Zander was numb.
Pain. Sorrow. Torture. He felt every form of grief and pain under the sun.
It didn't hit as hard until night came. He was forced to confront the reality he faced, the death that seemed to await everyone around him. He'd felt grief at first, of course, but he'd pushed it aside, focusing instead on the petty politics of the council. He didn't quite understand what they were doing, but he didn't care either. What did it matter when the walls were crumbling down from within?
The attack was completely unprovoked, and quick. Despite evidence of a struggle, it seemed there was no one to go from, no direct enemy to face, so they could do nothing but lie in wait for them to reveal themselves. Still, despite its briefness, it tore him apart. Carlos was dead.
Logham and Bernard had both approached him after with comforting words, but he'd waved them aside. How Logham be so calm when he'd lost a dear friend? How could they possibly try to move on with their life, as if nothing ever happened? He didn't dare to ask him that to his face.
He'd spent the last several hours watching as a wave of emotions flowed over him. He felt as if pins and needles were piercing him constantly, tingling along his skin as if he was being stabbed repeatedly. He constantly flexed and clenched his muscles, trying to stop himself from falling asleep, to envelop himself in this blanket of sorrow.
He felt something within him stir, a deep, dark anger. It churned and burned, before quelling itself, and beginning again. It felt like a bowl of fire was being mixed within him, wicking at his insides before fading away.
Something was missing
He didn't know what
But something had to be done. He would do it himself if he had to.
________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Logham blanched as he sprinted across the Arcadia bridge the following morning. A protest had erupted from the Nova Terminus complex along the edge of their new territory, and one of the first complexes to be colonized and constructed, nearing its full completion within the next few days. The alarm had been rung around an hour prior, sending the main scouting force into a frenzy.
For the past few weeks, the guards had been overburdened in their duties, spread around the new fifteen complexes, and managing the influx of new citizens. Recruits for the newly expanded guard force were few and far between but had been expected to rise in the coming weeks, as colonies finished their initial construction. Until then however, there was little to stand in the way of any resistance of the people.
In the early hours of the morning- Logham had read in the report-
A few upset colonists began protesting the lack of action from the council, shouting in the central plaza of the complex. As their voices spread throughout the dormitory, others arose to join in their protest, voicing their frustrations loudly. Guardsmen initially allowed the protest to persist, as is their right, but as enough people began to join, a general sense of danger arose.
Guardsmen moved in to stop the protest from continuing any further, but more citizens began to join in, voicing their right to free protest. Guards were pushed back until further reinforcements arrived, and since then both sides have been in a standstill. The protest has reached a number of hundreds, if not a thousand, whilst the guards only have around twenty members, alongside the appointed leader of the complex, who had been hidden away for the time being.
Scouts are ordered to ensure the sanctity of the peace in Nova Terminus and prevent any violence that may occur. Move out immediately.
Logham had been rather rudely awoken in the early hours of the morning, before the lights turned on, and had ruggedly put together his gear, before making his way to where he was now. He'd debated waking Zander, but after remembering his sorrowful disposition the night prior, he didn't want to disturb him further.
The walls of The Garden were being stripped away, now that Matsuo was gone, he realized. The people had begun to see the issues from within, especially with the newly awakened integrating into their population. There had long been issues with Matsuo's structure, but his sheer power and strong, unifying will had kept them together like glue.
Now, there's no one left to cover the holes in the walls…
He shook his head, snapping him out of the inner turmoil of his thoughts. There was a job to do.
He brushed his hair out of his face as he rushed across the length of the bridge, watching the lights of the complex appear out of the distant fog. Nova Terminus was a rather unique complex, as far as their structure went. Usually, a complex was a massive pillar of yellow wallpaper, with rooms tunneling through the structure, creating the complex. This time however, the pillar ended rather abruptly where the bridge connected, creating an open sky above. It was eerily similar to that of the skyscraper, but besides the central, populated layer atop the complex, a few more floors of rooms that had been turned into housing layered below, allowing for an increased amount of people to take shelter within its walls. These pre-built dwellings had made it the first candidate for colonization, and the likely one of the largest The Garden would have. Its population was already in the thousands, and would quickly grow to at least ten thousand within the next few months. Still, twenty guards to protect thousands of people… it was a drastic mistake, and Logham knew it.
