Tsqalmōubo of the Nola First looked out over the waters, the scattered islands of Nolabo and its lush jungles, a verdancy unmatched anywhere in the whole of the world except in perhaps Orroyel. Hidden beneath that green… power. A nation forged from so many years of cultivating the lands, clear spaces forged from beneath, the careful curation of resources.

The flames of war and the fuel that served it. Wood and men, the masts of ships and this- the power of Nolabo. Tsqalmōubo knew that power well. He was that power… Admiral of one of the most important fleets in the world, he was in turn one of the most important men in the world.

Ship-captain of the Nola, he was afraid. Emblazoned uniform with its golden tassels and brilliant stripes looking across the lands of Nolabo that crowded around him on all sides as his fleet orbited so regularly away from Abōeo- one of many regular patrols. He was afraid. The Orroyel were here.

War had come to Nolabo.

Already some fleets had started to be recalled from Xhyolok, and tactics were being changed. Raze the earth. Burn the Sakaxy and leave nothing behind. Only Tasadir and its vast strength had yet stood up to the concentrated might of the Nola. He thought of that great city burning, and shuddered.

He thought of the same thing happening to Abōeo, and shuddered.

Conflict was coming to Nolabo he thought as he faced down the sea-breeze and its sunlight. Conflict was coming to Nolabo whether it liked it or not, that place beneath the blue skies, white clouds.

Conflict was coming beneath the darkness of space, a moon, shattered…

.........

It was a beautiful place, mildly humid like all the Nola isles were yet still, that beauty- verdancy, the depth of its being remained despite so many years. It was Nola, but also of forests. A green paradise, and as Siqxhe looked out over the railing of a small ship, smiling with fond memories- home.

Home.

The little town clung to the edge of the water, quaint stone buildings wrought of the basalt of Nolabo, the very stuff so beautifully made into cottages and so many structures… he remembered this from his childhood, running along the green fields…

Home.

After so long, so many years- finally, he was home. They’d skipped Abōeo entirely and come here to this collection of buildings, those two stone docks, the very essence of a town he’d grown up in.

Iri stepped up beside him, her steps as quiet as the air that whispered beside them. “This is it. A place of humanity.” It was a quiet voice, half-awed, though she’d seen humanity before. Just never… this. Never a true Nola-town, in the fringe of the world where everything seemed right and…

“There’s going to be wounded. I’ll need your help…” A closer inspection revealed the obvious- the town had been attacked. Obviously not enough to reduce it to a charred wreck, but enough that the damage was evident even from so far away. Several of the larger buildings had been knocked down by cannonfire, while the docks had clearly been set aflame?

Why here… why such an unfortunate… he tried to remind himself that god was fickle, but the Eternity Falling was not fickle. Was not god… he drew a deep breath as the boat pulled up beside the dock.

Stepped, with all the strength of will and entered back into a place as old as memory, the birth of memory. Green fields pocket marked with cannonfire, a village charred around the edges. Some people looked up at Siqxhe before quickly looking back down again, then glancing up with unrestrained wonder at Iri. She tended to do that, draw eyes-

She was sibilant. How they’d remained hidden for this many years he didn’t know… they walked to the town hall, a large building that had, fortunately, remained largely untouched by the conflict. There was a sense of… age, around the entirety of the village, around the island as a whole. Vines crawled up buildings where they hadn’t been set to the torch, and the very structures sagged under their weight. It was an old place. Venerable, on the farthest extent of the Nolabo Empire back when it had been called something else. Back before the church had ruled things.

He stepped into the townhouse, and was met with the sight of the wounded, the dead and the dying. People he knew, too- the baker, though he looked a lot older than he remembered him looking, one of the fisher twins who’d plied their trade out on the isles, their boat noticeably missing from the docks. He glanced around with an almost furtive gaze, looking for his parents, his grandparents, but they weren’t there.

