QuiteTheSlacker
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Chapter 9: Birth
🕑 Added 2024-02-17 05:41:52 +0000 UTC“Spawn of Cosmos detected. Awakening Auto-Defense Protocol: Shell. Bodily functions currently in dormancy. Time until revival: twenty-four hours, thirty-six minutes, and two seconds.
“Surveying area: completed. Traces of Comet in surroundings. Estimated strength: newly-born. Awakening of ego deemed unnecessary. Forty-five seconds since Comet’s departure. Unknown construct carrying thirteen hundred sixty-one humans within distance.
“Current objective: Slay the Comet and eliminate all nearby humans. Commence.”
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Lorelai
“So adorable. So precious. So—”
A powerful slap sends Celia reeling onto the cold, hard floor of the fortress. She collides with a smash, breath gasping as she struggles to stand back up, but at least her mental state has been brought back to normal.
“L-Lorelai?” she utters, the shock of betrayal shining in her eyes.
But Lorelai only chuckles at the sight of her star-struck friend. “Careful there, Celia. The Comet’s eyes hold a powerful spell of bewitchment within them. I would have fallen prey to it myself if it weren’t for these twin blades of mine.”
The two of them are currently within an isolated section of the fortress. The plan, initially, should have been to safeguard the Comet near the barrier’s core as it is the most fortified layer in the Alexandria. However, after nearly escaping enslavement to the newborn child, she decides it’s best to hold them in a nursery far away from prying eyes lest her people suffer the same fate.
“Wow, that’s terrifying,” Celia says whilst avoiding the child’s line of sight. “…Do you think, maybe?”
It is a possibility, but there are some discrepancies. “I do not think so. The previous Comet, Lady Ladislava, was said to have rallied the nations together with her might—not through some manner of bewitchment or charisma. There are stories as well of how she and the first King Arthur would regularly clash blades in annoyance, so lay down your doubts. Perhaps she commanded a different ability.”
Those are her words, yet she finds her own hesitation unsettled. Could it be the warrior she has strove to embody in both principle and strength has been a deceiver all this time? Perish the thought. For if that is truly the case, then she has been praising a false idol since her childhood days.
What is truth? What is fiction? History is a fickle chronicler. The validity of past stories and records can never truly be discerned. In the end, those of the present must rely on one importance: trust. If they trust that history is as so, then it shall be as believed.
And Lorelai trusts in the benevolence of her long-time hero.
“You sure do know how to put someone’s mind at ease.” Celia lifts a finger and carefully holds it before the child’s eyes. He gurgles excitedly and latches on with his tiny little hand. How cute. “Come to think of it, what’s the little guy’s name going to be?”
“I’m not quite sure. I thought it best to leave that matter to those jovial elders of ours. Stars know how long it’s been since a birth’s been met with hopeful eyes rather than fear for their future.”
“Hm, well, that’s too bad. I’ve already thought of a great one.”
“Oh? And what is that? Perhaps they will take kindly to it.”
She pauses, staring at the Comet with a tender gaze. It appears there is no need for the child to bare his star-speckled eyes; Celia is already entranced.
“A name’s really important: That’s what I believe. It molds us - shapes us into who we’re fated to be - so I’d like it if this child becomes someone who will protect. Who will love this world and the people in it. To prosper towards a dawn where we shall all join hands in peace as we ascend to the Stars above.”
“That’s an honorable desire,” Lorelai murmurs. Yet, Celia’s words bring an odd sense of discomfort to her—as if she’s already seen the result of such wishes placed upon one much too young to deny it.
“Hehe, I’m glad you agree. Which is why I want the child to be named Aegis.”
Aegis. A bulwark, unbreakable and firm. It is his fate to bear the world’s weight upon those petite little shoulders.
Oh, Ascalon… is what we’re doing truly right? No, I must not let myself think of such thoughts. A leader must not be swayed away from their duty.
But it is a pity, indeed. For one so small to hold such responsibility.
“It is a good name,” she says, burying her treacherous doubt.
“Right?” Celia chuckles. “I can’t wait until we get back to the capital. Ascalon might just even break that stoic act of his when he becomes a father.”
“Hoh? The elders would flay you alive if they heard you insinuating one of Cosmos’s own children to be her consort. That’s blasphemy, my dear Celia.”
“What’re you talking about? You’re the mother obviously.”
W-What? Lorelai suddenly finds herself staggering from an unknown force. How odd.
“Sure, there’s the ‘Great Mother,’ but who says you can’t be a regular mom? I’m sure even those court geezers would allow it. Heck, we’ve been waiting all this time for Ascalon to make it official, but I guess that coward’s still hesitating for some reason.”
