The throne room of The Seventh Citadel was known to be frigid, but with Solus carrying Vitruvius in his arms, it seemed all the warmth had been sapped from the place. Although the fortress was guarded by walls of steel, all the stone and glass within did nothing to retain the heat from the firefields that burned outside. Black marble ran across the room like a sheet of ice and reached up to the cathedral ceiling in great columns that stood like gateways to another realm, one where war was not being waged on the surface of Prometheus.

"Lord," Solus called, Vitruvius folded in his arms like an offering to an interdimensional god. What more could they want? The echoes of his boots were the only thing that answered him. He called out again, "Father."

A throne of glass stood upon a landing of cascading stairs, the back of the seat sprouting outward in great crystals, and upon it, Lord Andromedus, the coldest of all. He donned orange robes, unconcerned of the imminent end that ensued outside the citadel, and a golden crown sat upon his head. His hands braced the arms of his throne as if preparing to look upon his son, and when Lord Andromedus's head lifted at hearing his voice, Solus felt nothing at all. His father's pale eyes seemed to look right through him. Ever since Solus's mother had passed, it was as if his father had fallen into cryosleep and had been frozen since.

"Father!" Solus shouted, stopping before the stairs of the throne. He leaned forward, the pressure of his suit's exoskeleton releasing, and laid Vitruvius upon the ground. "He is dead."

"Solus..." Andromedus said

When Solus was born, Andromedus had given him a great name, for he thought his son would become something exceptional, but even now, standing next to the corpse of his brother, it was as if Solus was a moon in the shadow of a supergiant. "You have your mother's blood," Andromedus had said. "Cursed and fated to fade away." But Vitruvius was the one that had been taken from them, and Solus, his heart still beating, stood upon the eve of the world's darkest day.

"...what have you done?" Andromedus said.

Vitruvius lied, head tilted and his ashen hair, splayed as if he was held underwater. His plasma suit, and the nebula family crest above his heart, was blackened with soot. Beneath, there was a hole in the center of his stomach, the marble floor like a void beneath. Solus had watched a slug tear through his brother's body and caught him when he crumpled to the ground. He brought his brother back to the keep before the rest of him could be decimated.

Solus's own suit was soaked in blood—the blood of Vitruvius—but he had sustained no major injuries. His brother was the greater fighter, so why was Solus the one who had evaded death? His pistol was at his waist, still at half charge, and his obsidian blade was unstained with blood. Solus pressed a button on the side of his helmet, his visor folding open, so his father could get a better look at his disappointment.

"My Vitruvius," Andromedus said, head lolling forward. "My firstborn."

"Brother," a voice called from the entrance of the throne room.

"Sister." Solus turned at the sound of Luna's voice.

"Why are you—" She looked down to Vitruvius at his feet. "No."

When Luna neared, she fell to her knees and placed her hands on either side of his face. She pulled him close, cradling him against her stomach. She did not whimper—they were a house of powerful blood, and such a thing was unbecoming—but Solus noticed the trembling of her back. When Luna looked back up, he saw the dew in her eyes, like a blade of grass at first light.

"And where were you"—Andromedus raised a shaking finger at Solus—"when this happened."

"I was fighting alongside him."

"And you let your brother die?"

"We weren't expecting them to flank us," Solus said. "When we saw them, it was already too late. There was nothing I could do."

"You could have saved him," Andromedus said.

"Their army is an unstoppable force," Solus said. "Moros has their soldiers fighting like animals. They'll stop at nothing to bring us to ash. The six citadels have already fallen. Earth has been ravaged. And now they come for us. Our forcefield is down and our defense systems are overwhelmed."

"All I hear are excuses from a pathetic child."

"Father," Luna interjected. She eased Vitruvius back to the ground and stood. She wore a plasma suit just like her brothers, only Andromedus had ordered her to stay within the citadel. He would not risk all of his bloodline in battle. Marked into her chest plate was the same nebula crest.

"Quiet you," he said. "Your brother has failed our house, and instead of restoring our honor in battle, he leaves his men and cowers behind our walls."

"To bring you my brother, father," Solus said. "Your son."

Andromedus wailed. "It should have been your body that was brought to me!" Spittle flew from his mouth, and he leaned forward like a twisted creature, hands clutching his throne as if letting go would have him crumble to bone dust. "It should have been your body that was brought in his arms!" He threw his face into his hands.

