- last post: 01.01.0001 12:00 AM PDT
The End of a War
Forerunner Chronicles Part Three
A Final Gasp Before the End
An endless universe, expansive and void of light, lay host to the unending flight of a species that no longer gave thought to the meaning of home. Vagabonds and wanderers, this species existed for the sole intent of flight. They fled, from a life that pursued them and wished to do away with them. After so long, the species began to forget their lives from the past. Flight became normalcy; dormancy meant fear. A habitat of metal and space was their home now. Without the lush green lands that they once inhabited the species forgot many things, the smell of air that had not been recycled, the feel of a planet beneath their feet, the dusting of rain as the weather changed, the chill of a morning frost, the exaltation that filled them as the wind whipped through their fields.
Without a natural home, the species had no sense of belonging, and for this species in particular such a feeling was devastating. By losing what they once treasured, the species was forced to adapt and change the way they lived. Many struggled to change, and some latched onto the comforting words that those in positions of authority would pass down to them. Like an animal that tears morsels of flesh from a rotting corpse, they would take these words and devote themselves to the relief and satisfaction that could be garnered. For most there could be no acceptance of this change. They had done nothing wrong, yet they found themselves punished; for merely existing. Many grew angry, at their enemies, at their friends, at themselves. Anger could not last forever though, and for those that could not hold onto that feeling, they became bitter and reproachful of everything. Hatred for their lives, and those around them smoldered within, but it was not hate. Still there were those that could find no solace in anger or acceptance, and they devoted their time to thinking and pondering, wondering how their fate could have become what it now was. With no answers coming to them no matter how hard they pondered, these creatures settled into an existence no different than death. They slept, ate, and drank, but they did not live. Death was what had taken them, yet their bodies remained. A contradiction of existence.
What gave life purpose? This question these creatures did pose to themselves as they continued their endless flight. Thoughts of love, of duty, and of honour filled them. It was then that they did come to understand, that they possessed none of those attributes anymore.
In their sadness and their rage, they wondered how long ago it was that they were cast out from their world. How many years had passed since that night when their existence changed? Why did the memory of that night feel so vague?
They could find no answers, for no one wished to remember what had driven them from their homes. The night when the screams signalled the harbinger of the universe's death. When friend became enemy, and love became hunger and rage.
Who was to blame?
They asked themselves this, they asked but they could give no answer. The truth would destroy them.
For it was they, that were to blame.
--
Tch'enkyu (World of Mourning)
Inotu K'syk (Thirtieth year of the Lost History)
32:45 (Time adjusted for planetary path through solar system)
--
The orbital transport rumbled audibly as it touched down onto the planet's surface, the signal for the passengers that it was safe to stand. The Majal aboard quickly removed the harnesses in place and headed aft for the exit, buzzing with a life that hadn't been seen amongst their people in some time. An oddity it may have seemed, that the arrival upon a planet whose sole purpose was to allow the Majal a time to show their grief, now became a symbol of hope. The ancient monuments, the prayer offerings, and other staples of the planet's long history would now be something that they could latch onto, and observe as a testament to the perseverance of their old way of life.
Fasul was the last Majal to exit the orbital craft, his movements far less hurried than the others. His gaze canvased the surroundings, noting the longstanding temple doors as if reassuring himself that the world was indeed the one he had visited before.
He fell into step behind a family of Majal, who were busy speaking amongst themselves, eager to offer prayers for their loved ones that had passed on. Thousands of Majal were descending on the planet now, eager to revisit a part of their old lives.
For Fasul, there was little emotional attachment given to the planet and the deep societal ties it presented. Sadness and grief were not emotions one could pull up upon a moments notice, and keep hidden away at any time; such a convenient thing did not exist. He had grieved for the better part of three decades, mourning the loss of his mate, his kin, and all who he once called friends. Time could not bridge the chasm within his soul however, and the wounds inflicted upon him stayed open, festering within him as each day passed. There was no grief remaining within him, he was an empty body, a ghost of living flesh that had yet to pass on to the other side.
Tch'enkyu was a planet of lush order. Heavy foliage decorated its many sites, and the facilities built by the Majal ancestors were as wondrous today as they were millennia ago. Comprised of mostly land, the planet was devoid of any wildlife, a byproduct of the minuscule percentage of fresh water deposits. This was inconsequential to the Majal, as they had chosen to ignore the vast majority of the planet, and built their constructs near the northern hemisphere. The development site correlated with the lone source of water that supplied the many canals and waterworks that bled life into the flora of the planet. The weather was incremental, as before the Majal had arrived, the patterns of rain had flooded and destroyed much of the land. Using technology, they assisted the planet in creating an isopiestic system of natural weather. Over several centuries, the planet became stable, and inhabitable enough so that the Majal chose to make the world a stable pillar in their civilization.
Grief, mourning, sadness, regret. They were emotions that the Majal chose to ignore, believing that the only path to proliferation could come through shaking free of the susceptible feelings that lower species could be consumed by. This belief, though deep-rooted within Majal culture, could not be strictly adhered to as pain and suffering could never be avoided. Tragedies occurred, and the need for harmed individuals to vent their pain was prevalent. The Majal were no exception. Thus, Tch'enkyu was born, along with the once a year (going by the typical yearly calendar for the Majal, one year would encompass thirty-seven months) visit to the planet. It became a tradition, over time becoming one of the staples of Majal culture. Millions would traverse to the planet, and for one day they would give in to their emotions.
For all of his adherence to the Majal culture, and the principles set by his ancestors, Fasul felt the need to hide their emotions to be foolish. Though, that way of life was over now. Why should one dwell on the past?
Why dwell on the past?
Monotonous, mechanical, and measured steps carried him through the overarching doorway that signalled as the entrance to the proving grounds. Inside, the inner gardens would lay awaiting, immeasurably beautiful works of nature that decorated the path leading toward the temple residing in the centre.
The mass of Majal moved forward as one entity, each person's goal the same as the next. Though some were enthused, while others were solemn, and others still outspoken yet nervous, they did not yield all the same. Trapped towards the end of this massive swarm of creatures, was Fasul, his head not hung low like some, nor held high like the others. He was staring straight forward, but not determined; he'd seen this planet before, and he knew the pain that it held.
Long ago, in what felt like another lifetime, he had come with Thisbe, his mate, and grieved for his dearly departed son. The superfluous intent of their visit did not grant either grieving Majal respite from their pain, it had merely deepened that grief. To so hotly expose one's emotions, and then gather them up within their chest; it was an exercise in futility. Grieving for too long could be damaging to any creature, but to grieve for so short a time, it would destroy even the strongest of any species. Unfortunately, finding that spot in between could prove to be quite difficult for many, and as Fasul shut out the surrounding world, he could not claim to have ever released his grief.
Floundering for years, season upon season passing by unnoticed, he willingly wasted away his spared life. Blaming those that were no longer among the living for his pain, he left reason behind. The ghosts of his past followed him with every step, clinging to him and pulling his body to the ground, refusing to allow him to move on.
The inner gardens passed, their beauty lingering behind the Majal as they moved, their presence not determining when the flora would expose themselves to the world. For those unfamiliar with the planet, the sudden shift from natural beauty to artificial architecture could be alarming. Sturdy, imposing walls surrounded the centre of the proving grounds, a large gate providing the only entrance to the inner sanctum. As they neared, the mass of Majal found themselves squeezed into a funnel, as the people attempted to enter through the gates.