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Deathworlders Should Not Be Allowed To Date! 44
🕑 Added 2024-07-27 05:48:06 +0000 UTCLuna VI query: Set the source to the leaked files of the first reconnaissance operation of Irisa.
Done!
Luna VI query: How was Amara's encounter with her brother?
***
In front of Amara, her brother stood. The yellow on his skin and armor was so prevalent and artificial that it put his words in doubt in her heart. Why kill Elysira? She dared not imagine him laying his claws on Elysira just to get to her, for she knew Zandrid would, could, and might have done that. Yet, Amara herself had always been his goal. Why attack her by hurting someone else when she was here in front of him, outnumbered and vulnerable?
Her contemplative silence was broken not by sound, but by a protective touch, crossing her shoulders from behind and pulling her closer. His warm touch brought her no joy or comfort, only a vague spark of light that reminded her she was not alone; not the only target of all the guns her brother's underlings were carrying.
Zandrid's eyes were trying to gauge her reaction. Against them, she was doing her best to keep her worry inside, trying to figure out what game he was playing and why they had not been killed yet.
"You do not believe I killed Elysira." Zandrid spoke again, their gazes meeting as she realized her feelings had been exposed. "You must remember me as the younger brother who played ambush in Alndrinch's chambers. Surely, you must recall my special connection with Elysira, for we both understood the misery of dwelling in your shadow."
Zandrid was getting uncomfortably close as he spoke, and Nathan was talking a few steps behind, pulling her together with him as her brother went on.
"But how would I be the same after so many harvests leading our people to a new era?" Zandrid's tail wrapped around her arm. "How could I have forgiven someone who refused to go with me once just because of you, only to betray you later for an alien?"
Zandrid's yellow façade crumbled, a subtle tone of red conquering his skin and revealing his true emotions. Amara's eyes widened, purple followed by red manifesting everywhere, her words stuck in her throat as her fingers stiffened, her claws ready.
Before she did anything foolish, Nathan's touch gained a hint of strength, his hands taking Zandrid's tail away from her but also restraining her arms. "Hey, big guy. Confessing a murder won't do good for your revolution. You said you don't want to harm us, so why don't you just go away and I promise I won't call for help?"
It took a shameful moment for Amara to realize that Zandrid shouldn't know they didn't have communication, and before she could allow a spark of hope to ignite, Zandrid went on. "A lie. I gave the order to destroy your communication."
Even without looking behind, Amara could feel that Nathan was getting as stiff as her. When his right hand left her skin, she just knew he was getting his gun again, which forced her mind to try and predict what would happen next—a pitiable attack that would be followed by a double death, a tragic ending for the forbidden romance that would leave behind echoes of an impossible dream.
As time seemed to have slowed down for her, Amara's deepest convictions was brought to the surface. Was this who she was, a selfish woman who would take her chosen to the grave with her in a lost battle? If she believed there was the slimmest chance of victory, she wouldn't take anything other than ride or die from Nathan. But in the face of certain defeat why did he have to come with her?
Amara's tail coiled in the shape of a spring, pushing Nathan behind and propelling her to the front, bringing her in front of Zandrid, a towering figure that dwarfed her. Hiding her sadness, she glanced at Nathan's shocked face before her eyes met Zandrid's. "You gave me hope when you said you would not kill me, but you were lying, were you not?"
"I tell nothing but the truth, sister. My only goal is to give you a last gift." She felt the cold tiles protecting her brother's tail touching her chin. "Unfortunately, it will not be my claws that will claim your useless life." Zandrid then whispered in her ear, "Your executioner will be here soon; you just have to wait a little longer."
Amara's mind raced to keep pace with the nonsensical dialogue pouring from her brother's mouth. Her gaze flickered to his tail, a constant undulation that suddenly stiffened, pointing towards the distant, hulking ship. An underling, small and insignificant in the grand scheme, understood his intention and darted into the distant vessel's yawning maw. Moments later, the male emerged, gripping tightly to a leather pouch. The underling’s slow, deliberate steps towards their position tensed her muscles, remind her of herself when she had to make someone uncomfortable.
Amara's heart pounded against her ribs as she watched his approach. Her mind conjured a terrifying set of possibilities—a vial of slow-acting poison, perhaps, or worse, the infamous executor Zandrid had mentioned, bringing with him his tools. She forced a calm façade, not for the sake of her brother and his followers, but for Nathan. She couldn't bear the thought of being remembered by him as a purple, frightened creature.
The underling halted before them, his form stiff with deference. With trembling hands, he offered the pouch to Zandrid. As he did so, his tail wrapped respectfully around his leg, and his claws, previously a menacing display, retreated behind his back.
The underling’s submissive posture was a clear indication this male was no her executioner. But there was no relief in her worry as her attention shifted to Zandrid, who was now methodically unfastening the pouch with an air of casual indifference.
"Open your hands," Zandrid commanded, his voice a low growl. "Accept my gift, or someone will force you to."