The throne room seemed to stretch out between them. Then, an explosion rocked the citadel. Chunks of the ceiling crumbled around them, pillars of dust left in their wake.

"Is that what you wish, father?" Solus said. At that moment, he felt himself retreat and become cold like Andromedus, hollowed to the outside world.

"Solus, no," Luna said. She reached for Solus, but his hand did not react to her touch.

"Do you wish that I had died instead?" Solus asked. "Do not think for a second that I do not wish the same."

Andromedus looked up from his hands, nails raking down his cheeks. His eyes were red and swollen in his pale face, and he showed more emotion for the loss of Vitruvius than he had ever shown for the entirety of Solus's life. His thin lips pulled back, and his teeth crowned from his mouth like tombstones on uneven ground.

"Both my sons are dead to me," Andromedus said. "Leave this room and return to battle. It is where the dead belong."

Another blast rocked the throne room and dust fell upon Vitruvius's face. Solus crouched and wiped the dirt from his brow. I'm sorry brother. He held a hand to his cheek before standing and facing his father again.

"As you wish," Solus said and closed the visor of his helmet. He turned from his father to march out of the throne room, but Luna pulled his arm.

"Solus, no," she said. "Please, do not throw your life away."

"I'm following father's orders." Even he didn't recognize his own voice—robotic and devoid of emotion.

"I already lost a brother," she said. "I can't lose another."

"That is not for me to decide." He tugged his arm free and strode between the great columns toward the entrance where his captain awaited alongside two Seventh Citadel Guards. Luna hurried behind him. "Our people are out there fighting without me by their side. I must go."

"Please, I beg you. Do not go to battle with a heart so clouded. Do not be so reckless."

"Stop!" Solus turned on her, every muscle in his body swelling with the anger he tried to suppress, and with it all, so did his exoskeleton come to life, the cables in the suit magnifying his strength to inhuman levels. He could crush her with such strength—but that was not what he wanted; it was the rage. He turned before he lost control completely. "These are my orders."

"Then I will fight with you," she said, two rivers streaming down her face. "I will stand by your side."

"I do not need you, nor do I want you fighting next to me. Father was clear. You are to stay here to protect the last of our bloodline."

"But—"

"I will not talk of this further." Solus reached the double doors of the throne room, two great slabs of metal that stood like an entrance for a titan. A guard was to either side of it, and on the left was his captain standing at attention, arms folded behind her back. "Captain Rhea, have the Celestial ready and take me to the Maw."

"Yes, Commander Solus." Rhea left her station and followed him. Solus pushed the doors open and stepped into the hallway, and when the doors shut, Luna was left behind them.

"What's the status, Rhea?" Solus said.

"All of our fields are down," Rhea said. "Our defense system is disabling most of the missiles, but the energy blasts are slipping right through. The citadel can take the heat for now, she's strong, Commander, but another Null fleet is passing through Prometheus's atmosphere."

"How big is the fleet?"

"At least a hundred ships strong, sir."

Stars save us. "And where is Moros now?"

"He's leading their frontline right through the Maw, about twenty kilometers through the firefields."

Solus stopped. Rhea nearly bumped into him, but she weaved around his shoulder to his side. They stood next to each other in the connecting tunnel between the keep and the special forces wing of the citadel. The tunnel was made of glass and on the other side was the red soil of Prometheus. The terrain was volatile, chunks of rock piercing up like talons, along with pockets in the ground where liquid metal flowed like the nectar of the planet. A mountain range ran across the horizon like the spine of the world, and before it, explosions went off in never-ending succession. Ships hovered in the sky like insects and force fields flickered to absorb the artillery fire from tens of thousands. Was this what the end of the world looked like? Was this what their people on Earth had endured when the planet was scoured by these monsters?

"Sir?" Rhea leaned before Solus's face.

"Have an EMP loaded onto the Celestial," Solus said.

"But that will destroy everything—" Rhea blinked "—including our own ships, weapons, defense systems, and the citadel. The radius of the blast will reach four-hundred kilometers. Everything will be—"

"You said it yourself, Rhea. A fleet of another hundred ships. How much more can we take? What are we protecting if they're going to take it from us anyway? We have our magma engines running power to us from under the crust. It won't take long to have systems functioning again in some sort of capacity. We'll have to cut some losses to come out of the other side."

