by Kyle West
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
THE XENOWORLD SAGA: BOOKS 1-3
First edition. April 14, 2020.
Copyright © 2020 Kyle West.
Written by Kyle West.
Table of Contents
Copyright Page
The Xenoworld Saga: Books 1-3
A NOTE TO THE READER
PROPHECY
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
CHAPTER FORTY
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
EPILOGUE
BASTION
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
BEACON
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
CHAPTER FORTY
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
CHAPTER FIFTY
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
FROM THE AUTHOR
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
SANCTUM SAMPLE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
GLOSSARY
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ALSO BY KYLE WEST
Post-Apocalyptic/Dystopian
The Wasteland Chronicles
Lost Angel (Prequel)
Apocalypse
Origins
Evolution
Revelation
Darkness
Extinction
Xenofall
Post-Apocalyptic/Fantasy
The Xenoworld Saga
Prophecy
Bastion
Beacon
Sanctum
Kingdom
Dissolution
Aberration
A NOTE TO THE READER
This three book bundle of Xenoworld Saga is the successor to a series called The Wasteland Chronicles. While it certainly can be read and enjoyed without reading Wasteland, there may be a lot of details that don’t make sense without having the context provided by those books.
My recommendation is that you read Wasteland first, but at the same time, I’m curious whether Xenoworld can be enjoyed on its own with no prior knowledge, so I won’t stop you if you try to read on.
The entire box set of Wasteland Chronicles can be picked up at a pretty hefty discount. I encourage you to start there.
Link to Wasteland Chronicles.
PROPHECY
We took you in, and we wonder: was this our great mistake? Shall we prune humanity from our tree, as if it were deadwood?
Anna Keener, Conversations with the Xenofold
PROLOGUE
THOUGH THE WORLD HAD CHANGED since the days of the Ragnarok War, the Nameless One’s lair in the Hollow of the Three Hills had remained virtually the same, as if time itself had frozen. The Old World trees still grew beside the still Mirror Lake, producing fruit that fell to be eaten by none. Even animals didn’t enter the Hollow of the Three Hills, as if they knew the power that lurked within.
The Nameless One could feel this change in the Xenofold, though he himself hadn’t changed. His nature was changeless. In many times on many worlds, he had appeared as a floating ball of light, a point of energy in which his formless mind concentrated. He didn’t know his origin, but that didn’t concern him. He merely was, just as he ever would be: energy that existed for its own, hidden purpose.
There was nothing benevolent in the Nameless One’s nature, and neither was there anything malevolent. He was driven by neither good nor evil, but rather the compulsion to restore all things to the mean. Darkness was neither good nor bad, just as neither was light. Both were tools in the greater scheme, tools the Nameless One used in his quest to achieve perfect balance.
He that is Nameless. I, Odium of the Dark, greet you from the Great Void.
The Nameless One responded, Hail, Radaskim. Long has your journey no doubt been.
How, Nameless One, are the People of Earth? Do any remember the humiliation of our Reapers last Xenofall?
The humans sleep, and when they are not sleeping, they are killing each other. The power of Elekim abides, but even so, there is a strange resonance in the Xenofold...one that even I cannot fully explain. A rope that now even frays, balancing creation and destruction.
So, you still speak in riddles, Odium said. We are aware of your need for balance, such as satisfies your purpose. The Radaskim are always ready to bargain, Arbiter of Ages.
Yes. There must always be balance. I underestimated the frailty of human lives, and the near absence of their resolve. Indeed, I often ponder how they won the day at Ragnarok to begin with, and yet they are the only ones who have succeeded where others have failed. A riddle of my own I’ve been meditating on these last centuries. Already, I have bartered with the Elekai, and their end of the bargain is satisfied.
And this bargain is?
It cannot be named, lest you undermine it, Odium of the Dark.
Something like laughter resonated from Odium’s wave-voice, which ebbed across space-time within the Xenomatrix connecting worlds.
We Radaskim are strong. And we won’t lose again. To satisfy balance, do we not also receive a boon, such as you have granted the feeble Elekai?
Your boon has already been granted, Odium, the Nameless One said. The Elekai have sundered themselves by failing to remember the past. Long years they could have prepared a defense, but long years instead have they wasted. Only the Elder Dragons remain who remember the old days, and even they are but a fraction of their former glory. The Elekai Xenofold weakens. The human Elekai sense it, but they do not understand it. Even now, they know nothing of the doom descending from above.
Then they shall be all the easier to destroy.
Humanity, in its pride, forsook the Elder Dragons in pursuit of power. Even today, the Elders do not speak to them. Indeed, are these Elekai? For they do not act like it.
If all that you speak is true, then the twilight of destruction draws near. The humans will be assimilated into our Xenofold and make for us wonderful pets to mock...and all the Elekai must be destroyed. How can Elekim save them, when he cannot leave their Xenofold? If he does, the Radaskim Xenofold is unleashed.
He cannot, the Nameless One said. Unless he wants that ancient terror set upon humanity.
Tell me, Great Watcher...what did humanity do to the dragons that was so terrible?
The Nameless One went silent. The deed had passed out of human thought and memory, but the rift it had created ran deep – so much so, that it was hard to see how it could ever be mended.
That is not for you to know, Odium, the Nameless One said. You cannot know what humanity itself has forgotten.
Is that so? No matter. The Radaskim shall learn soon enough.
The space-fold lapsed into silence. For ten million Earth years, the Radaskim had spread from the galactic center, from the now dead world of Askalon. The Nameless One had followed the Radaskim hordes to every world, ensuring that the Elekai were present to at least challenge their progress. Though the Radaskim could physically destroy the Elekai with ease, within the Elekai Xenofold was the very thing the Radaskim sought above all else – the Secrets of Creation, which would allow them to re-create the universe in their own image.
