- last post: 01.01.0001 12:00 AM PDT
You've all waited a long long time for such a moment. And I am here to tell you that your waiting has paid off! This is the ultimate chapter! Read it and let your love flow!
The End of a War
The Forerunner Chronicles
Part Three
The Stillborn Universe
When they came, the night was dead and the nomadic tribe had been asleep inside their makeshift dwellings for some time. A storm earlier in the evening had halted their progress and they set up camp in a outcropping of rocks near a cliff-face. giving them cover from the rain along with a sense of safety from the terrible cries of the Gods in the sky. Food was cooked and eaten as best as could be managed with the heavy rain. Eventually the storm died, but the hour grew late, so the tribe settled in, agreeing amongst themselves that they should wait until morning before moving out again.
When they came, the children were awake. The day’s efforts were wasted of them as they had eaten and promptly fell asleep exhausted, but now they were awake and restless. Slipping out from beneath the elder’s attention, the children scampered down the rocky hillside and back out into the great field. Some of the older boys still slept, but the rest of the children joined in on the games they played on the damp grass. The boys wrestled and struggled with one another in the mud, while the girls searched for flowers with which to gather; they kept their exuberance to a minimum as they did not wish to awaken the elders. They would have been scolded for their actions, as the elders would see them as reckless and dangerous. The lands were not well-known, and any number of dangerous creatures could be lurking about.
When they came, the boys had finished their game of dominance, and the girls had gathered what sparse flowers they could find. One of the younger boys came running towards the returning girls the moment they reappeared, to see what they had found. He had bested the other boys at their game quickly, and was excluded from the rest of the games because of his strength, so he viewed the returning girls as far more interesting than the squabbling boys. The younger girls shyly showed off what they had collected to him, and he studied the flowers with interest, smiling grandly as he did so.
When they came, the boy was looking at the last girl’s flowers, and he stayed by her side once he was finished.Together they hung back from the group of children heading back for the temporary camp set up, and they were pleased to be alone.
When they came, the children never noticed the approaching danger until it was too late. The shadows of their pursuers appeared as the first of the boys fell, struck down by forces unseen. The girls looked about frightened, while the boys shouted in surprise. A flash of lingering lightning showed off their attackers; impossibly tall figures, covered in flowing robes that could not be pierced by light. The children screamed as the figures dashed forward to collect their downed prey.
When they came, the boy saw them before the others. He was young, but clever enough to understand the ominous figures did not mean anything good for him or for his friends. The girl at his side clung to him, even as he pushed her down into the tall grass, hoping that she would go unnoticed. He shouted a warning just as the first boys fell, and felt something behind him immediately. He turned, awkwardly because he was careful to not hit the girl now lying prone and frightened beneath him. Looming over the two children was a lone figure, two arms stretched forward to grab the boy. The boy struck at the creature, swinging his fists wildly in a vain attempt to scare it off. The figure reared back momentarily, and the boy thought he had succeeded, until the figure’s robes shook, and something struck the boy in the chest. His senses failed him instantly and he toppled to the ground, falling atop the prone girl. She screamed as he did not move, and the creature reached down towards the boy once again. The girl clung to the boy’s body, refusing to let the creature take him away while she screamed for help. Help did not come, and the girl felt something pierce her neck, causing her to lose control of her body in the same way as the others. The looming figure leaned down and picked the boy up, then as if it were an afterthought, picked the girl up as well.
When they came, no child remained. There were no signs of a disturbance.
When they came, the adults slept.
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How much time had passed? An eternity it seemed to Fasul, his eyes listless as the expanse of space drifted by. There were questions, yet no answers within him, and he had long since became accustomed to the silence.
What force kept him tied to this life?
Everything that had once been gentle, was now deformed.
Where can the mind wander when it has been released? It meanders in purgatory, returning forcefully to the memories hidden within it's shadow. Thoughts buried will rise, old wounds reopened with a brutal force.
Fasul could see them, flashes of days long past. Tortured gaze, broken bodies, pleading eyes, dying gasps, and blood. The screams of those that could live no more, and wished not to leave this life as wisps of wind. Together their voices became a great cry of grief, such that one who listens shall weep unendingly.
But in time, the mind refocuses, the memories are plunged back into the deep and the pain is hidden for a little while.
A scowl twisted his face, and he turned from the observation deck, which overlooked the nearby planet of Obsilian, resting place of all Majal. A planet dedicated to death and grief, one that fit his mood perfectly, however greatly he may wish it didn't.
The crew of the ship (though the vessel be more of a city than a ship) were at ease for the first time in over a year. The Half-Breed's had discovered a planet inhabited by several base life-forms that they could feed on. The brutal slaughter of the entire species of creatures was enough to buy the Majal time to prepare a defensive strategy.
Fasul had no place within this floating city. He gave no will to fighting the Half-Breed threat, and instead spent his days wandering the city as a hollow being. There was no shortage of those that had lost everything at the start of the war, so his disposition was not something that stood out. Many walked with the same emotionless face. Those that still found the strength to weep and bemoan their fate, were different. They held onto the belief that there still existed a universe to weep for, while those like Fasul had understood long ago that there was no hope.
For thirty years the Majal had fled, mere blinks of an eye in the life span of a normal Majal, but those thirty years had been the longest span of time any had ever experienced.
Since that dark day when they emerged, the Half-Breed race, the Majal had taken up a lost cause. Containing the Half-Breed's proved an impossible task, yet one that needed to be taken regardless. Majal sacrificed themselves, fighting creatures that did not tire, did not weaken, and refused to relent. Perhaps cruelest of all, these Majal knowingly fought against those that they once knew, and maybe even loved. There could be no discrimination in the heat of battle, yet as they lay dying, waiting to be devoured, it could not be any less painful to know those that took their life, had once been their friend. A war of sadness, no matter the outcome. To fight is to die, to flee is to delay an inevitability that would only prove more disastrous for the universe.
As technologically prepared as the Majal had been, advanced weaponry proved inconsequential. The Half-Breed's possessed ships as powerful as the Majal, and could build the same weapons. Battles in space became stalemates, until the Half-Breed's superior numbers could be brought to bear, either destroying the Majal defenders, or forcing them to retreat, abandoning planets and creatures that would be destroyed by the Half-Breed. Any Majal forces unlucky enough to face the Half-Breeds in ground combat were decimated. The Half-Breeds, while genetically similar to the Majal, possessed incredible regenerative abilities, as well as greatly increased muscle density. They attacked with a savagery that even the most dedicated Majal soldiers could not match.
Fasul was no soldier, and had never encountered the Half-Breeds, aside from the night when they were born, as such he could not attest to the accounts of those that were lucky enough to return alive from a battle. There was little doubt however, on the Half-Breeds skills. For every battle the number of Majal returning would decrease, the corpses of those that had fallen, becoming vessels for the Half-Breeds use. The true terror of a war with the Half-Breeds was such that for every loss the Majal incurred, the Half-Breeds gained another soldier, through use of the Flood, their genetic forefathers.
Time has passed, and we are nothing. There are no leaders for our people, only self-appointed military officers, who believe they can device methods of stopping the Half-Breeds once and for all. Plans are devised, Majal are dispatched to fight, they die, their families mourn, talk of war recedes, and finally the process begins once more. How pitiful.
The artificial city, a world of steel and metal, it was the constant reminder of terror. Of the night when the universe became doomed, it's horrible screams would echo throughout it's halls for all eternity. Until the day the Half-Breeds finally tore down the walls of this artificial city, there could be no peace; how unjust that peace could only come from annihilation, and the dooming of a universe. Glorified city of steel death; it was their home, and their grave.