Hail to the Queen
Cool autumn breezes rolled over a sea of gold sending budding stalks of prairie grass swaying much like waves over the water. White cotton patches of clouds drifted lazily overhead in what was otherwise an azure blue sky casting shadows adrift on the sea of gold like ships passing in the night. Amidst this sea of tranquility were anchored three lonely islands.
They were islands surrounded by a sea of grass as they lay prone against the ground. Such isolation carried itself beyond the field as well for the three who were largely forgotten by a world that desperately tried to leave behind the pain and the scars of war. Where one portion of the population was oblivious to the darkness that infested their once peaceful realm, others lived through a nightmare of elven blades in the dark and disappearing family members.
Alone, save for the scarce few messages sent and received to their one outside source, they were a trio of angels of justice without renown or acknowledgement. Their work was swift and merciless, meted out without partiality. They descended then departed with only a string of bodies and destruction to mark their passing.
Claire stared over the top of her rifle as a dragonfly landed near the edge of her scope. For a moment, the Devastator was lost in the sight of one of the last dragonflies for the season. Its glass-like wings caught the light from the sun turning the usually clear membranes into hues of blue and purple. Claire’s breathing settled in a gentle rhythm as she continued watching the creature, seemingly pleased with her presence and glad for someone to visit.
Her focus was stolen back down the hill to a growing cloud of dust though. Claire lifted the butt of her rifle to her shoulder. The sudden jostling of its perch sent the dragonfly into the air in search of a more peaceful resting place. Claire watched the graceful insect climb higher into the air before darting off. It was a momentary glimpse into something beautiful and peaceful away from the harsh and brutal landscape that now occupied her life.
The Devastator returned her attention to the growing reason why the three of them were out in a sea of grass. An armored transport rumbled along, hovering over the uneven ground carrying what Claire and the remnant of her squad were told were resources for Alurial’s growing aggression in the galaxy. What exactly Alurial had planned was still unknown so the transport was targeted for the purpose of information gathering.
Claire cradled the butt of her rifle against her shoulder while resting her cheek against the cool composite. Peering through the scope, Claire tracked the transport until she had a sense of its speed. The muzzle of the rifle smoothly followed the transport’s determined path as she increased its lead and elevation to allow for the range of her shot. Claire made one final adjustment to accommodate the wind sweeping across the plain.
As her breathing slowed, the escorts around the transport fell away in her mind so that there was only her rifle and the target ahead. In her mind, the transport was enlarged until it felt impossibly close as if there was no outcome other than her round striking its intended target. At the span between heart beats, Claire’s finger smoothly squeezed the trigger until the crack and recoil from her rifle ripped through the air.
True to the shooter’s intent, the round struck one of the rotating ion repulsors keeping the transport hovering above the ground. The loss of an essential engine sent the transport careening to the ground where it thundered to a halt. Earth spewed into the air sending up a cloud of dust and raining down dirt clots and foliage.
The response of the stopped transport was immediate as elves from Lorren’s standing army martialed to setup a defensive perimeter. Their orderly response lasted only as long as the other two Devastators near Claire opened fire with their own rifles. Down range, two elves crumbled into oddly folded heaps of armor and limbs.
A trio of concealed rifles were not able to remain hidden so easily against elves whose natural sense of hearing amplified the origin of sound. Only a few short bursts of rifle fire later, and the elves knew the whereabouts of Claire’s team. Clouds of smoke soon rolled across the open field obscuring the line of elves closing ground on the position of the Devastators.
Such was the expected response of the elven soldiers, to gain just enough ground to put Claire’s team within range of their energized arrows. From the protection of their smoke screen, the elves could rain down energized darts and blanket the field where the hidden sharpshooters lay.
Claire had long since taken a lay of the land and measured off the maximum range of the elven archers. She gently eased the butt of her rifle down to the ground and scooped up into her mechanical hand. The hand of flesh was lost to a dying troll’s maw found in the caverns beneath Hammer Hall during the loss of control of the Horde.
Bare pistons in her metallic forearm fired as her mechanical fingers closed in on the detonator. Claire dropped her head and squeezed the trigger. She did not need to see, but could feel the earth rumble through her body armor as a succession of explosions tore a wide gash through the prairie. Little pellets of dirt clattered against the Devastators’ armor as the field fell silent.
