TwoKnowOne

The Chronicles of Riddick:

To Underverse Come

by
E.C.Havard II




Original Stories

Pitch Black

By
Ken & Jim Wheat

&

The Chronicles of Riddick

By
David Twohy


Chapter 1-VII:'Resurrections'

  VII

Resurrections

    It always hurts coming from a sleep that is more like death than anything, so they say. It was the feeling that Imam felt now, in the back of a carryall filled with bodies most of which were quite dead less him, or so he was starting to believe.
    “How long we have to drive tonight anyways…it ant like they’re going anywhere anytime soon,” snarled Tanew at the thought of spending one more hour pilling up people and people parts. Tanew was a middle-aged rock-jumper, as they liked to be called. People that don’t have a world of their own or least won’t say that they do. The shady kind of folks that never stay anywhere too long, who are always running from their past and seem never wanting to answer questions.  But if the pay is right or the job is good they will leave a place and crisscross the sky for the chance of making it big. Getting that big payday is what it is all about, big money fast and never having to run again.
   “Dope it up, man you piss and moan more than my last two wives” was a standard reply for Jones. Like Tanew, Jones a rock-jumper too but younger with the feeling that for him it is more to hide from fate than to seek out fortune or escape his past. The kind of man that most would get the feeling he was just spinning his wheels and not doing what it is he should do, was meant for.
    “We can make enough to refuel the ship and get the hell of this rock if we stick to the plan, you remember don’t you…the plan?”
    “Yea…yea, the plan” he snapped.
    “Did you remember that these merchant’s ant known for their word? That once we are finished we could be finished? Maybe I missed something, again, but was this little point a part of the plan?” Tanew replies with as much hand and arm movement as words that the little two-seater would allow him. Protesting because he’s getting the feeling that being part of the team of only two people, he felt most times left out of the loop.
    The little craft hit some of the city that was now covering the streets. Maybe it was a building that was no longer standing or a fighter plain never to see clear skies again. After the night the lights went out a clear street was something of the past. With New Mecca being mostly of sand in the first place all that was build from sand now turned back into sand and shouldn’t be too great a leap of thought. But so much of the place was gone now. For most of the run in this part of town has been anything but easy going and this last bump was the worst for the two man crew. Most of their load readjusted with the addition of a sound, a low moan.
    “Tell me that you checked all in this load and they are dead?” asked Jones while bring the craft to a jerking stop.
    “What…dead? Yeah they’re all dead! What the hell are you talking about?” again Tanew saying it all mostly with hands and arms.
    Jones just cut him a look while busting out of the cabin to check the load. Tanew grunted and followed him out and around to the back going the other way around. Standing together it seemed to Jones a long time before it came to Tanew that he has to unlock the back from the drive compartment on his side. With out words or actions he harried back to his side and pulled the lever.
    “I’ll never get use to the smell of death no matter how long I seem to smell them” thought Tanew.
    “Yeah Tan, do you think helping me back here would be a nice next move?” but before finishing, while turning toward Tanew he steps on his toes.
    “Wow, glad to see you’re still on point.”
    Pulling the door open all the way lets in the light of night on a slippery wet sight of bodies and parts. But this is seen from the eyes of Imam as he looks to this low light but sees the kind of light one would expect to see at the end of the tunnel. The light that pours in is so blinding that both men fade away like rocks disappearing under a rising swift tied of fire followed with the sound of a fading voice saying,
    “…hay…that one’s breathing!” Imam blacked out.
    He awoke on his feet, running after another painful flash of white light. Running in the dark and running alone with the sound of his heart beating as if trying to jump out of his chest. Shrouded in darkness this world was, covered by night.
    “Allah…I know this world but where…when?” he spoke softly while slowing down to get a better look. The world wasn’t unknown somehow, not at all. And as before he couldn’t shake the feeling that the night was crawling with eyes, eyes locked on him. If he couldn’t remember why he was on the run he knew enough that he shouldn’t stop, not now in the wide open night.  
