A meteorite crashed into Erebus on the day that I died. This was not uncommon, as debris from the War in Heaven had been raining down since the beginning of the conflict. What made this meteorite special was twofold. First, the detritus slammed into the ground barely a hundred meters from Firegate Outpost. The resulting blast of light filled the kitchen windows where I was working, followed by a staggering tremor that sent dishes and people to the floor.
I was among the first to recover as well as one of the initial investigators that ran out towards the crater. The impact site was shallow, not even a meter deep. Neither the terrain nor the air felt blistering hot as they should have. Even the metallic fragment that was jutting out of the earth wasn’t glowing crimson with heat gained from tearing through the atmosphere. This was odd enough that the others like me who had rushed out paused and reconsidered their approach. They carried a hush conversation amongst themselves before looking at me en masse.
I was not like the others. I was a mutant. A minor one, but any strain of mutation was viewed with disdain and scorn on Erebus. The only reason I was tolerated was because the Deacon of the outpost had accepted me among his flock of worshippers three weeks ago. He was wary of me initially, yet when I was able to quote verbatim the teachings of Kiara, the Goddess of Light and Hope, the Deacon allowed me to stay.
All that to say that I was viewed as expendable: a guinea pig to go forth and test whether the meteorite was safe to approach. They never said as much, though they had no need to. The contempt on their faces spoke their thoughts louder than any words. And yet, I maintained a smile. I had spent my entire life enduring such gazes. I much rather preferred them to the rocks, whips, and other weapons that tended to follow me.
You may think that depressing, or that I was broken in some way. I will not deny either. My earliest memories were of running down alleyways away from lynch mobs hellbent on burning the “unclean”. Though instead of living in fear, I clung to hope. Literally, in fact, once I came across a discarded holy symbol of Kiara in the trash one day while searching for food. Though the six-winged figurine did not sate my physical hunger, it gave me a mental push. I wanted to know who the pretty angel was and if she was like me.
That same week I acquired a tome of Kiara’s teachings. I remember spending many late hours pouring over the stained pages, absorbing every detail about the power of Hope. I developed what you might call blind faith that things would work out, no matter how terrible the people around me were or what was happening in the battles up above. That is why I could wear a smile, why I could endure the hatred of others, and why I did not mind being the first to approach the fallen object.
I realized the visible shard was but an appendage of something larger. The jagged piece of midnight metal was attached to a box-shaped, hand-sized chunk half-buried in the dirt. After confirming if the object was cool enough to grab by holding up the back of my hand to it, I grasped the box with my claws and pulled it free of its earthy prison. That was when I discovered the second special quality of the meteorite: The symbol of Kiara, six white wings surrounding a kneeling figure, was painted on the side of a sliding screen.
“What is it?” called one of the onlookers.
“I’m not sure,” I called back, using my thumb to open up the sliding portion.
Inside the container was a prismatic stone more brilliant than any diamond or other gemstone I’d ever laid my eyes on. Roughly the size of my thumb, the rock was cradled by glowing circuitry and a mysterious gel that cushioned but did not stick to any surface. Though what drew my eye was the fact that once again Kiara’s six wings had been inlaid into the gem.
My instincts got the better of me. I may have been a devout follower of Kiara, but life as a mutant had taught me never to show such a valuable object to a crowd. Doing so would invite a beating for “tainting such a thing with my touch”, if I was lucky. So I did what came natural - I plucked the stone from its berth and stashed it up the sleeves of my white robes. Then I turned and showed the box to the others.
“Looks like a shipping container of the Church,” I offered as I walked back towards the group. “Maybe from an aerial transport? Might explain why it’s not super hot. Only thing inside was weird goo and technology I didn’t recognize.”
“Give it here,” snarled Matron Nevra as she snatched the box away from me. She and the others crowded around the object while making it clear with both looks and the tightness of their circle that I was not allowed to join them. It was not my place to protest. Besides, the last time I had spoken up to the Matron she made me go without food for a week. Her actions and appearance more suited someone who followed Ozul, God of Darkness and Death, than one who followed Kiara. Yet somehow the wrinkled, angry crone continued to serve at Firegate Outpost.
I did my best to look humbled by slouching my shoulders and hanging my head as I walked back through the barred outer gates of the outpost and through the main chapel doors. Firegate Outpost was essentially a church of Kiara and a three story watch tower, both surrounded by stone-metal walls topped with defensive plasma turrets. To the ring-spin side, the surrounding lands were bright, colorful, and full of life. Opposite that, on the ring-trailing side, those same colors became muted and monochrome while the vibrancy of the earth gave way to cracked, desolate plains with umber storm clouds always overhead.
