Chapter 23: The End of Love

History is destined to repeat itself. Just as the Conjurer stood in the way of my destiny, so too will his son stand in the way of yours. Unless you kill him first.

Zanderius stood at the brink. It was a very similar sensation to when he and Amelia were dragged into the Shadow Realm through the Grave Tome. But instead of being taken to another universe, that universe was now actively trying to break its way into his world. He could feel the Lord Corruptor himself on the other side of the swirling vortex of death, actively pushing his own will against that of the Realm of Light. The Lord Corruptor hungered for souls, hungered for the Light Monks on Galsin. He wanted them with every fiber of his being; their light, their courage, and their love represented the antithesis of himself. He both abhorred and coveted their light – them and the Elementals who served the light in their own, albeit rambunctious, manner. It was only his nature to hate and envy the light. The Lord Corruptor was more a force than a person. An ideal given only the barest minimum of sentience. To achieve complex forms of chaos, he left such things to his more nuanced servants within the Physical Realm who in many ways were more dangerous than himself and all his Shadow Wraiths. His most recent acquisition was a testament to that fact.

Zanderius staggered back as countless screams of death and dismay buffeted him, scorching through to the very marrow of his bones. Every sensation was assaulted by the Shadow Realm, even his sense of smell as the scents of billions upon billions of rotting corpses wafted into his nostrils.

Zanderius gritted his teeth, took a step forward, and raised his hands anew, the Light of Balgor shining with its full glory from his palms. If he unleashed this kind of power under any other circumstances, it would likely result in the destruction of an entire planet, perhaps even worse than that. But Zanderius couldn’t afford to hold back. He was doing battle with an entire universe of evil in a manner. Caught between the infinity of the Shadow Realm and corporeal reality, Zand could direct the streams of energy contained within him to their fullest potential without fear of reprisal.

Zanderius now stood at the edge of the circle of runes where the black flames roared out into the Physical Realm, his white strands of light snuffing out many flames and holding back the greater portion of the Shadow Realm itself. Through the haze of black flames and screaming souls, he perceived them. Shadowy conglomerates of black smoke and sinewy limbs. The creatures floated in the blackness, hovering rather than standing before Zanderius. They came in many different forms and shapes, but they all represented the same thing. Evil given consciousness. Shadow Wraiths.

They went by many names. Demons. Devils. Grim Reapers. Ghosts. Sometimes even as Cthulhu. But all they really were amounted to condensed concentrations of wickedness. Some used to be Light Wraiths that were banished with their master, the Lord Corruptor, to the Shadow Realm when he declared war on the Lord Caretaker. Some originated as bits of consciousness from the Lord Corruptor himself. Some came from the Physical Realm, living lives of such depravity and wanton destruction that they naturally earned themselves a place at the Lord Corruptor’s side when they died. Their fate was both a reward and curse as their ascension resulted in constant pain only alleviated slightly by torturing others. And some were just poor souls that had been trapped in the Shadow Realm for so long that they eventually devolved into a form of existence that could no longer be called life.

They could roughly choose their form and shape despite the fact that they could not hide their inner wretchedness, at least not to him. Many Shadow Wraiths favored heads similar to their Cthulhu brethren, with fleshy tentacles of blackness seeping out from a head in the shape of an octopus. The only differentiation from a real octopus other than the skin color being a set of beady, red eyes, and a large maw of needle-like teeth.

Other Shadow Wraiths wore forms that were almost humanoid. A skull-shaped head with only the barest amount of gray skin stretched over sunken, red eyes and sharpened fangs. In place of a nose and ears were only fleshy holes that still couldn’t quite be called bone, but neither could be called flesh. Some of the skull-headed Shadow-Wraiths were adorned with horns of various numbers and designs. Some had bull-like horns. Others had horns all over, similar to Morlocks. A few bore a single horn like Unicorns, though Zand doubted little girls would want toys made of these hellish creatures.