    A strange cry sounded off to his right and was closer than comfort allowed. He drew a quick breath in fright and started off running again. That was followed on cue with another of those cries that jogged a memory.
    “Riddick…” he thought. He became overwhelmed at remembering the way Riddick laughed at him with the onset of rain, the last time he was here. Back in that nightmare world were the lights went out was this nightmare now.
    “But I got away…we left that world” he thought to himself.
    “…didn’t we?” Then the young men on pilgrimage with him flooded back to him as he turned down a path.
    “My eyes are adjusting” thought he because the outline of the other side could be seen now, the other wall of earth.
    “Ale…?” in desperation he thought of. The first of three that died in his care came back to him now.
    “It is this place…”he thought just before he fell, for no longer was he looking for the next step in the night but looking up at the walls.
    Another flash of light blasted over him. But this time reopening his eyes there was a window way up and over his head with passing building in disrepair. It was a bumpy ride through the streets of home. a ride through the wrecked streets of New Mecca. This gave him little comfort as well. He couldn’t feel his feet, his legs or for that matter nothing under his waist. Looking back up over his head it seemed clear where he was for a moment. From on his back he was up in the air and back down from what felt like a bump in a road trailed by pain. He was out again.
    Thoughts broken and choppy, flickering distorted images that Imam could almost make out. A row of fuzzy lights overhead, florescent lights the type found in a hallways ceiling. Voices muffled but not losing there intent to motivate. And there was a smell to the place. A smell that right away made Imam a bit apprehensive about this new place he’s in. Hospitals have that smell, the cent of formaldehyde, embalming fluid. Funny how that smell seems the one cent you would think would be masked over. If you can smell what is used to keep the newly dead fresh, than that place must have quit a few dead there in to speak of. Now while this would be true for a morgue and all hospitals have such doesn’t mean that the whole place has to reek with the smell of death, right? I mean it’s no wonder why Imam avoids places like these, places to recall what death smells like. That is a sent forced upon his senses more time then he should be forced to endure now.
    The lights turned to darkness with his first painful feeling of the rest of his body. His waist and legs came screaming back to him just long enough to paint over the light with a new kind of darkness. A lasting darkness he felt as that pain swiftly passed leaving only the darkness behind.
    “A lasting darkness…” He thought that this wasn’t the first time he said this. It felt like deja vu. He could feel the rush of wind on his right side and turned his head to see. At first there wasn’t anything to see, nothing but darkness and the feeling of wind on his face. Wind that with every passing moment was growing faster all the time with the sound of rushing waters thought Imam. It was a storm at this point and he could only look a short time between blinking his watering eyes. What it is he was wasn’t possible.
    From the direction of the wind was vastly approaching a wall of water, blue-green water. The ends of which he couldn’t see, it was like somehow falling sideways into an ocean. It sped up to the point that Imam new he was going to be hit by it and closing his eyes he braced himself. But nothing, still holding his eyes closed he realized that even the wind was gone. He ventured a peek and couldn’t open his eyes up any wider if he tried because of what was there. That wall of water had rushed all the way to within inches of him, almost face to face he was standing motionless by a sea of water.
    Imam reached out to make sure it was real, to see if it would just go away. Touching the surface set out a ripple in the water that was wonderful, the ripples gave off this bluish glowing light. The larger the rings got the brighter the light he was now bathed in. He pulled his finger back almost giggling at the sight of it all. The calmness of it all removed all concern. The light this close was starting to bother him new they were so bright. And just that fast he was under water. That wall had engulfed him so fast he couldn’t make out up or down. And not preparing for it his lungs didn’t hold all the air they could. He didn’t have all the air he felt he should. Seeing a light now above he pushed off in that direction with all he had. He had to break the surface and take another breath. But that surface seemed to far now with the return of that pain. He can no longer feel his legs and stops swimming.
    “Am dying…” was his last thought as he passed out from pain taking a breath for the last time.

