, no matter the outcome.”

  Neruul bowed his head even lower. “I remain loyal to the Nexus and its chosen Sovereign, the true power of the realms.”

  Aziel spun, and this time his eyes found the source of the voice. There was a crown resting atop the throne—the same crown represented on the double doors. It was simple one, no more than circular band of metal, its front forming an outline which reminded Aziel of an eye. Aziel had not noticed it before, so fixated had he been on the massive crystal column surrounding the throne.

  “Fear… ignorance…” the voice of the crown said. “It infects my world and the connected realms. It spreads like a plague. Many of them have already succumbed and are Seeded like my own.”

  Neruul’s smile disappeared, his lips pressing into a thin line. “The other realms are no match for their powerful weapons without your strength and guidance. They need your help, they need—”

  “I have answered a wish,” the voice said, cutting off Neruul’s words.

  “A wish?” the creature repeated.

  “A young Valkyrie, she walked the Abyssal Paths with the intent to die. So deep was her suffering, the loss of her child before it drew its first breath. A terrible consequence for their race, and the mother too. One of the myriad sufferings the World Seed had placed on so many.”

  “Valkyrie?” Neruul said with a twist of his lips. “They know not of your existence. The Seed purged their culture and memories of you long ago, as they did with most who might pose a threat. My people had to stay hidden to avoid such a fate.” His voice had risen in what sounded like hatred, but the creature made an effort to calm himself before continuing. “Without someone to channel your power… it is finite and precious. Even if this Valkyrie was suffering, why fulfill her wish? Why pay the heavy price?”

  “She knew not what she was dealing with,” the voice replied, unperturbed by Neruul’s outburst. “It is true, my power and influence has weakened. Action must be taken. And so a bargain was struck: a child she so dearly wants and needs. A child infused with my power within her womb, and in return, he will bear the burden of thy crown.”

  Neruul’s jaw fell open, tears beginning to form in his eyes. “You mean..?”

  “A new Sovereign shall be born.”

  All the tension and strength left Neruul’s body, and he slumped forward heavily. “Finally,” he breathed, before raising his head again. “Who is she? The Valkyrie needs to be protected. The Overseers, they will—”

  “This is why I called on you, my Herald,” the voice interrupted once more. “The Hands are yet to awaken, and fulfilling her wish and infusing the child with power has drained me. I need to rest and recover. Even with this chamber so well hidden, the Seed will have detected the use of my power. The Valkyrie goes by the name Helena. She is young, a lowborn of her race, but with the power imparted into her, she will rise amongst them. Her rise will not go unnoticed.”

  Aziel watched Neruul, the creature’s intense focus as he listened to the voice which came from the simple crown.

  “Guide her. Protect the child. Foster his growth… and when the time comes, bring him here,” the voice spoke, before silence fell upon the chamber once more.

  Neruul stayed rooted to the spot for a long moment. Then he closed his eyes and nodded once, decisively, before getting back onto his feet. “I will see it done,” he said to the silent chamber, then turned on his heels and marched out.

  Aziel tensed as the opulent chamber rippled with every step Neruul took toward the door—before reality appeared to tear like a ripped sheet of paper.

  Suddenly, he found himself in a different place altogether.

  He blinked, taking in the wide orange sky filled with smoke and ash, and the high mountains on the horizon. Tall dunes of fine yellow sand stretched in every direction, their majestic and serene curves marred by blackened char-marks and craters full of glass.

  Glass and bodies. The bodies of a host of different creatures of varying sizes and shapes littered the ground for as far as his eyes could see.

  In the distance, he saw what appeared to be suits of metal hovering over the earth. Where their legs should have been was instead a blue glow. Their arms pointed forward and recoiled over and over as they shot off bolts of blue light at something he could not see. Birds of steel shot through the air at incredible speeds, the deafening roar of their passing forcing Aziel to wince and cover his ears, then his eyes from the expected sting of the kicked up sand. But of course, the sand could not touch him, just as the doors of the chamber had given way beneath his fingers.

  What was this place? Aziel looked about himself again in bewilderment. His gaze landed on a crater containing several corpses and blown-apart body parts—more of the creatures he had seen in that keyhole-shaped room. The distinct but severed scythe-like arms of a Grauda lay at the edge of the crater.

  Aziel turned away, trying to find a way back to the circular chamber, but there was none. He was in the middle of a field of death.