The ones with skull-shaped heads and tentacles were the most popular, but far from the only horrors to greet Zand’s eyes. The Shadow Wraiths came in other grotesque and twisted forms. Some appeared as women with snakes instead of hair, others had green flames adorning their heads. And yet others possessed shapes that were impossible to describe as they morphed from one twisted form to another like wisps of smoke. One thing each Shadow Wraith had in common. They each had beady glowing red eyes, all wore cloaks of swirling, spiraling black smoke, and they each bore wings made of bone on their backs wreathed in green flames. They also all possessed long, skinny arms that ended in overly large, clawed hands similar to their Cthulhu counterparts. And most disturbing of all, they all were smiling. Toothy grins of delight creased their wretched faces as they stared down at Zanderius with predatory hunger.

Zanderius held his ground before the tens of thousands of monstrosities that had gathered at the rift. “I am Zanderius Alastar, the Prime Minister of Elemency! Partner of Green-Eyes, the wise! Chosen Vessel of Purity by Balgor, the Great White Dragon herself! Together, we are the will of the Lord Caretaker made manifest in the Physical Universe! I will not yield to the Shadow today or any other!”

Glorious white light shone all around him, destroying dozens of Shadow Wraiths that came too close, and driving back countless others. And yet, they still kept smiling. In fact, those grins only deepened at the loss of their comrades, and many cackled in delight at his efforts. Their brethren died screaming as the light engulfed them, yet these creatures could hardly care less. Perhaps a typical reaction of creatures who were the very embodiment of malice.

Zanderius wasn’t quite sure what became of immortal beings like Wraiths once they were destroyed. As far as he knew, the Shadow Realm and the Light Realm had no beginning as his universe did, so their denizens knew not of endings. However, these creatures could indeed be destroyed. Green-Eyes had confirmed that herself as she recounted the eternal war between Shadow and Light. She theorized that when immortal beings like Wraiths or herself were destroyed, their essence became part of their environment as they were already part of an afterlife existence. Zanderius still couldn’t fully grasp the implications of such a design, but he thought that it might have something to do with the Grand Solution, and so devoted a great deal of study to that very subject. A good thing too as this was hardly the first time he would be forced to combat the forces of the Shadow Realm, nor would it likely be the last, unfortunately.

“Well, come at me, then! Or do Death Angels actually fear their own creation? You feed off the death and suffering in our world, after all! Do you fear enduring that which you doll out so readily?”

The cackling only grew in intensity as the swarms of smoky abominations dove at him. The Prime Minister unleashed light. Three beams of pure white light burned from his eyes and mouth as Zanderius screamed his defiance for the denizens of hate. Anywhere he cast his gaze, Shadow Wraiths vanished from existence, screaming and cursing in their fowl tongue. He felled dozens of them, sometimes hundreds of them at a time. The power he employed now was forbidden to be used on any of the Physical Realms. The Caretaker’s Light could tear the very fabric of reality apart. Even resorting to such awesome power, Zand barely made a dent in their numbers. His webs of light and his attack held back the majority, but hundreds of thousands were coming at him all at once. There were bound to be a few stragglers that would get past him, and a single Shadow Wraith could threaten the population of an entire planet if left unchecked.

All my hopes now lie with the Children of Destiny. I can hold this rift at bay for now, but not indefinitely. To seal it, I’ll have to destroy Galsin, and thus play right into the enemy’s hands. The source of the rift is the Fallen’s ship. I know that now thanks to the translations that Amelia gave me. If they can destroy their vessel, the Shadow Realm’s source of energy in our world will be disrupted, and I can seal this rift without any loss of life. Ryan. Éclair. Leon. I’m relying on all three of you. Show me that I can one day safely pass this torch of mine on to you. Though in the end, you may hate me for asking you to bear it.

Mozar growled in frustration, still not sure how Kormal had managed to rope him in another misadventure for the Fire Ministry.