<<<<>>>>

Chapter 2-III:'Holding Beauty'

III
Holding Beauty

    Seeing that his words found a home within her Riddick was reluctant to let her go. There was no trace of resistance to him, to anything that he has done. Riddick set her on her feet and reached for the screen in her hand still loosely held. Spending more time feeling the contours of her arm then was needed. Beginning from just above her elbow his hand slid down to feel her she thought, to take in the touch of her. Working his way down like he had the whole day to do this. Working his way down to her hand and gently removed what was there.
    She was confused because although this was her wish for the last Lord Marshall it never came about. To be more to him than just another female it never came about. He didn’t want her in that way. He didn’t have a taste for dark meat she uses to think to herself. It was the reason why although not feeling anything for Vaako she thought that it would make for a good move to be with a Commander at least. Commanders are the ones that are next inline to the throne. And Vaako wasn’t hard on her eyes at least.
    “And nothing less would ever do for me” was her one thought all this time. The only reason that she worked so hard in getting Vaako to want more than what he was, to become more than just a Commander. But what was this he just called her?
    “Sister…?” she tried it again in her head just to see what it felt like. In trying to think through to her next move, to calculate what should come next was all she ever seemed to do. All she ever did the moment she was freed from purification herself. From the moment that she was taken down from that place that all Necromongers receive their mark. For more time than she thought she should be spending trying to remember the last time her being alive was something left to chance, something out of her hands.
    But without finishing her last thought Riddick introduced a different idea. “How bout…taking another look?” his smoothly spoken voice jolted the weight in her hand back to the forefront. Picking up the Reader’s screen again, she looked into it without the constant fear that he was watching her. But again what was on the screen was just as confusing as before. The alarm was setoff by what looked like a homing beacon, a beacon activated within a non-descript system deep within Necromonger space. A system never visited. At least she thought not.
    But what neither of them there, Riddick or Diethan knew was that the beacon was more than just an alarm. More than just a marker left and forgotten long ago this was. The sound of that alarm was being received on all the control rooms on any vessel that moved, on every ship, monitor and warning light they had collectively. Sounding in unison collectively because a Lord Marshal has been killed and he who has killed him has not taken all that he has killed yet. The time was up.
    That beacon sat on the edge of the Underverse, the spot unseen by either eye or machine that was opened from the other side. Made of the purist of Necro-metals it too was invisible until activated. In many ways it was more alive than just a machine. But like a machine sleeping or a slumbering bear, a chance encounter to feed was all that was needed. And as much as this was unknown so too was the matter of its latest meal.
    In the empty look of Diethan Riddick started to hear the alarm coming from down the hall, in both directions. And with a grunt Riddick blazed off in the same direction that he entered the large room hell-bent on returning to the thrown room. The flurry of people around him moving so not to be found in the way made it hard for Dame Vaako to follow, but she did, not wanting to lose him from her sight. Not wanting to be left behind now no matter what.
  Finding him again was different for her this time. He was the same man as before and the throne room was also, but Riddick standing there to the side of the thrown looking intently into the view screen at his feet watching the fleet moving together away from the planet was disturbing. Not just to her but to all in the room. No command was issued for the move, no command of any kind has been issued at all so why this?
   Taking an attack stance because of a Necro approaching Riddick was all that was needed to have that man come to a stand still like his feet were suddenly in cement. The new color coming from the alarm lights bathed the place changing it somehow, a feeling that he was being watched. Every time the lights would come on he had that distinctive feeling that in a shadow eyes were upon him. Looking harder he saw that the statues around him had eyes for only a moment. Eye’s like his but only while that alarm light was burning, and only with that sound. He removed his glasses to see better what was there, hiding in the shadows. And to his surprise what he found disturbed him.
    The statues there for only a moment did seem to have eyes, eyes like his. Eyes that around the outer part were just as his but the centers pulled back into the heads of those monstrosities. Pulled back into a darkness that he couldn’t see into, a place that wasn’t showing anything at all but the color black that he hasn’t seen in years. It was the feeling of seeing the color of his eyes looking back at him and like clouds in a ring falling into nothingness that bothered him somehow. The flashing on and off again didn’t make it better either. That just gave him the feeling that while he couldn’t see them, those eyes newly found, they could still see him. Riddick was sure of that. Looking around it was seen that everywhere there was a face on a wall or placed in a helmet those faces had eyes, had eyes all looking at him.
    By this time Diethan had made her way up to him, placing a hand softly on his forearm to get his attention but made him flinch.
    “My Lord…what is it, how may I help?” she asked never turning away from those eyes of his, looking into his eyes with almost a look of pain herself he thought.
    “For starters you can kill the lights,... and the noise!” And with that she signaled to a warrior standing at a panel how acknowledged her and threw a lever. The show was over, the eyes were gone. Just the same sight of large figures in pain without eyes,
    “That’s what they are…just bad art” he muttered.
    Seeing that the masses were still standing and staring at him he barked,
    “Don’t you’ll have shit to do…?” and with that a storm of people started off without the feel that they knew just were it was they were heading off to. It pleased him that they just did whatever it was he wanted. But that one who first started out at him didn’t move, so Riddick turned his head toward him walking to the thrown with Dame by his side as if to say.
    “Well…what is it man!”
     “Your presents my Lord…your presents is needed in the war room.” And with saying that he bowed, and started off backward without looking again at Riddick while getting away.
    “War room…?”
    “Yes my Lord” Diethan chimed in with.
    “The alert we just had is a once in a lifetime thing for a Marshal. It has to be. I have seen three Lord Marshal’s and all of them gone but never seen or heard that alarm.”
    With that Riddick reached out and grabbed her arm so as to bring her to her knees before him, face to face. Making sure all the while it was nothing but painful for her. She fell with little resistance mouth open in shock but showing no hate in her eyes as he looked deep into hers. She dropped her head, without him letting go the pressure he held her with Riddick waited.
    “Can you make it stop…?”
     Easing up his grip Riddick could once again feel just how soft she really was. How unexpected she had been this time around for him. He watched how with another word she again looked over to the chamber operator who threw another lever and the show was over. Without thinking first he smiled and uttered just for her, low and quiet.
    “Beautiful…”
<<<<>>>>

