“There is no known solution to the Eldritch’s attacks. Conventional weapons have failed. Unconventional weapons have failed, albeit with more flair. Such is my opinion that the High Command ought to consider higher-powered weaponry upon any sighting of the Eldritch—and before High Command asks in its reply, yes, even planetary-surface disrupting devices, and yes, even in highly populated civilian zones. For now its goals seem limited to the kidnapping and brainwashing of individuals, but that’s unlikely to be its endgame. My measures may seem cruel at first glance, but not addressing the Eldritch is gambling with the galaxy itself—and with the power it wields, I don’t like our odds.”
—Allegiant General Dirus V’lantar, in a memo to JIAHC (Joint Intelligence Allegiant High Command) 1,500 s-years before the Crisis on Symerda
Zaina stared in horror as Demelia’s visitor took form as if birthing itself in a womb of primordial shadow.
First there was a flash of light—an orb appeared amid the shadow’s center, dark gray and small enough to fit in Zaina’s palm. The shadows gathered, twisting into shape—the skull of an ancient monster emerged, an eight-eyed, four-horned monstrosity. Its eyes were pale red, as was its breath. Upon its head a golden crown emerged from shadow and encased the orb. The remaining darkness contorted into an ethereal cloak. A layer of gray fur coated its neck, and a dark hood was lifted over its head as whispers and smoke flowed from its empty, slack-jawed mouth. The skull rose atop the darkness, standing twenty feet tall.
The voices screamed over each other—whether they emanated from its mouth or within Zaina, the pain was sudden and crippling. It intensified as time stretched, bending and bowing—the shrieking voices swirled together into a dark, echoing word.
“Cease.”
Zaina froze in place, and Gir fell to one knee. The entire room faded into shadow—everything except for the Eldritch’s skull and crown was blacked out. A humming wave stretched over everything, leaving silence and darkness in its wake. Taking in a deep breath, Zaina was unable to even think.
The Eldritch’s skull hovered above the ground, moving closer to Zaina. In a raspy, deep voice, it continued, “Poor little human, alone at the end of her world.”
Agonizing pain flared around her eye—the Mark of the Recalcitrant was like a searing wound burrowing into her head. She loosed a weak yelp and groaned, all she could muster under the Eldritch’s oppressive influence.
A skeletal hand reached out from the miasmatic cloak of shadows, stretching toward Zaina’s head. Red-hot pain surged through her, as if her blood had turned to fire and was burning her from the inside. Zaina was slipping away, losing herself to the darkness—
“Is this where you imagined your resistance would bring you?”
Zaina fought, focusing on the light in the distance—was it the orb on its forehead, or something else? Not knowing or caring, she shut out the surrounding darkness, concentrating on the radiance at the center of everything; beyond the shadow was her momentary reprieve.
Zaina’s finger twitched as something phased through the Eldritch’s skull—a bubble of water. The shadow blurred, and Zaina’s eyes fell on Gir, who was struggling to stand.
She reached out and shouted, “Gir—no!”
The creature turned to face him. His entire body was trembling as he stood in defiance of the Eldritch’s magick. Gir’s hand rose. With a flash he summoned his cipher.
In a weak voice, he said, “Zaina—run—you have to—live—”
“No, Gir—don’t!”
It was too late—the High Lancer charged. The Eldritch retracted its hand and hunched over. Once more, its echoing voice issued a phrase of power, and a single word hung over the stilled air of the Hollow.
“End.”
Gir’s arms and legs flinched as he stopped and fell backward. His feet were turning into dust, and the affliction was spreading. More of him drifted away. Even with his body disintegrating, there was a strange calm about Gir. Zaina watched on in horror, moisture staining her eyes.
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Without hesitation, he pulled out the Origin Warhead and threw it—the bomb phased through the Eldritch and landed near Zaina. The particle hook-gun dropped from his utility belt a second before his chest disintegrated.
As his torso and neck disappeared, he shouted, “It’s up to you now! Riiva chose you for a re—”
With that, the lancer’s head crumbled and was scattered.
A gasp escaped Zaina’s throat. “Gir—NO!”
Her last ally was gone—now it was just her and the Eldritch.
It turned back to her and said, “You are alone, human.”
Tears flowed down her cheeks, but Zaina’s burning heart kept raging. “You’re wrong! And even if I was, I’d still never give in to you!”
With a shout, Zaina summoned a surge of willpower, shattering the Eldritch’s grasp. She reoriented herself as her senses returned. The Eldritch was staring at her, skull tilted as if in amusement.
