Prologue
12th Age of Rejoice
Deroo, system Solus IV
Toral clan family dining house
Sona Toralee scrubbed the rusty pot roughly with a battered, old sponge. The grime upon the little wok was very arrogant and would've preferred not to have been removed by lethal force. However, its host was eager to rid the disgusting muck off its black surface. And so, the old Sangheili woman scrubbed all the harder. As Solus IV's twin white dwarfs began to set in opposite directions, a beautiful light tried desperately to clamber back over the horizon, but in the end, it conceded and let the darkness fall over Sona's side of the planet. The old woman hung the dish beside many other pots in the kitchen, thankful for the peace and quiet. She smoothed her cyan tunic and stained apron down. The once-white room was spattered with rust.
She left the kitchen, donned her cloak, and stepped in the cold, windy air of the desert at night. On Deroo, there were few street lights. Only the moon and stars could give her direction. A chilly breeze stung her eyes, and Sona wrapped her cloak tighter as the wind picked up, spraying dust across the desert landscape. She clicked her mandibles together as she approached her home, a two-story shack. She had made it herself. Of course, with some help, as an 80 year old Sangheili woman couldn't do all that on her own.
Sona pushed the key into the door and turned it. The hinges creaked ever so slightly as she stepped over the threshold. Sona flicked on the lights and strode up the steps of her little cottage. Making her way to a rotting wooden door, she opened it and stepped into her room.
Contrary to popular belief, the Sangheili colonies were not the most wealthy of places. In fact, 90% of buildings on places like Deroo were modeled after human architecture with low-tech materials. Not the prettiest method, but a very efficient one.
In her bedroom, Sona had a small hammock and a plasma lantern. She had a storage container for her clothing made of a thick, impenetrable purple alloy. There was another feature of this place, however, that most would not immediately think important--a tiny wooden closet. Sona opened it and looked inside. Sparkling reds, blues and gold colors shimmered off armors that stacked on the floor. And, woven onto the wall, was a huge script from ancient Sanghelios, which depicted battles of the highest honor. Pictures of Elites standing over fallen enemies hung over this poem. There was another thing that might seem very minute among the clutter--a silver set of armor, smaller than the others, and with it, a curved helmet with glittering sides and mandible guards. She slid on the helmet. It felt good. The last time she had worn this, she was saving the galaxy from tearing itself apart. Good times, she thought, laughing to herself. Funny, how all her friends thought she was dead. Well, Sona Toralee was dead to them. She lay in her hammock, just like she had that first night of training... Ah, she remembered that night. The stars shimmering above her, the wind splashing against the grass...
Then came a knock on the door. "Nana?" Her granddaughter. She and her daughter were staying here on their way through to Sanghelios. Husband was in the military, a damn fool he was... Sona knew how the government worked. Corrupt and devious. She sighed, and replied, "Yes?"
"I had a bad nightmare." Children. Always being so... childish. But alas, Sona thought, weren't we all once? She thought about how her society had changed after her 'death'. Sona pondered that for a moment and came to a conclusion she often came to: How one person who would've been so insignificant was rapidly changed, and suddenly altered their world in one single moment. "Come in then, child." Sona crossed her hands on her chest, flexing them. The door opened, and a little child strode in. However, "little" was not exactly the word. Sona's granddaughter stood at nearly 4'11. Big for a 5 year old.
"What are you wearing, Nana?" The small child took a step forward.
"A little special something. My mother always used to tell me a story if I had a nightmare about my father or brothers killed in battle. Which happened often, mind you. So now, let me tell you a story..."