“Admiral, sir. The fleet is approaching the target.”
“Excellent.” Andrews grunted. “Inform the fleet to begin exiting hyperspace. And get Officer Reynolds in here immediately.” The crewman hurried off through the metallic doors nervously.
The admiral stared at the blinking monitor in front of him. The deep humming of machinery filled the cabin. The monitor contained information on all the ships in his fleet, allowing him to communicate with all of his captains, their vessels, and the high-powered weapons that they brought with them. And in the center of the screen, was a box that contained all the information The Alliance had on
It.
The admiral stared at that blank box for what felt like the hundredth time. Underneath, there was an annotation that read: “Target is extremely dangerous. Approach with caution.”
Just as a sliver of doubt entered Andrews’ mind, the doors slid open smoothly and the head officer of the weapons and tech division strode in.
“Sir,” The officer stated with an air of self-importance. “We will be in range of the objective in less than an hour.”
The Admiral nodded firmly, but a thin film of sweat began to appear on his forehead. But why? This
thing had wiped out a few relatively uninhabited border planets, yes. But The Alliance had enough firepower to destroy planets. The martians they had sent packing last year knew that all too well.
“Admiral.” said Reynolds, jerking Andrews back to reality. “Weapons are ready, and we are in position. The fleet is awaiting your command.”
The Admiral swallowed, failing to relieve his dry throat. “Very well, tell them—”
He was interrupted a piercing beeping sound. One-tenth of the green dots on the monitor indicating his ships had turned red.
“Sir?” Officer Reynolds asked hesitantly. “What’s going on?”
“It can’t be. This… this isn't possible.” Another group of the green dots flashed red. Andrews pressed down on button activating the communication system. Static. Officer Reynold’s eyes widened.
“Admiral, what’s happening?”
The Admiral was just about to answer the obvious: he didn’t have a
ing clue, when the ship gave a sudden lurch and he was knocked off his feet. The sound of screeching metal could be heard in the distance. Red lights flashed, and the piercing sounds of alarms and warnings continued. Andrews willed himself to forget the panic that was pressing in on him, and stumbled towards the main control panel. He hurriedly input the combination of buttons that opened the blast shields of the cockpit and allowed him to look outside the cabin.
Against the pitch-black nothingness that was space, there was chaos. Explosions fired at regular intervals. Enormous hunks of the wreckage floated by, burning. And suddenly it was gone—replaced by darkness. The darkness slowly slid away and the admiral stared into the eye of existence in its purest form. He felt his humanity dissipating. He gave one last, longing look towards the stars. And then emptiness.
***
The Elder One and the four devotees approached the decrepit castle warily. Shattered vases and burnt tomes littered the ground. A patch of fresh dirt had been upturned near a collapsed wall. It seems that they were not the only ones who had been here recently. Gravediggers and thieves, searching for treasures long-since buried, most likely.
As the group of robed men picked their way through the ruins to the pillared entrance of the keep of the castle, the shaggy packhorse let out a cry of lament.
Poor animal, thought the priest. It had been towing the large, cracked tablet for several miles without rest and the creature was exhausted. Its journey was soon at an end, the Elder sensed, if the loyal creature did not stop and rest. But then again, so was everyone else's if they did not reach the sacred grounds in time.
He placed his hand on the beast’s side and channeled some of his own power into the animal. The horse sniffled and its step hastened. The Elder One shook his head sadly.
As they entered the gate, he led them onward. Finally, he found the spot he was looking for. He gestured for his disciples to clear away the debris and make room for what was about to take place. There were runes engraved in the bricks in this part of the pavilion, runes very similar to the ones that inscribed the edges of the stone tablet that now sat in the middle of the decay.
As he laid down the wax candles, he recalled the day he was chosen to be the new Elder. The day his predecessor lay dying, telling him what he must do when this day came. He began to sweat under the heavy blue robes.
Once the candles were arranged carefully around the tablet, he nodded to his followers. They began the familiar low, rhythmic chant. The high-priest muttered a few words and the candles flared. A faint glow began pulsating from the tablet as it began to ascend and the chanting grew louder. He said the words. They echoed all around him.
It was going to work. They would be safe.
And then, the chanting stopped. The Elder One’s concentration faltered and he spun around. Standing in front of him was a man in shimmering armor, holding a sword drenched in blood, a look of hunger in his eyes. As the head toppled from the corpse of the last disciple, the Elder One let out of a cry of anguish.
“No, you mustn't!” he screamed. The yell was muffled by the white mask; now splattered with droplets of red as the blade slit open his throat.
***
The warrior stood at the Edge of the World, his blade drawn. His armor shimmered in the light of the fading suns. It was getting closer. He could feel it… It was almost here. All these years; fighting his enemies, exploring the unnatural, and building the impossible—it all culminated to this. His purpose. His destiny.
As the light of the suns finally went out, the ground beneath him started to shake violently. The burning inside of him came to life again.
As the warrior saw the horror that now filled the sky and descended upon him; he understood. And for the first time, that warrior felt true exhilaration.