The Uplift Protocol Blood Feuds: Issue 21

 

Issue 21: Cathedral of Night

 

            A plague of Locusts. There are many legends. They hold a seed of truth. Noah and his Ark. The first of firsts fled Elysium. For the curse that was brought upon that land fell like rain. But not all were affected by the blight.—Amache Fragments

            What lies behind the Highest? There are whispers. The foundation for everything came from that spark.—In the Beginning: Arcane Order Vol 1

            There is truth. Yes, there is a realm beyond the Highest. I do not understand it. It was not meant for us. Abbadon denies that truth.  He was made for a purpose. So was the Highest. One brother embraced that purpose while the other fled from it. In the end? That was the shattering that changed everything.—Sleeping in Starlight: Higher Plane of Being

            The walls were crumbling.

Plain gray stone. I walked through the ruined pathway. Half-dead trees and flowers rotted within pots. The roof was hideous. Blackened tiles atop spiked towers. I pressed a hand to the rusted gate. It groaned on its hinges as I pushed forward. The main foyer had a spiraled staircase. On the left were black and white checkered hallways. Right side? Golden and black.

I walked toward the spiral staircase.

Not yet.

The floor shifted under me.

A warbling noise rose from the depths.

A small click resounded on marbled flooring.

Tick. Tack. Tick. Tack.

A figure phased through my body. That cane. It was the Curator!

The Amache leader paused at the alcove.

Hit a series of keys. The winged statue swung inward.

I followed him down the steps. This place wasn’t real. A kaleidoscope of past, present, and future. The landscape warped. One half was a bone-white field. The other was cloaked. Darkness that even my sight couldn’t pierce. Thoth approached. That knife within my dreams at the ready. “I will take the mantle.”

My future self blocked the first blow. He toppled backward. Away from the so-called Bone Throne. It was not his. My attention focused in. I could read the lettering on the outside of the backrest.

So enthroned. The Lord of Death. The Gentle Way of Reincarnation. A wraith-infused figure floated above us as Thoth and I circled. I knew that shape. I had lived with him within the recesses of my mind. Dexter. His voice reached across the annals of time.

<<Abbadon will not seek your memories. You must take the weapon into your soul. To cleanse it. I will reforge it into the proper core of Necrotic Influence. I am finally ready to accept it. We were never meant for a normal life but we can protect those who come after.>>

 I examined the throne once more. It was not made of bone as Unity had envisioned. A soothing pulse echoed forth. Final Rest for the physical shell that was our bodies. My heart caught in my throat. Abbadon had rejected the natural order. Thinking that mantle useless. If the soul could not pass through the Veil, through the Ouro, unto another form? It would be eternal suffering. Dexter nodded. His expression severe. We would not reincarnate for countless millennia. The damage was severe. The Vigil was not only one of protection but one of rejuvenation.

Thoth rammed the dagger home within my chest.

Hilary screamed, “No!” It wasn’t for my sake.

They had never known the trap was there.

Crimson tendrils spun about his head. They reached out to encircle her pale gray flesh as well. She would not be spared the indignity of being his prized puppet. We served willingly. The Light was a cloak. Ready to face the dark.Thoth and all the others? They had one master and he did not abide rebellion within the ranks. It was all an act. Mordred knelt as the Throne of Death rejected them all. The energy, infused with dark matter, flooded the battlefield.

Doc pulled my ravaged body behind the Throne.

That was my brother’s dominion.

Massive Black Lions circled our foes. Icath. All of them.

Thoth’s eyes narrowed. A flash of crimson rippled across his face. His eyes smoldered. “Neat trick.” Dexter waved his hand. Endless white tridents materialized. All aimed at “Thoth”, Hilary, Mordred, and Meathook. Small details blurred.

The Curator reached out to squeeze my hand. “Do not focus on the death of flesh.” He pointed at the wound pulsating across my chest. Doc’s hands shook as she pulled the handle out. There was no helping it. I knew. I remembered. That shared moment within the Ur. She would pull all the pieces from me. But not here. Not at this moment. That would be left across the Sands of the Golden City. Those shards would remain within until we could construct the Aquifuor. Knowledge flowed.

Pieces of the Past to Protect the Future.

The present is set on a collision course with Chronos. He was the null point.

The first barrier. He thought he served Unity.

Flecks of crimson stared out from those pitiless black eyes. The Curator said quietly, “Noah’s Ark is a prism. Chronos must be contained.”

*****

Mordred plucked at the threads of Night.

He too saw the trap. The 2^nd Convergence. As constructed by the Highest.

Abbadon smirked, “Ahh. They wish me to enter through Thoth. I will oblige.”

Mordred pushed through the vision. His rictus grin widened. “They wish to form the Scyth from the Root.”