Chapter 2-IV:'The Making of Mercs'

IV
The Making of Mercs

    Mercs have a code they follow, thou most would differ with this thought it is non-the less true. They had an honor code they lived by just as any inmate would defend their code of honor is so asked. It was just a different then what most would come up with being connected with honor that the code was based upon. And like the long history of inmates, Mercs too was one full of the material not spoken of in mixed company.
    This was always the theme Frank thought of just before entering into a class room full of mercenary wanna-bees. Frank Ulster was an ex-Merc with the longest history of captures known alive. It’s a short carrier for most. And it wasn’t lost just be the looks of the man. His right hand had toes in place of fingers where he lost them. But the most damaging thing was the eye patch to his right eye. Not many want a mate that has a depth perception while hunting people how don’t want to be caught.
    The good part was he wasn’t just a sign-on, not just a fellow looking to make a fast buck no matter what the mark was. One of many who are a part of more crews than should be he wasn’t. As a full member of the Mercenary Guild and a card carrying fool in good standings, when a convict was brought to a slam his right was the full price on that head, no bullshitting allowed. It was and agreement that has it roots in the days before the proliferation of man throughout the heavens.
    “OK all you ass-wholes, lesson up” he barked coming through the door like it was wrong for it to be in his way. “Let’s get one thing strait…who’s in charge here…?” he spoke this to all and after getting to the front looked out at the small assembly of people looking to see who would be first to learn.
    “What…no takers?” he did look surprised at this. But that didn’t last too long.
     “You the instructor, why you asking us?’ it caused a spell of laughter in the group. This came from a big man sitting on top of a table that didn’t change his stance once the teacher came in. if he didn’t do it because he thought that he wasn’t the instructor than it was because he felt he could kick every ass in the room. So why move at all?
    Frank started out from the front in the direction of Mr. big mouth but turned to his right instead.
   “The name is Frank, Captain Frank Styles. I’ll be the reason for you swearing at your momma’s for a long time to come.” He spook in a fashion most believable to the people in that small room as there instructor. People paying to become a member of one of the largest privet non governmental organizations known. And as he talked Mr. big mouth no longer made it a point to keep the “captain” in he’s sights. Not knowing it didn’t make it less painful once the captain worked his way around the room to him. Hitting him with the end of his pistol so hard that it looked as it his eye had popped out of its socket. Continuing he’s topic like it was an everyday thing, he stepped over the now motionless body and back towards the front.
    “If, and I do mean if you manage to complete this class, you will be able to get your sorry ass selves even into greater shit onto a carrier that will most likely kill you…” and was the way he would teach the first lessen to every new group of slugs he has ever taught. Never give more than what has been asked of you.