The sudden curve in their conversation is quite the surprise, but Lorelai has her dignity as a Throne to uphold; She won’t let something like this startle her so easily. “I’m not the only one then? Who realized it?”
“It’d be harder to find someone who doesn’t,” Celia snickers. “Who knows? Maybe we can finally force him to propose when we make it back.”
“These matters take time, Celia. I won’t rush Ascalon until he’s ready.”
“And when will that be?”
She pauses, face forlorn in acceptance. Perhaps never, but Lorelai is prepared for that. “Ascalon is a man with many burdens, and many fears. What he fears most of all is failing to honor the title of King.”
Lorelai has worked tirelessly over the years to penetrate the barriers surrounding his heart, but though much has changed for the better, Ascalon is still insistent with maintaining a certain distance.
“So, I will wait. Until he feels no longer chained to his duties as a ruler, I will stay by his side no matter how many years it must take.”
Celia attempts to spout something out, but all that is uttered is a sorrowful sigh. “Are you truly happy with that?”
It doesn’t matter. “I love him, Celia. But to love someone also means to respect their boundaries. Their will. To infringe on that would merely be my own selfishness. I don’t want to cause him pain, so all I can be is content with what we have now. That is enough.”
And she will repeat it however long she must until her words finally match with the ache inside her heart.
Lorelai turns to the child and listlessly watches his mindless enthusiasm. How innocent a babe is. No worries. No anxiety. He simply partakes in the current moment, perpetually fascinated by the wonder around him and relishing in an eternal period of discovery.
Alas, the world is cruel. A maelstrom of conflict will soon erupt once his discovery is revealed, and this peaceful serenity will come to an end.
Peaceful? Is this… peaceful?
A premonition. Dread spreads all throughout her body, stinging her senses and stirring her blood forth until every part of her skin is awash in red.
Something is wrong. Her instincts are screaming at her, warning her of a danger she has neglected to grasp, but what?
Peaceful… yes, it has been rather peaceful, hasn’t it?
“Celia,” Lorelai mutters. Her friend immediately recognizes her sudden shift in speech and stands at attention. “Have we ever encountered any difficulties whilst on this expedition?”
“No, Dame,” she replies, also coming to a perturbed conclusion. “I didn’t see anything while scouting above, either. Everything’s been smooth sailing since the very beginning.”
“Not a single glimpse of Caelum’s legionnaires?”
“None.”
Strange, just what is this nagging feeling of alarm? Their journey is too uneventful, too bloodless. Experience advises her that such peace is merely an interlude to tragedy, yet everything seems to be going as planned.
The miasma encasing the forest would, of course, halt the Grand General’s forces, but would that man truly allow the Comet to simply fall into Polus’s hands?
No. Never. He would devise a plan. A scheme. A deplorable ruse.
Xeros has hidden himself away in the capital for a reason, but the only method of which he may intercept the Alexandria is by air. And even if he has invented a way for his legionnaires to traverse the skies, there is no possibility for them to have eluded Celia’s surveillance.
“Stars help me… what am I missing?” Lorelai nervously paces around the nursery—mind consumed by a cacophony of thoughts. If not by air, then perhaps by land? But it would be impossible for even the greatest warriors to repel the miasma’s influence for long, much less protect a division's worth of soldiers alongside them. That is, unless…
No. Could it possibly be? There is one man who might just be capable of such a feat, but he should be relegated to the eastern border between Nox Caelum and the Augurium Thaumaturgy. Is Xeros truly willing to risk an attack from the Arch Magus just to retrieve the Comet?
Lorelai already knows the answer.
“Damnit. Celia, we must head towards the deck immediately!” she shouts, charging towards the door.
“Ah, Stars be damned. We missed something didn’t we?” Celia groans, quickly following close behind. It is not too late. There is still a chance to salvage the situation.
“Indeed. I only hope that my fears are unfounded, but if not, then we have been searching the skies in vain this entire—”
A deafening shriek pierces their ears from beyond the fortress - noise a disturbing amalgamation of rippling space and air torn asunder into a tormented maelstrom - and staggers their steps as the malevolent groan floods the halls, enveloping the entirety of the Alexandria in a mass haze of panic.
Startled cries rise forth from every direction as the two make for a mad dash to the top—an endless slew of bodies pouring into the chaotic passageways and frantically running about in a messy stupor. Confusion. Hesitation. Doubt. Pandemonium has claimed dominion over them all.
“All personnel, remain calm and proceed to the designated shelters!” Lorelai barks to the masses until her throat is hoarse and riddled with sores. There is no use in taking defensive positions now.
But no matter how much she shouts, the wave never ceases. Knights and Astroligians and all manner of aides flash by in an indistinguishable blur of havoc. The shriek is getting louder, more demented, as if it is echoing the growing frenzy amongst the people.
