Furrowing his brow, Alistor tried to remember what he had been doing. He felt like he had just been standing in a hallway in… Vanguard? The memory felt vaguely familiar, but he dismissed it; he would probably never set foot back on the station again, not with the way the battle was going.

“Watcher, you’re making me nervous here. What’s happening?” Avalanche said, shaking Alistor’s shoulder.

“Nothing, sorry. Just memories,” Alistor said, dismissing his confusion and focusing at the present. There was no room for errors, and getting lost in the past was a sure way of committing them.

Avalanche studied Alistor with his red eyes, brimming with psionic energy. Despite knowing that the man was on his side—and a good friend—that stare made cold sweat appear down Alistor’s back. Knowing the power that lay beyond the glowing gaze, it was difficult to separate the man from the myth.

“I need you to stay focused, hear?” Avalanche said, his voice intent, eyes boring into Alistor.

A boom from above them underscored Avlanche’s words, followed by dust particles spraying from the ceiling of the red-stone cavern they were sat in. Alistor shuffled his position, preparing himself for anything to come out of the many small cracks surrounding them, but only silence ensued.

Taking a breath to calm himself, Alistor nodded and said, “I know. I’ll be ready when we go in. Any word?”

Avalanche studied him for a moment longer, then shook his head and returned to surveying their surroundings. “Not yet. Seraphim is alive, but did not respond to our last ping. Most likely, they are too deep into enemy controlled territory to respond.”

Alistor nodded, without feeling much concern. Serah would be fine—she had done infiltration missions like this several times, and always came back. Of course, this time, she had not gone alone.

Following his boss, Alistor looked around the small cavern they had picked out as their staging ground. There were several teams of riftwalkers in standby positions around them, many of them with tight expressions and worrying glances toward the surface. Alistor did not blame them—he knew how bad the fighting above was.

Countless were dying upon the surface of The Red Moon, as they sat here… waiting. Good men and women, some of which had never stepped into a rift before, but were simply there to delay the inevitable. They continued fighting, just to give them this one chance to end it all.

Another boom made the cavern shake dangerously, and a stalactite dislodged itself from the ceiling with a violent crack. While everyone kept silent, knowing how precarious their position was, several tried to shuffle out of the way of the natural missile.

With both hands, Alistor reached out and called on his psionic powers. Tendrils of telekinetic force responded to his command, extending from his palms out toward the stone. He caught it in mid-air, letting it hover for an instant before gently placing it down on the ground, his breath focused and steady.

Once it was clear, he received several thumbs-up from the other riftwalkers, and Avalanche padded him on the shoulder. “Good work,” he said, smiling.

Alistor breathed a sigh of relief and nodded. “That’s what I’m here for.” It was an embarrassing truth that his powers were mostly useful for this kind of work. In fact, had he not been a part of Avalanche’s old team, he would never had been picked for this mission.

Avalanche smiled, but did not say anything more, returning to his previous state of surveying, waiting. They were all waiting. Despite their desire to act, they knew they had to wait for the right moment, and the right intelligence. They needed to wait.

“Movement,” someone called from an lookout position, scouting the path leading deeper into the depths of The Red Moon. Alistor knew the lookout to be one with the ability to enhance their eyesight with psions, allowing them to peer through the darkness that obscured his vision.

“Enemies?” Avalanche asked, jogging up to the lookout’s position.

“Not sure,” said the man, an intense look in his glowing eyes, “One humanoid form… no, two. I think it’s them.”

“Seraphim would have let us know if she was coming back,” Avalanche said, a hint of worry in his voice. Despite his insistence on using code-names only, his feelings clearly shone through whenever he used his wife’s call-sign.

“They’re… I think one of them is wounded,” the lookout said, leaning forward, “And… shit, there’s something coming!”

“Battle stations,” Avalanche said, his voice piercing though the muted sounds of battle from above, “Get ready.”

Everyone was on their feet and prepared in an instant, almost jubilantly so. Seeing an end to their wait made their battle spirit soar. Alistor moved to a back-rank position, knowing he would mostly be needed for support. The heavy hitters moved to the front, several of them carrying shields to take the brunt of the enemy charge.

Focused on his breathing, Alistor peered into the darkness, looking for the shapes that the lookout had spotted. The tunnel leading further down into the interior of The Red Moon was marked with the occasional crystal that glowed softly, creating a limited field of vision. Beyond that, though, there was only a maw of darkness, waiting for them to walk in and get consumed.

First, he heard the footsteps, a staccato with a skewed rhythm, before the contours of two human shapes, one holding onto the other, began to form in the distance. Alistor noticed Avalanche’s jaw clench and his red eyes burn with an intense light, as it became clear it was the smaller of the two shapes that was wounded.

They kept their positions, despite this. Avalanche’s clenched fist was held in the air, making it clear that no one was to approach. Soon, the two shapes became clearer, and Alistor recognized them as his teammates and friends, Serah and Ethan.