As he finally saw the complex before him, he noticed the lurching of lit torches, moving like a tide towards a small group of armored guards, whose bright, fresh armor glinted in the torchlight. Despite the rather beautiful array of colors, Logham noticed that the wave of light was not a magical display, but a horde of angry citizens, lunging towards the guards who desperately tried to keep the peace.
Logham rushed to the complex as fast as he could, his small team of scouts lingering behind him for a moment, taken aback by the shocking display, before following in his footsteps.
"We're not safe!"
"You promised safety and security!"
"The council does nothing to protect us!"
"Sarah isn't our leader!"
"A scout doesn't understand our domestic issues!"
As Logham approached, a chorus of discontent greeted his ears, echoing across the complex like a roaring lion. He watched as a staggering protester lurched towards a guardsman, who backed away quickly out of reach. The guards were huddled together in a circle, their swords not drawn, but shields raised towards the crowd.
He finally reached the crowd, stepping between the increasingly numerous group of protestors and the small, cowering group of guards. He raised his hands between the groups, placing his feet firmly in the carpet.
"Enough!" He shouted, his voice somehow managing to quiet the angry crowd. "By orders of the council, this protest must cease. Disperse at once or face criminal punishment!" His tone was firm but soft, as if carefully telling off a child.
"You can't take away our rights!" A protester shouted, their voice ringing from the back of the crowd. Logham couldn't make out what they looked like, his brows furrowed. "Yea!" Shouted another, raising their fist into the sky. "We can protest all we want! If the council can't protect us, then who can?"
"The council is deliberating on the attack, I assure you" said Logham. "A decision is being made this afternoon on how address this new threat. Calm your anger, I beg of you." He said, nodding towards the crowd.
"The council doesn't speak for us!" Another protestor said, this time a man dressed in a lightly tanned tunic. He had a thick beard that stretched down towards the middle of his neck, covering his chin. "They sit in Hope, and wait for us to die so that they fix their mistakes! What happens if a raiding party comes for Nova Terminus, hm? Twenty soldiers do defend us all?" He asked, turning back towards the crowd, his hands raising with the tension.
"Why should the council rule over us? Since Matsuo's death, it's been mistake after mistake, and there has been no reprieve for us! Who will save us from your mistakes?" He roared, and the crowd jeered alongside him. His hands were held above his head now, and as he faced them, he watched their angry faces with a growing smile on his face."
The man had long been a citizen of The Garden. He'd watched the Great War against the Strollo's, he'd watched The Garden begin to wither away from within, and he'd watched the catastrophes surge since right before Matsuo's death. He spent each night cowering in fear of monsters, or enemies in the dark. Bags had long formed under his eyes as they fluctuated through conflicts.
"We shall be heard! We must be heard!" His voice rose in power, enveloping the group as their anger rose once again. "Let's show The Garden that we're people to-"
Shink!
Ack~!
A blade tore through the air, ripping through space as it dug itself into the man's back. The man, caught off guard mid-speech, crumpled to the ground, dead as soon as the blade had entered his body. Upon further inspection, investigators would later discover that the blade emitted a series of magical beams, which bounced around the man's body, splitting bones apart, and eventually ripping through his brain.
In the moment however, the only truth was the reality in front of them.
The crowd erupted in a roar of anger as the crowd lunged for the guards, a series of makeshift weapons piercing the air, aiming towards the first unsuspecting guard. They were unsuspecting, their attention dropped as words had begun to be exchanged. Unfortunately for them, three blunt hammers tore through his armor at once, shattering his midsection and causing him to tumble to the ground. His screams rang out across the complex as ten or so people dove atop him, lifting their tools above their heads, before slamming them down.
The man lasted a few seconds, until a large sledgehammer slammed into the side of his head, cracking his neck and killing him on the spot. A final, resounding breath shuddered out of the man's lungs, before he fell silent, and the aggressors stepped away, staring at the man with wide-eyes.
