Ghosts of Lyarra

by Damian Shishkin

  Aen increased gravity all around the crowd, causing all her minions - who scrambled to arm themselves - drop the weapons and fall to their knees. He stopped the wave of power just short of both the J’Karin delegation and Bryx’s group, leaving it plainly obvious to Myril at who stood against her now. For a second, he actually enjoyed the forced show of respect before he refocused on the task at hand. An entire Empire was watching this unfold and it was time for truths to be told.

  “Who are you?” Myril cried out.

  Reaching to his neck to disengage the clasps which kept the helmet pressurized and connected to the armor, he unsnapped them as they hissed. His fingers grasped the chrome helmet and lifted it away to reveal himself to all, for the first time since the battle of Earth. As he cast it aside, he heard her gasp and the crowd buzz with confusion. Now they knew the one behind the murder of Iana and the attacks against the Empire, but it raised more questions than it answered.

  “You?” she gasped. “You are dead!”

  “I can’t die.” Aen answered. “Or does my being hit by high speed plasma rounds and not being affected not clue you into that fact?”

  Now, Aen stood two feet away from her; glaring down her soul with his black hole eyes. Myril was not as tall as Iana, so Aen looked down upon her slightly from here. It was a dominating sight to see; Aen was sure there were a lot of outraged forces on his side that he was the one behind the death of the Empress. It was time to come clean at long last; it was time to unwind the tale of lies spun so tightly for so long.

  “Why would you kill her?” Myril asked as she cowered back towards the priests behind her.

  “Because she had become a symbol of weakness in a time of treachery.” He answered. “I saw your forces circling her, waiting to strike for the kill. I saw your plans and ideals before I could see you, knowing that letting her fall in the way you wished for was far less dignified than the death I could deal. I gave you all a world without hopes; without dreams. I took the very light you all began to take for granted and extinguished it. And in doing so I gave myself the time to see you behind the reins of it all so I could stand here now. I killed her so I could expose you for the manipulative wretch you are.”

  “I have done nothing of the sorts!” she shot back. “All I have done is….”

  “Leveraged your power, manipulated the entire Council to your will, and replaced those who would not with those more compliant.” He cut her off. “I have seen the empty prisons of Dyen; their cells cleared to reinforce the ranks of the Guild assassins. While the whole Empire fought over who should control me and my power, you shifted the blame of my death to Iana while you went about your dark deeds.”

  “Then you know that you are hopelessly outnumbered.” Myril spat back defiantly. “Inside the walls of the temple there are hundreds of thousands of Forgotten waiting to do my bidding. The entire Fleet has been reshaped and is now at my beck and call; before you stand the new age of the Lyarran Empire. Under my watch, we shall usher in a new order and all around you are the ones who will help make it happen. You are but one, we are many!”

  “You are not as many as you thought.” He warned. “And your precious plan was not as perfect as you thought.”

  Aen nodded to the monitors as all eyes fell upon multiple images of the temple on Ryas burning in the night with heaps of bodies strewn about her great walls. They watched in shock as other images were of the broken station of Thsin; the gaping emptiness in the ring where the central hub of Fleet Command had once stood. They all looked on as Ifierin and J’Karin cleaned up the carnage rained down upon both places as battles had ended before the commanders ever realized they begun.

  “The thing about a revolution,” Aen glared at her, “is that they are swift and violent. Your legions are gone; you are the master of all you see here and commander of none. I am not one, but one of many; and we have unmade all which you have wrought.”

  Myril’s eyes flashed to the crown and to the throne, then back to Aen. He could tell she was trying to leverage something; trying to prevent the inevitable by positioning herself as something more valuable. As he had played this moment in his head over and over, Aen had readied himself for anything she could say, but he let her speak none the less. All she could do was expose herself for the wretch she was even more.

  “It is the Throne of Light you seek?” she asked. “First you kill Iana, then defeat the next in line to fulfill the prophecy. I too have read the scriptures of insight where the Harbinger sits upon the throne as the Empress has fallen. If it is your destiny you seek, then I can offer my services to you as an advisor.”

