*We’ve been crawling forever.* N-85 groaned and rubbed their sore shoulders. Just ahead of them, Theudebald paused, and they both rubbed their elbows, which were raw from hours of crawling. A thick, heavy mist clung to the quickly freezing muck and filth, concealing the vapor of their breath. *The frozen ground is making it a lot easier than last time I was here.* Theudebald shuddered, recalling the stench of the rivers of slime from the obliterated troops. The foul mud had coagulated with their putrid remains, and it had taken far too long for his nose to relinquish the memory.^1 *I’ve witnessed Fomalhaut’s cosmic violence countless times, yet it never grows old. I can feel the warmth being pulled from the air, along with the light.* It was spectacular to witness all perceived phenomena sucked into the dense void, swirling and churning the heavens above them into a frenzy. Now that the landscape was growing darker, stealth was no longer as necessary—so he stood, timing their progress towards the front lines with the roar of the distant enemy missile complex lobbing projectiles toward King Vishnayam’s realm. N-85 silently followed Theudebald, gingerly picking their way over shattered trees, ice-filled craters, and enemy bodies frozen in grotesque contortions. As they crossed the eerie battlefield, their thoughts drifted back to King Vishnayam’s briefing. The king had referred to them, N-85, as an “organic baseline being.” They had no idea what that meant—only that, somehow, because of this, the enemy (led by someone named High Priest Induchemara) would not be able to detect their presence. They had been given a rucksack filled with explosives. Theudebald would escort N-85 as close to the front lines as possible. From there, their objective was to infiltrate unnoticed, place the charges at the base of the enemy’s new missile system—the Doomspire Nexus—and exfiltrate to a safe distance before detonation. The goal was to damage and disable the weapon, giving King Vishnayam and his subjects a reprieve from the missile bombardments through the long winter. “This is as far as I can go,” Theudebald whispered, motioning for N-85 to crouch. “Just make your way toward the noise. It’s the enemy’s heavy tracked vehicles, loading projectiles into the Doomspire Nexus complex.” N-85 didn’t say a word. They gritted their teeth, tightened the rucksack’s straps, and nodded farewell. As they slipped into the unnatural blackness, Theudebald’s parting whisper followed them: “Look out for the hornwilled bats—they can’t see in the light, but they can see in the dark.” ![[asi-iii-destruction.jpg]] As time ticked slowly by, Fomalhaut’s intractable pull drained more sunlight from the sky. Without Theudebald, N-85 wasn’t as bold though and chose to creep slowly while the ever-approaching roar masked their progress. The missiles’ roar was deafening, their engines spewing an ear-splitting cacophony as they fought to free themselves from Fomalhaut’s gravity. The darkness was thick, so much so that N-85 had to feel their way forward with their hands to avoid colliding with unseen obstacles. All the while, the machinery’s noise, barely perceptible at first, grew louder and louder. Intermittently, between the clatter of carts and the occasional roar of another missile launch, came clicks, pops, ticks, and snaps. *What the hell is that noise?* A fresh wave of fear swept over them as they realized the sounds were language. *It’s the language of the demons!* N-85 suppressed the overwhelming desire to vomit and pressed on. *They’re all around me, but King Vishnayam was right—they don’t know I’m here! What happens if I bump into one? I don’t have any weapons to fight them with!* An overpowering sense of dread and regret washed over them. *Why didn’t I just hightail it into the desert when I had the chance?* *Just breathe, dammit! You can do this. You are almost there!* Again, an ear-splitting roar shook the blackness as a salvo of missiles launched. This time, instead of just sound, the landscape lit up for a few moments in streaking fire before the light was devoured by Fomalhaut. *I don’t see any demons. Just a flat plain. Perhaps I should get up and run?* Before reason could stop them, N-85 stood and ran. *The heavy tracked vehicles grow quiet right before another launch. So when I hear them stop, I’ll drop to the ground and wait for the missile to launch.