Rhea gave no response.

Solus opened his helmet and pressed the side of Rhea's, and her visor came undone. Rhea exuded power. She had a jaw that jutted out like the blade of an earth auger and a nose like the ridges in the distance. Her eyes were brown, but the red soil of Prometheus seemed to reflect from them—it was fire Solus saw within. Solus had often wondered if his features were not so fair and instead strong like Rhea's, would his father have favored him more? Despite the strength of her features though, Solus could see worry laying siege upon Rhea's mind. She chewed on her lip.

"Are you scared, Rhea?"

"I don't know, sir."

"How long have you fought with me?"

"Sixteen years, sir."

"Have I ever let you down?"

"No, sir."

Solus placed a hand on the side of her face. "Do you trust me?"

Rhea nodded.

"Load the Celestial," Solus said.

Rhea reached for the side of her helmet and Solus heard the static from her comms. "Varro, load the Celestial with an EMP immediately. We'll be in the special forces terminal in a moment. Have the rest of your unit ready to accompany our commander to the Maw."

They took the elevator shaft down into the terminal and found the Celestial floating before the gate, one of the few ships that still remained. The Celestial was built like a needle, a high-speed hovercraft meant to pierce through rock as it rips across the surface of Prometheus. Its nose was built for that purpose, reinforced and layered with tungsten metal for high-velocity impacts. The hoverpads along the belly and the sides of the ship glowed as electricity darted out to touch the terminal floor.

Two dozen soldiers stood at attention before the ramp into the Celestial, pulse rifles resting on their shoulders. Those weapons will be useless once we reach the battlefield. They were clad in the same plasma suits, each bearing its own mark of the house they fight for. When Solus approached, they brought their fists to heart center, saluting to the army's only remaining commander. Do they know I bring them to their deaths? Will they still salute me then?

"Take your positions in the Celestial," Solus said. "Ready yourself for the Maw."

Solus walked up the ramp and into the ship with Rhea at his side. The soldiers followed behind.

"Shut the doors," Solus said.

When the hatch began to close, a final soldier made it into the Celestial before the door was shut entirely. No one else was making it on the ship, and the faces on the other side that still toiled in the terminal, and the family and friends he had come to love—and hate—in the keep, would become forgotten. Solus did not expect to see them again. And to them, Solus would become a faded memory, a flicker in the eminence of his brother—a supernova.

"Fasten yourselves to your seats," Solus said. "You'll want to be secure when we reach the Maw."

Solus and Rhea moved to the cockpit and took station behind the pilots. When the ship was ready and the terminal door opened, the Celestial launched out of the terminal at an incredible speed. Their exoskeletons held them in place and rooted them from the force of the launch.

The Celestial tore across the surface of Prometheus like a ship across an ocean of fire. A boulder came rushing up from the horizon line, the size of a small home, but the Celestial shattered through it, the rock coming undone like an asteroid belt to only fall out of sight. Geysers of fire shot up from the ground along the surface, but these pillars of flame were nothing compared to the explosions that bloomed in the distance. With the Celestial traveling just under the speed of sound, the explosions began to tower above them, as tall as the mountains that reared it all. They were nearly at the Maw.

"Look." Rhea pointed. "From the clouds."

Solus leaned forward to find the fleet he had been warned of descending from the sky. Countless ships spilled from the clouds like great hail from the frost planets and rained upon the field a barrage a fire. The onslaught from the fleet rocked the planet, great rumblings that Solus felt in his bones, the red soil lifting from the ground until all he could see was the making of a sandstorm.

The Celestial pierced it. They couldn't see a thing. It was time they did what they came to do.

"Ready yourself," Solus said.

The two of them took their seats behind the pilots and pulled their harnesses over their shoulders and locked themselves in place.

The Celestial burst through a ship, the explosion skirting across the windshield.

Solus made eye contact with Rhea before issuing the command. He grabbed her hand, not out of love, but a friendship he had held close for most of his life.

"Bring it all down," Rhea said.

"Release the EMP," Solus said.

"Yes, Commander." The pilot reached for a button in the center of the dashboard.

Everything went offline. Solus's plasma suit shut down. All the lights in the cockpit that once glittered like a constellation, slumbered. Then, the Celestial barreled over.