The group sprinted through the crumbling facility at breakneck speeds, but it barely constituted as a light jog for Elementals and strong Demihumans. They would’ve gone faster, but Kormal cautioned for a wary trek given the instability of the surface still occasionally sprouting black flames. The half-breed child returned to the group shortly afterwards. Mozar vaguely heard him saying some heartfelt goodbye to the Mystic woman, but he didn’t care enough to get the details. Even as they navigated the ever-increasing dangerous terrain of the dying moon, he couldn’t bring himself to care. Nothing made sense anymore. He had just willingly given up on game that he’d been hunting for weeks, and he did so with nary a complaint. And now, here he was tramping after Kormal on some naïvely heroic mission, the one thing he told himself he’d never do again. As Mozar brooded so deeply in his thoughts, he barely noticed the one he feared slow down to the rear and run alongside him.

“You know me, don’t you?” said the young Werewolf girl.

Mozar did not answer as he stared straight ahead.

“Don’t bother trying to deny it. You recognized my scent when we first met. That’s why you ran away.”

Again, Mozar refused to answer, but felt his heart beat ever faster the closer she came to the truth.

Torsha growled in frustration, a trait that Mozar was almost grateful to see because it showed the Monks hadn’t completely driven her hunter spirit from her. “So, what was it? Guilt, maybe? Like, I don’t know, the guilt of abandoning a lone pup and leaving her for dead!”

Mozar forgot how to breathe for a terrible few moments, but he somehow managed to show no visible reaction. He couldn’t afford to let her know even a sliver of the truth. He wasn’t ready. He wasn’t ready to die for that truth just yet.

Torsha grabbed him by the shoulder holding him in place. “Answer me, you psychotic piece of crap! Are you my father or not?!”

The girl was in such a rage that she didn’t notice the rumbling of the ground beneath. Mozar tackled her to the ground just as a column of flames exploded where they stood moments before. More flames sprang up all around them, and Mozar dragged the child to her feet and hauled her away before they were engulfed. He allowed his senses to guide them through the labyrinth of death that grew all around them.

When they were clear of the flames, the pup stared in awe for a brief time. The others watched in dismay. The half-breed child was already by their side, apparently full of notions to protect her from what he believed to be an attack by Mozar. Thankfully, he had the wherewithal not to strike. It would’ve ended very unpleasantly for him.

“No, this one is not your father,” Mozar answered truthfully. “We are not related in any way. When this one...”

Mozar growled, forcing himself to use more basic terms so she could better understand. “When I first saw you, you reminded me of ... of one of my cubs. She had yellow fur too. She was killed in a raid by our rivals, the Werecats. That’s all. I don’t know who your parents were, or why they left you at the Monastery. I’m sorry.”

It wasn’t a complete lie, but neither was it the whole truth. It was perhaps one of the few times that the hunter attempted deception with words. Mozar prayed that she would believe him. A strange thing considering that he never prayed.

Torsha’s breath heaved as she slowly turned to Mozar, her fur matted with white sand. “Well ... um ... Then that’s that. Thanks for saving me, I guess. I think in terms of the ‘I owe you’ rules, that makes us even ... ya know, since you did attack me and my best friend when we first met.”

Mozar, who had always been awkward when people tried to converse with him, could not think of a proper response.

The girl took his silence for annoyance, and she bobbed her head apologetically. “Sorry. Force of habit in life-threatening situations.”

Manipulating events to suit your needs, just like the Light Wielder. That’s why this one always hated you!
I know, the Sage thought sadly.

“How many are left?” asked Hannah in the copilot’s seat of the Monastery transport.

Lanchester continued typing at his holographic computer as the latest calculations. “According to my projections, about sixty percent of Galsin’s population are safely aboard Monastery and Fire Ministry Starship leaving the atmosphere, but that still leaves at least almost forty million colonists and Monastery attendants, and most of them have no experience with emergency situations.”

