-Prologue-
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Spinning planets lazily drifted in circles like the haze of gathering storm clouds. Helm watched them with honest fascination, even after all this time—the war, the toll of death and the uncertain, wavering flame of hope.
Kindern was late, again. Helm resisted the urge to roll his eyes as he gently ran his hand over the orb to his left, his fingers trailing through the rolling blues, leaving pluming trails like smoke—such a beautiful, fragile world. The weight of his responsibility suddenly seemed to press into his shoulders, threatening to crush him into the stone under his feet. None of them could afford to fail in this.
Not again.
He was absentmindedly pacing in front of the two orbs, his hands behind his back, when he heard the door open behind him.
“Glad you could finally arrive, old friend.” He didn’t bother turning around. Although the space was not cramped, it contained very little—and yet everything. It was complicated.
“Unlike you, Helm, us mere immortals take time traversing the stars and planets. I have been observing up close what you seem to prefer studying from afar.”
Helm turned his head slightly to eye Kindern. The room’s sparse light glinted off the man’s blond hair, and his strange eyes swirled with a greater array of colors than the two orbs illuminating the room, like tempests devouring one another in a desperate attempt for dominance.
“It takes perspective and understanding to make correct decisions,” Helm replied curtly, only feeling outwardly polite.
“And what of your sun? You propose to stake the project on her? Worlds of lives? What strengths make her so valuable… or what weaknesses?” Kindern smiled, the sparse light darkening the shadows of his face and almost transforming the grin into a scowl.
“The Architect has expressed great confidence in his choice. A choice I happen to agree with.”
“The Architect has not set foot here for centuries. His selection may be… uninformed. My choice has been prepared since birth. He knows of the prophecy and has crafted his life and learning around fulfilling it. It is his destiny.”
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
It was now Helm’s turn to smile, a rare, genuine smile that displayed his white, gleaming teeth.
“Ahh… destiny. A word we’ve all courted, loved and despised. Destiny is little more than blind determination without destination. It has no say in my choice. I do not believe she has been destined for this prophecy or for so-called ‘greatness.’ But she has the most to lose in this exchange. And I believe she also has the most to give.”
“But you do not know. And neither does she. Conveniently, she remembers nothing. How will she fight in a war without weapons, without knowledge? My choice not only knows, he is actively striving to fulfill the prophecy, something Elisians would know little about.”
“Your fight is not with me, Kindern.” Helm suddenly seemed to grow taller, his voice deeper and more commanding. “Every moment you spend spinning riddles around me is another moment of loss. If your choice is more prepared to fulfill the prophecy, I will not be able to stop him.”
Helm paused for a moment and closed his topaz eyes, seemingly lost in thought. “There is more than one way to win, but every other path leads to failure.”
The dark room suddenly grew brighter as a third man shouldered his way through a jagged metal door on the opposite side of the room, his makeshift sword cutting through the darkness with terrible effectiveness.
“Living in a fantastical world has softened you, Kindern. Would you like to switch places with me?” The man used a ragged cloth to wipe the heavy layer of dust and grit from his battered armor, his helmet in one hand, his gray eyes sharper than his brandished weapon.
Kindern shuddered, taking a step away from the newcomer, unable to take his eyes off the blade.
With precise strides, the man strode over to the slowly circling orbs in the middle of the room until he was standing beside Helm. He looked down at the worlds silently, although his eyes told a lengthy, warring story.
“If any of us fail, there will be nothing left to save,” the man said simply.
Kindern bowed his head slightly, his eyes trained on the floor. “Of course, Architect.”
As though unaware of his companions, the Architect gazed down on the vibrant green orb on the left with undisguised care and concern for several moments, Helm and Kindern silent witnesses.
Then, shattering the utter stillness of the room, the man abruptly replaced his helmet, his gray eyes and coppery hair hidden from sight before turning away and sweeping from the room like a sword strike. Light broke through as the Architect pulled open the door and stepped out with purpose, his sword still drawn and held out in front of him as dust consumed his tall, armored form. Helm could vaguely hear the senseless war cries outside as the Architect was devoured by the harsh, glittering light.
The door slowly closed, taking with it the swirling storm of death raging beyond them and the founder of their feeble, fragile hope.