She was small and light, her head dangling back and forth as she leaned onto Ethan’s lanky frame while holding a hand to her side. Ethan, on the other hand, was carrying her with one arm over his shoulder, clearly struggling despite her small size. He had never been physically adept—his talents lay elsewhere.

Despite his relief, the sound of heavier footsteps alerted Alistor to whatever was chasing them. The deep thump of the creature quickly deafened all other sounds, even from the combat above. Holding his breath, Alistor saw the four-legged shape materialize behind Serah and Ethan. It quickly grew to encompass the entire opening of the tunnel, leaving very little space for it to maneuver.

The moment Ethan got into range, Alistor felt his netlink fire up, establishing the network that instantly connected his mind with every riftwalker gathered. The familiar feeling was instantly shattered with an instant message, sent across all channels.

—Daemon drone. We can make it. Wait—

Alistor recognized Ethan’s call-sign and looked to Avalanche. It was their leaders call, and Alistor could see him struggle. His fist shook ever so slightly, a mark of how difficult the decision was, from the otherwise stoic leader of the riftwalkers.

Around him, Alistor felt the rising flow of psions, as the gathered riftwalkers prepared their powers. Ethan and Serah staggered forward, fighting to make it back within riftwalker ranks, while the drone stomped ever closer, eating away at the distance until—

“Now, engage!” Avalanche yelled, throwing down his fist. The first rank of riftwalkers ran forward, separating only briefly to allow Ethan and Serah to pass through, then casting up shields as the massive creature fell upon them.

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In the dim light, it was difficult to see the details of the drone as it hammered into the front line, throwing back a few of the vanguard. Alistor had seen enough to know what they looked like, though.

A creature made from rock and crystal, shining with an energy that no one understood, daemons were an enigma to every human that encountered one. With no set form, they took the shape that was most useful to them in the moment.

This one had an arachnid shape, but with only four legs, and a torso ending in a cuboid head that bobbed back and forth as it swung its two heavy fists into the defenders. Even that, however, was only a temporary structure, as the crystals that glowed across its form were warping and changing, shifting as it fought into a large stinger at its back.

Alistor saw it charge and reached out his hands, extending a tendril of force to wrap around a riftwalker at the front, who was clearly the intended target. When the stinger snapped forward, like a snake striking at its target, Alistor pulled back the riftwalker, leaving a temporary hole in the formation.

Beside him, Avalanche raised a hand and a the air turned frigid around him. Psions burst out, forming a spear of intense cold that Avalanche clasped and threw in a single, smooth motion. It hammered into the drone’s chest, making it stagger backward and giving the riftwalkers a chance to patch up the formation.

The riftwalker that Alistor had saved landed safely a few meters back, and had enough time to give a thumbs up, before moving back into the fray. Alistor followed up his rescue with a few jabs of telekineses at the daemon, but found his power wash over it and fail to grasp it. Similarly, trying to infiltrate its alien mind would be fruitless, he knew.

Instead, Alistor focused on his allies and their mental states, subtly maintaining their focus and determination, dispelling doubts and fear. If someone was in danger, he would pull them back, or push rocks away as they fell down from the ceiling. As the only psychic on this mission, environmental control was his main responsibility.

Frustrated with its inability to hurt any of the riftwalkers, the daemon jumped back and opened a hole in its chest, creating a clear path to the one weakness these creatures had: its pulsing and glowing heart of crystals, molten to the touch. Because everyone knew what was coming, though, they fell back rather than attempt to hit it.

A screech erupted from the chasm in the daemon, originating from the pulsing heart. While protecting his ears, Alistor saw his netlink flare up with warnings. Around him, the mindweavers of the assault team were fighting an invisible battle, holding back the daemon’s attack on their netlinks, maintaining the connection between them, and fighting back with spikes and attacks of their own.

At the center of this effort, Alistor knew, was Ethan. He had staggered into the center of the riftwalker formation and put down Serah, before seating himself and closing his eyes. Among the mindweavers, he was a living legend; a force of raw, virtual power to be unleashed the daemons at any time. As long as his body was protected, the man could take out a daemon drone single handed.

Now that he was safe, Alistor saw the signs immediately. The daemon shut the chasm in its chest and began shuddering. It attempted to warp its form, but instead it began crumbling. The melee riftwalkers attacked with renewed fervor, cutting it apart, piece by piece, and when Avalanche joined the fray in truth, the battle was over.

A fist of cold hit the daemon, destroying it’s cuboid head, then he ran forward, calling upon planes frigid psions that he threw to slice the daemon apart, opening up its chest to expose its crystal heart. Jumping onto its lumbering body, Avalanche formed another spear of frigid psionic energy, raising it to end the daemon.

—Wait— Ethan called across all netlinks, getting onto his feet with an unsteady stagger and holding up his hand. He tried to move forward, to get closer to the body of the daemon, but barely got two steps before Avalanche gave him a hard stare, then stabbed the spear down into the pulsing crystal.

