No Rest for the Wicked
The rest of the survivors had been found, much to the dismay of Irulan's most loyal psychic guards. Von-wratha vowed not to turn them to their emperor, for as long as they burned the bodies in the dungeons and properly buried Blyth's body in the caves below. She watched the soldiers trample over the glowing fungal treads of the soggy cavern floors. Blyth had been tightly wrapped in long thin linen. They carefully lowered her in the freshly dug pit. Her body was a lot smaller than Von-wratha had realised, but her protruding belly kept catching her eye, even when she tried looking away.
One of the soldiers started kicking a mound of dirt into the pit. Anger flared in her and she threw the soldier off his feet. “Get out of here, all of you!” she shrieked. Her voice was amplified by the hollow grounds.
It took less than a moment for the troop to scurry back up into the dungeons, leaving Von-wratha alone with Blyth's open grave. She lingered for what seemed like an eternity, apologising to her a million times before extending her arms and telekinetically shoving the dirt over her body. The ground slowly swallowed her wrapped form, until there was a small mound of dark soil on her. Von-wratha steadily moved closer, her hand gently pressed against the damp dirt. This was her first funeral; she had never mourned for any of those passed around her or because of her. She didn't know if she was mourning. Wherever Blyth and her youngling are, Von-wratha hoped they were far away from her.
Tears beaded in her sore eyes as her hand pulled away from the mound, leaving an indented palm print in the wet soil. Her feet left the grounds as she glided to the dungeons. The chambers were once again filled to the brim with fresh captives. Some tried demanding to know what the Farraleese wanted from them, others tried to bargain with their captors, while most either begged for their lives or remained silent.
They cowered at Von-wratha's presence when she entered the chamber. She glided through them as they parted the way for her, afraid if they strayed too close to her unnatural pulsating aura, they might get caught in it. She descended the stone stairs to the sensory-void cells where Oracle Charr was held. Her aura started shining brighter as her excitement grew.
With a hand on his gun, the dungeon guard stepped from her path before she phased through the cell's wall. The lights sparked to life in the darkroom and Oracle Charr sat up from his bed. His breathing deepened, and Von-wratha could hear his heart beating in his chest.
“These cells are terrible, aren't they? I hope the guards are feeding you well at least,” she said, filling her voice with false compassion.
“I've lost count after the fourth night,” he said. His voice was hoarse.
“I’ve heard you’d been screaming for days on end. I’m surprised you can even string a sentence,” she chuckled as she moved closer to Charr’s hunched body, “but, yes, the cells tend to do that. Prisoners often lose track of the hours in a day in here – they all go mad.”
“Enough with the torment, Von-wratha, when do you expect me to open that damn portal?'” Charr said.
Her lips twitched into a smile. “When I say you're ready. The soldiers still haven’t finished rounding the civilians up.”
Oracle Charr’s eyes widened in horror. “Will you let them suffer?”
“You will be if you don’t cooperate,” she said as she inched closer.
He shuffled his body against the wall, trying to stay as far away from her as possible. “Look, what happened all those years ago…I tried telling Razza not to exile you; she wouldn’t listen to me-.”
“You failed!” Von screamed. She grabbed him by his robes, pulled him closer to her face and slapped him with her telekinetic strength. Charr fell to the bed and covered his face.
“Show me how you would’ve begged! Tell me how you would’ve pleaded for your slave’s life!” Von-wratha gripped his greasy black hair and pulled him to the centre of the tiny cell. Charr sat on his shins, his head hanging low as tears dropped on his knees.
“Oracle Razza, please-,” he began.
“No, I am your master now. Tell me, tell me every little detail of how you would grovel!” Von hissed as she slashed a psi-blade across his face, creating a long blue line along his cheeks and nose.
“Please, stop, master,” he begged as he covered the fresh wound.
“Never. I will never stop until you are dead, dead, dead!” she screeched as she summoned more psi-blades into existence from her hands and began cutting more of his skin.
“Enough!” Irulan’s voice boomed in the cell.
Von-wratha swung around to see Irulan standing in front of several soldiers who aimed their guns directly at her chest.
“Oh, I didn’t hear you come in,” Von said.