Hannah could never have imagined how invaluable this man turned out to be. He was more informative than an entire tech crew. Too bad he worked for that snake, Chissler.

Thisimius, who was piloting, swiveled the joysticks in a sharp turn to avoid a particularly large pillar of black flames that burst from the surface. With it went the majority of the Crystal Palace, a long staple of Galsin. Hannah’s heart ached as thousands of pink crystals sailed in the air as the central tower of the castle burst apart from the explosion of shadows. More and more flames sprouted from the once glorious structure. Her only respite was that the building had already been evacuated as Lanchester predicted the black flames would soon decimate it. Even some of the Angelic Prophets would be impressed by the near-clairvoyance demonstrated by this man who possessed no foresight save his intellect.

“I’m – I’m sorry, Priestess. I know how much the Crystal Palace meant to Galsin as a historical landmark,” said Lanchester, his own face going pale from the loss.

“No, don’t be. A building is just a building, and everyone inside is safe now because you already predicted the event.”

At least, I hope we got everything out. Lord Caretaker! We’ve endured so much already! I know it’s selfish of me, but let us save the people and Galsin itself!

At the very least, Ryan would be safely away from all this by now. Torsha would’ve used the Gateway to send him to the Ecclesiastes, the Capital Monastery ship. The vessel was nearly full of passengers and would be going back to the Ministry of Fire with its load. Hannah hoped Ryan was on board, but the little imp did have a bad habit of mucking up her designs for him, especially when it was in his best interest. Besides that, there was this nagging feeling that she shouldn’t have ordered Torsha as she did ... that there was a reason that Zanderius had specifically selected Ryan on the rescue mission.

“Oy! Hannah, lass! I’ve got an emergency communique from the Ecclesiastes!”

Hannah jerked in her seat. She would’ve popped right out if she hadn’t been buckled in. “What kind of emergency?! Is it more black flames?! I didn’t think the Shadow Realm could reach that far into the atmosphere! At least not yet!”

“It’s ... it’s not black flames!” sputtered Lanchester, his eyes bulging as he studied his readout. “The movements are too complex, and the energy signature is far too erratic, constantly changing frequencies! I don’t know what those things are, but the scans show each one giving off a similar gravitational effect on the atmosphere as a black hole.”

“Thisimius! Bring us around! The Ecclesiastes is our largest transport! We can’t afford to let it fall! Hundreds of thousands are already on board!”

“Aye, lass! I’ll send Saria a communique while I’m at it! She and that flaming pussy cat are mighty handy in a tough spot!” affirmed Thisimius as he brought the ship around, heading for the Ecclesiastes’ last known trajectory near the northern hemisphere as it neared breaking through the exosphere.

But even before they reached the Ecclesiastes, Hannah felt a jolt in her stomach as if something slimy had crawled down in there. It was so much worse than what the black flames made her feel, even worse than those terrible Undying Berserkers that had nearly claimed her life. It might’ve even been worse than the feeling of rot she felt in the presence of those Fallen creatures. Whatever they would find at the Ecclesiastes, it somehow felt like all the wrong in the universe was converging on that location.

Her fears were all but confirmed when she saw that the ship was on fire. The pristine white vessel looked to be in the shape of two gigantic angelic wings. The magnificent Monastery vessel nearly as large as a small city was burning. The vessel still maintained its altitude, but she could tell that the ship had already taken a beating. And if Torsha had done as she asked, Ryan was on that vessel along with all those thousands of frightened souls.

Dear Zand, forgive me for not listening! Hannah thought in horror. I might’ve just sent Ryan to his death!

She could see small dots of black flying around the vessel. Though they seemed small in comparison to the scope of the capital ship, wherever they flew by, explosions would rack the hull in huge lines of green flames as if it had been cut by a massive sword. The shields didn’t seem to affect the smoky entities as they phased in and out of the white energy barriers floating above the hull with relative ease.

Hannah knew perfectly well the name of this particular evil, but she dared not voice it out loud. “Lanchester,” she croaked in a horse whisper. “How many of those entities are there?”