  Turning his gaze to match hers; looking over at the crown sitting upon the cushion all alone on the stage. He glanced quickly back at her, then slowly strode the few steps over to where it lay and knelt down to pick it up. In his arrogance, he had made his first mistake by not only turning his back on her, but also breaking his concentration which held the crowd in check. For a brief moment, Aen’s hold on the crowd lessened, and in an audience of assassins it was all the lapse that was needed.

  Aen felt the sharp pain in his side as a bolt of plasma found its mark. Although it hurt, he continued with his minor task and carefully picked up the crown. As he turned back around, he could see two of the guards standing; one holding the sidearm still trained on his person and the other with his arm extended in full release of the dagger which struck his ribcage before falling to the ground. Aen had stood up so quick the dagger which had been intended to hit his head was deflected by his body armor; doing no damage whatsoever. He could see the strain on their faces and knew it had taken all they had to do that much and fight the increased pull of gravity. It was time for another demonstration of power, and this time it wasn’t going to be as subtle.

  He shook his head at them in displeasure, and with his empty hand he extended it outwards at shoulder level. His heart surged as he connected with the planet’s gravitational field; then localized the ground on which the helpless guards stood. Quickly, he pushed downwards with his extended hand and increased the gravity beneath the two assailants a hundred fold. The crowd was stunned as they watched as the two Guildsmen simply imploded like crushed beer cans with sickening cracking of breaking bones and sinew. Blood spatter was non-existent and the mess was contained to the area at their feet; gravity had been made so intense they were squished into messy piles of organic wreckage in seconds.

  With his point made, Aen released the rest of the crowd from his hold and turned his attention back to Myril who cowered backwards. Although they were free to move, the crowd and security within it did not rise; they simply watched in fear of retaliation of any hostile actions. Aen was in control now, though he knew he would hear about his actions when all was said and done.

  “This does not hold or sway upon me.” Aen said as he shook the crown at her. “It doesn’t call to me as it does you, and it doesn’t make me betray all I know just to wear it upon my brow. No Myril the deceiver, it is not the Throne of Light that I desire; I only wish to restore it to its rightful glory.”

  “That makes no sense!” she shot back at him. “How can you restore Iana to the throne when she is dead at your hand?”

  “Not all is what it seems.” The Prophets added. “To save Iana from your treachery, the Harbinger was sent to kill the Empress.”

  “That still doesn’t make sense!” shouted Myril.

  “Then let me make it clearer for you.” A voice called out from the back of the crowd.

  Everyone turned to see who had spoken out, and the J’Karin guard separated their tight formation as a figure emerged from their cocoon. It was a figure unlike any description; donned with armor of crystal, gold and silver. The figure moved with grace and importance; an unseen power radiated from it as it sauntered forward. Everyone was frozen in shock as they laid eyes on a ghost, for the creature coming forward simply could not be; the Queen of Heaven had returned.

  —

  Lyarran Vessel Dark Light;


  Inbound to Planet Havyiin

  Sara was glued to the main view screen, as was everyone else aboard the Dark Light as the coronation ceremony began. Even Axyn had made his way back up to Operations Control to join the new Council in charge of his beloved ship. When he entered, he placed his right arm across his chest and bowed deep in the ultimate sign of respect to Sara, and as a thank you for saving him and his Ifierin’s lives. She could feel his anticipation on what was the final piece of the puzzle, and as it all started, a hush came over the room.

  She knew the basis of what was to happen, though Aen had not let on any details of the final assault on Myril. Her mind raced for possible hiding places that Aen might use, and settled upon the coffin which sat at the feet of Bryx and the Ifierin guard with him. Her companion had no such insight on the events to come; only having the words from Lyxia to trust her to go on.