There was no time to think—Zaina trusted her instincts. She scrambled for the Origin Warhead beeping nearby—then, rising to her feet, she barely dodged a blast of dark-red energy emanating from the Eldritch’s palm. The attack emitted shrieking, agonized screams and was neither hot nor cold as it whooshed by. She sidestepped the next burst of unholy fire and rolled to avoid another stream of dark magick. Her shoulder cried out in searing pain, but she gritted her teeth and pushed through it.
Zaina made a mad dash toward the entrance of the next chamber. The door was open just wide enough for her to squeeze through, but the Eldritch’s shadowy cloak was already seeping in.
Beyond the door’s threshold, Zaina was nearly overtaken by the room she entered—it was strange and twisted, with the stone floors, walls, and ceilings rotating freely, and cracks of multicolored light streaming through the gaps. At the center was the black stone, bigger than her childhood home, only it was cracked open and laid belly-up like a cauldron. Its midsection was broken into a crevice that spewed smoke darker than night. A blazing red light glowed from the heart of the stone, and bubbling red liquid spewed over the top.
Flat hexagons of different sizes—some made of shadow, some of light, and some a fusion of both—spun on the far wall, moving in discord against each other. The voices, now emanating from the infernal lights in the stone’s cracked center, were louder than ever.
The Eldritch manifested behind her. Zaina stumbled, falling toward the stone—she landed on her stomach, spilling blood from her shoulder onto the ground and ripping a pained shriek from her throat. She stretched out her hand and stared at the Origin Warhead, still ticking away.
Zaina’s life flashed across her mind in an instant, and amid the chaos and darkness—having wandered to a place where mere mortals were never supposed to tread. Memories of pleasant times played in her head. All the sunsets on the roof, all the aromatic family dinners, the warm embraces—for a second it was all back. Demelia had given her a good life. This was her home, and she never really wanted to leave it. Now she didn’t have to.
She wiped a tear from her eyes. Looks like I’m not leaving after all. I’m sorry, Mom, Dad, Gir, Kitali.
Zaina pressed the button on the Origin Warhead. She expected a light, or flames, something—instead, time stretched as the Eldritch spoke a word of power.
“Fade.”
The Origin Warhead crumbled in her hands, turning into dust and running through her fingers. Her heart flipped as the voices dug into her soul. She stared at her empty palm in disbelief, now at a loss for anything to fight back. The shadows closed in once more, suspending her in darkness.
“The Deluge cannot be stopped, Zaina. Now begins the end of all things.”
The Eldritch floated past her, slowly approaching the stone.
“The Altar’s Beacon will soon be lit—this world will be torn apart, stripped of its energies and left broken. All who bear the mark will be called to serve. But first we must ascend to a new form. Come, Zaina. Take your place as the Prophet of the Shining Will.”
Zaina took a few deep breaths and then chuckled. In a day brimming with them, she had another bright idea. The Eldritch turned to face her—with a heaving grunt, Zaina threw her particle hook-gun at its heart. The weapon phased through the creature, but her aim was true—it clattered against the black stone’s open rim and fell into the infernal light.
Zaina scrambled to her feet and ran. She didn’t want to stick around and find out what would happen. Gir had said it had a high-energy core—that probably wouldn’t mix well with whatever was in the Eldritch’s cauldron. She sprinted toward the door, barely squeezing through the gap in time to escape a jet stream of howling fire.
An ear-splitting boom rocked the door—the chamber cracked from floor to ceiling. Then miniature fractures spread across the walls and released intense, fiery light. What followed was a noise unlike any she’d ever imagined: thousands of intense, echoing shrieks riding a crackling wave of flame. It filled her with sheer, cold terror, nearly freezing her in place as she jumped down the stairwell, landing on shaky ground. The entire Hollow swayed back and forth, and she tumbled and landed on her side, her wound crying out with every impact.
Quickly fighting to her feet as the chamber’s ceiling started to collapse, she stooped to pick up Gir’s particle hook-gun and made for the descent pod. It had been crushed by a rock.
Go figure.
She turned back. The Hollow was about to collapse, or explode, or both; the veins running along the walls were weakening the structure. Thunderous groans and cracks came from the splitting planet.
Not like there’d be time anyway.
Zaina strapped the particle hook to her hand and aimed toward the sky. Not quite knowing how the lancer-tech worked, she closed her eyes, hoped for the best, and pulled the trigger as the Eldritch’s Hollow collapsed around her.