by Isaac Hooke
He didn’t want to get up.
He just lay there.
Let the TSN take me.
He wanted to die himself.
He curled into a ball. Without Essence Sight, he was surrounded by darkness. That suited him.
He could hear his own breathing. The beating of his heart. Both sounded loud. Too loud.
She’s gone.
The floor underneath felt hard. The texture of the rug, scratchy. The air around him, so hot. He lay there, steeped in his own sweat.
He wished all of it would just go away.
He suddenly had an image of himself as a little kid. And of a large cardboard box he once had. Sometimes he would curl up underneath that box, hiding himself from the world.
He wanted to hide in that box right now, and never return to this universe.
He saw Sinive in his mind’s eye once more, dying, again and again.
And he vomited anew.
As he replayed her death in his mind, a lingering anger burned inside of him.
It grew stronger with each passing second, imparting bodily strength.
They’re going to pay for this. All of them.
He squeezed his fists. Fresh tears streamed down his face.
They’re going to pay. I swear it.
The outburst of tears finally flushed most of the liquid hydrocarbons from his eyes, at least enough that he could open them. He did so. They still burned, but he could see. He spotted his reflection in the burnished surface of the gate beside him. He didn’t recognize the tortured creature he saw. Those bloodshot, opaque eyes were not his own. They seemed dead to this world. Just as he was.
Dead, and filled with enough wrath to destroy a universe.
Still lying down, he touched that gate, and the frigid hurricane of stellar wind it contained howled inside of him, bursting to flail uncontrollably from his core. Essence Sight returned, and he cast his vision above and behind his body.
He saw two mixed groups of scepters and Essence warriors cautiously approaching his position, coming in from both flanks. Mancers in armored robes brought up the rear of each group. They had likely used distortion tunnels to jump directly inside the terminal.
Bad move on their part: they would be the first to pay the price for Sinive’s death. Tane demanded a high toll in blood. Infinitely high.
He wondered vaguely where the other Mancer who had fought at his side had gone… probably fled. What was his name? Tane had already forgotten. It wasn’t important. And it was for the best the man had gone, as any who stayed would know only death, now.
He was about to begin growing the terrible Branchworks he had in mind, when beside him the dark artifact shrunk, seemingly of its own accord. A distant part of his mind found that odd.
He touched the now apple-sized artifact anyway and commanded it to enlarge.
The object didn’t obey. It was as if it knew his murderous intent and wanted to stop him. Wanted to save him from himself.
But Tane wouldn’t have it. He forced his will upon it, slamming down hard.
The artifact yielded and expanded to its original size. Tane felt momentarily faint, but the sensation quickly passed. Good, because there was no time for rest.
He had deadly work to do.
With the Dark flames from the artifact he contained the massive White Branchworks he formed, and launched two huge Essence Missiles at the incoming groups. The robots, warriors and Mancers had no chance: the Missiles tore through them before they could dodge, leaving behind the wreckages of robots, and the bloody remnants of what were once men and women. A woman’s severed head landed a few meters in front of him. She had a startling beauty that reminded him of Lyra.
A beauty that he had snuffed out with a thought.
Her deep blue eyes gazed accusingly at him, and a small part of him felt shame. Everlasting shame.
He smashed the head to a bloody pulp with a hammer of Air Current.
With powerful gusts of air, Tane slammed the gates together from both sides at the same time, forcing them upright in the process, as if compressing a massive accordion so that they formed a single, huge gate.
He sat up as the gate he was touching was lifted off the ground during the impacts, and he shifted his arm to follow it upright, maintaining contact the whole time. He hardly felt the vibrations that traveled down his arm as those gates slammed together. He hardly felt anything anymore.
He lined the base of the combined gates with desks and bodies and other refuse from the terminal, intertwining and knotting them to bind the Chrsyalium structures together so that he wouldn’t have to continually hold them in place with Air Current. The added thickness also offered a shield against his enemies.
When that was done, he shifted his Essence Sight to the edge of the terminal and surveyed the street beyond.
Then he began to kill, launching huge Essence Missiles indiscriminately. The thick White bolts of light, tinged with Dark veins and surrounded by bolts of black electricity, repeatedly swept over the gathered army outside. Scepter. Mech. Mancer. Essence warrior. No one was spared. Tane didn’t care if he felled AI, human, or Essenceworker. Let them all die.
Screams filled the air. Mechanical shrieks.
Plasma bolts pounded the terminal as police drones and gunships from the city’s security forces swooped in. Tane shot them down with three quick Mixed works.
Missiles, plasma bolts, and lasers fired into the terminal from somewhere down the street. A few of the missiles struck the combined Chrysalium gates that sheltered him, and the superheated gases from the impacts enveloped the area and almost engulfed him, but he unleashed Air Current around himself and formed a protective cushion against the shockwaves.
Nice try, bitch.
When the impacts ceased and the dust cleared, there was hardly a scratch on the surface of the combined gates. And Tane was entirely unharmed.
He cast his Essence Sight north, down the street, and spotted the source of the attack. Armored carriers, battle tanks, and other vehicles of war.
