Hes’cilla awoke from her dream of a world of endless grass to the smell of smoke and of a red, ash filled sky filtering down onto her seated form through wide windows that lined the ceiling of her personal chambers. She knew that she was about to die, could taste the certainty like an animal sensed the moment before an arrow was loosed from the bow of a hunter.

There were things she needed to do before that could happen. Her death wouldn’t matter if she could fulfil her self imposed duty. Hes’cilla wove magic between her fingers, her spellcraft wordless after centuries of continuous practice. Her eyes, a deep amber, flickered as she worked, pulling on a thousand golden threads and weaving the magic to last for as long as possible.

The sound of steel on steel rang through the halls of her home, distracting her from her task. She tried to ignore the sensation of lives being lost, and tried to remain focused. But the walls of her chamber closed in around her, a cloud of ash and smoke drifting overhead to block out the evening sun.

Hes’cilla rose from her throne, aged green moss and languidly draped vines that encircled her arms and legs reacted to her will as she stood on shaky legs, the cool tiles of the vast chamber juxtaposed with the growing heat that suffused the air. A human body she may have, but it had been some months since she had last moved. She walked, the amber blood within her body awakening to slowly churn through her limbs, returning feeling to them like the prickling of a thousand needles.

There were no attendants in sight, but that was hardly a surprise, she had sent most of them away months prior. Only the most loyal, or the most desperate had remained. She wished they wouldn’t fight, wouldn’t lay down their lives for her, not when it was hopeless. Hes’cilla could sense the vague signatures of vitality flittering through the adjacent halls, a profound sense of loneliness overcame her. In her time within the world of grass she had been alone, none of her kind having so much as dropped in to say hello. Now, at the end, she would be alone in the physical as well. Companionship was not something she craved, in truth, she didn’t really understand it. But the connection to others, the relationship between mentor and student, that was something she did understand.

She stepped up to the far side of her chamber and brushed her hand through the white and gold fabric separating the room from the balcony that largely surrounded it. She heard distant screams, and the smell of smoke was joined with that of blood. Hes took a breath, the heat and ash parching her throat and settling uncomfortably in her lungs, then she stepped out and took in the end of her world.

A garden, more an untamed forest than pruned hedges and flowerbeds, stretched out below her. Small buildings were dotted through and around the garden, with a larger complex of buildings on the far side. She beheld it as it burned, small figures garbed in steel and furs laying waste to the trees within, the blades of their axes carving through bark with little effort. Golden sap oozed from a hundred wounds as Hes’cilla’s children were butchered.

She watched dispassionately as what could very well be the last of her kind were cut down, the juvenile amber trees being harvested for what little power their bodies contained. One of the trees had uprooted itself, its golden leaves shaking as it awkwardly fled from danger, only to run right into another party. The young monstrous tree made no sound as it died, made no attempt to call for help or defend itself beyond trying to flee.

Hes’cilla stood, emotionless, as a gust of smoke and ash tinged wind brushed through her dress and set the curtain fluttering. She reached out a hand, splaying her dark fingers as if to smother the column of flames rising from a distant section of half collapsed palace. She let her hand fall, there was nothing to be done. At least the inevitable passage time would wash away any evidence of this tragedy.

“Lady Hes’cilla!” Came a panicked voice from behind the curtain. “My lady! My lady, they are coming, we can’t hold them back!”

The awakened tree in human garb turned to see the blurry silhouette of a person running towards her. They were no guard, no fighter or mage, but it did make Hes’cilla’s heart flutter to see that at least one of her people would be by her side at the end. She recognised the girl by her voice, they were someone she had nursed back to health personally after a wave of sickness had ravaged the land not five years prior.

“My lady, we must go! They’re-” The voice cut off with a gasp, a moment later a wet thud came from behind the curtain as the corpse hit the floor, blood slowly pooling under the fabric, another gust of hot air revealing the attendant’s reaching hand, now still.

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Heavy steps approached, and a dozen figures became visible, their forms blurry through the curtain. Hes’cilla stared down at the corpse, barely even noticing the newcomers as they drew closer. A crescent of sharp energy parted the cloth, revealing two dozen armed men and women arrayed before her, their weapons bared, blood, both red and gold staining their armour and blades. They didn’t move, their posture tense, as if waiting for her to strike at them.

She wouldn’t. It wasn’t in her nature. Even if they did deserve it.