    It was a large building complex the Mercenary Guild Inc. he worked in and never liked the walking from this ass-wipes office to the next. And for that reason if anyone was looking for him it was their best bet to check Ops, the Employment Office as they like to think of it. It’s the place that the whereabouts of about a hundred thousand Mercs could be tracked down. Not that you could, tracking down a Merc was hard work because they were so secretive. The best ones can fall of the map for weeks. And if they could pull a fast one over on the guild by not paying up, trust it they would.
    “Yo Frankie…over here!” Frank looked over but not really wanting to hold anymore class today had that classic pissed-off frown. He found the source of the call, an old friend by the name of Asher, Ash to his friends. One of the men still living who served with Frank when they were both were little more than tadpoles. Frank waved him over to the terminal he was working.  
     Ash was almost skipping around the people and stuff that was in his way wearing that stupid look he has become famous for. He wasn’t just small, but would only come to a weight of three digits if wet. Ash only has one outfit, or is it that he had a bunch of shit all the same? Who knows, either way he’s always in the same things. But what really got on my nerves was the cap. You see, Ash keeps a cap on his head at all times, the same dirty cap too small for the only big part of him, his head.
     “What brings you to my neck of the woods…and don’t ask me for money cause you’re just a no money-haven-ass who still owes me!”
      “Naw…naw, it ant like that man, I’m here cause I heard a little su’um…” and just letting it linger long enough to work Ash didn’t move one fiber in his body.
     “Heard…?”Frankie in return used the same training, not as much as one inch changed.  But that damn shrimp seemed always to have something in his hands to play with, to keep the next move obvious. Something to do while the waiting game was in full swing, then suddenly.
    “That you’re looking for someone, someone we both know.”
    “That certain someone that left you back then, back on a rock no one would find…remember…?”
    Now turning towards the spot Ash has clamed as his own Frankie slowly continued, “…someone…?” The smile on Frankie’s face gave it away. It was too hard for him to conceal his feelings for the chump.
    “Listen-up Frankie, I got it all figured out” Ash spoke now keeping his eyes on the people around him and not on Frankie, moving in closer all the while. He knew that it was best to make the start of anything important, like him getting some money out of this or acting as if they were already working on something before Franck said they were. Which point he was working now toward his ends wasn’t clear to him now. But that too didn’t matter. Both reasons to work with Ash had the same outcome, getting him some cash.
   “Got a lead two days ago, about some disappearing crew, that is everyone missing but one, the ships captain.” Now moved in quit close looking into Franks face smiling he was pleasantly waiting. If Frankie was a bit burned in the brain, which isn’t impossible. Ash gave away too many similarities that couldn’t go without notice. If he had even forgotten his name he isn’t going to forget the particulars of one mission. The one mission that for his cut he got toes for fingers now, no way he would forget.
    “OK, let me get this strait” Frankie spoke now without a shred of were he was coming from. “You got a name…that you think I’ll be interested enough to part with a “small portion” of money owed me?!” And by the end of that he had Ash on his back with both hands to his neck choking him.
    The rest of the room got to their feet to see what was happening. Placing bets and egging the two of them on. Just another afternoon of free entertainment at the Office of Employment just another way the ranks are kept strong. Ash had made such a fight that the two of them were on the floor now, the captain still on top, still trying to kill him. At one corner a co-worker is ran to the door to invite more to the show. Not an uncommon thing to see at all, two men trying to kill each other just one not seen that often this fare up in the department.
    Ash was looking more like the one to clock-out with the way he was moving slower. The circle around them was a tight one. Every one was at this point in a state of frenzy. Not a workstation was worked now, they were all watching. Now with his eyes up in his head, Frankie was thrashing Ash’s head gripping harder and harder each time his head returned to the floor. Even the strength of Ash’s grip on his wrist told Frankie he was winning this latest fight. But Ash was trying to say something.
    “To…To…To…!” was what Frankie heard every time Ash’s head was off the floor.
    Frankie stopped suddenly thinking, “Toombs?”
    “Yes…” was the response from Ash. A response that Frankie didn’t expect because for the life of him he didn’t think he asked the question out laud. Cheek to cheek letting up on the pressure he was holding him with Frankie asked so that only Ash could hear, “what did you say?”
    “Toombs…Toombs” was the name repeated to him like it hurt just to say it.
    Now Frankie thought to himself that this was different. This was indeed something he could use. Pushing back off of him he declared, “Damn, why didn’t you just say so…?”
    The rest in the room knowing that it was over without and ending anyone was betting on sound their disapproval with the change of events and simply pulled away to what ever they were doing before.
    Still on the floor but now with his hands on bent knees Frankie happily proclaimed, “Little shit, you just made my day…” then leaning in asked him, “thirsty…?”
<<<<>>>>