  But as confident as she was on Aen’s whereabouts, it was little shock to see him emerge from the water behind the ceremony. Chaos had begun with the priest collapsing and dropping the crown as all eyes fell on that mishap was the perfect distraction for Aen to approach. Soon enough however, he was sighted and shots were fired in defence of the high priestess. They did little to slow him and the sharpshooters were reduced to dust in response.

  Aen now stood on the stage and admonished his adversary; Sara listened proudly to the man that used to be her father, tear apart the false icon for all to see and hear. She watched as he tossed his helmet aside and revealing to all who had been behind the reign of terror that had plagued the Empire for the last year or so. She tensed when he admitted to killing the Empress; a confession that drew angry murmurs from the room around her.

  As he picked up the crown, Sara gasped as he was shot in the side by one of the guards who managed to free himself. But Aen simply stood up and let loose an unexpected strike at the guards; Sara’s stomach lurched at the disgusting nature of the pair’s demise. Her breaths were rapid as Myril and Aen argued, only to be interrupted by the Prophets; her anticipation at the conclusion to all this was high.

  Then it happened; a voice called out from behind all of it. It was an angry voice, a familiar voice, and one that the entire Empire knew intimately. Before all the billions of eyes watching this appeared Iana; the true Empress of the Lyarran Empire made her way down the processional aisle in full ceremonial armor.

  “By the Gods.” Whispered Axyn in utter disbelief; his faith in his Council had been rewarded and much more.

  Others wept, some even fell to their knees, but all kept watching as nothing had been settled yet. The secret was out, and now the treachery would be punished as Iana took back what was hers; the Throne of Light was reclaimed by the one who had never truly relinquished it. Sara smiled; soon all of this would come to an end. Despite knowing the end result, she couldn’t shake the feeling of dread that sat deep within her; a feeling that confused and concerned her as it all played out.

  —

  Lyarran Throne World Havyiin; Imperial Palace

  “Behold, the Queen of Heaven returns.” The Prophets announced to all. “In a time when none other can lead, it is Iana who steps forward to reclaim her throne.”

  “You’re dead!” shrieked Myril. “This cannot be! He killed you; we all saw it!”

  “I merely killed the poisoned icon you had served forward for the Empire to hate.” Aen replied to her rambling. “I watched as you poised yourself as a friend and confidant to her, only to tear her down behind her back to position yourself as the next in line. I was brought out of hiding to save Iana, and I did it by striking at the lame duck you had set up for your own devices. Your plan was calculated; carefully crafted over eons and finally put into place, yet you failed to look into the simple security measures that the Empress could use to ensure her survival against such attacks.”

  “But I saw her…..” Myril stammered in disbelief; her eyes locked on Iana as she ascended the stairs to join the congregation on stage. “We all saw it explode.”

  “You saw what you needed to see; a distraction as I made off with the real Iana to somewhere safe so we could glean insight on who and what sought to usurp the throne.” Aen smiled. “You saw a clone; one of the first measures put in place and long forgotten about by all. So enthralled by your own ambitions and so distracted by my attacks, you didn’t see the flaws on what should have been perfection that sat right in front of your eyes.”

  “I had thought you my friend, dear Myril.” Iana admonished her foe. “And it pains me so to stand here and see you for what you truly are. All I ask is why?”

  “I am a survivor.” hissed Myril. “And I would ensure this great Empire survived as well. Under my watch, I would rebuild what has crumbled on your watch. You failed to secure the Harbinger as a weapon to defend the Empire, so I made sure that Lyarra’s light would shine for eons to come by other means.”

  “And that was your mistake.” Iana countered. “For Aen is not a weapon to be wielded by any, not even me. He has a mind of his own, and a heart to follow; a creature so rare and unique I am truly honored to call him my friend. It was opinions like yours that caused me to hide him away after I found him, and it is a time like this that rewards that difficult decision. In your arrogance, you sought to control the uncontrollable; you were the one who brought him into this by disturbing his exile and you were the key to your own undoing.”