Claire lifted her head for a moment to quickly scan the field before them. The sensors in her helm identified a number of corpses and a few whose life appeared to be slipping into the abyss. Claire rose to her feet and slung her rifle across her chest while she unfastened the latches to her helm. The pressure of her helm hissed with a release while tiny motors whirled, releasing the face plate from the skull cavity of her helm. Claire removed the armor piece and hooked it to her belt while taking a moment to allow the cool air to kiss her cheeks.
Short blond hair fell just pass her ears and a set of icy blue eyes took in the field. Claire began her march to the armored transport as her tattered cloak with frayed ends swayed in the passing breeze. The other two Devastators quickly rose and fell in with Claire.
Claire and her team passed through a field littered with body parts and entrails like wraiths in a graveyard. Not a cursory glance was given to the dead they walked over. One elf moaned in the grass, the brunt of the explosions miraculously only sent him flying a few feet without inflicting a mortal wound. The elf struggled to crawl back towards the convoy in some dazed sense that there was safety there. Claire planted an armored boot in the square of his back as she fluidly drew her sidearm from an armored leg holster and blew out the front of his forehead with a quick round to the back of the head.
Claire kept her focus on the armored transport, ignoring the now dead elf’s scattered brain in the grass, while the other two Devastators descended on the victims of their rifle fire. They set about their grisly task of collecting elven ears as trophies with their daggers. Each Devastator plopped an ear into their respective sacks with the other gory appendages.
Every excursion out in the open against Alurial was a high risk gamble that her Death Walkers would finally track them down or her elven soldiers would be expecting an attack at the right time and have a trap laid. Claire wanted to know what was so important about this transport that warranted the risk of her team. She cranked a lever releasing the hydraulics, lowering the back of the transport until it formed a ramp down to the ground. Claire took a step back, not sure what to make of the cargo.
Huddled groups of people stared back nervously at the three armored figures and the dead elves scattered on the ground. The terror in their eyes alluded that these people were not being transported voluntarily and knew little of what was to be their fate. There did not appear to be any children mingled with them but it was quickly apparent that everyone on board the transport was human.
Claire only felt confusion at a group of people that received the label of resources to Alurial’s war effort. They looked like victims of Alurial’s recent nightly snatches but these people appeared to be rather ordinary. Originally the disappearance of people were loyal Guardsmen to the Elders and the kingdom’s true design or dissidents in the public out crying Alurial’s supposed witch hunts of those that infiltrated the kingdom from other nations.
“What should we do with them?”
Claire looked to Elijah, briefly annoyed at having her train of thought disturbed. “Alurial wanted them for something so we take them. King Ghamin can question them then have them returned to the population.”
“I’ll let the War Mistress know what we’ve found.”
“She’s not the War Mistress anymore so you can stop calling her that. None of us are what we were before.”
Elijah fidgeted with one of his chest plates, not liking the words coming from Claire. “Then what does that make us now?”
Claire cradled her rifle as she turned back to stare at the hilltop they just descended. Her mind absently ran a quick calculation on how long of a march they had ahead of them with civilians in tow. The years since the kingdom fell and Alurial’s new reigned replaced it had worn Claire’s emotions. Warriors were like family to each other spending their lives growing up together and weathering the hardships of training with only one another for comfort. Losing so many brothers and sisters to betrayal to one they were trained to protect and admire, left Claire feeling like a spark of her life was doused.
“We’re death walking. Everything we touch turns to dust. For now, that’s good enough.” Claire started off towards the field. “Get them moving. We got a ways to go before we reach the outer tunnels of Hammer Hall and Alurial’s eyes will be overhead soon.”
Alurial sat in the audience chamber of her manor in Caeralfar as she studied the images from the recent, what the standard tale given to the masses was, terrorist attack. Gilded leaves woven into her auburn hair glinted in the warm globe of light entangled by tree branches over head as she scrolled to each image of her dead elven soldiers. The elven queen maintained a calm façade while just beneath the surface roared a storm of outrage.
Alurial arched a delicately trimmed eyebrow at her closest advisor and lover, Drafir. “Any ideas yet who has been responsible for these attacks?”
The dark elf stroked his neat goatee. The same habit Alurial knew that Drafir resorted to whenever he did not have anything promising. “No, not at this time.”
Alurial banished the holographic images floating before her. She took a moment to steady herself by tapping her fingernails at the edge of her chair’s armrest. Little was gained by lashing out at Drafir for failing to find any leads.
“At this time? These attacks began months after my ascension as queen and how many years has that been now?”