Whilst the initial attackers seemed to stabilize, looking at their blood-covered hands in a mixture of horror and shock, a few of them pressed the attack, jumping on the nearest guard, who stood frozen in a mixture of fear and shock at the sight of their fallen comrade. She fell quickly, a pipe slamming into the side of her ankle, sending her tumbling to the ground, before she was similarly jumped upon. Knives were drawn, and within a few seconds, she was gurgling on her own blood as she desperately clutched the new hole in her neck, before falling still.
As her blood spilled upon the now stained carpet, the soldiers finally pushed past the moments of shock, their faces contorting into one of anger.
"To me!" Shouted the resident commander, a small white banner flowing from his shoulder. He raised his shield into the air, his fingers beginning to dart to his waist as the collection of guards formed together around him, their faces beading with sweat.
"Draw swords!" He proclaimed, and the remaining eighteen soldiers released their weapons in unison towards the murderers before them, who continued towards them at a full sprint. A few of them hesitated, lingering back, but a majority of the remaining attackers charged towards them, their makeshift weapons swinging towards their exposed armor.
Clang!
Their weapons met the steel shields of the guards, sending them reeling at the sudden shift in momentum. They fell backwards, careening for a moment on their heels, before stabilizing themselves, but it was already far too late.
In the brief moment it took for the protesters to catch themselves, the guards' swords were already flickering through them, quickly stabbing into their chests before returning, only to swipe towards the nearest person. Blood sprayed from the wounds like it was being propelled from a sprinkler. One of the people, still in shock from the murder of the two guards, jumped in surprise as a wave of gore splayed across their chest, coating their torso and arms in a layer of sticky insides, before the same sword that felled the first person flew towards them, ending another life.
Panic swelled in the crowd as the guards pushed towards the remaining group, their swords pointed towards their combined faces. The group hesitated, before a lone man, clad in black, stepped towards the group of soldiers, a devilish smirk along their face as they unsheathed a long knife, stabbing it towards the nearest guard. Without even taking a breath, the soldier's weapon cut down the man, cleaving him nearly in two as a small dance of sword energy blanketed their weapon.
The other soldiers nearby unleashed their abilities into the waiting crowd, most of whom cried in fear as they attempted to run away. Flashes of colorful, ethereal energy tore through the crowd, sending bodies flying as a swath of citizens were carved away in just an instant. Screams of terror ripped through the carnage, causing further chaos to erupt as the remaining protesters desperately scrambled to get away, pushing past one another. A few people fell to the ground, shrieking as the boots of their compatriots trampled upon them, one after another as they ran.
When the dust settled, and the crowd of angry protesters finally disappeared, over thirty bodies lay upon the blood-stained ground, leaving the scouts in shock. Logham had been quickly been overwhelmed and pushed back by the crowd, unable to defend himself as he was caught in the tide of the mob. He found himself face-first on the ground, and using the lengths of his arms, he pushed himself back to his feet. A few dropped torches dropped on the ground, sparking series of small fires along the carpet, which quickly dispersed from the complex's automatic repairs. The blood drained from the carpet, leaving a small, faint stain of red where the bodies lay, leaving a sick, sinking feeling within Logham's stomach.
"What have you done?!" He demanded, turning towards the commander of the guards. "Who threw that knife?"
The commander jostled in place, as if awakening from a deep slumber. He looked towards Logham, and then the bodies, and finally, his gaze rested back on Logham. "Those… terrorists attacked my men, slaughtered them before my eyes, and you expect me to do nothing?" He demanded, his voice defensive.
"Our orders were to keep the peace!" shouted Logham, spreading his arms wide. "They were running, and yet you slaughtered them! That isn't defending yourself, commander, and the council will see this in my report." He said, his tone firm and his lips tightened. He clutched his palm in a tight fist, a cold sweat running down his back.
"Men!" the commander turned back to his squad of soldiers, towards the men and women who'd just cleaved through the horde of now fallen citizens. "Who threw that knife? You were not ordered to take action!" He said, spittle flying from his mouth as he angrily shouted.