It was not always like this. Firegate Outpost used to be a simple shrine in the vibrant countryside. But eventually the War in Heaven took a turn for the worst - Something crashed into Erebus. I never learned what it was specifically, just that darkness, both metaphorical and literal, spread out from the impact like a festering disease. The demonic hordes of Ozul ravaged the land as they went, only held back by the forces of Kiara. Many quiet sanctuaries like Firegate were expanded and walled off to provide combatants from the front a means of respite and recovery.
Even now there were three wounded soldiers being tended to in what used to be the church's dining room. My job was to bring them food and make them comfortable. Two of the injured wanted nothing to do with me, even after staying here for a week. For them I could only set a hot bowl of soup on each of the footlockers next to their cots and then scurry away. Anything more than that resulted in thrown food and insults. I wondered why at first. Was it because I reminded them of Ozul’s demons on account of me being a mutant? As time went on, I came to the conclusion that they were like the Matron: Servants of Kiara in name only. They had come to this part of Erebus to seek glory and fame where there was none to be had. That made them angry, and I was the perfect target for their frustrations.
By contrast, I really liked the third soldier, a woman named Ginan. Her body was far too small for the size of her heart, while her fiery-red hair reflected her passion. Where her fellow soldiers wanted nothing to do with me, Ginan made it a point to learn my name and carry on conversation with me. I never felt patronized. Ginan seemed to genuinely care about my opinion and stories, and gladly shared hers with me as well. Even though she would never walk again unassisted, Ginan wore the kind of sincere smile I could only hope to imitate. She was what I had always thought a follower of Kiara should be: kind to those who deserve it, infectiously energetic, and full of hope for the future.
“What was that explosion earlier?” Ginan asked as I handed her her meal for the evening. “Everything alright, Ishune?”
“It was just more debris from the War,” I answered in a half-truth. I still had that gem of Kiara hidden up my sleeve. “Or so I think. The Matron did not allow me to see much of it.”
“Bah, that ornery bint can suck the fun out of a room harder than someone trying to get a golfball through a garden hose,” joked Ginan as she brought her spoon to her lips and tasted the soup. Her already wide smile increased to cheshire size as she hummed, “You’re spoiling me, Ishune! I can tell you added that hera spice I asked about a few days ago. How in the world did you manage to get a hold of it all the way out here?”
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The truth was that almost an entire rack’s worth of spices turned up extra during the last inventory check for the outpost a few weeks ago. And since no one was looking for them, or would complain if they went missing, I secreted away the spices for later use. But Ginan didn’t need to know that.
Doing my best to return her smile, I replied, “I have my ways.”
While consuming her meal with a combination of zeal and restraint that goes hand in hand with a particularly tasty dish, Ginan offered, “Well whatever magic you worked to get it, this is damn fine. I’ll have to return the favor one day.”
“That’s very kind of you, though you shouldn’t feel obligated to do so. I just did my job.” Then, noticing the gloom and disdain wafting off of the other two scowling soldiers in the room, I stood and asked, “Do you need anything else, Ginan?”
“Not really. I–”
Before Ginan could finish her sentence a siren began to sound. The ominous, eerie cry that reverberated throughout the outpost meant one thing: an attack was imminent. Thanks to my heightened hearing I could even pick up the high-pitched whine of the plasma turrets on the walls building up energy.
“Blast. I’m not going to get to enjoy your cooking properly,” swore Ginan as she turned up her bowl and chugged the remains. She then turned to the other soldiers and barked, “Come on, you lot. We’re going to help fend off whatever’s coming.”
“You don’t outrank me, so shove it,” replied one of them.
“There’s no point helping out,” said the other. “If the turrets can’t handle the assault then what are three plasma rifles more going to do?”
“Absolutely worthless,” sighed Ginan. She looked back at me to ask, “Can you help me get to the nave?”
“Of course,” I said, already kneeling down to assist her.
She took my offered hand, using it to balance on her one good leg. After grabbing her plasma rifle from her footlocker, Ginan and I moved to the main room of the church. Many of the outpost’s attendants and denizens were already gathered in the amphitheater. The main doors were held open for incoming refugees and other unfortunates in the area that sought shelter from the assault.
A harsh wind was whipping up outside, blistering against the front of the chapel in an attempt to throw the metal-backed doors wide. The wind also carried with it the sounds of Ozul’s minions growing closer and closer: screeches of metal, wicked cries, mad cackles, war drums, and the howls of profane weapons. I was acutely aware of each thanks to my feline-like ears, much as I wished I wasn’t. Only when the church doors were pulled shut and latched did the barrage of unpleasant tidings lessen.
“Sounds like we’re in for a rough ride,” said Ginan, still using me as a crutch. “These walls and the doors are all light-infused, right?”
“As far as I know, yes,” I confirmed. “That is what the Deacon told me when I first came here.”
To my surprise, Ginan’s smile of determination quickly turned into a frown of concern. “Then let us hope he was not blowing more hot air than his usual sermons. Otherwise this fortress might as well be made of paper mache.” She waved over the three armored defenders that were just finishing securing the door, calling out, “Looks like it’s just us five to act as a final line of defense.”