Alurial held up a hand to ward off the rhetorical question. “The attacks themselves are hardly a threat to our plans, just drops of water in an ocean. Where they pose a problem is that they represent a growing lack of confidence in our regime by the masses. The humans are beginning to feel that we are inept at protecting our interests. Every time we lose a convoy, it shows weakness to those that are demanding the reinstatement of the Elder Council.”
Drafir rested his head against his upraised fist. “Well there is always a solution to that.”
“Cull the masses? It’s a little early for that. Besides, we need workers on Myrn and people to try and domesticate Mossi. The solution is to answer the questions I’ve tasked you with.”
Drafir sighed. “We can’t pin down a source for these attacks. The weapons used are always a mesh of our own and those from foreign nations.”
“Do you think it’s the Rangers or some government trying to undermine us and take Mythrandir in the wake of the Uruk fights?”
Drafir scrunched his face trying to mentally weigh the possibilities. “I seriously doubt it is a government. We’ve seen no activity from foreign fleets along our borders or any public outcry of our governance to try and establish some sort of positive perception on any outside intervention.”
The dark elf tapped his thumb on his belt buckle absently. “I haven’t ruled out the Rangers yet. I’m still not leaning that way. We haven’t seen their presence since reconstruction was completed. None of the signatures left behind in the attack match weapons utilized by the Rangers.
“I still believe there is an element within the Warriors that has been carrying out these operations.”
The notion that Mythrandir’s elite fighting force somehow had dissention within the ranks was a troubling thought for Alurial. Her only reassurance was that there were no reported missing Warriors during the times of the attacks. Alurial knew that if she lost the Warriors or they somehow learned of her rise to power, then her rule would be over.
“Lukien assures me that all of the Warriors are accounted for.”
Drafir looked less than convinced. “Can we really trust the War Master’s word? He hasn’t exactly been the same since his brother was killed.”
“Akeela’s death was a tragic sacrifice to gain control. If Lukien was not always so determined to be at the front of the fighting, then his brother would never have been targeted by the Uruks. It’s a loss I never wanted.”
Alurial felt a pit in her stomach from talking callously about her precious elven kin. A glass of red wine sat within arm’s reach to help soothe the pain. “Lukien just needs something to focus his mind, and soon he will have a fight to occupy his every waking thought.”
The elven queen paused briefly for a quick sip from her wine glass. “What about the other questions I’ve tasked you with?”
Drafir shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Yes, well Shizra was rather simple to track down. She remains in the Underdark in Matron Beatriz’s manor. Shizra rarely ventures out but when she does, she’s accompanied by a prophetess of Urshula that wields tremendous power. Every assassination attempt outside the manor has ended with the butchered remains of our agents.”
“If the dark elf males cannot deliver Shizra’s head, then I don’t see the purpose of liberating them into society above.”
Drafir cleared his throat. “We are working on alternatives to try and lure Shizra out into more accommodating ground. But at the moment she is at least cut off from making contact with the surface.”
Alurial stared down in her wine glass as she swirled its contents. “Don’t be so certain about that. And the last task?”
The dark elf held up his hands in surrender. “No one has been able to find any information on Sebastian’s whereabouts. It’s as if the man fell off the face of the world.”
“A man like Sebastian does not simply disappear. He’s here somewhere. Someone he knows is hiding him.”
Drafir shook his head at the idea. “We’ve had eyes on Tamariel since that day and there has been nothing to show that he’s made contact with Sebastian. Former Guard Captain Brad has spent his days in the taverns since the end of the fighting after his falling out.
“I’ve even gone so far as to vet the monks at the Cathedral of Knowledge. Perhaps Sebastian died in a ditch somewhere after he escaped.”
Alurial smirked at the thought. While it was an appealing possibility, the elven queen thought it highly unlikely after her years governing next to Sebastian. “I know the man too well. He’s too much trouble to do me the favor of dying on the road. He’s alive out there, somewhere.”
Drafir slowly stroked his white goatee. “I’ll keep sending resources to look for him then.”
“Just make sure that you do find him.” Alurial took a long swallow from her wine glass. “Once our next phase moves forward there won’t be time to look back and deal with someone challenging our authority. We will be committed to our path and in a headlong rush to see this through to its conclusion.”
The dark elf shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “About this, are you sure it’s the best course of action? You will certainly draw attention to us but won’t it be too much too quickly?”
Alurial was already shaking her head before Drafir finished. “Other nations will be too busy trying to figure out how it happened which will buy us the time we need. If they ever figure out how, then they’ll be too concerned with what if it could happen to them.