"S-sir!" shouted a smaller, meek recruit, from the back of their formation. "I was in the back, and can confirm that none of our soldiers threw that knife, sir!" He said, saluting as he locked his jaw, tension evident in his stance.
"Then what in the blue, blithering, blazing hells did, soldier?!" the commander shouted back, stepping up in the face of the clearly terrified guard.
"I-It flew over my head, sir. It was not one of us!" He said, desperation in his voice. He clutched his heart, which was beating extremely quickly. "I promise, sir! None of us slew that man! We know our orders…" those last words were muttered under his breath, but the commander ignored it, instead turning back towards Logham.
"Hear that, scout?" His voice was slightly deprecating, as if the idea of Logham being a scout irked him somewhat. "Tell our clown show of a council that none of us threw the first strike. We was simply defending ourselves." He saluted, then turned around, picking up the body of their former comrade. "This whole place is going to shit…" he whispered, before disappearing down a set of stairs, which led down towards the barracks.
Logham turned back towards the pile of corpses, each hacked and torn to pieces in a pile of gooey, heart-wrenching mush. He felt a shiver run down his spine as vomit threatened to push itself up from his stomach. "Fuck…" he gasped, clutching his knee.
"What have we done?"
________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Zander was awoken rather abruptly before sunrise, or whatever the term was on this layer. He hadn't slept well, his dreams haunted with images of Maia, of Reginald, of Xavier, and finally, of Carlos, all slaughtered before him over the past few weeks. He'd screamed as he was shaken awake, startling the nervous scout that had inevitably taken the role of his informant.
"Wha-" He cut himself off, coughing into his fist. "What?"
"Uh… Sir?" The man said, barely older than a boy. Zander shook his head, the wind giving him a rush of adrenaline as he stared at the man. "We've got some reports… there's a pretty bad protest happening over in Nova Terminus, but Sarah gave some special orders to investigate a caravan that hasn't reported in. We're to leave as soon as possible." He said, handing Zander a small piece of paper that summarized their goals.
Caravan C was due in by late last night. It was guarded by a set of six guards, one scout, and a messenger, who would quickly run to us for help at the sign of danger. None of their members have reported in, and this issue needs further investigation.
The caravan was transporting a few dozen new immigrants, moving to colonize the north-western complexes. Ensure the safety of the caravan, and avoid any dangers, to your best ability. Ensure the safety of your fellow scouts and guards alike, and investigate the cause of the disappearance if you can.
You're ordered to take a small reserve team with you. Move out immediately.
"… Fine" Zander said, slipping on his clothes, as well as his boots. He always slept within arm's length of his sword, and within a few seconds the scabbard was attached to his hip, and he was ready to leave.
"Let's go" He said, walking briskly towards the Northrend Bridge, which led towards the North-side entrance to The Garden's territory. The location of their disappearance would be close to the edge of their territory, if not slightly outside, so there was a threat of Thrall appearing, but it would likely be negligible with his squad of five.
Zander was not a leader of the scouts, but he'd accepted some various roles here and there that undertook some of the new recruits. He'd laughed with Bernard at the thought of leading soldiers likely stronger than him, but they all seemed to accept it in stride. Falling in behind Zander, they ran in a single-file line towards the location, but what they found was terrifying.
A massive pile of bodies were stacked upon each other along the side of the Northrend bridge, burning brightly in a mixture of flame, gore, and residual magic, a remnant of whatever abilities were used to slaughter them to the last man. Even the messenger was killed, their decapitated head sitting perfectly atop the pile, like an angel on a Christmas tree.
"Fuck…" Zander muttered, and he heard one of the scouts behind him vomit onto the carpet, heaving heavily as they emptied their stomach. He approached the corpse pile, his nose wrinkling, his eyes wide, tears streaming down his face as his anger seemed to fold within itself, that familiar, tickling flame expanding into a raging inferno.
"Who… who did this…?" He asked, clutching his fists together. "Who DID THIS?!" His shout echoed across the empty complex, causing several of the scouts to look away. He inspected the corpses, barely holding his breakfast in as he looked for any oddities, before an unfamiliar uniform came into view. It was on one of the corpses, a dark, black uniform, emblazoned with a strange, snake-looking S. He grabbed if firmly, his grip so tight it felt as if the small insignia would shatter within his grasp.