The doctor, who had been staring blankly, quickly turned to his holopad, his little robots sprouting scanning dishes from their little bodies as they examined the evil spirits.

“It’s hard to get a lock,” he muttered. “They keep disappearing and reappearing, phasing in and out of existence. I don’t think it’s teleportation, though. It’s more like they’re not fully integrated into our reality.”

That’ll change the longer the rift is open, she thought, too petrified to give voice to her fears.

“Not that many according to my readouts. Just a little over a dozen for now.”

“One would’ve been bad enough,” she whispered.

Red lights flared on the security console. “Oy! We got incoming!” cried out Thisimius, forcing the ship into a sudden stop and causing both Hannah and Lanchester to lurch in their seats.

Hannah clutched her stomach, already reeling from her condition and the presence of Shadow Elemency. She held back a cough just as a humongous shadow appeared outside the cockpit. It was almost as large as the vessel itself and had a spiky, skull-shaped head with only the barest minimum of gray skin draped over a gaunt face and glowing red eyes. In place of feet was a large robe made of black smoke.

The Shadow Wraith let loose an ear-splitting shriek, stretching forth proportionally thin arms that were still large enough to crush a man whole. Both Thisimius and Lanchester screamed and covered their faces, too frightened to do anything else. Hannah, despite being exhausted, called the light from within her. She could only pray that she would live long enough to apologize to Ryan for her mistake.

Ryan took up the lead, or rather, allowed Tork to lead as he didn’t know which way was north, nor even remembered the Gateway number in the first place. The only thing he remembered was ‘Northern Sector.’ But as they drew closer, he could feel the tension in their group rise, especially within Torsha and Tork. Since being bonded with Kevla, Ryan could sense things about others without her having to tell him directly. He figured it was just her powers rubbing off on him.

They entered the building with the Gateway. The structure was crumbling with a good portion of it in rubble. At least the entrance was serviceable. They still had to occasionally dodge black flames sprouting from the ground, but the Werewolf called Mozar always warned them ahead of time.

Ryan had to admit, the guy turned out to be a lot more useful than he thought he’d be, especially when he saved Torsha without even batting an eye. Maybe Ryan had been wrong about him. Maybe he wasn’t the sadistic type, but more like the grumpy anti-hero type. He certainly lived up to the grumpy part as he always seemed to be scowling and muttering something under his breath. Frankly, Ryan was surprised that he agreed to help so quickly. He asked Kevla what the guy might be thinking, but she said the guy’s mind was a steel trap. He’d obviously had extensive training guarding his mind against telepathic intrusion.

Although, she did sense several mental conversations shared between her father and Mozar along their journey, but she couldn’t make out what was said. She didn’t know if it was due to lack of experience on her part, or if her father had purposefully shielded those conversations, which he was perfectly capable of doing. The two did seem to know each other, so it made sense that they’d want to have a private conversation, though Kevla said she couldn’t remember seeing the Werewolf in her father’s memories. The more Ryan found out about telepathy, the more complicated the universe seemed to him. The realm of the mind seemed almost as vast as Elemency itself. But then again, telepathy was just another subset power of Elemency, just like about any kind of superpower he could think of.

Kormal led the way as they came to the chamber with Gateways, a massive room with dozens of silver platforms lining the walls. Many of the Gateways had been destroyed, and for a moment Ryan’s heart sank when he thought that the Gateway they needed might’ve also shared the same fate.

Then Kormal came to a Gateway near the entrance to the room. “Good. Gateway thirty-nine. And it looks like it’s been used recently. The Fallen must’ve just come here to get back to their ship somewhere in the moon’s orbit. I should be able to trace the energy signature back to their vessel, even if they’ve changed position. With the blockade in place, I doubt they would’ve been able to go to warp. They’re most likely waiting for the moon’s explosion in order to mask their escape.”