He unleashed several volleys their way, neatly destroying every one of those vehicles, to the last tank. While the incredible tornado of White drained him, as usual the Dark he Siphoned from the artifact mitigated the weariness, allowing him to endure. That was all he could ask for.
“You want me, TSN?” Tane shouted at the top of his lungs until his throat hurt. “Then come get me! I dare you!”
In answer to his dare, the transport ships that had landed on the street outside began to fire into the terminal. Plasma throwers and dragon lasers pounded the combined gates. Those ships were obviously trying to strip him of his Essence source. Or maybe they had finally given up on capturing him, and hoped to rid the universe of the scourge that was Tane Ganeth.
Before those weapons could melt the source of his power, he fired several huge Essence Missiles, and tore gaping holes into the transport ships. It took five blows to each of them before they ceased firing.
If only he had a bigger Chrysalium source, like the TSN battle cruiser he had used against the dweller fleet, then he wouldn’t have had to waste so many shots, and could’ve taken them down with one blow each, instead of five.
Wait a moment...
Tane generated a massive work of Air Current. It was more powerful than anything he had created before with that particular work, even with the Chrysalium boost, and he suspected he had leveled during the battle. He didn’t have time to check right now, though.
A veritable windstorm filled the terminal; he rode the tip of that storm, and it swept him, the artifact, and the gates into the street beyond. He activated his shield, autogating mode. He cast his Essence Sight around him in vigilance, and struck down any TSN troops that he spotted in hiding.
He focused the storm underneath him, and in moments he was flying up over the street and over the wreckage of the closest transport vessel. He set himself down just on top. With the combined gates touching the exterior of the vessel, he had access not only to the
Chrysalium contained inside those gates, but also the entire hull of the transport.
Siphoning bonus. All White Essenceworks are enhanced 3359% due to Siphoning through Chrysalium objects.
He used that boost to create an even more powerful Air Current, and with the resultant tempest he drew the wreckage of the adjacent transport into his own, so that the two hulls were touching.
Siphoning bonus. All White Essenceworks are enhanced 5124% due to Siphoning through Chrysalium objects.
He created a new Essence Missile. This one was as big as one of the transports itself.
Tane launched the colossal work, and sent it spiraling close to the ground around the street immediately in front of the terminal, destroying all the buildings and structures where members of the TSN might be hiding. He sent it into the trees that bordered the street to the south, killing any who hid there, and dissolving the forest entirely so that he could readily see the park beyond.
When the work dissipated, he created another, and sent this one similarly gyrating into the air, and with it he swept away all the incoming drones and police craft that had come to attack him.
The Dark he could draw from the artifact was enough to contain the incredible amount of the White, but when he reached another transport terminal or shipyard, and added their Chrysalium bonuses to his existing sources, he’d probably have to retrieve his other artifact and add its Darkness to the mix as well. Yes, he planned to keep adding to his power. Adding, and adding.
And destroying.
He began to raze everything around him. The streets. The buildings. Any gunships or armored carriers that dared approach.
His Missiles were so huge now that they passed through multiple structures at once before dissipating. People were screaming in the streets below. He couldn’t tell if they were TSN, or civilians.
He didn’t care.
He was growing weary, feeling like the Esoterum was whittling away his bones to sticks, while the Arcanum burned his organs from the inside out, but he wasn’t going to stop. Anger, and sheer hatred compelled him. If the Essence destroyed him, at least it would be an end to the torment.
And then he spotted a lone figure in a glowing armored dress walking toward him on the street below. She looked like an ant compared to the super-powerful being he was.
He launched an Essence Missile at her. She darted forward, moving with unexpected speed. His Missile slammed into the street, creating a huge blast crater. He wasn’t sure he’d gotten her. He cast about, looking for her, but couldn’t find her. He must have hit her.
He resumed his destruction of the city.
A few minutes later he spotted the glowing figure again as she clambered over the top edge of the hull nearby.
It was Lyra.
She walked haltingly toward him, leaning heavily on her silver staff. The Chrysalium armband attached to her bicep was chipped in places, as if it had taken several blows.
She staggered occasionally, and at one point bent over and vomited. She was no doubt experiencing the nausea that came with being close to someone who Siphoned such an incredible amount of the Essence.
Lyra stopped five meters from him.
“You’ve killed enough,” she said. “The TSN is in full retreat.”
“I’m not stopping until I’ve killed them all,” Tane said.
“You’re only killing innocents at this point,” Lyra said. “Doing this won’t bring her back.”
Those words fanned the rage that burned inside him, consuming all rational thought.
The Volur was the cause of this. If he hadn’t been forced to come here to rescue her, Sinive would be alive right now.
A part of his mind begged him to hold back, told him it simply wasn’t true that Lyra was the cause.
No one forced you to rescue her. No one forced Sinive.
He dismissed the thought, and began to form an Essence Missile.
But Lyra surprised him, dropping to the hull. She planted a hand on the deck and instantly the amount of Essence he could Siphon through the combined Chrysalium objects was reduced to a trickle. He might as well not have been Siphoning through it at all. And he felt nauseous. It wasn’t as bad as when he was aboard a starship during a jump, but it was there.