“There’s nothing more frightening to people in power than taking it from them without the slightest appearance of effort. Not a single ship from our navy will have left our territory or a single one of our soldiers set foot on their worlds.”
Drafir remained skeptical given the possible ramifications of a galactic community that might not look fondly on their actions. “But do you really have to broadcast what’s been done? Surely we can spread the word without a public broadcast throughout our world.”
“No, we stand by our actions as a promise kept. I will stand before our people to show them that their queen is still looking out for their safety as earnestly as the first day I took power. That should shut the dissenters up that question the need for a strong central power. I will make manifest the fear and hostility that we alluded to years ago. And they need to see that their queen is still in command of the realm despite your inability to hunt down and kill these traitors that keep attacking convoys.”
Alurial waved the dark elf away in annoyance. “Go and bring me Kramilla and Naniell. It’s time for their last assignment and to be rid of one more loose end.”
Kramilla sat on a wooden bench with legs that appeared to have grown out of one the great branches of a mallorn tree. The Night Sister closed her eyes as she leaned against the stone back while crossing her legs. Kramilla found herself wondering what the other clans of her sisterhood would think of a city entirely situated within the boughs of behemoth trees. Surely the more naturalists of their sect would find it an exhilarating experience being so hand-in-hand with the natural world in ways they had never conceived.
For her part, Kramilla found it a troublesome distraction with the peaceful fountains and the calm nature of its inhabitants. The Night Sister could not bring herself to remain long in the elven city for fear that its whimsical setting would cost her her edge. She felt it deep within her heart, the restlessness to have her world back and to lead the rest of her sisters on the path to fiery vengeance against those that enslaved their world.
“I see you’re deep in thought again.”
There was no need for Kramilla to open her eyes. She knew Naniell’s voice as the comfort of an intimate friend and felt her presence approaching. Kramilla sighed as her stern posture relaxed slightly.
“I’m just resting. I don’t like heights.”
Naniell smiled at the obvious lie as she sat next to Kramilla. “I like this place, so peaceful. Do you think Alurial would let us have some saplings for our world?”
Kramilla shrugged since she was not overly concerned about asking the elven queen for trees when she had higher demands for the elf. “Maybe. They’re just trees after all.”
“I hope so. I’ve come to like this place since we’ve spent more time on this world than any other after our world fell. I’d like to recreate a city like this once the fighting is done on our world. Building a copy just wouldn’t feel right and I think some of our other sisters would enjoy this life as well.”
Perhaps it was a strange coupling with Naniell’s more gentle inclinations towards life and Kramilla’s dominating grasp for power but it was one of the reasons why the Night Sister loved Naniell so much. She always brought a calm center to her life where, for a moment, she could simply enjoy life before rushing off to scour the depths of space for anyway to regain their world.
“Would you be hoping to somehow persuade our little sister to leave her posh palace and bring her family to live amongst us on our world?”
Naniell leaned back on the bench with Kramilla. “That doesn’t sound so bad, does it?”
“It’ll take some time for the trees to grow large enough to live in.”
Naniell bumped her shoulder playfully against Kramilla’s. “I know there’s more you want to accomplish than just freeing our world. I figured if I start now, they’ll be big enough by the time you’re finished. Then maybe we’ll have a place to live together and settle down. A place where you don’t need to worry about always fighting.”
Kramilla looked out of the corner of her eye as Naniell rested her head against Kramilla’s. Kramilla knew it was difficult for her lover to sometimes grasp that she actually enjoyed the strife, the struggle for more power. It ignited a flame within her that made life feel that much rawer, more primal. Being at the heart of growing her strength sent shivers of excitement down her spine.
“I suppose a change of pace would be nice. A little quiet to enjoy the fruits of our efforts after all of these years might be our just reward.” Kramilla did not know what she would really do with a moment of peace but felt it more important to preserve Naniell’s pleasant dream than dash it with reality.
The Night Sisters sat in silence for a time enjoying a brief rest. Alurial had requested a great deal from the pair in the wake of the war that ravaged the landscape. The pair split their time reporting on the actions of the dwarves locked away in Hammer Hall and ensuring that there were enough lesser houses in the Underdark with mysterious backings to maintain a level of turmoil that prevented the greater matrons from looking to the surface. Slinking through abandoned mine shafts to get a glimpse of the dwarves holed up and assassinating dark elf nobles kept the two lovers from spending a moment of quiet solitude.