  “Valkyrie,” a male voice said. It was the same male voice he had not recognized in the tunnel. Aziel turned again to see a man in long blue robes, silver ornamentations running along its sleeves and collar. He wore a featureless metallic mask in black, which covered his head but for a bright purple light which shone through the eye holes.

  Aziel knew that mask, those eyes. It was one of the few memories he had clung to in that prison world.

  The masked man did not react to Aziel’s presence. Instead, his gaze stayed centered on the ground, where another figure lay.

  “Mother…” Aziel said under his breath.

  She looked so different. Her usually pristine flowing white dress and glistening armor were smudged and dented. One of her majestic white-feathered wings was broken, and bloody. The warm golden glow which usually radiated from her was gone, and she struggled to get back on her feet, using her golden spear as leverage.

  “It is over…” the masked stranger continued.

  As if emphasizing his words, a bright beam of red light parted the sky to slam into one of the mountains on the horizon. What followed was a colossal explosion. Even from this distance, Aziel could see the shockwaves ripple through the air. A massive plume of fire and debris reached for the skies, bringing complete destruction with it. It confirmed something he had feared ever since he had first witnessed that beam. Nothing could stop it.

  The masked man did not react. Even as the wave of dust from the far-off explosion reached them, he kept his gaze level, his metal-clad hands clasped behind his back as if all was as it was meant to be. “How many more must die before you submit?” he asked, his voice calm, calculated.

  Helena spat on the ground, blood trickling down the side of her swollen lip. “Never,” she said. “I will never give him up—not to you, not to anyone. I will never stop fighting for him.” Her grip tightened around her spear as she inched forward.

  The masked man didn’t move. “I know what you’re thinking,” he said, his calmness in stark contrast with the hellish scene around him. “One strike is all you need—one strike with that spear which holds that power, and it will be all over.” He shook his head. “But that is one strike too many. You have been used, Helena of the Valkyrie. Used by a power with no place in today’s world or its future. Don’t give yourself and your noble race up for the sake of child who was never meant to be.”

  He unclasped his hand and spread his arms wide to either side, to indicate the bodies which surrounded them.

  “How much more are you willing to ask of the ones you claim to trust and love? How much more do they have to pay for your selfish and misguided desires?” He shook his head, sadly. “Even as we speak, the Overseers go on with their duty. Entire races, ancient cultures snuffed out, some as old a
s yours. It pains me to see their legacy purged from the archive, as if they never existed. Save them, uphold your race’s tradition of justice! Tell me where you hid the boy, and I promise you a swift death.”

  Helena coughed a bitter laugh. “Keep your mercy, Archivist. I have no need of it.” She pushed herself up, her legs trembling with the effort. “I’ve dealt with every Overseer you sent my way—how many is it now? Two? Or was it three?” Painfully, she stood up straight, her spear held to one side. “You will be no different.”

  The Archivist let his hands drop to his sides. “The Overseers underestimated you. I will not be so careless.” His eyes flashed brighter as he took on a more combative stance. “The protection of this Nexus was entrusted to me. Your continued resistance has revealed a truth: allowing the native races of old a chance was a mistake. A cleansing is required. Control will be preserved at all cost.”

  Helena smiled coldly, and Aziel watched wide-eyed as gray mist—soul mana—began to manifest around her spear before drifting to her many injuries and broken wing. “You still don’t get it, do you?” she said. “For someone who is meant to know all things, you are blind.” The mist seeped into her and her wounds began to stitch together before his very eyes. Even the bloody and broken wing snapped back into place, and his mother’s brilliant light glowed from it once more. She pointed her spear at the Archivist, and soul mana continued to cascade down its tip. “You lost the moment you stepped onto this battlefield and left the safety of the Seed, just as Neruul said you would. It is you who has been played all along.”

  The Archivist’s violet eyes flickered before he raised a metallic hand to the sky. Helena leapt back with a flap of her large wings, kicking up a storm of sand and dirt which swallowed the Archivist whole.

  Looking up, Helena’s grin grew wider as the sky turned blood red. “How predictable,” she muttered as golden mist manifested around her before forming into shimmering barrier of blinding light. She positioned the barrier above her, and a chill ran through Aziel’s spine as the clouds parted once more to make way for the death beam, which came to claim all in its path.