Abbadon circled his Seer. His Orator. “I will allow it. It will bond with the False Guardian. Then I shall steal his form when they all think the threat is handled. Thoth will play one final role.”

The Red King pulled his cloak about his wasted form.

“They have no idea what is in store.”

Thoth was the obvious shell but not the only chosen.

 

*****

            Jupiter Rising noted, <<Heart rate elevated.>>

            Lorain ran a hand over Eliza. The white light of the Quarantine Ward made her appear lighter than usual. The shield world had teleported back to the main staging area. She didn’t ask why. She didn’t want to know anything about the next phase. Not only because of the Order’s warnings but she feared for Eliza as well. Her heart hammered in her throat as Eliza’s eyes shot open. “What the….”

            The trials ahead would make all this shield world business seem like child’s play.

            Dexter’s message made her pause. A growing sense of disquiet made her dizzy. She grabbed onto the edge of the medical pod.

            ///Clock is ticking. 1130 years. Here is what you need to proclaim to the world.///

 The data packet contained a new form of prolong. One that would make a Typherian House Noble pale at the tapestry of it. Everyone would have a choice to make. Expand and live for 10,000 years or stick with the standard Terran or Typherian model. Proctor Gansys’ cultured tenor filled her right ear. <<The Arcane Order has already offered this to its key agents. Bardax has taken it without any hesitation. Alongside Earth’s K-9s. They wish to hold true to the Vigil for as long as possible.>>

Doc pushed Eliza back down into the curved egg shaped pod. Her body trembled with the weight of it all. What would everyone choose?

*****

            How’d I end up here?

Granted it was my home away from home but I didn’t think I’d get into the red with that Nargus Samata creature. Lorain smiled down at me. It was a professional “I’m your Doctor” vibe. Oh boy. I checked my Chrono. Three days. Anything could have happened. Her fingers were cold. Her face paled as new data flowed from her HUD. I could see the flashes of it across her irises. I pulled her into the pod. I didn’t like the erratic signals playing tapdance across her spine either.

I asked quietly, “What level of Triage are we at now?”

Lorain rested her cheek against my chest.

She didn’t reply. The images through the Union bond were enough to give me pause.

With that much time added to a life? Population growth would quadruple within a few decades. Made me glad we had pleanty of territory to grow into.

Deep down I knew I didn’t feel ready. Doc’s fingers tightened against my shirt.

I swallowed hard, “We can’t fail them.”

*****

Anna’s shoes clacked against the hard wooden floor. It was a pleasant enough deck piece. She stared up at the home of Fredrick Marshall III. Its simple white two-story construct hid the rare symbology below. He had an Arcane node under that structure. She turned as Aether rounded the corner. His eyes were thoughtful. He held out his hand, “Ready?”

Anna took it, “No but I’m game anyway. I owe the golden child that much.”

As they descended the steps within the cellar they were greeted by a fresh-faced Marshall. His hair was as white as ever but his face? It was returned to the glow of youth. His bright blue eyes blazed with vigor. He motioned to the alcove within the stonework. The runes for “Everlasting” and “Rejuvenation” were engraved with yellow alongside one other rune.

It pulsed with a lively jade sheen.

“The Three.”

Enthroned above all.

Anna mused, “Think anything will ever be simple again?”

Marshall responded with a chuckle, “Not likely but we can hope for moments of calm.”

Anna said, “Just checking. Never thought I’d miss the days of Elenore throwing plates.”

Did any of the demis have a normal routine anymore? Street crime felt like it was a rare artifact from a bygone era. She linked in with Golden Bulleteer. <<How’s my son doing?>>

Daniel Richard McQuire aka Wavelength.  He was able to manipulate sound.

Golden Bulleteer shot back with, <<Doing well. Can melt Living Stone constructs with a jaunty whistle. Provided they have the ruminants of an ear canal.  Made a secret sound language to help the Bardaxian Special Scout Units.>>

Anna noted, <<Provided there’s an atmosphere.>>

White Lily cut in, <<Got that covered. He’s in a mixed unit.>>

Magic then. Anna let out a breath, <<I’m taking the deal.>>

It was code for the Life Extension 3.0.

Times were changing. Anna only hoped they would survive what was coming.

The pained faces of the Red King’s puppet army flashed within her mind.

They would need every fighter they could get. Unlike the undead, these would be with partial soul shards. The flesh melded. Not even beheading would stop them. She prayed that the Arbiters had a few more aces up their cosmic-powered sleeves. Marshall noted her darkened mood, “That angle is being worked on.”

The way he said it made her flinch. “I don’t want to know.”

Weave Speakers had enough nightmares already.

She knew she was being dour but couldn’t quite reel it in. Marshall nodded stiffly. He did not envy Dexter Murphy in the slightest. He held out a glass. “Whiskey?”

Issue 20: Here

Issue 22: Here