As Kormal began working at the controls, Ryan sensed both Torsha and Tork get ready to make their moves. As he felt, rather than heard, Torsha move in behind him, Ryan sucked in a deep breath and spoke in a loud voice.

“I know why you’re hesitating, Torsha.”

The Werewolf stopped behind him, her clawed hand mere inches away from his head. He didn’t feel any malevolent intent from her, just concern. This was an attack meant to save, not to cause harm.

“You don’t know if you can make it out of this thing alive without me. Any other time, that would just be my ego talking, but since Kevla’s come into the picture, you know how useful I can be ... especially for a mission like this. After all, we’re boarding an enemy vessel completely blind, going head to head with baddies that could hold their own against Wielders. Chances aren’t looking too good for us. You probably figure we need as many telepaths as possible for a mission like this.”

Torsha didn’t respond, just held her hand to Ryan’s head. He made no move to stop her. Funny thing was he thought he could even sense the type of Light Elemency she was channeling into her hand, one that was meant to put him to sleep, not hurt him.

“So, you could do what Auntie Hannah ordered. You could put me to sleep, send me off to someplace safe using the Gateway. Maybe even get me off the moon. I’m sure that would ease your conscience, knowing that you did right by me. But in the back of your mind, you’re already thinking that this near-doomed mission has even less chance of succeeding now that you’re about to get rid of not one, but two able-bodied fighters.”

“Two?” said Torsha, speaking for the first time.

“Tork’s about to do the same thing to Rachel,” Ryan explained. “The Fire Minister gave him some kind of serum to put her to sleep. Saria and Auntie Hannah are a lot alike.”

Ryan didn’t have to turn to see the look of shame on Tork’s face as he stood behind Rachel with a small syringe already poised at the back of her neck. As Rachel spun on him, the Dragon held the serum behind his back. Rachel crossed her arms with a withering glare for the Dragon while Tork smiled apologetically, bobbing his head up and down.

Kormal had stopped typing. His back was to Ryan, but that didn’t mean the Sage wasn’t listening.

Kevla asked Ryan to let her speak to her father, and he agreed. “Father,” she said with Ryan’s voice. “I know you already knew about this. I know you were hoping I wouldn’t catch on, and I also know that you’re considering forcing the issue. With your powers, you’d probably be able to put all three of us to sleep without much fuss ... even me,”

Kormal drew in a shuddering breath as he leaned against the console, his head lowering as he continued to face away from Ryan. “You just woke up, beloved. After all these years, you finally got a taste of reality again. Of life. Of breathing and learning and growing. What kind of father would I be if I let you throw all that away now? I already failed you once, in the most horrendous way that a father could fail his child. Do not ask me to do that again. Please, I beg you.”

Something strange happened. Kevla seemed to jump out of Ryan’s body. She appeared translucent and ghostly, but her adult form was unmistakable. Ryan didn’t think the others could see her as their attention remained on him, but to his eyes, the ghostly apparition of Kevla slowly walked over to Kormal, and gently stroked a hand down his back. Kormal jolted slightly, as if he could feel her touch.

“And what kind of daughter would I be if I let my father go to his death, especially after everything you’ve already sacrificed for me? I’m not the only one who’s due some living. We’ve both been trapped by our pain and regrets for far too long.”

“Kevla,” said Kormal quietly in a tortured voice.

“You know that two telepaths stand a better chance of surviving this than one,” she continued more fiercely. “You know that with the lives of Children of Destiny on the line, this is bigger than both of us.”

Children of Destiny. Why does that sound so familiar? thought Ryan to himself. It was strange. That part of Kevla’s memories seemed closed off to him for some reason.

Mozar, who had remained silent, suddenly gave a snorting growl. “This is pointless. No matter how many of us go, we’ll probably all die anyway if half the things you say about these Fallen are true. So, if we’re going to do this at all, we might as well do it in a way that has the best chance of success. That means that either all of us go, or none of us.”