“The sensory deprivation cells seem to do what they were created for,” she said as she stood tall and her plump black lips curled into an unfriendly smile.
“Are you afraid to be left alone with me, Irulan?” Von said as she eyed her guards, “Do you think they can protect you?”
Her smile disintegrated into a frown. “The Emperor sent me here to make sure you have appropriately prepared our captive for the portal-opening.”
“Well, inform Xol that this filth isn’t ready for the ritual yet. He will just have to wait,” Von said.
“Emperor Xolrin will wait no more. Infuse Charr with power immediately!” she said as her face tightened with impatience.
“Come, slave. Let us feast on those peasants,” Von said. She strode to the chamber outside telekinetically dragging Charr at her heel.
Irulan and her guards intently watched by the steps as the survivors yelped and cried when Von-wratha and Charr entered the centre of the cell blocks. She commanded Charr to rise to his feet with a wave of her hand. He immediately obeyed and slowly rose with his head still hanging low, too afraid to meet anyone’s eye. Von-wratha gently placed her talon-like hand on his crown and with her other hand stretched high to the dungeon’s ceiling. A void bulb burst from her palm, and the crowds began screaming, trying to run at the soldiers that kept them in the chamber as life-force poured from their faces.
The chamber was overflowing with red and white energies. Von-wratha siphoned it through her outstretched palm and redirected it to her other hand and into Charr’s head. The life essences exhilarated her as they swam through her body. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head, and she felt her victim’s lives through her mind’s eye. She felt their life-force pulled from them until their souls were finally ripped from their bodies. The euphoric moment ended when the last Girian dropped to the cold stone floor dead.
Charr collapsed to his knees, his white-hot aura brimmed beneath Von-wratha. She looked down to him, licking her lips as she imagined draining him when he ceased his usefulness.
“This power, I have never felt such-,” he whispered as his head turned to her.
“Ecstasy,” she said as her eyes rolled to Irulan.
Irulan’s face refused to meet Von-wratha’s. Instead, she looked to the bodies left behind and seemed too disgusted by what had transpired. “The Emperor is expecting us.”
“Allow me,” Charr climbed to his feet. The brightness of his aura made it hard for Von-wratha to see his face. With a single clap of his hands and in a flash, they were all sucked through an airless hole.
Von-wratha’s insides violently twisted when she was pushed out of the inter-planar vortex and into the oracle antechamber. The dark walls were lined with a copper armoured elite guard surrounding Xolrin, who now took a position in Oracle Razza’s old high throne.
“Are you ready to begin?” he asked from the shadows of his new conquest.
“Yes, your highness,” Irulan said as she took her place by his side.
Charr respectfully bowed as his light sizzled the air. Von-wratha stood back, ready to shred him if he failed or if he succeeded.
He raised his hands to the ceiling, and a white-hot light exploded forth, pouring into the centre space of the antechamber. It was a spectacle to behold. The white energy bore its way into space until an aroma of rain and grass filled the room. A cool lavender fire leaked from the centre and spread across the walls and ceiling as Charr stretched the portal wider.
The lavender flames extinguished and was replaced by a dark blue sparkling mist that grew as the portal widened to almost cover the entire middle of the antechamber. The entrance changed shades of blue as small silver sparks flew forth from the portal. It was a vision of otherworldly beauty.
Charr retracted his energy stream. Von-wratha looked to him to see that his white aura dimmed, and his hands lost their glow.
Xolrin slowly walked over to the portal. His eyes were wide with hints of joy and excitement. “Isn’t it beautiful, Irulan? This source of power will evolve my empire.”
But at such a great cost. Von-wratha heard Irulan’s thoughts and emotions from deep within her consciousness.
Xolrin strode to the portal with his hand out touching the shifting energies from the entrance. His gaze was utterly transfixed by the well of energy before him. He stood there, like a hypnotised prey. Then a familiar presence was felt in the pits of Von-wratha’s gut. She realised they were waiting for them on the other side. “Trap!” Von shouted.
Irulan’s eyes widened. Every soldier in the antechamber pointed their weapons towards the portal entrance at that moment. A baby blue light appeared from the centre. It shot forth a torrent of electricity that struck most in the antechamber. The soldier fired aqua green lasers from their guns into the heart of the portal.