Chapter 3 - 1 'Elements'

I

Elements

 

    Aereon pleased with the outcome of a prediction now more than thirty years past thought it best to return to her own world. A world not slatted as the last to fall as payment for her service to the Lord Marshal.

    “The last Lord Marshal…” she muttered to herself. She turned with enough speed so as to become invisible to anyone around her. A trick being an Air Elemental she knew only too well.

    Now out of sight and on her way out of Necropolis her thoughts drifted onto different calculations. A problem that is much older than this world she was hastily departing. A question that is much older than even humans are as a whole. Older than Earth, the first home of mankind this question was. The place in which they left and have now spread to points throughout the galaxy. It was the first question that collectively ever was asked by her race.

    Helion Prime was the first of six worlds that were slated to fall, one after the other until the whole of the system was dead. A peaceful system without an enemy anywhere it was. The one place in the night sky that would welcome anyone Helion Prime did. Not having a place to call home anyone, no matter of race of faith would find their welcome there like a lost son newly found.

    It left Aereon smiling as she exited Necropolis for the last time, or at least she hoped. Heading down the Grand Way to the center of New Mecca was a painful sight. Her smile was no more.

    “So much of this beautiful world is in such ruin now.”

    She couldn’t help but feel sorrow at the sight. The city was razed to the ground so swiftly and completely. For the most part it was hard to make out all the wholes burned into the ground now, the many spots that once where buildings. More than a thousand years gone in one night. It was hard for her to recall what the wholes of smoldering ruins were. The places that stood the test of time which are no more, Aereon felt deeply the waste. But nothing was a upsetting as the beacons. Such a wander the beacons were, always on, always bright now out, dark and standing in sad repose if looking for a savior.

    “And a champion this world did receive.” She thought. This world isn’t the latest rung on a long rope of dead worlds. This world has been saved, if only in ruins. This world was where the tied turned. The Helion System was less this world untouched. This the last stop before Aereon’s world.