Unharmed, then. Or dead. He waved Iri over and they knelt by the nearest patient. No time to lose… he’d been sliced in the arm and the wound had started to fester, so they set to cleaning it out and removing the remnants of what remained within, carefully working the flesh and bones until they were certain he’d recover.

These were the remainders. It had been over a month since he’d first set out from Gallant, so the grievously injured would have already died. These were the people who clung… Iri worked more diligently than he did, moving onto the next person, one of the sheepherder brothers who he remembered had been inseparable in his youth. He looked so many years older, now…

Well, he’d been lost for years, and before then a scion of Abōeo. He hadn’t seen this place since childhood and those dreams of leaving that never quite made sense in the first place- “What are you doing?” The voice was sharp and carried with it a fury, but he recognized it. Luedatsiq, the woman who’d run the town as long as he could remember. “There’s to be no messing with… buy- the blood! Explain yourself this instant.” She pulled a knife out from a sheath which hung loosely off her waist, brandishing it with an obvious skill-

Iri saw it too, and she took it as a threat. Between one moment and the next, blurs of silver, cascading light sent glittering amongst the sound of metal against metal as Iri placed herself between Siqxhe and Luedatsiq. Hands of steel with their glittering, bloodied claws grasped the blade, yanking away from Luedatsiq and sending it clattering to the floor.

She backed up, suddenly afraid. Those burning eyes, facets that gleamed… Siqxhe gently pushed her out of the way, careful to step between those who lay on the floor. “Don’t you remember me?” She did- eyes widening, conflicting between taking a step forward to him and a step back from Iri and her imposing form.

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

“Siq… since… I never thought I’d see you again. We sent the letter, but… you were dead, more or less. Nobody could find you.” There was emotion in that voice, of a woman who’d lived too long to deal with any of this. “What were you doing to the injured?”

“Iri and I were making sure they’d recover properly. Some of them need care urgently. Can you bring me hot water, a knife-” The list went on and he set to work as she grabbed what he’d requested. They needed…

Oh how they needed.

………

Morning dawned with the scarlet light of sunset. He’d worked through the night and only fallen asleep when he was sure there wasn’t anything critical left to do, and Iri had kept working, diligently fixing, bringing together that which was broken and rendering it whole. They’d shared that moment, working in the darkness, symphonies of tired harmony, remembering the memories of childhood. Iri’s memories were… inscrutable.

That had been before, but it was now- Siqxhe slowly pulled him out of bed, donning the clothes which’d been made for him so long ago and barely fit him now. Bright light steamed through a window, the cool of the wind washing through the room and bathing him in the scent of a summer Nola morning.

There was a beauty here, he thought as he stumbled down black hallways to an immense room, spying a being of silvery-facets working her way carefully through the shelves upon shelves of books. “Find anything.”

“No. Obviously and unfortunately…” Iri shivered, that disconcerting movement of clattering silver. “The books don’t hold any sort of… meaning. It is memory, but the distorted sort of memory. Beautiful but also nonsensical.” Printed books weren’t as rare as they’d used to be, but this was still a beautiful library. It had always been the pride of the village, and they’d been planning to look for more information on Iri’s quest here.

It was a disappointing reality to be met with- Polarity Light wasn’t here. Siqxhe moved closer, looking at the book she was reading- something about farming over the past thousand years. “Anything here relate even remotely?”

“Only one. A book about scrap, and its potential uses. It’s out of date.” Well that wasn’t a big surprise. Siqxhe picked up the book, marveling at the careful construction of the paper and the details put into it, and how wrong the author had been.Then he stopped to think for a bit and decided that the author had been pretty close to right- he’d claimed scrap was the tears of God.

Close enough to the truth. “Do you think that it’s possible Polarity Light is in Nolabo?” He laughed darkly at Iri’s expression. Polarity Light could be anywhere. At the least they knew it was on land. That cut down their area by almost a factor of ten. “What about scrap itself? Why was there so much in Xhyolok, but so little in Nolabo?”