Xolrin was first to be struck. His body flew across the room and struck Razza’s throne with his back. Irulan fired her own weapon into the vortex’s core, but an electric bolt ripped her copper rifle from the middle, blowing it in half. Farraleese soldiers fell one by one by each bolt, while Charr scurried and hid behind one of the thrones.
Von-wratha released her psionic shield around her body as the antechamber was thundering. Through her psychic senses, she saw an outline of figures in the centre of the portal, who were creating the carnage. She reached out with her telekinetic mind and gripped the closest figures to the entrance and began pulling them through.
Razza and a handful of oracles materialised, continuing their attack along with surviving zealots. Von-wratha retracted her shield and enveloped Razza with it to try to crush her, but the high oracle teleported away moments before. She re-appeared in front of Von-wratha, with a shining blue fist. Razza struck her on the cheek sending Von-wratha flying in the air. Razza teleported again, this time appearing behind Von-wratha before she landed, striking her with her powerful fists.
She felt Razza’s first strike deep between her shoulder blades. Von-wratha felt a crack before falling to the marble floor. She spat up blood and teeth, colouring the ground blue as she attempted to rejuvenate her wounds.
“You plagued our city!” Razza shrieked. She teleported beside Von-wratha, stomping on her ribs and breaking them.
“You dare return to our home!” She continued her relentless pounding into Von-wratha’s torso, but there was a fleeting moment between her attacks. Before Razza could unleash her final strike aimed directly into Von-wratha’s skull, she telekinetically clamped around the high oracle. Her beautiful form froze inside a red aura. Her face twisted in shock and fear. Von-wratha slithered up Razza’s legs and around her torso; her embrace anchored Razza from teleporting anywhere to safety.
“Send my prayers to the Twins,” Von whispered into high oracle’s perfect ear.
She pushed her hands onto the skin of Razza’s back and side, sending all her hate and rage into her fists and making them as hot as the dual suns. The oracle screamed as her body cooked from the inside out until she burst into flames. Von-wratha’s wicked laughter echoed as she broke off from the burning body, throwing her psychic-born fire around the warring chamber.
The portal throbbed and pulsated a sickly blue and brown hue as Von-wratha drained its power. Oracles, Farraleese and remaining zealots unfortunate enough burned within her madness. Many clambered for their escape from the antechamber, but it didn’t matter to her – she would have them in the end.
The flames engulfed the room. In the swirling flames, she danced and laughed. Her vengeance was almost at completion, when it was stopped by a cold piece of metal that went through her shoulder. The celebration ceased as Von-wratha looked to see a piece of Razza’s throne poking out of her skin and dark blood pouring from the wound. She swung around to see Charr standing amongst the flames. His white robes were turning black as they burnt on his grey skin.
His roundish face twisted and wobbled into unnatural proportions until a golden light peeled it away to reveal another familiar face from underneath.
Her heart was ready to burst from her chest as she forced her voice from her tight throat. “Nalax.”
~
Nalax said nothing. His dead eyes locked onto hers as he dashed towards her. A moment of shock passed as she focused her inferno on to him, but he was too quick. He collided into her torso, sending the two of them onto the floor. Von-wratha was pinned underneath as he beat into her face.
“Heartless, cold, dead witch!” Nalax yelled. With every word, a strike would follow. A telekinetic force wave burst from her mind, throwing him in the air before he pillowed on a charred corpse.
“I’ve missed you,” she said as she levitated to her feet.
“I should’ve killed you in the desert cave when Aeos asked it of me!” he said as he leapt to his feet.
Her vision and focus blurred as blood ran into her eyes. She barely felt pain – she couldn’t feel anything. Von-wratha wiped the blood from her face and looked up to see Nalax, but he disappeared from her sight. The portal trembled. Its force shook the antechamber and cracked the metal walls.
Von-wratha’s flames took on a life of their own. She watched as the portal begin consuming debris and nearby cadavers. The vortex transformed from a brilliant blue into a black, lightless hole as it swallowed the antechamber. Von-wratha tried to resist the pull of the portal, but all her energy was drawn from her mind and into the hole.