“The queen will see you now.”
Kramilla opened her eyes to stare back at an elven attendant in simple earthen tone robes. She nudged Naniell with her shoulder. “Come on. Time to look presentable for the royalty.”
A smile widened on Naniell’s face as she arched her back in a stretch. “Remember to be nice.”
The pair rose and followed after the attendant. Alurial ruled from a chamber hollowed out in the trunk of a mallorn tree where two great branches met. As the Night Sisters walked along one of the branches, the arched doorway of the trunk was barred by a glittering silverel door that was forged with the likeness roses growing over a trellis in mind.
Gears deep within the tree groaned and rumbled as the doors separated and were pulled back within the tree. A glowing orb like a single star captured in the web of interlocking branches illuminated the great chamber. Kramilla saw Alurial waiting for them at the far end of the chamber, regaled in her typical decorated fashion. It was perhaps the one feature that set off Alurial in Kramilla’s mind. The Night Sister did not see the purpose of a leader donning gold in their hair or wrapping herself in expensive fabrics. For Kramilla, it had always been a symbol of weakness on their world.
Kramilla gave a respectful nod of her head towards the elven queen. There was no reason to force any pretense of amicable feelings for Alurial as Kramilla stood there silently. The Night Sister looked across the room and saw that Alurial must have felt the same way with the small grin on her face.
“That’s what I always enjoy about our talks, straight to the point without waste anybody’s time.” Alurial rose from her seat and descended the small dais to be on even footing with the two Night Sisters.
“I see no reason to pretend what this is. You need us to make sure the power you’ve taken for yourself stays yours, and we need you to help us to keep our world ours once we take it back until we can rebuild our navy.”
Alurial’s grin appeared to sour slightly as she folded her arms. “Yes, well this job should fulfill our obligations to one another.”
Only on rare occasions did people ever surprise her. Kramilla preferred to know all there was about whoever she either bargained with or fought with. Leaving an opening for an opponent to put her on edge always had the potential of costing more than what someone was willing to give, and Kramilla rather operate from a mindset of already having predicted every possible maneuver of her opponent.
“I haven’t seen any schematics on new ships your building or heard of your Warriors mobilizing towards Dathomir.”
Alurial waved a hand dismissively. “Building a navy from the ground up would take too long and be far too costly. Nor do I have any intentions of sacrificing the lives of my precious Warriors on your world which I heard cost a great deal of blood to take away from you the first time.”
Kramilla felt a tremor of anger welling up at being played for the fool. Only a hand from Naniell folding around hers kept the Night Sister from lashing out. “Then how do you intend uphold your bargain?”
With a wave of her hand, the glowing sun overhead dimmed to a mere twilight as a holographic image flashed to life in the center of the room. The object floating before them resembled a syringe with what appeared to be a glass phial filled with optic fibers rooting from a datacrystal encased in a wrapped coil. The plunger looked to be replaced with clockwork gears and rotary dial at the end.
“With this device, you’ll complete the last task I have for you and you will gain all that you’ve wanted from me. This device is similar to the one that was used to slave the uruks from the SIREN system to our own personal one. Just like before, insert this device into a military terminal and it will initiate a program that will take all programs offline until you reactivate them.
“In your case, the program is specifically designed for ships in the Starways Congress. With a few simple keystrokes, the entire navy of the Congress will be at your fingertips to command.”
Kramilla’s eyes widened as the implications quickly settled in.
Alurial’s smile widened at the look on Kramilla’s face. “Yes, I see you understand. I thought it would prove somewhat poetic if you enslaved the fleet of the very same nation that took your world from you. What you do with their ships is entirely at your discretion. I assume this meets your satisfaction. You have a new navy well before I could have one built for you and at the same time, the barriers to reclaiming your world are swept away.”
Kramilla inwardly struggled to contain the hope that was surging within her. Already her mind raced to not only freeing her world, but repaying the years of servitude that her world has endured by enslaving every world belonging to the Starways Congress. Kramilla restrained herself to maintain a blank expression.
“It seems like everything is weighed in our favor. What do you get out of this?”
Alurial folded her arms beneath her breasts while standing back to appreciate the device. “You will be making on a promise for me that I made once I took the crown. The Starways Congress will be labeled as an accomplice for the atrocities committed, and I’ll be taking credit of having that threat removed.”
