Cataclysm War | Chapter 98: A Complicated Future (First Draft) (Patreon)

Friday, August 12, 4 S.E.

Yarilla panted as she stepped back from the battle, falling into the ranks of the Truthguard and Heartwardens as they locked their shields around her, and the Maidenguard stepped up to aid them, spears at the ready to meet the inevitable counter-charge. The battle for the wall was stalemated, with the reinforcements from the Terran army below pouring in, and the forces of the Starhold continuing to surge up the ladders.

There was no easy way to break the deadlock, and the revelation of the waiting human force had made breaching the gate a net null objective. Their only hope was to take the wall through superior force and work their way down methodically. Splitting their forces at that juncture was too great a risk, and that was to say nothing of the fact that another Ascendant had been cast down by the radiant Venerate above them, smote upon the battlements in charred ruin by the titanic Haelfar’s judgment.

Things were going from bad to worse, and Yarilla could only pray to Nocturne that the Moonrise Gate fell quickly, or that their erstwhile Terran allies triumphed at the Prosperity Gate. If either of those things happened, things would shift rapidly into the better for the Starhold, but until then, all they could do was wait and endure. Her eyes turned to the Heartwarden Officer, and she spoke hurriedly.

“[How long can your lines hold?]” she asked bluntly, voice faintly breathless from exertion. She’d gained two levels from the constant fighting, but it wasn’t enough to outstrip how fast she was expending her Endurance.

“[Long enough, Night Sister,]” the man said honestly, while glancing to their right toward the distant specter of the Moonrise Quarter, over a mile away. “[Long enough, but that is only a presumption. We need Nocturne’s intervention if we are to survive this.]”

Yarilla grunted at that and tried not to think of the irony.

‘Blade of Nocturne’ was her title, as with all those in her Society, but it was painfully mocking in that instance.

There were no miracles lurking in her Core or swords, no matter how much she wished for them.

“[Shields up!]” roared one of the front-line Heartwardens, followed by the Maidenguard stepping forward as the Terrans charged, and thrusting their warspears through the shieldwall, drawing screams from their foes as their weapons punched through armor and flesh, before snapping backward as the Terran charge crashed into their armored resistance. “[Shields down!]”

Yarilla grimaced against the screaming and shook her head.

It was one thing to raid and erase resistance, but this attack was nothing like the previous ones. Slaying the residents of the City was a necessity, not a desire. So many of them would have made fine additions to the Starhold if properly nurtured. Conquering the Haelfenn settlement had been their goal; potentially taking back the same Haelfenn to amalgamate into subordinate citizens for the Starhold to fuel their conquest and power. The Svartfenn were ruthless, she accepted that, but they were not mindless killers.

This amount of death was just wasteful.

“[I’ll see what I can do about breaking their lines,]” Yarilla said finally, her voice weary to her own ears. “[Perhaps if we can disturb their ranks enough, we’ll break their morale and—]”

Her words cut off as a sudden chime blazed through the air, and every person present—attacker and defender both—paused as a System notification appeared before their eyes.

SYSTEM MESSAGE

Matriarch Yvrain, on behalf of the [Starhold of Talrinar], has surrendered to King Leonidas Pendragon of the [Kingdom of Avalon]!

Surrender Condition: Parlay and Terms

Surrender Reason: King Leonidas Pendragon is the Terran Cataclysm (U)

All forces of the [Starhold of Talrinar] will now be marked as Renegades if they fail to heed the surrender!

Yarilla stared at the alert in silence, and then blinked as her mind tried to process what she was reading, staring at the text and then slowly turning her gaze toward the Moonrise Gate. She could feel the mix of shock and disbelief rippling through her people, and her eyes tried, in futility, to discern what was happening in the distance, squinting against the glare of the morning sun.

Almost as if in answer, a sudden presence flew into view, flanked by the glowing figure of a Haelfar woman in dark silver and crimson warplate, and—

“[Matriarch Yvrain?]” she asked out loud, disbelief in her voice.

Before anyone could do more than stare at the new arrival, still stunned from the System message, the hovering figure—a young Terran man with wings of violet-veined scarlet—spoke in a thunderous voice.

“Forces of the Starhold!” he called, his voice washing over them as something within the energy of his wings chilled Yarilla’s blood. “I am King Leonidas Achilles Romulus Altera Pendragon, Monarch and System-avowed [Sovereign] of the [Kingdom of Avalon]! By the decree of your Matriarch, you are called to surrender to my authority and cease all hostilities! I give you the proof of my claim, that none may deny the System’s truth!”

