An Era of Darkness

Gaia-Seven.

The planet, long gone its prosperity of the past, is now a land of legends, tales, songs of long-forgotten bards, whispers of ancestors dwelling in the winds, lost hopes engraved within holo-tapes now buried deep down the earth, and blood-handed savages of techs and steel.

On the barren, southwestern province of the Main Continent spans a web of old roads, which have existed since the ages of the ancients. From the heavens up high wrapping the very soil of Gaia-Seven, it seems like a cluster of veins that carry both blood and poison into the very heart of the planet. Outcasts banished from manors, glory-seeking companies of knights and men-at-arms, tech-warriors covered in fresh blood, bands of highway robbers, and even, the chimeric beasts said among scribes to be the vile fruits of long lost technologies, keep daring to tread the ancient roads of unrevealed horror.

Still, one with swollen, or rather reluctant, heart needs to take on the role of sentries watching these treacherous roads that might become vessels of harm to his or her manor; Kolgath, now on his shift, was still carrying out the duties as a sentry in the watchtower, looking over the northern road already swallowed by endless darkness.

Touching a plasma-bolt holstered on the right leg, Kolgath was staring at the pitch-black scenery. With his tiredness pressing onto his shoulders, he felt coldness of a metallic grip of his war-gear whenever he lightly put his hand on it, wondering just how many rigid hands of his fathers and ancestors it would have endured so far. At the same time, another thought crossed Kolgath's mind; among the thick darkness lay ahead of him, only the incandescent flame this plasma-bolt spits be a ray of light that would guide him back home.

He then once again began to stare at the road he was supposed to watch for the rest of the night. Alternating his attention back and forth between the passage and the darkness ahead, he couldn't just put his hand away from the grip of his firearm, a heirloom of the family. 'Alas, may the ancestors and 3-Divines watch over this wretched watcher', so he prayed. A short moment afterwards, he began to check his plasma-bolt. A power-source, or a battery, so as to speak in tongues of tech-scribes, located on top of its metallic frame seems to be intact. After taking off the power-source and locking up the trigger, he then moved onto the barrel; the way plasma goes out was clear enough. Though condition of the war-gear seems to guarantee him of his safety, he couldn't still wipe away clean the bad feelings about tonight's shift.

He heard the howling of wind; was that just a wind blowing, for the Divines' sake? He heard it again, becoming more vicious; were there truly the beasts that scribes and other townsfolks had been talking of, for sure? Ill omens may not sway any warrior armed to the rusted teeth with tech and steel, but Kolgath, despite his being with his ancient plasma-bolt and distant blessings of the ancestors, was not a warrior. He might have served his lord in the war as a foot-soldier, a man-at-arms years ago, but that alone wouldn't give him a courage of tech-warriors nor that of tech-maidens. After all, he didn't like his service in the past even a bit with all the noises out of hand-cannons and that lousy sergeant's reeking mouth.

Then, by the sudden, he started to hear some voices, whispers, murmurs among the winds. These were not the prayers of his ancestors nor holy revelations from the Divines; He sensed faint wickedness out of them. Were the voices laughing at him? Were these vile whispers meant to mock his mortal weakness? He possessed none of the tech-warrior, he thought. He was nothing but a peasant with a tiny piece of tech in his hand, he said to himself. No matter how hard he struggled, he would soon be devoured by the bottomless darkness ahead, one of the voices said.

The omens were slowly, but surely approaching Kolgath's soul as he kept delving into his thoughts. Reaching the narrow end of thoughts, he found his way into horror seeming endless. The more he moved his feet into it, the more distant he felt the hymns of 3-Divines.

'I need strength, but yet I am not worthy.'

He said, with his voice lowered. He needed just a shard of hope, but then, he realized that he had to earn it. Soon he touched, now with some strength in his hand, the iron grip of the war-gear; it felt like as if he was holding a torch. He looked upon the heaven above. There was nothing but one shimmering star hanging up high. It was the message; no, it was the very sign he had been looking for hours. Should he ever shoot a bolt of plasma in the sky above, why, he would even create another star shining for him!

'However, are you certain that 'tis a star you are seeing, not some other illusion of your mind?'

It said. What if the message up in heavens was false? Even though you shot a bolt of plasma aimed at above, if you failed to put another star on the sky, then what else you could do? He was not worthy. He would never be capable of harnessing the courage and the strength of tech-warriors even after the shift. Maybe our wretched Kolgath should have sought refuge in the realms of darkness from the beginning.

'That is right. Why do you despise the shadows so? What if, in the bosom of the lady darkness, exists a peace in silence you have sought all your life?'

This might be true, Kolgath thought for a second, for he found no specific reason to hate the darkness ahead of him just as he had since the childhood. If he simply chose to dwell in the realm of shadows and became one of them, then he no longer had to fear the shadows anymore. It was also true, Kolgath thought again, that he had long sought a moment of calming serenity. He hated his past service, his sergeant and other prior superiors and lords, and nearly everything of his life in the manor; he especially hated all the fuss and noises they made. Though the whole watchtower provided him a silence, it wasn't even close to the very serenity he had been looking for. Only without constant fear and terror would silence eventually become peace.