Amara's mind raced, full of fear and resignation. She knew this was the only path forward, yet hints of purple were hard to contain. With a forced calm, she extended her hands, her outward composure a fragile mask concealing the turmoil within.
Zandrid inverted the pouch, a cascade of terror raining down on Amara's hands. As the crystalline shards met her skin, a cold horror seized her. Her mind screamed recognition–fractured claws, splintered by some unimaginable force.
"This is what Elysira did to her claws when I cut off her tail," Zandrid hissed, his voice like ice scraping stone. His skin, tinged with yellow, seemed to glow in the dim light of twilight. "See, even a coward like her can use her claws against my armor when pushed. I wonder how much pain it would take for you to do the same, sister."
Zandrid's followers, anticipating his unspoken command, surged forward. Their tails moved, binding her wrists in a loop. Amara's carefully constructed façade shattered like glass. Panic etched itself across her body in tones of purple, overwhelming the composed self she usually was. Her head turned, her eyes locking onto Nathan's, a desperate plea for aid that contradicted her logical understanding of the impossible situation.
The response was instantaneous. Nathan lunged, running toward her. A female from Zandrid's entourage reacted with equal speed, her claw locking on the trigger as she blocked his path with defiance. Unbothered by the gun, Nathan cleared her from his way, his shoulder a battering ram that sent her crashing to the ground.
Zandrid watched with perverse amusement as Nathan advanced on the guards holding Amara captive. Her human hadn't bothered with a weapon, his hands bare as he approached her captors. A swift, calculated punch to the face sent one guard to the ground, freeing Amara from his grasp. She stumbled from the sudden imbalance, her knees giving in. The other, sensing the mood of his boss, let go of Amara and retreated a cautious step with his weapon in hand, awaiting Zandrid's next move.
"You have a sharp knife and a gun." Zandrid was unbothered by his act of defiance. "I wonder why you bother to use your clawless fist."
Nathan ignored Zandrid's annoying question, his focus solely on Amara. With a swift movement, he pulled her to her feet, his grip on her arm possessive.
"I won't fight you. I'm just getting my girl," Nathan declared, his voice low and firm. Amara was already tucked securely against his chest, her body pressed into his for protection. He moved with feral grace, pointing his revolver at Zandrid's followers while his back was utterly exposed. When they took a step closer, Nathan would raise her legs from the ground and shift his stance, his revolver pointed at whoever approached.
"You are not even a warrior, just a hopeless creature blinded to your weakness and poisoned by emotion." Zandrid looked utterly amused. "You have a sharp knife and a gun, I was hoping you would be at least able to pose a small challenge."
"I'm taking her. That's all."
They were surrounded, and Amara was trapped in a cage of despair. Guilt gnawed at her for dragging Nathan into this dangerous situation. Why was she so weak in the face of pain? The warmth of his protection felt like a cruel irony, a hollow comfort that would lead to their demise.
"Taking her? How?" Zandrid hadn't taken action yet, and Amara knew his armor could do much more than defend him. It was equipment the Alliance had never allowed them to bring home from missions, too dangerous for deathworlders.
Nathan noticed the impossible escape and pointed his gun at Zandrid's face, aiming at his eyes where the tiles didn't cover.
"His eyes are not vulnerable," Amara warned Nathan, her tail wrapping around him as Zandrid's followers closed in on them from all sides.
Nathan fired his gun, causing her to flinch because of the noise hurting her sensitive ears. When Amara opened her eyes, she saw Nathan aiming not at Zandrid. Instead, his revolver was pointing toward the sky.
"You think the noise will scare us? How u-"
Nathan fired his gun again, interrupting Zandrid mid-sentence.
"Impudent! You think-"
Nathan fired a third time, leaving even Amara flabbergasted. Zandrid had taken after their mother, inheriting the temperament where small acts of defiance could sometimes be worse for his mood than any real threat. Predictably to Amara, he didn't reply a third time. His exterior became red as even his allies distanced themselves from him.
Unpredictably to her, however, Nathan didn't even look at him, pointing his gun to the ground and firing three more times in a row.
Covering her ears, she stayed by Nathan's side out of trust and trust alone. Amara noticed the puzzled looks being exchanged by Zandrid's group and when she unblocked her ears, knowing Nathan had run out of bullets, all she heard were the whispers exchanged by them. The only exception was her brother, who stood alone, undoubtedly hiding his puzzlement behind his anger.
It was not her mind, clouded by turmoil and plagued by uncertainty, that solved the puzzle. Instead, her ears, trained by a night and a day in the valleys, caught something else besides their hearts and the whispers.
The sound of the ground shaking.
Amara's heart pounded against her ribs at the thought of what Nathan had done. Terror and hope warred within her, growing simultaneously at the same rate and proportion. She knew Nathan's hearing was not as good as hers, so she risked everything, leaping into his arms and whispering urgently, "They are coming."