His right hand raised, and scarlet lightning curled around the dark blade in his hand, creating a booming echo of thunder in the cloudless sky above. Yarilla wasn’t the only one who flinched as she stared at him, and her hands subtly shook where they still held her shortswords. Her Core was screaming at her as instincts as old as her species recoiled from that power that curled around his arm.

Before she could do more than draw in a ragged breath, a new alert appeared in her vision.

SYSTEM MESSAGE

Leonidas Achilles Romulus Altera Pendragon, King of the [Kingdom of Avalon], wishes to share part of his [Profile] with you.

Do you wish to accept?

[Y] | [N]

Yarilla and the other Svartfenn around her stared at the alert as it appeared for all of them, notable by the way their eyes stared down at empty space, and, like her kin were no doubt doing in turn, she silently reached up to tap a shaking finger to the [Y] button. The moment she did, a new screen appeared, and Yarilla felt her eyes moisten in a mix of terror and adulation both as she read what replaced the alert.

PARTIAL PROFILE

Name: Leonidas Achilles Romulus Altera Pendragon

Age: 25

Race: Terran

Sex: Male

Core Name: [Cataclysm Core]

Ambition: [Sovereign]

Trait: Terran Cataclysm (U)

Yarilla’s swords fell from her hands as she read the words, and she slowly turned to stare up at the winged Terran, her eyes tracing over him with a reverence that she hated, a fear that she despised, and a hope that she reviled. A Cataclysm. They had come to the City expecting to find him a prisoner, and instead, they’d found him a King. Her lips parted into a mirthless laugh as shock replaced all else, and Yarilla fell to her knees, as hundreds of her people did the same.

Not just a Cataclysm, but a System-ordained [Sovereign].

Truthguard were prostrating themselves, slamming their heads into the manastone with wailing pleas for mercy, while Maidenguard wept in mixed terror and joy, and Heartwardens fell into kneeling signs of fealty, their bodies shaking in terror at what he was—what he represented. It was impossible to explain to anyone not of Talrinar, impossible to truly demarcate the gravity of his existence to her people, the indelible scar that the existence he was had left on the psychology of her species.

It went beyond faith. Beyond doctrine. Beyond belief.

Their Cores recognized that energy with genetic trauma.

Svartfenn threw down their weapons in the hundreds, as voices pleaded for mercy and begged to be spared. Theirs was a civilization that had bowed to no one, surrendered to no force, and fought against the monsters of the Nightlands unbowed for generations. Some were bolder, some brandished their spears, only to be set upon by their fellows, cast down under the weight of bodies as madness rolled through the Svartfenn, and shouting officers were pulled down by the weight of the masses.

How could they fight this?

How could they set themselves against an apocalypse made manifest?

Yarilla felt hot tears on her cheeks and lowered herself, hating herself for her terror, to the manastone, her body trembling in existential dread as she maintained eye contact with the boyish Armageddon, and observed the golden Venerate drifting down to his side, setting a hand warmly on his shoulder.

They know, she realized in shock, her laugh half-mad when it came between sobs. Nocturne preserve us, they know! These Haelfenn have been in His presence all this time, and they never once felt afraid! Madness! They’re all utterly mad!

“You will take up your arms,” the Cataclysm declared, slicing through her thoughts with a voice that seemed to eviscerate her down to her Core. “You will collect your dead and make camp one mile distant from the City, under the eyes of my Army. See to your funereal rites, and send the souls of your Fallen to Nocturne’s embrace,” the King commanded, his voice like electrified steel. “In two days, I will meet with your Matriarch and chosen representatives to settle the terms of your surrender.”

The Cataclysm narrowed his eyes, and Yarilla felt her heart spike in her chest.

His eyes were blue, and as cold as the icy plains of the Evernight’s north.

How can Death Incarnate have such beautiful eyes?

“This is my final mercy, Children of Talrinar,” the Cataclysm said with terrible certainty. “If a single one of your number violates the peace, I will wipe your people from the surface of Terra.”

Yarilla felt her heart still in her chest, and she finally pressed her forehead fully to the manastone, shoulders trembling as she raged against her own fear, and the tears flowed freely.

O Nocturne, she prayed silently, Deliver us from this Damnation.

*

Leonidas alighted in front of the palace, tiredly ten minutes later, into the cordon of the Royal Guard surrounding the area, smiling at his wife as Aylar strode out to meet him, accompanied by her own Royal Guard detachment and his parents. He’d asked for them to be kept safe, and apparently, they’d stayed put as he’d requested. Xarina, Synthra, Bardulf, Parnym, Kairi, Uriel, and Ceruviel were with him as he waited—standing in silence as the Queen advanced and threw herself into his arms, kissing him with fierce abandon and gripping his sweat-slicked black hair in her fists as their bodies melded together, separated only by the warplate they both wore.