It was a proposition that was difficult to pass up. Kramilla was well aware that every mission that she and Naniell took for Alurial only benefitted the elven queen while further removing them from any circle of influence outside of being fearfully respected. This was the first, and seemingly the last mission, where there was any benefit for the Night Sisters. Kramilla was ready to be rid of her tie to Alurial even though something did not sit right with her; Kramilla knew she could not let the opportunity pass by.
“When do we leave?”
“The device is ready. It’ll be delivered to your ship within the hour. You leave as soon as you’re ready.”
Kramilla gave a curt nod. The Night Sisters did not keep many possessions to avoid any attachment to Mythrandir. It was rather simple to get up and move as needed.
“Then we’ll leave as soon as the device is loaded on our ship.”
Alurial smiled in response. “Good luck then. Once you have all that you’ve wanted, I hope you’ll remember the generosity I’ve shown you during your time here.”
Naniell arrived in the Corellia System with only a short jump away from Corellia itself. The small scimitar class ship was one of the few things that Naniell and Kramilla were able to save before Dathomir fell. In recent years, it had seen plenty of use under Alurial’s behest so that there could be no tie back to Mythrandir itself.
It seemed fitting to Naniell though that the only remaining ship of the Night Sisters’ fleet, however pathetic it may be, would usher in the arrival of their new fleet. Naniell powered down the ship as she coasted through the darkness to keep her signatures low. She opened the scanners and began routing communications in the system through the computer to pick up on any alerts that her arrival may have warranted investigation. A sub channel was left open for Kramilla’s private channel.
Should an emergency arise, Naniell was ever ready to crash through the atmosphere and retrieve Kramilla should she run into trouble. The plan was for Kramilla to arrive on Corellia by simple freighter so as to not draw any undue attention by a private vessel and deal with any of the more stringent port authorities. Naniell checked the time piece on the ship’s computer and saw that Kramilla should be arriving now if her flight was not delayed.
Now came the painful part for Naniell, the wait. She hated the missions where Kramilla argued for going in alone. Naniell knew that it had nothing to do with a lack of faith on Kramilla’s part. On the contrary, Kramilla always argued that she was trusting Naniell to get her out and save her life should something go horribly wrong. Naniell simply did not enjoy the idea of Kramilla being anywhere without anyone else to trust. For years, it was just the two Night Sisters relying on each other. Naniell always had an uneasy feeling when they were separated.
The Night Sister relaxed at the helm and entered a meditative state of prayer while waiting for Kramilla’s signal that their mission was a success and she was on her way. Naniell was not certain how long she had been in the state when the tones for an incoming message continuously chimed through the ship. It was not the notice that everything had gone well.
With a wave of her hand, the ship flared back to life with the cabin illuminating and the engines humming with bridled power. Naniell pressed the link for Kramilla’s private channel with a tremor to her fingers.
“Kramilla, what’s wrong?”
Naniell could barely get her question out before Kramilla was shouting back. “Naniell run!”
The Night Sisters first instinct was to do the opposite. Naniell knew that her lover was in danger and had no desire to abandon her. She began plotting the quick jump for inside Corellia’s atmosphere while locking on to Kramilla’s signal. Whatever trouble Kramilla found herself in, Naniell was willing to level an entire city along with its population to save the one person that meant everything to her.
Naniell stopped her preparations as Kramilla’s signal abruptly vanished and communication link only broadcasted static. Polarized transparisteel adjusting to a sudden change in light drew Naniell’s worried attention from the computer systems to the void between worlds. It was as if a new star had been born with a sudden blinding flash emanating from Corellia. The white light rolled over the darkness like a wave threatening to wash away everything in its path.
Warning claxons sounded throughout the ship as sensors were already shorting out before the unknown energy signature washed over the ship. Naniell swung the ship around to try and outrun it while plotting a new course. In the pit of her stomach, Naniell felt something had gone horribly wrong.
“I’m coming back for you.”
Naniell shouted into the static, without knowing if Kramilla was even able to hear her. The Night Sister needed a safe place to regroup before coming back for Kramilla and perhaps a little help. There was nowhere that she truly trusted but could only think of one place where there might be at least a friendly face that would listen and offer to help.
Before even registering the movement, she had the coordinates entered for D’Hara and fired up the drives. Even as distant stars began pulling together in long streaks of light and space folded in on itself, Naniell heard an otherworldly scream from the rear of the ship. The Night Sister could not tell the difference if it was her or the sound of the ship being pulled apart as she jumped away.