“I was surprised about that.” Iri’s eyes gleamed, so feverish, memories- he shuddered to think what it would be like to relive that moment, so far above the skies, falling- “Xhyolok is for the most part outside of the main band of debris. Ninety percent of the debris remains in orbit, a small fraction was ejected out into solar orbit, and the rest fell to the earth roughly along the plane of your rings.” The rings of the world. Apparently they were more visible from space.

Iri said they were beautiful. “So then… Nolabo is in this line. That doesn't… you’d think that would rule out more than just on land.”

Iri shook her head, than stopped. “That mine in Nolabo. There was-” Her eyes, blazing, motes of lights beyond light. Brightness, so incredible as she remembered- open doors. A brief bluster of wind as Luedatsiq walked in the room, glancing around almost nervously before her gaze met Siqxhe’s. No, Iri’s- “Someone's here to meet you.”

………

The fog of the world settled over the whole of Nolabo, and in this moment, this breadth of evening as the sun set across a beautiful horizon and the last remnants of light shone out they stepped into the green fields, the docks- glancing back to the town where there was no ship docked. A place where there wasn’t.

They’d been told to come out here, so they had. Rested, at least- striding through the fog, the mists that wrapped so ethereally along their forms and shone so brilliantly in the light of their eyes, reflecting off everything and making it silver.

From the grasses stepped another sibilant. They were similar to Iri but the differences were obvious, in their facets, in their eyes, in the way they held themselves. The very essence of their being was different. A human stepped up beside them, someone that was almost familiar… Siqxhe squinted, then took a step back in surprise. Laeo-

“You should have known better than to come here.”

“I am force! You’re broken Iri. You don’t know what to do with your knowledge.” The new sibilant took a step forward, shuddering with rage, an infinite shiver that made him into a beast from beyond recognition. Siqxhe had never seen Iri this mad, and only once this scared, during that moment in Gallant beneath the eyes of the Eternity Falling.’

“You’ll never be able to find it. I spent so many years beneath the Eternity Falling itself- if that greatness couldn’t break me, you don’t stand a chance.”

“You’re weak.” The other sibilant took a step toward Iri, leaving Siqxhe alone with Laeo. “I’ll tear you asunder to find Polarity Light. I’ll tear the world…”

Siqxhe stepped toward Laeo, remembered what had happened the last time he’d seen him, then stepped into a defensive stance. He didn’t know if he’d be able to defeat him, especially if he had his own sibilant to protect him from Iri. “How? Why? I just… don’t understand.” It didn’t make any sense. Why-

“She won’t be able to defeat the Lord of Cold Places. Arctic will prevail.” That name sounded familiar, from somewhere… hadn’t Iri spoken about it? “Just… surrender, please. He’ll spare you. He’ll spare humanity. It’s God’s will. They need Polarity Light to return to whatever lies beyond the stars.”

“They need Polarity Light to save humanity from itself. The world is falling apart at the seams- god…” Thunder crashed, and the skies opened in rain. The Lord of Cold Places, Polarity Arctic- he was shouting now as he advanced on Iri, arm’s quivering.

Eyes, blazing, twin stars in the night with such power as he’d never imagined. “You are weak- you always cared too much about humanity's desire. He struck- a single blow, all the power of a sibilant, slicing through air. Stepping, forward- the world shuddered, Laeo’s eyes gleamed with pain and Siqxhe took a single step forward.

Iri blocked. A perfect parry, followed up with a sharp jab that scored a deep scratch on Arctic’s body, then another, and suddenly the tide of battle had turned. They were a blur, a silver artform that expressed itself through incredible violence. A ship rose out of the mists, small and black-orange- bright, echoing out over the field.

Then he was thrown and they were running, Siqxhe dragged along beside her as they made a dash for the forest. A whole lot of things happened at once- the ship was shooting at them, cannons that were infinitely more than cannons, and then it was grouting flames and crashing into the field with a roar of fire and endings dying-

They ran, and ran, through the driving rain and the mists and until the forest reached up and swallowed them whole, rendering them part of the darkness that was ancient woods and places beyond the reach of man. Hidden… and still they ran-