He was immediately reminded of something the Amaranth once did, stealing away the Dark Essence he Siphoned from the artifact on Remus.
“My Chrysalium Siphoning is many levels higher than yours,” Lyra said. “I can take it all away from you.”
“But you can’t do anything with it,” Tane said. “You lack the Dark.”
“You’re right,” Lyra said. “But my goal is only to weaken you.”
He sent an Essence Missile at her; it was no bigger than one he could form natively. She Deflected it. That was somewhat surprising: somehow she was able to partition out the White she had stolen from the stellar wind she could Siphon on her own, allowing her to form a cohesive Branchwork. Or perhaps she was merely clamping down on the Esoterum she had purloined, again allowing her a modicum of control.
“You would protect the TSN?” Tane said. “Those who made you their puppets?”
“I would protect you,” Lyra said. “Come back to me, Tane. Come back from beyond the brink. Leave the World Bender behind for just a while longer. The universe needs you.”
He stared at her blankly, simply holding onto both Essences. That was all he had now. The Essences. And the power they gave him. One burned inside him, the other froze. Twisting, churning, hot mixing with cold, Dark intertwining with White, like his psyche.
Wait… she wanted the White?
She could have it. Because there was something she could never take away from him.
And that was the Dark.
He began the timeline for Fingers of Ruin.
36
Tane had only completed a few seconds of the Dark timeline when Lyra released an unexpected Essence Missile at him.
It struck him in the chest. Hard. It was followed by a blow that must have been Air Current, because he was sent flying backward and the dark artifact and combined gates were ripped from his grasp.
He landed skidding on the Chrysalium hull. The surface caved slightly, and he realized it was because he had Siphoned so much of the White through it, and it was losing its consistency.
Another Air Current struck him before he could get up, and he was swept right off the hull toward the street below. Falling... plunging to his doom...
A final Air Current caught him before he struck the street and lowered him gently the rest of the way to the asphalt. The surface was gutted all around him. His doing.
He glanced weakly at his chest. A large, smoking hole had been carved into his armored robe. It had nearly eaten through to the flesh underneath. But hadn’t otherwise harmed him.
Guess I’ll be needing a new robe.
That last blow had caused him to release both Essences, and he was now too weak to Siphon again. He couldn’t sense either the White or Dark at all. Maybe he’d lost the ability entirely. And he wasn’t sure that was such a bad thing.
He didn’t feel like getting up. He just lay there in the street.
Finally, after what seemed a century, he turned his head to the side.
He surveyed the ruin around him. The mutilated corpses of the men and women who were only doing their jobs. The wreckages of mechs, robots, gunships. The occasional dweller. The ravaged transport ships, and the bodies of the dead swathing the blast holes in the hulls.
I did this. For no reason. None at all.
He wept.
I lost all control when she died. I...
He glanced at the terminal. Incredibly, it was still intact, an island amid the destruction he had inflicted. He was relieved, because he wanted to see Sinive one last time. Just once.
He tried to pull himself up, but couldn’t. The two transport ships abruptly disintegrated beside him, turning into a pile of fine powder. There were different, non-Chrysalium structures protruding at random lo
cations from inside that powder. The bodies of humans and robots were also probably buried inside.
The gates and the dark artifact rolled onto the street, and a moment later those disintegrated as well. It was the toxic side effect of drawing Esoterum and Arcanum directly like that, and allowing them to accumulate inside their respective source materials.
In moments he was covered in dust and coughed as the white and black powder infected his lungs.
He attempted to rise once more, but still was too weak to stand on his own.
A strong arm slid under him and helped him upright.
Lyra.
She looked… tired. Of course she would be drained after stealing that incredible hurricane of Essence from him and allowing it to rip through her core.
She pressed her shoulder under his arm and acted as his crutch. She turned toward the south, where the Mosaic was landing in front of the ravaged forest—which was mostly stumps—and guided him toward the ship.
But Tane resisted.
“When I told you the TSN was in full retreat, I meant those troops already on the planet,” Lyra said. “Reinforcements have jumped into the system, according to space traffic control. More starships will be arriving within the hour. These are warships, not transport vessels. And there are incoming Mautauraen battle cruisers as well, approaching from various extra-planet locations. Surviving members of the city’s security forces are likely regrouping, too, at muster points nearby. When the TSN vessels arrive, they will join in any attack. My point: we can’t stay here.”
Still Tane resisted.
“Must see… her…” Tane said. “Last… time.”
Lyra struggled against him a moment longer, then at least ceded to his pull and helped him toward the terminal. Behind him, the ramp to the Mosaic’s cargo bay opened, and G’allanthamas struggled outside in his environmental suit.
The injured dweller moved tiredly, and much slower than his usual pace, but that was probably just as well, considering how sluggish Tane’s own advance was, and the alien soon joined him.
“Love what you’ve done to the place,” G’allanthamas said, obviously trying to lighten the mood.