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Blackness.

Solus awoke dangling, still locked into his seat. When he disengaged his harness, he fell onto the ceiling of the Celestial. Deadweight. He couldn't move, his exoskeleton wiped of all power. He reached to release his exoskeleton from his suit, requiring all his strength to move against the resistance of its frozen cables, and his body hatched from it like an insect from a cocoon. When Rhea regained consciousness, Solus helped her do the same, leaving the bones of her exoskeleton behind. It was always a strange feeling to shed an exoskeleton, the weight of the world felt more to bear, but his body would adapt quickly—it always did. The gravity of Prometheus was greater than Earth's, but his bones and muscles had been trained under forces much stronger.

Solus eyed the front of the cockpit. One of the pilots had already left his seat, and the other sat with his head crushed. Something must have hit him when the Celestial tumbled across the surface.

They moved to the back of the Celestial where the soldiers pried open the hatch, and the ringing in Solus's ears was replaced by an eerie silence. Then, there was the crushing and grinding of metal. Most of the artillery and weapons used for the battle had been disabled by the EMP, but the falling of the Null fleet was an orchestra of its own. Solus grabbed the frame of the ship's door and peered out to see the enemy fleet crashing into the ground like steel whales—the ones he heard stories of that swam through Earth's oceans, titans of his homeworld. Explosions flowered across their hulls.

Solus knew the war was not over yet. Moros had been leading the battle on foot, and there would be plenty more to kill on the scorching sands of the Maw. The Nulls were a powerful species. With or without their ships and technology, they were a terrifying force in battle—but so was Solus. Even without his exoskeleton, he had always been a fast and powerful fighter—just nowhere near what Vitruvius had achieved.

"Your pulse weapons will not work out here," Solus said, looking back at the soldiers who were gathering themselves and preparing to enter the chaos. "In the cabinets above your seats are weapons that rely on explosives and gunpowder. Use these to take down the Nulls, along with your obsidian blades." With his pistol charge now at zero, Solus grabbed a fully loaded magnum from one of the cabinets instead and holstered it to his waist.

They left the Celestial and traversed across the sands toward the foot of the Maw, where a great canyon cracked the mountain in two. Ships had been hovering overhead, backing the army of Nulls that marched through the canyon, but with the ships having fallen, the Maw looked more like a graveyard than the jaws of a dragon.

After a hundred paces, the ground sheered away to a crevice where magma churned and flowed beneath. The firefields were littered with sinkholes that gave way to the hell that boiled under the surface. Tread without care and find yourself falling into a pit, but even then, the ground could collapse at any moment. When you fought on the surface of Prometheus, death was often certain. They kited around the pit and rejoined the main army where they fought the Nulls in battle.

Solus's soldiers looked small next to the Nulls. The humanoids were as wide as a cargo crate. Muscles rippled up their legs, around their torso and arms, to join sloping heads that had mandibles for jaws. Despite the strength of limbs that swung like steel beams, the Nulls were slower in battle. The humans held the advantage in speed.

Solus danced through the Null and they fell at his coming. The familiar rush of adrenaline took his blood, but this time he carried a sense of resignation close to his heart. He would not kill himself, but he would not err on the side of caution either.

He did most of his killing with his obsidian sword and saved his bullets for when he would need them most. His blade was made of a carbon glass forged deep beneath the crust of Prometheus. The obsidian blades were the strongest glass that had ever been created. While the structure of typical glass was chaotic and easily shattered, the carbon glass bore the strength of steel without the burden of its weight. Limbs left bodies at its touch. Red lines were carved into torsos. Along the center of the blade, where a blood groove would typically be, was a metal rail that could hold an energy charge. This rail could fire energy blasts with the swing of the sword, but after the EMP, that charge had been wiped completely. The only thing the rail was filled with now was the blood of the Null.

A blade came cleaving down and Solus sidestepped it. Great bulbous arms lifted the blade again, but before the Null could take another swing, Solus had already dashed past the creature and left its side split open. A blur from the right. Solus ducked and swung upward, cutting through the Null's wrist, sword tumbling to the ground. A bullet rang past Solus, and he used the amputated Null as cover, its monstrous back soaking in six shots. Solus leaped to the side and turned on the Null. It had grabbed one of his soldiers' weapons and was firing it back on them, but its hands were too big to wield it effectively. Before the Null could take another shot, Solus brought it to its knees.