  “Look around you,” she continued. “Look at the ruins of what you had laboured for as they lie about your feet. A poisoned and evil lair on Thsin is no more and your home along with all your reserves in fire and ash. All that remains of your new era is what you see here; your new heads of state who shall share your fate. All have forfeit their lives in pursuit of this treachery; let them all burn like their minions.”

  Iana nodded to Aen, and in response he motioned with his right hand with a quick sideways wave across his body. In response, his heart flared and let loose a torrent of energy that ignited the cells of the crowd in a wave pushing right to left. Row by row, they glowed bright orange then cooled to figures of ash one after another; leaving Bryx, the J’Karin, the handful of priests and the few Ifierin standing well back of the audience as the only other living beings in the Imperial gardens.

  Aen passed the crown to the Prophets, strode past Iana and straight towards his next and final victim. With both hands, he grabbed Myril by her throat and lifted her high. Throughout all of this, he had felt nothing as he had killed more and more than he ever imagined. But now, this time he felt hatred to this loathsome creature; for all the pain she had caused along with his peace she had robbed from him. Her gasps for air brought pleasure to him; her struggles to survive in the face of certain death amused him.

  Her arms and legs flailed against her attacker, and a well stashed blade was produced and sunk deep in Aen’s neck. Though it did little damage to him, the pain still enraged him and he flung her off the stage and into the still warm ash statues of her former comrades; the impact caused the serene and ghastly scene to collapse into piles of ash and temporarily entombing the fallen icon.

  “Aen.” Iana called to him as he followed his prey.

  “It ends now.” Aen replied.

  Myril crawled out of the ash pile; the stark reality that it was the remains of her followers that covered her made a guttural scream burst forth from her. In vain, she tried to wipe the ash off her; all the while scrambling back away from the approaching Aen. Slowly and carefully, he stalked her; assessing the entire situation to ensure there were no surprises. It was the end of the whole ordeal, and he wasn’t about to make a mistake now.

  “There is nothing left for you.” Aen announced. “The false Goddess has fallen; her Empire crumbled around her. Can you see it? Can you feel it; taste it even? We wade through the wake of your actions; choke on the desolation you orchestrated with your final breaths.”

  Once again, he caught her quite effortlessly and lifted her back to her feet and held her face to face. Slowly he withdrew the blade sun
k in his neck, turning it towards her throat. He hesitated as she opened her eyes with one last defiant gaze, and croaked what she knew would be her last words.

  “You have won nothing here.” She whispered to him. “For in the shadows still lies the true master of this all, and even you cannot match his power. Thy kingdom will come and there is nothing you can do to stop it.”

  Aen’s response was to drive the blade home and end the nightmare she had started; despite the warnings of doom that beckoned for more questioning. He felt it cut up through her jaw and into her brain plate before tearing through the nerve center of her body. He felt her body fight the inevitable as it twitched and flinched from the pain and felt Myril’s body go limp with death. But he didn’t feel remorse as he cast her carcass aside; his mind began to churn over the whispers that now haunted him.

  “Thy kingdom will come.”

  Those words had come up before; and even then this cryptic warning resonated in his brain. They were the same words that were uttered by Palla in her defiant stand. Once was just the ramblings of an angry and doomed creature, but twice was an omen; a dark tiding at things yet to come. He had known there was more to it all than Myril and her lust for power; he had always known that this battle was only scratching the surface of the true war. For some time they all had known it would not end here, and they knew that without his minions the true master in the shadows would be exposed.

  Aen walked away from the proceedings as others rushed in to celebrate the return of Iana. He watched blindly as ship after ship landed and throngs of citizens piled out to celebrate the end. But Aen knew it was anything but, and that if they thought the battle to reclaim the throne had been hard he shuddered to think of what lurked in the darkness.

  “Caretaker.” He called into his comm line. “I need all you have on the creation of the Empire, and any files that remained from before.”

  “I don’t understand.” the AI replied. “We are victorious; is it not over?”

  “No.” Aen replied with a sigh. “This is just the beginning.”