* Just as their lungs began to burn the vehicles lurched to a stop and they dropped to the ground. A deafening roar followed, and the landscape was bathed in grotesque oranges, yellows, and reds as flames belched from the missiles being launched from the Doomspire Nexus. Within moments, the light was sucked into the black hole and darkness reclaimed the world. Scrambling to their feet, they ran pell-mell toward the clanking and hissing of carts. They repeated this leapfrog approach for awhile, running in the dark over the terrain they had scoured for possible threats when the missile’s fire had lit up the wasteland. *Running with this heavy ruck is hard work. I’ll stop at that dead tree and catch my breath.* They made it to the landmark and leaned against the tree. Taking a few deep breaths they thought back to the meeting with King Vishnayam. The king’s tent was luxurious. One table to the side overflowed with food—it smelled like the meal Aiōn had cooked for them. The king stood over a larger table in the center, quietly conversing with several high-ranking officials. They all looked up when they had entered. *I was certain I’d refuse the king’s plan. But when he smiled and embraced me, I knew—somehow—everything would be alright.* “Now look what I’ve gotten myself into,” they seethed under their breath. “I’m alone, cold, and scared shitless. Why did I think this was a good idea?” The ground was cold and lumpy. As they shifted to pry a rock from under their rucksack, they scraped against the tree. It was the only sound in the blackness—the carts had fallen silent. *Fuck!* The thought had barely formed when a horrific screech erupted directly above. Theudebald’s parting warning came rushing back into memory: *Hornwilled Bats—they can see in the dark.* An instant later, one dove from the tree. Its horrible scaly claws seized N-85, and they could feel its slimy, cool skin squeez the breath from their lungs as air rushed past their face. *It’s carrying me into the sky! I can’t breathe—I’m going to pass out!* Futilely they punched and kicked trying to get free. As they felt themselves go limp, they heard another screech and felt a violent mid-air tussle. *It dropped me!* Their relief was short-lived though. I’m free falling but am I being sucked into Fomalhaut? Or plummeting toward the ground? I wonder what death feels like in this realm? After a few terrifying seconds, they landed with a soft thud, surrounded by familiar warmth. “Great Griffin, is that you?” N-85 rolled onto their belly and grabbed a fistful of soft fur. “Indeed, my child,” a soft voice replied. “Take off your ruck and toss it when I tell you.” “Whoa! I didn’t know you could talk.” N-85 obeyed. An instant later, the sky split with thousands of streaks of green, red, orange, and yellow light. “They are shooting at us,” the Great Griffin said matter-of-factly. His calm tone filled N-85 with courage. Standing on its back to toss the ruck more easily, N-85 clutched the soft fur and let out a fearsome battle cry: <ul style="font-style: bold">“AAAAAGGGGHHHHHHHHH!”</ul> The enemy’s anti-air weapons vomited hell-storm bolts, demon-possessed fireflies tearing through the sky. As they sliced blue, orange, green, and yellow through the cold blackness it up, for a brief moment, the battlefield just enough for N-85 to see the Doomspire Nexus. Its largest barrel, towering twice as tall as any tree they’d seen, pointed directly skyward. Enemy troops scurried below, frantically loading another missile for launch. “Now!” the Great Griffin commanded. With a grunt, N-85 hurled the rucksack. For a moment, it seemed it would miss. Then, by some miracle, it struck the rim, bounced high, and fell straight down the barrel. The Great Griffin pulled up with such force that N-85’s legs buckled, collapsing them into its fur. The beast screeched in triumph, but the victory was short-lived. The ruck hit bottom just as the next missile fired. The intense heat inside the barrel prematurely detonated the explosives in the ruck, which caused the missile to explode while it was still in the barrel. The chain reaction ignited a nearby stockpile of missiles. The massive detonation screamed skyward, a flaming mushroom cloud clawing higher before Fomalhaut devoured it, dragging the inferno into a tornado of fire that stretched from the planet’s surface into the gaping black hole. “Faster, faster!” N-85 screamed, horror-stricken by the unholy tempest growing larger and larger behind them. The Great Griffin tucked its wings, desperate for speed. It wasn’t enough. The shock-wave slammed into them, and they tumbled from the sky—a flailing mass of feathers, fur, arms, legs, and screams. ^1 - [[2 - Strategy 🦇]] ### Next Chapter: [[20 - Migration 🌲]] ### Previous Chapter: [[18 - Fomalhaut 🪐]]