Finally, after an eternity of strenuous haste, the two burst out into the open deck. A cloud of crackling energy appears before them - levitating high in the air and shadowing the Alexandria in a darkened shadow - while unstable bolts gleam throughout the air, leaving behind quivering streaks of violet and purple to dye the world around them.
The storm is expanding by the second, greedily sucking in the surrounding Creation to nourish its bottomless gluttony. All it takes is a single glance for Lorelai to foresee a future of ruin, but there is nothing they can do to stop it now.
“Damn it all!” Celia shouts. “The barrier won’t be able to stop that thing. Come on, think… think…” But no answer leaves her lips. She only pounds on the floor in frustration. “I-I can’t. I can’t find a way out of this.”
No. Not all is hopeless. If we cannot halt the coming outburst, then all that is left is to weaken it.
“Celia, I leave the crew to you,” she commands, unsheathing the twin blades and anchoring herself in place. “Run downstairs and ensure the Comet’s safety. I shall serve as our shield.”
“W-What? Lorelai, you can’t—”
“There is naught else to do. If I don’t make my stand here, then we will all perish.”
It is a leader’s duty to serve at the forefront. And it is her responsibility to bring back home as many sons and daughters of Polus as she can.
“…Fine,” Celia says with a frustrated cry. “But I’m going to come back for you. Just make sure you’re not a puddle of flesh when I do.”
“I can manage that much at least.”
With a final, nervous glance back, she parts ways with Lorelai and disappears into the rumbling fortress.
The cloud is getting stronger. The air is growing heavy. The maelstrom above is nearing its completion - sparks threatening to reduce everything around it into rubble - and soon, the light begins to distort as the energy coalesces into a singular, condensed ray.
“Pray forgive me, Solga, but I shall need call upon every droplet of your strength.”
Lorelai thrust the golden blade up high and silences the thumping of her heart until the world around her is completely frozen, still as death.
A second passes. Months. Years. Aeons. Time spins into an infinite, revolving cycle, until everything is consumed by infinity.
Then, within the boundless darkness, a breath. An inhale. And suddenly, the world is filled with color once more, glittering sparkles of the light’s emissary descending from the celestial heavens and swirling around the tip of the Solga. A new flame is born. A wildfire of conflagration.
“O’ bountiful mother Cosmos, progenitor of all that is beloved, lend unto thine holy blade inferno unending, and illuminate the path to the starlit sky above.”
The forces of Creation have answered her call, and with a final grit of her teeth, Lorelai expels the roaring blaze into the air.
The fire spreads, flickering across the darkened sky until it takes the form of a miniature sun. All-encasing. All-enveloping. The sun’s radiance bathes the fortress in its golden bulwark and defiantly roots firm as the violet ray reaches its singularity.
A boom ripples across the air, an ear-piercing howl. The end arrives at last, unleashing a deafening beam of obliteration onto every crack and crevice of the Alexandria. It shreds at the struggling barrier, feasting upon the woeful dregs of light stripped away from their whole, but the sun’s majesty remains unbending. The fortress remains unharmed, yet Lorelai is not given so fortunate a fate.
Her every moment is spent in excruciating, unbearable agony, body crushed under the raw force of the ray as blood spews out from her red-stained eyes with a vile squelch.
She wants to scream. She cannot scream. She wants to claw at her throat. She cannot move her body. She wants to cry. No tears are left.
The pain persists, until it all stops at once. And the world becomes silent once more save for the perilous groans of the fortress’s limbs.
Lorelai’s invocation prevents the ray from harming her people sheltered within, but it does not stop the overbearing pressure from whittling down the exterior.
A loud snap. A faint tremor. The legs give way, and the Alexandria comes tumbling down—crashing onto the earth with a resounding grumble and turning the forest below into a barren waste as a plume of dirt rises up high and drenches the now-ruined fortress in a layer of muck.
She has survived. Barely, yes. But she has survived nonetheless.
H-Hahah, I’ve kept my promise, Celia.
The danger is still not over yet. Get up. I have to get up.
Lorelai attempts to stand up - ears deaf with a constant, buzzing ring - but her legs fail her and she crumbles pathetically onto her knees. Her strength is fading. Her mind is slowing.
With a cry, her hands dig into the cold steel and she attempts to claw her way forward. It doesn’t last for long. Her arms give out as well, and soon, a veil of dust begins to shroud her struggling body—stinging her eyes and blinding the view ahead until everything is but a muddled smudge.
She tries to fight the drowsiness, to do everything she can to stay awake, but it is no use. There can be no victory before the inevitable.
Eventually, everything goes dark.