'Walk away from the post. Walk into the shadows out of where you are standing.' It said.

'Dwell in the place where I belong, like a child reaching out for his parents.' It kept on saying.

'You may not be worthy for anything, but you will find your worth within me.' So it said.

Even, at this point, his plasma-bolt seemed distant from his reach, despite its being holstered on his own limb. The hopes with pairs of legs were running away from him; he could see it. 'Saints and angels of 3-Divines, heed my prayers!', he said quietly. However, he couldn't help but be greeted with hallow ignorance.

'I insist you; come to me and rejoice, for here lives the lady serenity that adores her beloved one.'

In spite of the persistent pressures, the only two barricades that would bar him from going outside were the steel door on the ground floor of this watchtower and the fear of completely losing his mind. His urges kept on telling him to let go of himself, to lay his burden on someone else worthy, but yet he couldn't do so. It was originated from his own instincts as a living being, that he should maintain a degree of control on himself.

Alas, however, Kolgath was moving his feet downwards along a staircase. Follow the voice and its recommendations, which might grant anyone eternal salvation! So compelling were these, to make him lose his mind like forevermore. The barricade in this physical world, with a form of the steel door now visible in his eyes, now seemed to be corroding. Twists and cracks were springing out of the rusty marks on the door; these might be the very deformations that create something new, so did he think for a moment.

Kolgath moved his feet slowly, but surely, towards a door panel located beside the half-decayed door. Shining, greenish light from the panel, seen at the distance, seemed to restore the door back to its original state. Yet, as soon as the light cured the wounds, other infectious rusts in vicinity spread their touches, making that part of the door corroded once again. Contradictory visions in his mind wouldn't seem to diminish nor disappear at all.

He was now standing in front of the panel. He flicked his fingers back and forth, while hesitating whether or not he should really be touching it with the index finger. 'Lo, 'tis a matter of life or death, or so it seems!', he said to himself. Hesitation continued, so did his state of anxiety. Rusty flowers were blooming on the steel door, seducing Kolgath with cleavages through which calming, vivid hue of the dark was seen. Fingers kept on twitching and even swirling. Torments, no longer!

Finally, visions came to an end. 'Yet, you chose to open the door.' The voice was heard afterwards, with a sudden whoosh of air coming into the watchtower. The door was no longer sealed. Darkness revealed itself from the widely open passage. Both barriers that once stood between Kolgath and the dark were gone away.

He set his feet outside the tower. The door that once sealed the tower tight now seemed alright, free of rust and corrosion. He kept walking into depths of darkness ahead, following the road of damnation he was supposed to watch afar. On his right hand, he was clutching onto his war-gear, and that was the only fact Kolgath was aware of at the time. His feet continued to lead him deeper inside the wilderness.

Coming too much far away from his post, he soon found himself lying on the cold soil. He noticed that he was bleeding, with a hideous wound ran across his chest and a part of his left arm. He should have felt any sort of pain by then, but it just happened so sudden. Fortunately, the right arm holding the plasma-bolt was intact; he aimed the muzzle here and there, looking out for his attacker nearby.

A beast, with a combined shape of hideous chimeras he had seen in paintings, was sitting on top of him, staring at his frozen eyes as if it was examining its victim's soul. Kolgath waited no longer; he shot his firearm at its head. The beast was not vanquished. Only the burnt smudge on its face appeared.

"Behold, your faith and beliefs are now fleeting," Said the beast, gently taking off the plasma-bolt from his grasp.

"And bear the sight of your doom approaching."

It then engulfed the war-gear, crashed it with its jaw and fangs, and swallowed the remaining pieces as whole. He would never hang his own star on the sky with tech-made plasma any longer, he thought. It was both a terrorizing fact, and a sight, indeed, to the wretched watcher that was Kolgath.

His right arm was ripped out of the torso shortly. His armor was then soon torn apart. The beast moved onto dissecting his abdomen, showing off his crimson insides along the procedure.

"Humans seek their hearts when they wish to heed their souls," It said.

"But I, as one among the abominations on the earth, seek their intestines to heed my hunger." So it continued.

His spirit was now fleeting without sound from his earthly body. How fool was he to be swayed by his predator's illusions! He surely didn't have any strength of tech-warriors and tech-maidens; he knew only to lie down flat on the bloodied soil.

"Sleep, now a child of the darkness." The beast said calmly.

"Dream an everlasting dream that is a gift of shadows, though I myself cannot ensure you of its existence." So soothed the beast.

Alas, his body was none but devoured by the monster. His soul was none but eaten alive by the shadows.

The morning sun of Gaia-Seven arose. A group of patrols with sturdy war-gears and poly-mails was dispatched to investigate the scene of butchery. A radioman was making reports to his commander in charge, while the other one standing on guard moaned and said:

"Lo, 'tis the very era of damnation indeed."