The Elekai’s victory on Earth was a small thing in the face of the galactic Radaskim onslaught. On the scale of hundreds, or even thousands of years, Earth would fall, and the Radaskim’s relentless advance across the galaxy would continue. Already, every habitable star surrounding Earth for a thousand light years had fallen...and it was to Earth that the legions of the Radaskim would come, again and again, until it, too, had fallen.
It was time for the Nameless One to uphold his end of the bargain to the Elekai, and perhaps it would be enough for them to remember.
CHAPTER ONE
“SHANTI, TIME TO WAKE UP. You know today is Remembrance Day.”
I opened my eyes, seeing that my mother had already lit the lantern, but it didn’t do much to push back the early morning darkness. My eyes took a moment to adjust, and I resisted the urge to roll over and groan.
“Why do we have to go?” I asked, throwing the blanket off my body and feeling all my warmth dissipate into the cold air.
I meant it as a joke, but it came out more serious than intended. No one missed Remembrance Day. No one in their right mind, anyway.
My mother looked at me severely. “Because it only comes once a year and we won’t disgrace Annara or the gods by not going. Now get up, get dressed, and come eat your oatmeal. We’re already running late, and I won’t have the entire Subura know that we are its two newest apostates.”
If that line couldn’t get me up and dressed fast, I didn’t know what would. I put on some pants and a thick shirt over my smallclothes, and wrapped myself in my colorless cloak. It had been dark green once, and was tight on my shoulders. I hadn’t had a new cloak in years. Last of all, I put on a pair of clean socks and my only pair of boots. Those boots, too, were small, even with all the wear.
The wood stove was off, as it had been all winter. To save money on firewood, my mother used the community stove outside. Maybe it saved money, but the room was cold, almost enough for my breath to make clouds.
I sat with my mother at the table, and inside my wooden bowl, the oatmeal steamed. Mixed in were small berries.
“What’s this?” I asked.
“Blueberries,” my mother said. “You’ve had them before.”
“I know,” I said. “It’s just been so long. How much were they?”
“Don’t worry about that,” my mother said. “Today’s a special day.”
I took my spoon and dug in, eating slowly so I could savor the sweetness of the berries. It had been plain oatmeal almost every morning for quite a while now. There was always plenty of it, but I’d long wanted some sort of change.
“Were they part of the ration?”
“A little something extra,” my mother said. “I heard we just won a victory, and it couldn’t have come at a better time.”
“A victory? Where? Have you heard from Father?” Hope rose in my chest. “Is he coming home?”
“It was down by Coloso, or so the rumor goes,” my mother said. “They said this could be the end to the war, and if that’s the case...maybe we’ll be seeing him soon enough.”
My mother gave a small smile, and that was enough to tell me she was hopeful.
“Who said?” I asked.
“The women were talking about it outside. Apparently, a caller came all the way from Coloso bearing the news, shouting throughout the entire city. It’s nothing official, of course. If true, though...it would be a Remembrance Day to never forget.”
“It would be Colonia’s first victory in years!”
“I just hope that the Council and Pontifex Valian sue for peace. There are enough troubles in the world already without wars to multiply them.”
I swallowed another bite of food. “Do you really think Father could be coming home?”
“I hope so, dear. Nothing is certain, however.” She smiled again. “But we can hope.”
“Can we write him another letter? If he knows, he can tell us for sure.”
My mother shook her head. “You know we’re only allowed to write one a week, and we sent the last off yesterday. When your father does come home, he knows we live here, now.” My mother stood, taking my empty bowl. “We need to get moving, or we’ll be late.”
My mood soured at that. I hated going to service, but it was required of everyone, and even more required on Remembrance Day. It was boring...mostl
y just chanting in English and watching people light candles. For Remembrance Day, everyone received a candle, even the poor. Once a year everyone was allowed a single prayer to Annara – ostensibly, to pray for her quick return, but technically, you could pray for whatever you wanted, and as long as your heart was pure, the prayer would be granted. Normally, a prayer candle cost one seste, a needless expense unless you happened to have the extra money...which few who lived in the Subura did.
Even though going to the cathedral was required of everyone, it wasn’t frowned upon to miss it as long as you had an excuse. There would be no excuse for missing it today, though.
While we quickly cleaned the dishes, I could hear the bustle of other people getting ready outside, talking and laughing in the darkness. Once done, I washed my face and arms in the water my mother had already set aside. After that, I brushed my hair. It was something I made sure to do every morning, even if all I was destined to do was work in the fields.
Once I was done, my mother nodded, satisfied. I took the time to look her over. My mother was a naturally beautiful woman with brown hair and eyes. Even if the last four years had put new lines on her face and weathered her hands, it only lent to her additional beauty, a quiet strength and determination to do whatever it took to survive.
“You look pretty,” I said.
“Thanks, dear. You do, too.”
She switched off the lantern, and I followed her into the early morning.
The eastern sky above the adobe tenements was tinged gray with the coming dawn. I rubbed the last of the sleep from my eyes, following my mother’s steps toward the procession already making its way south on the wide dirt road leading to the Red Cathedral, one mile south. It was the closest cathedral to us, and in order to have room, one had to arrive early. There would be services all day, but the least crowded were the earliest ones.
As we walked with the procession, everyone’s breath clouded the dry air. We passed rows of decrepit apartments, and on our right flowed the wide Colorado River, its surface smooth and dark in the still morning. Small piles of snow had collected at the base of desert scrub lining its banks. Downriver, a barge floated with the current, probably loaded with food and supplies for the army.
The group was mostly quiet, though some were chanting the more familiar refrains. They probably didn’t know their meanings...it was only for priests to know the meaning of Holy English, but the faithful who had heard sacraments from the cradle could still repeat them without fail.