"Get Sarah. Get the council. Get someone" He said, his voice going weak. The rest of his team turned back towards Hope, moving at a fully sprint. Instead of following, he took his time, turning back to the bodies left in their wake. For a moment, he saw Carlos overlayed atop their faces, and watched as Michael was torn limb from limb, thrown into the pile.
He gasped, and took a step back, a cold sweat beginning to form down the back of his neck. A shiver erupted down his spine as he panicked, his breathing heavy and fast. Unsure of what to do, he watched the corpse pile as they began to flicker, the face of Carlos now being accompanied by Maia, by Reginald, and Xavier. They stood atop the pile. Standing over the corpses like strangers in the night, as if judging them. He felt their gaze, their hallowed, pale gazes, their eyes gleaming a bright blue.
He took a step back, and then another. He tried to speak, but his voice only emerged as a mixture of strangled gasps and wheezes. He gripped the hilt of his sword tightly, electing to unsheathe it from its scabbard along his waist. The blade tasted the air as the sound of metal on leather squeezed its way through his ears, the sound causing him to flinch internally.
He imbued his weapon with sword energy, his eyes locked on the shadowy figures who still stood before him. He'd assumed they would be gone once he showed his might, yet they stood firm. The sword emblazoned with a fiery blue, a small, thin layer of energy coursing along its length. The energy, unlike before, churned and wriggled, as if sensing his anxiety. He kept the blade by his side, not daring to point it at the ghostly figures, despite him wanting to.
He let out a small, involuntary groan, a sound of anger, of frustration, of sorrow, and lurched his head forward, like a snake warning of its pounce. Nothing moved. He shouted, he screamed, he shrieked at the top of his lungs, his neck elongated and stretched, hoping to see something change, yet it didn't.
So he did nothing.
He didn't know how much time had passed, only that it felt very slow. Each second seemed to feel like five, each minute lasting an hour. He heaved as each breath sent a small shudder down his spine, wracking his body.
Then they moved.
Something, finally!
He readied his will, readied his blade, the carpet of energy exploding in an instant, sending a series of spikes along its length, readying his attack. He would be rid of whatever these monstr-
"Zander?" A voice said from behind him.
He calmly looked back. It was Sarah. She looked
concerned,
confused,
cautious.
"Hm?" He asked, turning back towards the figures that haunted him for who knows how long. When did she get here? She should be back in Hope/
Nothing was there.
Emptiness. Confusion. Dread. Fear.
He turned back to Sarah.
"Oh" He said, his eyes calmly looking at those around him. He was surrounded by a small set of scouts, who hid away, their eyes mixed with concern and fear. Fear of the unknown.
Sarah said nothing.
She looked at him,
Then his sword, which rested within his hand, the sword energy calmed and cool.
Then at the pile of corpses that lay just a few feet from him. Her face blanched as she realized what had disturbed him so much.
"I-I'm sorry" She said.
"I shouldn't have assigned you this- not af-"
He didn't let her continue
"You promised me…" He gulped, taking a deep, shuddering breath. "You promised me that you would make me the fighter I wanted to be." A drip of sweat cascaded down from his chin. "That I would be the warrior I wanted to be. A fighter who could protect the people I care about…" He motioned to the death before him, the stench of corpses filling his nostrils. He did not flinch. "Instead, I have lost everyone dear to me. My comrades lay dying alone, fighting an ambush that we did not predict. I've gained a bit of strength, conquered a seemingly impossible scenario, yet I am still weak. For all the strength I have gained, I have nothing to give back." He breathed, a sob racking from his lips.
"Where is my peace? Where is the fruit of my labor?" Tears began to flow down the side of his cheeks. "Am I doomed to face this emptiness forever? It hasn't changed since the day I arrived. I'm nothing, with nothing, offering nothing, my efforts conquer nothing, and I have NO ONE. NOTHING!" He wailed the last few words, collapsing to his knees. His chin shook with anger as he shouted into the open air, his peers silent behind him.
"I am empty."