Leonidas kissed her back and inhaled her scent when they parted, his hands bracing her pale cheeks while his wife smiled up at him fiercely.

“We won,” she said simply, her blue eyes ablaze with pride. “We won, Leonidas.”

He stared at her for a long moment after she spoke, and then smiled, the tension bleeding out of him.

“Aylar,” he said to her simply, too tired for anything else, “I love you.”

The Swordmaiden stared at him for a long moment, and then crashed against him, burying her head into his chest as she laughed at his words.

“I love you, too, you fool,” she said warmly, gripping him hard enough that his armor creaked, and drawing an amused chuckle from the Venerates while Synthra smiled quietly and Kairi nodded in satisfaction, eyeing Parnym, who appeared as uncertain as ever.

“What happens now?” Synthra finally asked, approaching them uncertainly. “I don’t really understand what happened.”

“We won, Synthra,” Leonidas said in answer, separating from Aylar, who kept an arm firmly around his waist as she flushed in happiness. “All that matters is that we won,” he said to her, his gaze drifting toward the city. “It cost us too much, but we held—and I think we may have gained a new asset in the act.”

“And more besides,” Ceruviel said in a tone that was not entirely pleased, leaning on her greatsword tiredly. “Your identity has been exposed to the entire City, Your Majesty. There’s no putting this Djinn back in the flask. You will have to deal with the revelations of what you are permeating across Avalon, and every other settlement besides—especially those that want the reward on your head.”

“We’ll deal with them,” Kairi said firmly, folding her arms over her chest. “No matter what happens. They can come for him. We’ll kick their shit in and send them packing.” His sister turned to her parents afterward, and then, after a moment, added a little more awkwardly: “All of us. As a family.”

Reginald and Maryanne smiled at her words, and Leonidas turned to his parents as they turned to him.

“Well, son, you did it,” Reginald said, watching him with quiet pride. “Did your grandfather—”

“He’s alive, Dad,” Leonidas said with a nod, idly reaching out to take Synthra in his left arm, and pull her against him with a small yelp and performative grumble from the Sorceress, though she didn’t vocally object. He felt her arm snaked around him, and linked hands with Aylar, who grinned at her around Leonidas.

“I sent him back to Texas,” Leonidas continued, peering up at the Palace. “That, and other things, we’ll need to talk about. I’ve got some System alerts and level-ups to sort through, as well. I’m almost at Level 30 at this point.”

Alarm spiked through his companions, and Leonidas smiled wryly.

“Don’t worry,” he said bracingly as he glanced around at them. “I’m going to hold off on hitting it if I can. I need to figure out how we’re going to handle the Tribulation first. We may need to wait for some more Ascendants to arrive in Dawnhaven. I think we can manage the third Tribulation with some more force, but one thing’s for sure, Avalon needs to grow its power.”

“That is wise,” Uriel said in agreement, while turning to Ceruviel. “The Duchess and I need to rest, as well,” he said, before returning his gaze to Leonidas. “You have no objections, Your Majesty?”

Leonidas shook his head, and Uriel bowed his in turn.

“Aetherwine to celebrate?” the Duke asked Ceruviel, who grinned at him slyly.

“Always, nightlight. Lead the way.”

The Dawn-Lord nodded again, and with mirrored bows, the two Venerates took to the skies, soaring away without another word as Leonidas turned back to the remainder.

“So what are you going to do now?” Maryanne asked, looking curiously at Xarina, before refocusing on Leonidas.

“Now?” he asked wearily. “I’m going to have a damn shower and spend some time with my wife. After that, we’re going to sit down with Xarina—” he turned to the Svartfar, and the rest of them looked at her as well “—and she’s going to tell us everything about the Starhold. When those negotiations come, I intend to make the most of them. I have the Svartfenn in my grip now, and I don’t plan on letting them go. If the only way for all of us to be safe is to be too powerful to attack, I’ll make that happen.”

Xarina grimaced at his words but didn’t object, folding her arms and refusing to meet anyone’s eyes as she stared at the manastone beneath their feet, as Leonidas turned back to Aylar.

“For now, though,” he said, squeezing his wife’s waist, “I’m going to go rest. We’ll handle the rest tomorrow.”

Synthra twitched in his arm, and Leonidas glanced at her.

“You’re coming, too,” he said to the redhead.

“What?” Synthra asked suspiciously and warily both. “Why?”

“Because,” Leonidas said wryly, “we’ve got a future to discuss, Synthra.”

Together, the nine of them turned toward the Palace and walked toward it, surrounded by the Royal Guard.

Well, Leonidas thought as he walked, I’m the idiot who agreed to be King.

There was no going back now.