Solus felt a pang of guilt seeing his soldiers drop around him. He had not told them he didn't expect to live through the day. He had not told them he would charge into battle so recklessly. They trusted him and he brought them death. Only Rhea had really known of his plans, but did she know how tainted his heart was? She deserved better than that, but that guilt was only a drop in an ocean of torment. He had no capacity to care further—to feel more.

From his right, Rhea weaved under a blade that would have removed her head from her shoulders. She fired five shots into the Null's side, and it toppled to the ground. A Null charged Rhea from a few paces away, its monstrous arms swinging like wrecking balls to build momentum. She raised her gun and fired a single shot. All Solus could see was the back of its head coming apart like glass, the creature sprawling to the ground, its weight plowing through the red sands. What he didn't see was the Null crawling toward Rhea—the other one she just downed—and neither did she. A hand grasped her ankle and tore her down. Rhea shuffled back, trying to clamber to her feet, but the weight of the Null was too much, the creature mounting her and reaching for its blade. Solus raised his magnum, and when the creature raised the weapon overhead, he fired a shot through the Null's temple. The creature's body went slack, and the blade fell from his hand and bit into Rhea's shoulder. She yelped.

"How bad is it?" Rhea ripped the blade out of her collar and stuck her hand out at Solus. He hauled Rhea to her feet, and she grimaced. "It doesn't feel good."

Blood poured down her suit, half her body drenched in red. She wouldn't last long. The blade hadn't just cleaved through her suit, it had also cut through one of her oxygen tubes. If the blood didn't take her, the lack of air would—but there was nothing she could do. They were twenty kilometers from the citadel and there were no ships or technology to help her back

Another one lost because of me.

"You'll be fine," Solus said. "Can you still fight?"

She nodded.

"Then that's what matters," he said.

They sowed through the Null ranks like needle and thread. Solus moved like a whirlwind, his blade carving the enemy into the ground. Rhea moved behind him, her back mirroring his, the dance of the sun and moon, something he could never replicate with Vitruvius. Even with her wound Rhea kept pace with the slaughtering that had bodies dropping like fallen trees. Shots burst from her pistol, catching the stragglers that still found the will to fight. The rest of the ranks followed close behind, careful not to stand too close to the wrath of Solus.

It seemed though, their momentum could not last forever, and the speed at which Rhea moved, came to a halt. She staggered with each step and her blood flew from her arm with each swing of her blade, not only setting the Nulls' blood free but painting them in hers. When they cleared the last of a Null unit, Rhea fell to her knees. She heaved. Solus could hear the hissing of her oxygen tank and saw the condensation building within her helmet.

"I can't—" She took a trembling breath. "I'm done. I can't anymore."

Chanting and a steady marching drummed from the Maw. The rest of the Null army marched out from the canyon passage, and a larger figure stood at the front of it all. It was Moros.

"I'll help you up," Solus said. He crouched and threw her arm over his shoulder. "You can do this." He tried to stand with her, but she only wheezed, and her legs gave way.

"I can't, Solus," she said. "I can't go on."

"You can."

"No." She exhaled. "I am done."

Solus met her eyes through her visor, and he could see them growing heavy. Her eyelids fluttered from time to time, but the inevitable cannot be avoided. Solus felt the numbness grow inside of his chest. It twisted and writhed. It burned like acid. On this path, there was only destruction, and only destruction follows.

"Rhea..." He didn't have any words for her. There was nothing left to give.

"Go on." She smiled at her friend one last time. "Moros is close."

Solus took a step back to look upon Rhea soaked in blood, still like a statue carved of red rock. She knelt upon the sands of Prometheus, arms to either side and tilted her head up to the two moons that watched from the orange sky. She stayed frozen for a moment as if waiting for the sky to come falling down. It already has. Then, with a shaking finger, she reached for the side of her helmet. Her visor opened. Solus saw her bare skin and wide-struck eyes. It didn't take long.

How much more must I lose before death takes me?

He turned toward the designer of the chaos, Moros himself. The giant Null—and the entire army that followed—slowed to a stop before Solus.

"So, this is all that is left," the Null said. Its mandible fiddled when it spoke, and the voice that met Solus was a deep rumble. "The last of the Seven Citadels."