She felt his heavy arm wrapped itself around her neck. She felt herself getting dragged into an airless wormhole and the vision of the antechamber disappeared from her view. She was pulled into a dark and damp hall. She took a deep breath that smelt of moth-eaten cloth and body odour. When her night vision settled in, Von-wratha saw high training poles and rope interlaced around the ceilings and walls.
“Recognise this place?” Nalax’s voice came from the dark. No, no, no, this couldn’t be – he had taken them to their abandoned Academy.
“You promised to never bring us back here!” Von said as she tried scanning the room for him but couldn’t sense his mind or his aura.
“Don’t bother. Your psionics won’t work anymore; mine don’t either,” he called.
Impossible, she thought. She looked to her body to see her red aura was gone and felt her stomach hunger for the first time in decades.
“What have you done to me?” Von shouted as she clung to her belly.
Nalax’s golden eyes appeared from the shadows. She saw an outline of his tall body inching closer. She stumbled back with her arms stretched out trying to telekinetically grab him.
“I told you not to bother, it’s useless,” he said.
“This hunger…it’s maddening! What’s happening?” she shouted as her fingers clutched to her loose skin.
“That portal was the heart of Giria. It fed us and kept us safe for eons until you destroyed it,” he said.
Von-wratha’s heart began hammering in her chest. She stammered back, hitting her skeletal back against the brownstone wall. “No, this is Giria’s fault. You’re at fault too, Nalax.”
Nalax stopped in his tracks. “I know it is and I knew you would be back. After the failure of New Giria, I told the Council it could only be one person who could’ve done that. It took me some time, but I convinced them to have a plan. They didn’t trust that you could survive, but they didn’t know you like I did.”
Von-wratha’s laughed wickedly. “If you knew me then you never would’ve betrayed me.”
“I did betray you, and I’m sorry, but that was the cost to save Giria,” he said.
“You and your Council failed. If you could’ve ended me in the cell that night and none of this would’ve happened. Now, the sands will wash the sins of this city and its degenerate inhabitants from all memory, in this world and the next one,” she said.
“You’re right, we tried saving our way of life at the expense of all who cared to live it,” he said.
“How can you still defend them? They took people from their families and warped them into monsters. They did this to us. Giria can never be forgiven!” Von said as she clung at her temples with her black fingers. Her hunger drove her further from sanity.
“When you and Xolrin threw me in the dungeons, giving me spoiled food, leaving me in filth, I didn’t know if I was alive or dead. That was hard to forgive – though not impossible,” he said. She could hear his breathing getting heavier the closer he came, “but what you did to those poor souls down there cannot be forgiven.”
Nalax swung a punch that narrowly missed Von-wratha’s head. In her depleted state, she was surprised to move so fast – even if it was for that one moment. She ran among the various pieces of gym equipment, seeking for a place to hide from him until she came across an obstacle course with many shadowed nooks.
“I stayed behind with a brave few to save the last group of survivors before the Council closed the portal,” he shouted from across the hall, “but the group never came.”
Von-wratha’s breathing deepened. She frantically crawled further into the obstacle course, hoping it would dampen Nalax’s voice.
“I didn’t know why, but I sensed a great loss that almost pulled my chest out. Then I knew she was dead.”
She could hear Nalax pulled a ladder from the wall and hurl it to the pavement. The crashing sound was so loud that she pressed her hands against her ears to blot it all out.
“I tried to go to her, but the Council wouldn’t allow me otherwise all would be endangered, they said. So, I waited as the portal closed behind me, and felt you drain the life of my partner and my unborn offspring,” he said before ripping off the section of the obstacle course under which Von-wratha lay in a foetal position.
Von-wratha didn’t fight back. She wasn’t certain whether she couldn’t or wouldn’t, but a fraction of her had regret. Nalax picked her up by the throat and held her clean from the floor.
“Blyth…I didn’t know,” she choked out.
More of her breath escaped her lungs, and her eyes began losing focus on Nalax’s face and arm. She felt herself being lowered to the floor and the steel grip from her neck loosened. Von-wratha hunched forward to cough and desperately fought for a gulp of air.
“You truly are a disgusting creature,” he said over her, “I thought about you, even when I was with Blyth. Sometimes, I would catch myself imagining if you were in her place. She was your friend, Von.”
