[Chapter 1] Simon – Reaching Earth's End
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The man crossed the frozen landscape, appreciating the isolation. Nothing could be seen in any direction except white. This was the third ‘night’ since his departure from the Black Citadel, but at this time of year the sun didn’t rise, so the measurement was meaningless.
He was dressed in black leather with a silk cloak. Ice coated his short brown hair. To an observer, he might seem unprepared for his surroundings.
A smug smile crept on his lips. It’s simplest not to fight the cold. He’d internally lowered water’s freezing point and allowed his temperature to drop. Of course, his body had shut down, but this didn’t matter. It wasn’t his muscles which propelled him onward. Manipulating corpses is what my profession is famous for. With breath and pulse gone, he heard the crunching below his boots. Around him Katabatic winds howled softly, sweeping frozen puffs.
One of the deadest places on Enera, he mused. He had the ability to sense life. While convenient, it often left him drowning in the racket. This stillness was refreshing.
His eyes wandered to the heavens. Magnificent. Billions of lights twinkled in the darkness, the dying embers of paradise showing off their full splendor. Nowhere are they as clear. Dancing southern lights divided the starry sea. They resembled trails of smoke illuminated by a bright, yet unsteady green light.
No trace of man here… I can escape the blissful ignorance. So many good people lived fulfilling lives, not knowing or caring about the misery existing far away. It’s not something I can do. He’d witnessed horrible injustices, some centuries old, which were never redressed. No matter the splendor around him, it gnawed at him. Wrongs must be righted.
His antipathy was self-inflicted. For five hundred years, he’d hunted a madman, experiencing the worst of humanity in his wake. Even this trip had everything to do with that monster.
He scowled. No, I’ll not think of him now. However, resistance was useless. The familiar scene flooded his mind as countless times before.
It was his oldest memory, worn and faded. He was outside, and, his family was impaled around him by golden spears. He too was pinned against a wall, arms and legs pierced. Screams echoed in the background as he cried, begging them not to leave, yet one by one they stopped moving. The last was his oldest brother. He couldn’t recall any of their faces. It can’t be helped. I was a child. Still, the loss hurt.
He’d never forget what happened next. On the adjacent building, the young man responsible for the carnage appeared. Beautiful, with short blond hair, he smiled serenely surveying his work. Then their eyes met, and the angelic face twisted in laughter. This wasn’t the cheap cackling of a petty villain. It was a genuine, out of control hilarity, as if he’d heard the funniest of jokes. He leaned on his golden spear to keep upright and appeared to be having trouble breathing. Finally, it was too much, and he collapsed. As his young self lost consciousness, the man still lay on the roof convulsing madly.
Absurd. He ground his teeth. Ending this absurdity was his driving purpose. It’s why I trek the arctic. He focused ahead, determined to clear his thoughts. If he let old grudges dominate him, this place’s beauty would be wasted.
He squinted at the distant objects coming into view. Ice Pillars. Each was as thick and tall as a tower, with dark spots dotting their exterior. Soon he drew close enough to determine what they were. Corpses, remains of trespassers. There were hundreds. The message is clear, but it’s likely a pointless effort. Ahead, sealed under the ice, lay secrets more valuable than all the gold in creation. Lost knowledge capable of granting military supremacy and resurrecting loved ones. No warning, regardless how morbid, would dissuade those seeking them. Especially if they made it this far. The frozen monuments would grow more crowded.
Some bodies were only half buried. While the entombed portions were intact, the outer portions were degraded, with many reduced to polished bones. Swaying in the wind, they made for a gruesome spectacle.
It must’ve taken centuries to reduce them to that state. As he pondered the rate of skeletonization in glacial climates, he realized he was climbing a slope. Momentarily confused, his face soon lit with understanding. A few inches of snow fell on these plains each year, endlessly accumulating. Anything left on the surface would soon be swallowed by the shifting icepack. For someone hoping to use corpses as deterrents, this presented a problem. Those pillars had been the solution. They must extend to the bedrock. With their support, bodies which would have quickly disappeared were anchored for eternity. They also acted as a dam, and he was crossing to the higher side.
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With a last glance, the man plowed on. He’d entered Earth’s End, the territory of Astra Skyfell, one of the seven hailed as heroes of the Dark Age.
Heroes… That word is bandied about too freely. Many he’d assisted over the years heralded him as such, and it had always caused him discomfort. However there’s no issue in this case. Few deserved the title, but Astra legitimately did.
Two thousand years ago, a villain named Sola set out to destroy the world, instigating a period of tragedy. Half of civilization perished. Her armies, an endless horde of undead, chimeras, and worse, threatened to wipe out the remainder. It was the seven who’d rallied survivors and turned the tide. Even when Sola unleashed an apocalyptic spell, shattering the planet’s crust into a million pieces, they’d prevailed.