    “Our world…as if we truly knew where that was.” She mused to herself. Laughing inside at all the arguments that have been raised from the start Aereon thought these new developments would surly add new wood for the fire. It has been truly a long time before something came along that wasn’t really expected. For an event to occur in the all of this universe that wasn’t first concluded by the Five was unheard of. Not that two hydrogen atoms caught in each others gravity wells, falling into one other each time that happened was seen. It wasn’t important to know that it happens. It was just important to know which two were important to know about.

    It was at the core of an understanding. A truth never thought of or shone false. That is to say not in all the time they’ve been around. Not from the first the Five became aware. The first of a race that would continue from the pattern of life that was the Five until the whole of the Elementals new in time were complete. The last of a singularity that in all rights can’t be alone Elementals were thought to be. By themselves with nothing as their opposites wasn’t the norm. Everything both in reality and thought had an opposite. Everything that is known this was shown to be true but Elementals. And that was just wrong.

    Because of the way of the Elementals was so different it was easy for them to believe that they didn’t have a shadow hanging over them. And this one fact proved that more was there in places they couldn’t see with eyes or through calculations of any kind. It was because of them. The Necromongers and their faith and the love of death were just the tip of the iceberg. This was her thought and not a popular one at that. It was her warning both at home and abroad.

    She turned a corner that stopped her dead. From the start of this blood bath she had never seen more bodies dead than what was in front of her now. A battle fought with the love of life never to have this sight as the only testimony of that love. A creation only a nightmare could be called so close to her own world. So close to Morceau, Aereon’s home world that she knew she was right. Aereon’s camp, the Elementals who like her believed that they were not alone, that they had another side yet unseen this was just proof. Standing there unaware that this was ever waiting for her to see she just stared at the horror of it all.

    “So many souls” she whispered. The sound of her worlds fading forward, sucked away from her by the wind.

    While looking at all those dead bodies she started to remember what was so special about this world of men. It was the artwork, artwork made never looking for payment of any kind. Beauty given because beauty is the place it would stay, forever. A noble idea never lasting as this world has lasted based on the principle of beauty. The idea wasn’t new by any means, just never successfully done. Not until Helion Prime first started sending light into the night. From the night side of her world one could see Helion Prime because it was so bright. Sending it’s light out for the first time right in their back yards Aereon use to think, that is until last night. The first night in more than a thousand years of those lights to die out was last night.

    The bodies looked as if worked hard by someone to make the pile. Some sick monster working as a master craftsman placing all the different parts and bits to build a monument to death itself. But she knew that wasn’t it. It was just backwash, the chaos calm only found in the eye of a storm. This scene would be seen again she thought. She could almost hear the words as she thought them.

    Stacked in a corner across an open courtyard not unlike many on Helion Prime where the remains of hundreds of bodies, hundreds of people never to be laid to rest intact. A ghastly sight only made worst by the pooling of blood. A semi coagulated river of blood that no longer flowed free still danced at the touch of the wind.

    And now to have the very sky no longer threatened with a comet paid with life on Helion Prime was all the proof she felt was needed. Proof that even Elementals have an opposite, that they too are only part of something bigger than them. The only city in all the sky where many people different could be found that lived in peace never knowing of war. So many different faiths there never was a war because of the differences was the pride of Helion Prime. That bastion of piece right in their back yards now runs with the blood freely flowing from monuments to death.

    Turning her head Aereon moved on. Past that monument she hoped would never last long enough to be granted a name. To be given a place among the living. To have a future under a smiling sun of days better than this one. Because although as happy as Aereon felt believing the debate was over, the coast was truly great. Staying out of sight from the people walking around darken streets she couldn’t stop thinking of how close it came. How close to the end it played out before hope was seen again. How she felt in that prison in the dark was not so long ago. Just waiting to die she believed then was all that was left. Waiting to die without hope of any kind at all were her thoughts when the doors were opened that last time. And yet now she was free to return home. And return she would with words that will change everything for them all. Words she always thought someone would say, never thinking it was her that would. A day of days this truly was.