“Five?” I asked, looking down at her.
“Yes. I know you have at least a knife on your person,” Ginan replied. “No offense, but I’ve never known a mutant that didn’t carry at least some form of protection at all times. We might be in a shrine dedicated to Kiara, but faith won’t stop a blade or a bullet.”
My ears drooped slightly as I sighed and slowly produced the vibro-knife I kept hidden in the sleeve opposite the one carrying the Kiara gem. “You are not wrong, as much as it pains me to admit it. Though we should remain hopeful that I won’t have to use it.”
“Let’s hope you’re right,” said one of the three that had taken up position around Ginan and I, facing the door. “Because from what I hear, death by those things isn’t exactly painless.”
“Hah! Far from it,” laughed Ginan as she shouldered the stock of her plasma rifle and pointed it towards the door. “Trust my missing leg, you don’t want to take so much as a sliver of their demon metal.”
None of us knew what to say to that. Instead, we simply prepared ourselves for whatever might come through the doors. Then we waited. The whine of the plasma turrets outside picked up as they began to vomit deadly, crimson light towards the oncoming horde. I wouldn’t say the weapons’ discharge was a comforting sound, but it was alarming when that same noise was drowned out and silenced by the demons. Their sonorous bellows and taunts of death soon poured in from all angles.
I began to offer a prayer to Kiara when the gates were struck by a great force. Then again. And again. Over and over to the point that it was inevitable that the doors would give way soon. Some of the latches and bars were already buckling and cracking. The barrier between light and dark was failing.
In those final moments I cast a look around the chapel. Some people were whimpering, cowering in fear behind the rows of wooden pews or in corners against the stone-metal walls. Others were doing their best to comfort loved ones and exchange final goodbyes before the end. Those individuals that remained were being led in prayer by the Deacon, but I didn’t need enhanced hearing to pick up on the trembling desperation in his voice.
A shock of thunder reverberated throughout the church as the doors splintered. Vile limbs, gibbering mouths, and wicked claws pushed through the holes, tearing them further open. The weapons of the soldiers next to me spat sun-like projectiles into the dark masses. Yet for every shadow and being of darkness that fell, ten more seemed to take their place. The color-draining effect that followed Ozul’s forces also seeped in, turning the walls, stained-glass windows, and bright effigies into shades of gray while lengthening all the shadows. In mere moments Death would be upon us all. I could only pray and hope that our sacrifice would mean something, however inconsequential.
“I do not have much time,” spoke an unfamiliar, matronly voice from my right. My eyes and ears flicked to see a woman with ice blue eyes and floor-length, alabaster hair dressed in simple white robes. “My strength is fading. I have just enough remaining to manage this.”
I started to tell her to retreat while returning my attention to the gate. As I did, I saw that all motion had stopped. From Ozul’s minions to the globs of energy-rich matter in the air, everything and everyone was frozen in place save for myself and this woman.
“Who are you?” I asked as my focus rebounded to her.
“You already know, my child,” came the woman’s reply. “You’ve been praying to me since you were six. You picked your name from a registry that belonged to one of my churches like the one you’re in right now.”
My eyes widened and my heart skipped a beat. “Then you’re…”
Kiara’s avatar nodded. “Hope. What remains of it.”
“I don’t understand, how are you doing this? Why me…?”
She motioned at the sleeve carrying her gem, replying, “You’re the one that recovered my telepresence-beacon.”
I reached into my sleeve and pulled out the jewel. It was a miniature sun in its brilliance and its surface was pleasantly warm. “I had no idea what this was. Does this mean you’ve returned to Erebus?”
“Not in the way you’re expecting,” Kiara responded, the lines of her face hardening. “I have chosen you to succeed me.”
I nearly dropped the holy object in my hands as I sputtered back, “Me?! Surely there are better candidates here than me! A mutant can’t be the symbol of Hope, or Hope itself! Ginan’s a much more suitable choice.”
Kiara shook her head as I motioned to my left at Ginan. “We don’t have time to debate this. Even now my grasp on the reins of time is slipping.”
True to her words, I could hear the screeches from the hellspawn returning and see the plasma bolts resuming their flight forward. The rational part of my brain was having a hard time coming to terms with Kiara’s proposal. In that moment, my instinct and desire to survive won out.
“What must I do?” I questioned, steeling myself for whatever came next.
Kiara reached towards her telepresence-beacon. “There must always be a symbol of Hope, for without it Man would devolve into Chaos. What awaits out of that door are the twisted remnants of Ozul’s creation. You must find a way to banish them for good. Otherwise Ozul will return, much as I am about to through you.”
The goddess’ ephemeral fingers made contact with her gem before I could utter a reply. In a flash of pure light, my existence, such as it was, ended.