Of those surviving, Astra was the only one he’d never met. He sensed in her a kindred soul. As a veteran of that time, she undoubtedly understood the world’s absurdity, perhaps better than himself. Her own brother was one of those sacrificed. Yet, despite this, she was here guarding the legacy Sola left behind. Millennia of solitude which would never be rewarded. And those ice pillars… He too was familiar with laboring on thankless undertakings. She probably loves this sky.
As constellations and auroras warred for ascendancy, he spotted silhouettes on the horizon, mounds spaced far apart. Dragons made of ice. These weren’t living creatures, but artificial constructs. Golems in the shape of winged lizards, the first line of defense. Each must’ve taken years… Fashioning permanent enchantments was arduous. Few make it past this point.
Once within shouting distance, the nearest sprung to life. Uncurling and stretching its wings, it ambled lazily forwards, the ground buckling with each step. These sentries were why he’d chosen to walk. Anything airborne would be shot from the sky by their breath. Stopping, he withdrew his token of safe passage and grimaced. A miniature teddy bear with pink ribbons… He silently cursed Lily Morgana, the one who’d sent him.
She was the youngest of the heroes, a child blessed with enormous talent. Earning the title ‘Living Artillery’, she’d been instrumental in the struggle. Sadly, when it was over, she’d been left trapped in the body of a twelve year old. In the following centuries, she’d exhausted every conceivable method to age herself, growing increasingly bitter. She now vented her frustration through petty acts. The token in his hand could’ve been anything, but Lily knew his aesthetics were simple, functional, and black. I’m literally traveling to Earth’s End for her and she still does this… Shaking his head, he made his offering.
The dragon lost interest, returning to its resting spot. They’re pale imitations. He remembered the White Dragon and the path it’d scorched. Its mere presence had been crushing. He felt nothing of that from this reproduction, though they were somewhat imposing. An imitation of an unstoppable monster yet deserves respect.
Five days ago, another of the heroes, Arther Bard, had been murdered on the Isle of Dreams. His death had thrown Enera into chaos and left a void which needed filling. He’d been sent to bring Astra back. None expect me to succeed. In the eons since the Fracturing, Astra had made only a handful of brief trips, rebuffing all pleas to depart permanently. Her mind was immutable once set. Even Lily anticipates failure.
His lips curled upwards. I’ll succeed where others failed. The situation had changed with Arther’s passing, and persuading Astra might be simpler than many realized. If not, then I’ll have traveled a long way for nothing. The grin faded. Once I reach the ice fortress, we’ll see whether I’m on a fool’s errand.
His surroundings turned an eerie green. The auroras had won the battle, bathing the landscape in their pale light. An outline appeared on the lime-tinted horizon, swiftly approaching. An Ice Phoenix… Its wings pulsed vivid cobalt blue leaving diamond dust in its wake. True to its name, it was engulfed in flames. Frost fire, a manifestation of the rawest ice magic. He felt it this time, an intimidating aura. That apparition was dangerous, even to him. Circling once, the frozen firebird flew back, disappearing into the celestial fog. Its visit meant Astra would be there to greet him. Not much further.
The fortress’s massiveness was hard to describe. Its outer walls were over a mile wide, and the equivalent of a dozen large castles had been wedged together inside. It stood in stark contrast to the barren expanse. A grandness afforded by vast open space.
In the surrounding plains lay a dormant army. Smaller in stature, these golems were more varied. Without unifying theme, there were giant wolves, griffins, kneeling suits of armors, coiled creatures resembling hydras… Some were objects of wonder, others nightmarish atrocities. They numbered in the tens of thousands.
He weaved his way through. These sculptures, basking in this emerald glow, make for a surreal sight… He spotted a woman atop the stairs to the entrance. Astra Skyfell. His eyes traveled up to the silhouettes lining the ramparts. Gargoyles. His gaze paused over an outcropping. Those don’t belong here. He smirked.
His attention returned to this place’s master. She had bright silver hair tied in a ponytail and wore white leather on which sat frozen armor. The Isle’s statues don’t do her justice. The immortal’s arms were crossed, impatience plain on her face. Not thrilled to see me. Reaching the steps, he compelled his lungs to draw breath and brought out the bear.
“My name is Simon Black. Lily sent me.” He stopped before her.
Astra glanced at the token and nodded with no change in expression. They stood, facing off. She won’t invite me in? Perhaps the recluse was hoping to hear his say and send him off right here. That’s not happening.
“I’ve important news from the Isle of Dreams, but, before that…” He pointed upwards. “There are children spying on us.”