Walker in the Light

The smell of blood dominated the air like a thick mist of iron. Looking about, you determined that all the humps of cloth and flesh lying around were dead, save you and your companion.

Balio: "Golonos, are you alright?"

Golonos rose from his spot in the corner, closing Pedra's glazed-over eyes as he stood, to the grand seven feet and change gifted to the Kasathan race. You had to crane your neck up to look him in the eyes, but he looked away from you and the bodies, as if trying to imagine they weren't there. Blood coated the front of his ceremonial robes from head to toe, a stark red-brown against the blues and yellows of the Shadeless Precicnt.

Golonos: "I am... Pedra is not."
Balio: "I am sorry, my friend."
Golonos: "She knew the risks, as did I. Pedra rests with Sarenrae now."

You nodded, and then left the Solarion to his grief -- he had done enough this day. Looking around, you nudged the cultists over with your paws, searching for keycards and other items of value. Many bore terrible flesh scars resembling the crest of the Devourer, or amulets of the same, made out of skin and bone. None had the item you were after.

After a time, you found your mind drifting, wishing that more Walkers had been alive during the Gap, to fill in the holes punched into time. While many saw the connection between Rovagug and the Devourer, you knew firsthand the difference in their behavior, and the strength of Aroden's prison. If the Rough Beast had truly escaped, then he had been changed in some way. Unfortunately, Sarenrae had never answered your call, even when you called the god by her oldest name. Some said that the Hunter chased the Devourer across the stars, but he was equally cautious of mortal contact, preferring to deliver his Blessing from afar.

You'd been searching for answers since becoming a Walker. For a moment, Hundu's draconic eyes flashed across memory, the Devourer's name on his lips... Nakira's burning eyes, as she glared at you over her father's corpse. Why the Mantle had chosen you during that battle... A question that would find no answer. The only thing that mattered was that you survived. You rubbed your paw along the worn hilt of your sword, now familiar to you in more ways than one.

Golonos: "Balio."

You looked away from your corpse and to your friend, who was standing at a singed terminal on the far wall. He'd gotten inside while you were searching, and had something up on the monitor. You stepped through a sea of blood, careful to keep your paws clean, and went to examine Golonos' discovery. It was a satellite image, post-processed to remove some of the noise inherent to the out-dated technology utilized by the Cult of the Devourer. You immediately recognized the flora of Castrovel, specifically the lands to the east of the Ikalex Expanse.

A mass of violet scales and flaming horns stood in the middle of a clearing, head tilted towards the satellite, one arm mid-wave. Unari's smug little smile could be seen even with the distortion. Golonos minimized the image, and then brought up the associated email. You scanned it quickly, sorting through the cryptic nonsense, and arrived at the punchline.

Balio: "We need to get back to the ship."
Golonos: "You're going?"

You were already walking and talking, and Golonos followed.

Balio: "We won't make it in time. They're probably already there. I need to call Chess."
Golonos: "The cat? Do you believe it wise?"
Balio: "No. But Caesura knows where to go, and he's strong enough to defend Unari on his own."

Golonos growled at the mention of Caesura, but kept his peace. He knew you were right. You were walking up the stairs into the Nightfish in less than a minute, your short legs pumping as hard as possible, with Golonos following at a respectable speed behind you. You practically slammed into your workbench, where a thin stream of blue nanites pulsed next to a hardwired transponder.

Balio: "BRANCH. Authorize Admin Balio Sondern."

A warbling, mechanical voice erupted out of a nearby speaker, although it hosted no wires or power source.

BRANCH: "Authorized. I am detecting distress, Admin Balio. Do you require assistance?"
Balio: "Yes. Well, no. Not me specifically. Requesting real-time broadcast."
BRANCH: "Verifying... TRUNK has granted you Broadcast rights for 5 minutes. Begin transmission."

You heard Golonos finish clambering up the deck, a blanket-wrapped body lying in his arms. Something quivered in your chest, but you didn't have time to grieve. You cleared your throat, and opened up the communications channel.

Balio: "This is War in the Heart, calling out to Looking Glass -- alternate contact Alice. Purchasing services of Docket for an immediate S&R -- Shoot is in danger, Looking Glass. They... Whispers are inbound. I repeat, Whispers are inbound. Price is pick. War over."

Golonos made a confused grunt from behind you, but then shook his head -- he'd learned not to ask questions surrounding the API Hub. For what felt like an age, there was only silence from the speaker, and then a garbled transmission, devoid of dialect or tone.

???: "This is Looking Glass, responding to War in the Heart. Docket is in route. Price picked -- Snowmaiden is under siege. Requesting immediate assistance. Looking Glass out."

The transmission fizzled, and the API Hub powered down. Golonos looked at the bundle of blankets for a moment, and then deposited them into the med bay. The two of you took your seats without speaking, and Golonos began to power up the planar drive. You never liked how it didn't make any sound, which was arguably more unnerving than the sickening pull of a Drift Engine.

Golonos: "Destination?"
Balio: "The City of Pleated Light."

Golonos grumbled a curse word in Kasathan, and punched in the commands.

Golonos: "Ten seconds."

You rested your head back in the seat as the Nightfish began to gently shake -- and then disappeared.