Moros held a war hammer in one hand, the haft of the block of steel resting on its shoulder. The other hand clenched and flexed at nothing as if waiting for something to crush. Moros was a head taller than the other Null, and upon its head was a crown of twisted metal. The King of Null.

"What is your name, soldier?" Moros said.

"Solus of House Andromedus."

Moros took a step closer, looking down upon Solus. They stood next to each other as if father and son, Solus looking up upon the great titan from its waist. So, this is the monster that has defeated six citadels?

"You are the blood of Andromedus?"

"I am."

"And what of your brother, Vitruvius?"

"He has fallen."

"A shame—" Moros looked to the ground thoughtfully. "—that it was not by my hammer. You shall meet the same fate." Moros rolled its shoulders back and lifted its chin. "I am Moros Eartheater. I consumed your home. I tore apart the other citadels and the houses within. You have traveled too far from home, blood of Andromedus. You have taken too much of this universe. Your people consume until nothing is left. You scour our planets of resources until they become nothing but fire and waste. You are a sickness. So, we scour your homes. We consume your worlds until there is nothing but ash so that you cannot hurt this world any longer. You are the last of them, and you shall fall. How do you answer your sentence?"

"I accept it," Solus said, dropping his obsidian blade to the ground.

"A coward," Moros grunted. "Very well."

Before Moros, Solus had no chance. And this is what he wanted, right? To face someone stronger in battle. Someone who could send him to the afterlife where he could be with his brother. He would not die by weaker hands, but with Moros, he could leave this world and be free of his father.

Moros grabbed its war hammer with both hands and hoisted off its shoulder. With a deep grumble, Eartheater swung the war hammer back and unleashed the weight of a world upon Solus. The steel ripped through the air, painting an arc over Moros's head. Solus raised his chin at its coming, and at this moment, for the first time since the War of Prometheus began, the son of Andromedus felt at ease. Yet, there was something he heard beneath the blur of metal—was it his name?

If Solus had blinked, he would have missed it. In a flash, a figure appeared before Solus. He saw the shape of another soldier eclipse with Moros, doing little to hide the monstrous body of the Null, and then the world whirled.

Solus was shoved to the side, and the great hammer came crashing down. He felt the impact from the ground and a series of cracks that chilled his bones. He looked over to see one of his soldiers in his place, body crumpled beneath the war hammer.

"Hmph." Moros voiced.

Solus crawled over the sand toward the twisted figure on the ground. He grabbed the soldier by the shoulder and rolled their torso over. What he found was his nebula family crest upon the chest. No. His eyes traced the suit of armor, over the bent neck, and upon the tinted visor. It was his sister Luna staring back at him with dead eyes.

Solus broke.

"Why, sister?" he asked, pulling her close. Her twisted body was unruly.

"Sister?" Moros looked at the two of them like a lion looking upon sheep. "House Andromedus, so eager to die. Is it your nature to give way to the dark tide? Do you destroy your world so that you do not destroy yourself? The demons that must reside inside..."

Even when accepting his end, death seemed to escape his grasp. First, his brother Vitruvius left him to the cold hands of his father. It should have been me. Then, Rhea fell, instead of his own life, as payment for his recklessness. Her blood is on my hands. And now, Luna, the last Solus held dear, offered her own so that his heart could continue to beat. Like a fistful of sand, his end continued to slip away, and more have died because of his selfishness. I'm sorry sister. Perhaps Moros is right. Destruction is all we know.

"Rest easy," Moros said, "knowing you will die with your sister in your arms. Farewell, House Andromedus."

Moros heaved his hammer overhead one more time. Every muscle in the Null's arms flexed. The chords in its neck bulged with the same strength of the exoskeleton Solus left behind. But before the hammer could come bellowing down, Moros froze.

"What is this?" Moros said, easing the hammer back down.

Solus stood and looked at Moros. The numbness that sat like a pit in his chest was replaced by something more furious. A wave of deep anger that burned as hot as the channels of magma that coursed through the planet. A rage so pure it could burn longer than the greatest star they'd ever known. And they will burn.

"You wish to fight?" Moros grumbled.

Solus checked the ammo in his magnum, holstered the weapon, and then looked upon the creature that stole everything from him.

"If death will not take me," Solus said, picking his obsidian blade up from the sand, "then I will take it—from all of you."