Nathan held her tight but said nothing, his eyes facing the horizon. One by one, the heads of the males and females around them also began turning to that side, and when Zandrid himself turned, the three giant Oczoil leading the herd emerged from within the tall undergrowth.
Everything was a blur after that. Amara caught a glimpse of the ferocious advance of the herd as one of the leading Oczoil uprooted a shrub from the ground, the plant tossed to the side as the creature shook its head in annoyance. At the same time, all the guns previously pointing at her and Nathan changed targets, waves of purple traveling through Zandrid's followers.
As for Zandrid, he and Amara locked eyes for a moment, but Nathan was already running toward the gap between the two protruding rocks that she had found earlier, taking advantage that not a single individual had stepped in to stop him.
Amara recalled that according to Nathan there were two entrances to the little cave in the middle of the rock, but even as they were getting closer, she had not seen any opening.
She knew that there would be no time to return to the other side, yet a hint of surprise still afflicted her when Nathan's bare hands parted the thorny leaves aside and shoved her into the cave with no regard for their skins.
Her vision, unused to the dim light, struggled to make sense of the cavern. The heart of the cave was cloaked in complete darkness, but the edges were bathed in a ghostly glow. The exits were narrow, treacherous holes, their rocky floors uneven and tricky. Yet, as Nathan joined her, a flicker of hope ignited. An Oczoil, she realized, might be too large to squeeze through either of the openings, a glimmer of optimism that conflicted with the terrifying uncertainty of the battle against nature taking place outside.
Silence stretched between them as they squeezed into the deep crevices. The space was scarce, the ceiling low. As their heads drew near, their gazes met. Outside, a cacophony of roars and screaming began, nature fighting against technology with the advantage of surprise.
Still, a word escaped her lips among the noise, "Sorry."
Nathan didn't reply; he just pulled her closer, one hand on her back and another ruffling her strands. Her apology was not because she had been overwhelmed by emotions when she heard of Elysira, but because she had given up her life in the face of what she considered impossible odds. Never again. From that moment forward, she wouldn't give up as long as she was breathing. Nathan and she were a team, and now it was do or die until the end.
The noise outside was amplified by the clatter of falling stones, a jarring intrusion into Amara's thoughts. A surge of light near the entrance sent a jolt of panic through Nathan. His hands fumbled with the gun, bullets spilling onto the rocky floor as he desperately reloaded.
When he was done, Amara pressed herself against him, making them a little harder to spot as he took aim at the entrance.
A figure emerged against the light of the entrance, a female with a gash on her forehead that oozed crimson. Her body, tinged with purple, created a deceptive illusion of vulnerability. Yet, the glint in her eye and the steady grip on her weapon belied her fragile appearance. Amara read her skin in a split second, determining she was a threat.
Nathan on the other hand, hesitated at the sight, his hand shaking as he aimed at her center of mass.
The orange eyes found them in the darkness, and Amara yelled, "Shoot!"
Amara saw a predatory gleam in the eyes of the wounded fighter as she slowly raised her weapon. His arm shook uncontrollably, contrasting the steel resolve he had earlier projected. Panic surged through Amara as she lunged for the gun, desperate to protect them both. But before her fingers could close around the trigger, the cave was plunged into darkness. A colossal shadow loomed behind the woman, following a grunt and a roar.
A moment she was standing there, her gaze locked with Nathan's, and a moment later the creature's frontal horn had impaled her from behind, finding an entrance below her tail and emerging on her belly as if her body was made of jello. The Oczoil then shook its head from side to side. What fell from its horn after repeated hits against the stone was a body that seemed to lack a single intact bone.
The silence stretched long, mirroring the previous moments of dread. The Oczoil, its three horns like deadly daggers, strained against the entrance. Its bulk tensed with each horn that got stuck in the rock, a mountain of muscle testing the narrow gap. Amara and Nathan were frozen statues, their eyes riveted on the monstrous spectacle. Her tail coiled tightly around him, grounding them both as panic threatened to consume them, his hesitation nearly forgotten by the overwhelming terror of their predicament.
Then, Amara heard a rapid succession of sharp cracks followed by the Oczoil's deafening roar. The creature was under attack, its attention diverted from them as it writhed in pain.
Roars and screaming were still prevalent outside when Nathan spoke, echoing the word she said earlier, "Sorry."
Amara also didn't reply, just letting the time pass as she pressed her head against his chest.
Silence eventually settled, and they exchanged a glance. Avoiding the mess left behind by the Oczoil, Amara's tail reached for the gun on the ground, bringing it up with a hint of red on the muzzle.
A final, unspoken exchange passed between them before they ventured forth. Would they confront a maddened herd or a brother consumed by rage? A few more steps and they would find out.
***
This was an account based on Amara's encounter with her brother. The previous narrative is based on the events of the evening of the twenty-first day of the exploratory mission of Irisa. According to your current settings, no queries will be suggested.