Steam erupted in the cavern, as the cold spear hit the molten crystal, and a last scream of desperation echoed through the tunnel, ending the threat. Ethan came to a halt, his dark and gaunt eyes shining with frustration, lowering his hand slowly.

—I said, wait! Why didn’t you listen?—

Avalanche gave Ethan another glance, but then jumped down the corpse and began walking back toward Serah, who was being tended to by the medical experts of the team. He passed Ethan, who sent another frustrated message across all channels.

—I could have tested the disrupter on it! Why not—

His tired voice was cut off when Avalanche turned, quick as a viper, and caught Ethan by the throat, his strong fingers pushing into the mindweaver’s neck.

“Speak properly,” Avalanche said through gritted teeth, “What the fuck went wrong down there, Dreamcatcher?”

“Nothing went wrong, Helgir,” Serah said, her voice rough and spoken through gritted teeth. She was holding herself up, despite the protests of the nearby medic. “Now, let go of Ethan, will you? We’ve got work to do.”

Avalanche’s red eyes changed from hard anger into soft concern as he looked at his wife, reluctantly letting go of Ethan’s throat. “What happened?” He said, his voice calm once more.

“We found it,” Ethan said, his voice rough and tired, “The Nexus is real, and we can get to it. We don’t know how it will react to the disrupter, though, which is why we should—“

“We are not playing around with your weapons of madness, Dreamcatcher,” Avalance said, his face turning hard once again, “We have one shot. We take it and get out. Understood?”

Alistor saw the frustration in Ethan’s face, but the mindweaver nodded in the end. “I got it, Boss.”

“Good. Seraphim, how’s your condition?”

“I can keep going,” she said, trying to get up, eliciting a spray of blood coming from her midriff. Gasping, she had to let the medic help her back down.

“No, you can’t,” Avalanche said, his voice firm, “Your part is done, anyway. We have the target. Dreamcatcher, I assume you’ve got the route mapped?”

“Yes, Boss,” Ethan said, face dark.

“Bullshit, Helgir,” Serah said, trying again to sit up, “I have to—“

“You’re done. That’s an order, Seraphim.” Avalanche turned away from his wife with a face set in stone, looking to Alistor.

“Watcher, you take her back to the surface, see if you can get her on the next recall to the Vanguard for the wounded. You take Greyhound with you—“ He nodded to one of the other team leaders in the assault group, who nodded back. “—We’ll leave a trail for you to follow back, but if you’re cut off, return to surface and help keep our beachhead, understood?”

“Yes, Boss,” Alistor said, avoiding Serah’s gaze. She was going to chew him out the entire way back, he knew.

“Helgir! This is ridiculous,” Serah said, trying again to sit up. The medic had to hold her down in order to stop her from worsening her own injury.

Avalanche walked closer to her, kneeling by her side and grasping her hand. Because he was standing close, Alistor could hear the intimate conversation that made him glad he had no one to lose—no one waiting who would lose him.

“Serah, please,” Avalanche said, his voice soft and quiet, “I can’t do this with you in that state. I will hesitate, if you come with. We can’t afford that.”

She grabbed him by the collar, hoisting herself upward, so that their noses nearly touched as she spoke through gritted teeth. “I am not some flower to be kept safe and secure while you go be a hero, Helgir. I am coming.”

“No, elskan, you are not,” Avalanche smiled and touched her neck.

Alistor saw her eyes widen, her mouth about to scream in protest, but nothing came out. Instead, her eyelids began drooping and her neck slackened as her entire body relaxed into unconsciousness.

Looking up at Alistor, Avalanche spoke with a soft plead in his voice. “Take care of her, Watcher.”

“I will, Boss,” Alistor said, accepting her unconscious form from Avalanche’s powerful arms.

“Alright.” Avalanche stood and stretched, accepting the many stares around him. “Apologies, ladies and gentlemen. We have our target and our mission. Prepare to move out.”

With those words, he stepped up in front as the column of riftwalkers formed behind him. Ethan gave Alistor a last look and a nod, before walking over to Avlanche’s side, preparing to guide him deeper into The Red Moon, deeper into the darkness.

Above, the sound of battle ebbed and flowed, as it had done ever since the beginning of the assault. Alistor looked up, still holding Serah in his arms.

“This is what it was like,” he said, quietly to no one in particular. The one observer who found his question answered had no ability to speak. As Alistor closed his eyes, preparing himself for the trek back up to the surface, the observer found his control returning as the sensations of Liam Alistor faded away.

The red cavern became a distant memory, as Ark was flung out of the vision and found himself lying upon in the Hall of Memory, three decades distant to that ancient battle, breathing as if he had just got out of battle himself. Gasping, Ark blinked and was relieved to be back in control of his own body. While every nerve in his body still tingled from the experience, the overwhelming awe of what he had seen made him ignore whatever toll the vision had cost him.

Raising the small coin that he held tightly in his fist, Ark stared at it in wonder. The intense emotions of what he had seen still lingered, as did the words that Alistor had left behind. “So,” he said, very quietly, “That is what it was like…”