Saros

by shortskirtsandexplosions

The Last Wraith

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"The phantom Daughter of our beloved Father hath given us the night. To darkness we were born, a mere tool of the Deceiver. But Her solemn grace and mercy hath made purpose out of our horror. By Her beauty, we art given spirit. By Her righteous fury, we art given strength. A new night falls, and let all who dread Her glory tremble and quake. For we art Her shadow, forever and ever."

(Chapter III, verses 11 – 13 of the Book of Saros)

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When Myrk inhaled again, it was a prolonged thing, cold and soundless as his hooves. He glided like a dark cloud over the desolate lengths of a subterranean plain. Geometrically etched trails of magical leylines glowed with a dim blue light, stretching towards both ends of the expansive corridor of polished black stone.

The Mid-Level Junctions of the Lunar infrastructure stretched above and beneath his cloaked figure. Already, he could make out the sheer drop through the translucent sheets of transmogrified glass that appeared every fifty meters below. He clung tightly to the wall of the deep cavern, hoping that the dark texture of the burrowed surfaces would hide his stone-gray figure.

With the agility of a cat, he stalked his way into the sudden niche of a long vertical groove sliced into the wall. Hundreds of meters above—just within visual range—the groove served as a fastener to a translucent glass bridge, across which Myrk could just barely make out enchanted transports hovering to and from their destinations with the assistance of flickering mana stones. Myrk had positioned himself as deep into the crevice as the Mid-Level Junctions would allow. However, the veteran wraith instinctively knew that he could go even further.

Turning his head, he stuck his face out of the niche and peered at the remaining lengths of the obsidian plain. He took a deep, deep breath and lurched forward, opening his mouth wide as the whites of his eyes flexed around his black irises. A vaporous distortion lit the air for a brief second, and soon he was done with the high pitched exhalation. He knew that it was a heavy risk to make such a sound at this time and place, but he needed to find a way out of that deep crevice and pierce beyond.

Tilting his head back, he perked both of his leafy ears up, flexing the cartilage so that the lobes were as wide open as possible. He waited patiently, his black eyeslits narrowing. Finally, he sensed it, like a wave of priceless data surging into his brain. Myrk suddenly had a mental blueprint of the landscape up ahead, as well as the hollow tunnels lingering beyond.

There was little time to waste. Myrk shifted his limbs, and the long brown cloak furled over his body so that it covered him from shoulder to tail. There was a brief flash of lunar silk—the faint outline of a saddlebag—and he was once again blending with the shadows, hugging the wall and scurrying his way like a spider across the flat sheets of muted rock.

As he proceeded along the glossy floor, he passed under the shadow of another glassy bridge, this one less than one hundred meters overhead and supported by gray marble pillars. Beads of magical light ran past him, surging through the etched lines, until they coalesced into the runes that lined the edge of the lingering platform above.

Before passing underneath, Myrk monitored his steps. He meditated inwardly, slowing his heartbeat and breaths as he passed within proximity of the runes and their powers of detection. His every other hoofstep resonated with ringlets of circular light, as if he was marching into a thin pond of glowing water. He slowed down even further, feeling the cold static dancing through his silver-streaked mane as the subtle taste of rust filled his mouth. Just up ahead, he could sense where the plain's glassy surface cut off, and where he could dive off the cliff and approach the tiny canals below.

It was the closest he had gotten to an avenue of escape in hours. He felt the weight of his saddlebag shifting beneath his cloak as he snaked slowly beneath the bridge, careful to not even sweat or else the runes would send signals of alarm all throughout the network of leylines wired into that section of the infrastructure.

When Myrk approached the far end of the bridge, a shock flew through his system. He froze and closed his eyes. He didn't need to see them to know that they were coming. Gnashing his teeth, he sidestepped over to one of the pillars and boldly pressed himself up against the onyx strut just a half-meter away from the detection rune that was glowing faintly on the other side. He could hear through the glass structure above as a manacraft hovered to a stop, venting steam violently into the subterranean air. A panel slid open with an telekinetic hiss, and his heart nearly plummeted at the sensation of three dozen bodies hopping out, and all of them clad in lunar armor.

"Fan out!" a terribly familiar voice barked. Myrk was already sensing the tall, rigid figure of the captain of the Lunar Imperial Rune Guard. He marched out of the hovercraft in his Imperial helmet, thick shoulder armor, and two mana spheres located above the unicorn's muscular joints. "The target was last seen leaving Marefall three hours ago! This section of the Mid-Level Junction is all that lies in his path towards the lunar surface! By order of Her Majesty, Nightmare Moon, we are to prevent the sarosian exile from breaching the outer layer! Find him, and capture him—dead or alive, but most importantly, retrieve that which he has confiscated! The security of the Lunar Empire depends on it!"

"Aye, sir!"

"Now move!" The heavy hoofsteps of the Captain shuffled directly overhead. It was difficult to hear from all of the other unicorn bodies galloping across the bridge in all directions. "Lieutenant Razsaleen!" Myrk heard the stallion's authoritarian voice echo as he came to a stop. "Any news on the Phantoms?"

"They're en route, sir," a younger, far feebler voice replied. "Permission to speak freely?"

"Granted. Make it quick."

"Will the Phantoms be necessary? With all due respect, this sarosian has served the Empress for nearly a decade. Surely there must be a way to reason with Captain Myrk—"

"You mean former Captain Myrk, Lieutenant. The sarosian and all discordant blood like him lost their title and privilege the very moment they showed their true, traitorous colors."

"Yes. But of course, Captain Stellar. I should have known better than to play his advocate."

"See that you learn this one thing: a sarosian warrior is a poor substitute for absolute fealty to our Savior and Empress. We have the magical blessings of a goddess to aid us, and he is but one fool clinging to a terrestrial scent. Let us not waste this opportunity to exact justice for what has happened to Major Shine, at the very least."

"I concur wholeheartedly. I shall monitor the process of the Phantoms."

"See that you do." Stellar's hooves swiveled about, scraping the bridge's surface above Myrk. "Search harder, soldiers! The first moment you see his leathery wings, fire up a signal! He's not getting out of this corridor alive!"

At this point, Myrk was doing all he could to breathe regularly. He felt his pulse increasing, and at any second the runestones around him would scream in protest. As he sensed the bodies of unicorns descending from the bridge and piercing the shadows around him, he brought a stone-gray limb to his chest. He did not fiddle with his cloak, nor did he tighten the straps of his saddlebag. Instead, his hoof slid up to a necklace hanging around his neck. The moment he touched the metallic shape of a tiny owl, he instantly relaxed, and he exhaled in a slow breath of calm while waiting for his captors to pass.

Comments

[Csquared08]

I am intrigued. You have my attention. All of it.

[Future Regret]

So the sarasonians betrayed Luna? I typically dont like lunar empire stuff but ill go with it because its skirts.

[Revan]

Betrayals abound.

[FOXTrot2]

Okay... Do the night queen aint happy, apparently