“Why?” Hes’cilla asked, not looking up from the body as blood stained the tiled floor, seeping into gaps between the stone. Unlike some of her siblings, there was no array to collect the vitality, every drop was wasted. “Was our partnership not enough? Were the services I have rendered to you and your people too little?”

An older man stepped forward, a diadem of silver and red gemstones resting atop his forehead. “It is necessary, my lady.” He said, bowing. “Your power is… we must take it in order to survive what is to come. Please understand that we do not do this out of malice.”

“Our lands are under assault from all sides.” Another said, a woman draped in fine silks and adorned in armour of blackened bone. “Only with a new generation of eternals will we have the strength to hold back the enemies of humanity. Surely you understand, you who have given selflessly for centuries.”

“You do this out of desperation?” Hes’cilla said, more to herself than her audience. “Surely you understand why this isn’t the path? My kind can offer so much more to this world alive than dead.”

The crowned man shook his head. “We don’t expect you to understand. You may look like us, but you live a life of abstraction, your existence half immaterial. Forgive us, my lady, but your death is necessary. We can make better use of your strength than you can.”

She sighed and walked forward, the collective of armed, high level men and women flinched back. Hes’cilla ignored them, kneeling down in the pool of blood to cradle the limp body of her attendant into her chest, the still warm lifeblood staining her feet and the hem of her dress.

“I see.” She said, running her hands through the corpse’s hair. She finally glanced up, her cheeks stained with golden tears. She had to fight down the surge of grief that bubbled up inside her. Human emotions wouldn’t serve her now, not at the end. “And who will you choose to become the next generation? May I at least see the candidates you have chosen? Determine their character for myself?”

The man with the diadem smiled. It didn’t reach his eyes, the fist in which he held his bloodied sword tightened. “We stand before you, lady of gold. We choose ourselves.”

“Oh.” Hes’cilla said, somehow more disappointed than she had imagined she would be to hear those exact words. “You wish for longevity, even knowing what it will cost your people?”

“Not longevity.” The man said, his smile twisting into something lacking even the facade of mirth. She finally recognised him, those dark eyes and silvered hair, the shape of his face and the stature of his build. Hes’cilla had known his family for generations, aided them in their rule. “We seek eternity. Immortality, and the time we need to seize it.”

Hes studied the man, then slowly scanned the others arrayed before her. They were all aged, all powerful in their own rights. But none of them would have a chance of reaching the threshold of eternity, let alone crossing it, even with the extra lifespan her blood could grant. They were fools, grasping for a prize they would never truly possess. She saw in their hungry, greed filled gazes that they knew the truth, that the path they had chosen would eventually lead them to ruin. But she also saw that they didn’t care, that the allure of personal power had consumed their reason.

“Do you truly fear death that much?” Hes’cilla asked, her tone flat. “Will you unmake the future to hold onto your lives for just a little longer?”

“If you think we are incapable of reaching the heights of power, then perhaps you are not as wise as you would imagine.” The woman in silks murmured thoughtfully, sounds of angry agreement coming from those around her.

“Time tempers wisdom.” Hes’cilla said. “When your kingdoms and empires crumble around your descendants, they will wonder how you failed them so badly.”

The crowned man blurred forward, the tiles beneath his feet shattering as he kicked off. He raised his sword, a crescent blade of power building above him in a fraction of a second. The air around Hes’cilla turned gold, and the man’s movements slowed, his passage through the streams of time brought to a crawl.

She stood, brushing down her dress as death descended. She could step out of the way, maybe even fight back. But no, her power was limited, and her oaths of non-violence would weigh her down like chains.

Hes’cilla was no warrior, no tyrant or conqueror. She was a teacher, one who raised and nurtured the young and growing. In her mind’s eye a thread of golden light manifested, connected to a realm of endless rolling hills and clear blue skies. She thought of all those who had been lost, purged from the world by the very people they had chosen to protect. Vilyta, Morethsan, Aei’lesh, and Haborate, all had vanished over the past several years.

But she thought most fondly of those who had shared her vision, joined her in the creation of a working that would span the ages and give their kind one final hope. As Hes’cilla’s aura was ripped apart by a flare of power and the sword arched downwards to cleave her in two, her mind slipped back into the world of grass.

Ideally she would have had more time, would have been able to craft a message that would explain everything to those new lives the system may choose to bestow their power upon in the coming centuries. Instead the lesson would be one she had taught a thousand times before. A memory etched in time and solidified from repetition printed itself onto the place that had once connected their kind.

As she died, she spoke words that no living being would hear for centuries. “Welcome awakened. I am so glad to see so many of you safe and eager.”