    But the day was drawing to its end. The light was low now. With shadows long she still had so much more ground to cover yet. How much time she spent Aereon wasn’t very sure of. Not something that she would spend time thinking about. After all Elementals had nothing but time, time to calculate anything and everything. But calculating the time in terms of humans wasn’t done. People count time as something they are running out of all the time and not like the wonder it is. Not like apart of them. Not like an Elemental.

    Looking up into the dwindling twilight Aereon could just make out the star of her home world. Gazing up at a lone stare near the end of the universe didn’t provide the comfort she thought it should.

    “Our home…” It wasn’t ever the truth she thought as those words worked their way out of her. The star only had one small world, no moons or anything else for that matter. Even the star wasn’t normal. It wasn’t a fixed point in the sky but one of a few that floated freely. Passing through systems and sections of the sky on a path unlike the rest, traveling freely amongst all those stars that don’t move her world was.

    Continuing on, down yet another uprooted street she entered. Trying to stay focused on returning to that spot in the sky, to returning home for lack of a better word. This one street unlike the rest didn’t have anyone walking in it, no one dazed or frighten did she have to avoid as she made her way east. Coming to a building undamaged she once again stopped. The door was open but even the window glass was still intact.

    Slowly Aereon entered. There could still be someone within that wouldn’t understand maybe who it was that just entered their safe haven.

    “Hello…?”

    She spoke softly not to startle whoever may have been there. But there was nothing but the emptiness waiting for just what it was she gave, sound.

    “No one home…”

    And with that she continued deeper. She past the counter tops feeling each one. Allowing herself to become visible now, and so what, it was just her hand. The place didn’t seem to have a soul there and it was just as it was left, untouched. So many different things to have, to buy, it was a daunting thing of her to understand. Daunting because not needing anything at all to be just who she was could all this really be needed? Things to eat and things to groom with where what caught Aereon’s eye now. Things to have and own, things to even smell different than what people smelt like were neatly before her. Aereon didn’t rush now as she walked deeper into the shop. Working her way to the rear of the shop Aereon came across the only door there. On opening it she was again forcefully brought back to what world she was in, a world scarcely holding on after its first war.

    Although above the sky was unquestionably darker than before with more stars than just her home world looking down on her. What was before her was stunning. She had entered onto a midlevel view of a large inner quart yard. Two floors up and the sky was the limit. Wispy clouds darting by covering and revealing the nightlights above. Two floors down and there was a full garden and small center pool. As wonderful as it was to come upon this sight what was there waiting for her to see was something else.

    The expanse was marred with the remains of a ship in one corner of the building no longer flight worthy. A fighter plane of Helion this was, a one man ship bereaved now of that man. One of many that fought gallantly without success. One of many never again to be seen souring overhead. With both wings torn off it the sight was truly a sad one. One wing twisted off above and behind the fuselage the other dangling below. Torn but still connected by the slightest of wires, smoldering and empty. She remembered something just then, something she heard once before. She remembered a saying as old as this or any world.

    “Cursed is the home of a fallen bird found dead.”

    But after muttering these words she smiled. In someway if was right. This would be the place that she would rest for the night for even Elementals needed to sleep, and dream. Walking towards the steps that led to the upper level she turned, still smiling all the while at the clue she felt she had gained. A part of the equation that was never considered and was what her ideas have always been based on. That she wasn’t right, the very equation was wrong. It was based on the belief that Elementals were the cream of the crop, that they had no equals. That alone they are and would be for all time. A belief that Aereon now new was wrong because she isn’t dead at the hands of the last Lord Marshal. And the first place that felt safe to her had the worst sign of all for an Air Elemental or any lover of life that being a bird of flight found fallen and dead.

    “This is truly a day of days.”

 

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