Von-wratha looked at him. Nalax’s maroon hair was neater and tied back behind his shoulders, his face was still scarred, and his tattoos faded, but time didn’t appear to touch his features from his youth.
“They hurt me,” she said as her fingers rubbed at her bruised neck, “I’m sorry.”
“Me too.”
She couldn’t meet his eye any longer. The silence in her mind was deafening. She wished she could send her thoughts, her inexplicable emotions, anything. If there was some way, he could understand…but even with everything stripped away, all she was left with was silence as her answer.
Nalax touched Von-wratha’s angular shoulder, then slid his smooth hand across her protruding collar bone and finally lifting her gaunt face closer to his by her chin. Von-wratha shook as he stared at her with a fraction of tenderness in his eyes. She reached out and caressed his rough cheek with her cadaverous fingers. A moment passed the first time in their lives of not exchanging a word; this was to be her first and only time.
With a single swift motion, Nalax wrapped his arm around her shoulders, and with a firm grip, he hauled her across the gym hall. There were dozens of metal tables piled on top of each other against the corner. Von-wratha stopped shaking, even when he rolled her onto the dirty table and strapped her body down.
She watched him when he picked up a rusty serrated knife and gently placed it on her neck. Von-wratha watched his dead eyes when he started sliding the knife back and forth. He was executing himself that night. He cut until she could no longer keep her eyes focused on her lover's face, he cut until she could no longer feel her body and then he cut until Von-wratha was no more.
Are there any other forces in existence greater than fear or shame? Too much fear can cripple the mind, but a little bit can also build communities or create an immortal sculpture. Too much shame can obliterate self-worth, but in small amounts, it can make lasting friendships built on respect. Those emotions can remind us that we have an opportunity to do better, work harder and live longer.
Unfortunately, far too many people let those emotions overtake their inner selves, while others who don’t possess those emotions are destroyed. I was one of those people; I felt neither fear nor shame.
As the darkness came upon me, I remember seeing no light at the end of the tunnel, there were no snake gods to face or anything Von-wratha was brought up to believe. I had returned to the Plane of the Dead, but it wasn’t like last time – it was far darker.
There was just a sea of grey faces waiting for me, piled on top of each other stretching across the horizon. They were my victims. All of them waited for me to face their judgements. Their stares froze my disembodied soul – this was to be my hell.
My Soul Guides, the ones devoted themselves to protect me, stripped me from all psionic knowledge and power before throwing my soul into the inescapable abyss. For countless ages, I watched Von-wratha kill her victims from their perspective. I watched my former self murder me through each pair of eyes: from Matron Aeos to Blyth, to her unborn youngling and countless more. I felt their suffering multiplied, washing away my apathy.
When my Soul Guides were satisfied that my punishment was enough, they considered for a moment, whether to pull my essence apart and scatter it across existence or give me one more chance. A single chance to correct the imbalance and injustice caused by my choices, and not to waste this opportunity. ‘For you will not receive another,’ they said.
I was expected to repay my debts through helping others, which was to begin immediately. They explained that my darkness will take several lifetimes to wash away, but they saw hope in me that I didn’t see. I didn’t even grieve for my former failed life; it was something I wanted to forget. For eons, we travelled through thousands of realms, planes and dimensions seeking a new life and home.
Finally, my Soul Guides had made their selection. I had no choice in the matter; if only I had known what awaited me. We came across a cold blue world, covered in green lands and great bodies of water. That world was rich in life, and the inhabitants of that world were unusually kind to each other – something I wasn’t accustomed to. I questioned my guides on how I could help these people as they seemed to be helping each other already. Their reply was they were experiencing a time of great peril, yet they did not know it.
I watched closely the inhabitants living in large white cities, far more advanced in technology and wisdom than the people from my former life. They were interacting with many different life forms, even ones that came from other worlds; this was part of an interstellar community. A rush of excitement flew through my soul; a new home awaited me. I questioned my guides on who these people were and what to expect from this strange world.
“All souls you have encountered from your previous life will reincarnate to this species who call themselves humans,” they said as they looked on to the cities, “and this group of beings call themselves Atlanteans.”