The Cradle

"You guys alright back there?" the pilot asks, "Things seemed a little, uh, wild just now."

Naiberg wheezes in exhaustion, the stress and injuries getting to him, "Magic, pilot. We were just doing magic. Pay it no mind. Keep following the beacon, it will lead us to our destination."

The Shaman hurriedly directs the technicians to clean up the blood as best as they can and whispers to Naiberg, "How are we going to return to base? The rift breaker is completely broken."

Naiberg frowns and admonishes his colleague, "You heard mother as well right? She will guide us back, just like she is guiding us now. Or are you afraid to be the one to make the next sacrifice?"

The Shaman purses his lips and retreats to the rear of the plane, sinking into contemplation while Naiberg shuts his eyes and continues, "You and I are the only mages on this plane and I don't think I'll survive a repeat performance. There is no one else who can do it Bobby. You must be prepared."

Bobby nods and grunts in assent from his corner of the plane. Naiberg sighs and goes back to scanning the monitors before him. Bobby might be a problem later, but he will eventually have to come round. As mother said, only magic can clear a path through the fog. If Bobby doesn't want to do the needful, then none of them were leaving this place, plain and simple.

From the camera feed being streamed on to the monitors, it looks like the entire team would not be able to stay here for long anyway. With the bird's eye view provided to him, all Naiberg sees is a blasted city dotted with lines of ruined skyscrapers broken up with massive craters torn into the ground. What's left of the silent roads are laid out in a neat grid pattern, with sharp right angles dividing the silent metropolis into blocks. At the major intersections of the metropolis are the second big attraction of this place, the towers of bone, piled as high as the skyscrapers themselves.

"You seeing this? Who in the world does something like this?" the pilot asks as the plane continues is trek towards their destination.

Bobby rouses himself and replies, "Its a message. Whomever killed these people wanted everyone else to know they did it. Like how the Romans and Mongols would massacre civilians to make a point."

"Shit." the pilot grumbles, "Is that 'whomever' still around? I don't want to step on their toes."

Naiberg looks up from his screen and answers, "I doubt it. Look carefully pilot. The bone towers are crumbling to dust. No birds, no grass or trees. There's nothing alive here. We are looking at the end state of a long forgotten war."

"This isn't a caveman village Professor." Bobby replies dourly, "I doubt medieval peasants could build skyscrapers either. There's something very wrong here."

"Yeah. You see that building in the distance?" the pilot asks while pointing to a large, low building with a ancient looking concrete tower standing nearby, "That's an airport, I'm sure of it. The runways have eroded away, but the air traffic control tower is still standing."

"Everything does look more modern than what we have at home," Naiberg concedes reluctantly, "except that all the buildings are clearly rotting away because of age and neglect."

"Damn. Tell me straight Prof," the pilot exclaims, "did we travel through the rift into the future?"

"No?" Naiberg says bemusedly, "Mother told me nothing about that."

"Mother?" the pilot repeats dumbly.

Bobby pipes up, "Mother is mother. You'll understand later. Anyway, we have bigger problems. Like the fact that this place can't support life at all. Humanity cannot flee here from the war."

Naiberg smiles gently, "Bobby, we made it through the rift for a reason. You said it yourself just now. Salvation is here. Just because the original plan is no longer on the table doesn't mean that all hope is gone."

"Mother will provide, is that what you're saying?" Bobby asks with his arms folded, pacing nervously.

Naiberg nods, "We ride the red thread of destiny, Shaman. When I made the sacrifice, I saw the red thread leading us to a rich reward, something that will save us all. You saw it too didn't you?"

Bobby licks his lips and looks away before saying, "Yeah. I saw it too. Mother promised me a great power, but I would need to work for it."

Naiberg laughs, realizing what's getting Bobby all worked up. So mother had already told the Shaman what needed to be done and Bobby is balking at it. Its no surprise, Bobby's nerves must have been shaken at what happened on the journey here. He'll come round in time though.

"Like, maybe I don't want that power?" Bobby asks in a soft voice, "We could try making do without it?"

Naiberg makes a soft reprimand upon hearing this, "Can we leave this place without your power Bobby?"

Bobby dully shakes his head and looks down.

'We cannot be afraid of making sacrifices." Naiberg reassures the Shaman as firmly as possible.

...

The plane descends smoothly, servos whining as the landing gear engages. The plane hits the dusty ground hard, bouncing alarmingly as it skids across the cracked, parched earth.

"Hold on!" the pilot shouts as the brakes clamp hard on to the wheels, the momentum causing the plane's passengers to pitch forwards. The plane slowly begins to grind to a controllable speed and the pilot taxis it to a patch of decaying asphalt.

"The beacon is coming from the crater in the distance." the pilot says while shutting down the engines, "We'll need to walk from here."

"Why can't you take us closer?" Naiberg grumbles as he regains his balance.

The pilot gets up from his seat and opens the plane's cargo doors as he answers, "Too much loose dirt there. Damages the turbofans."

Bobby signals the entire group and addresses them, "Pilot, stay here with the plane. Everyone else form up and lets get going."

"Naw!" the pilot protests, "Could I come with you guys? Its scary out here by yourself. Come on prof, be a pal."

Naiberg nods silently at the Shaman who shrugs indifferently in return. A bright blue sky wanders above the group as they file out of the plane. Its really a good day for a brisk walk.

"Something feels off about this place." Naiberg muses as the line shuffles forward towards the crater.

"Its the silence." Bobby explains, "No machinery and no wildlife. This place is really completely dead."

The group reaches the lip of the crater and survey the source of the beacon. Right at the center of the crater is an absolutely massive chunk of metal painted in peeling gray. A massive hole covers the entirety of one end of the wreckage as if it had been crudely chopped away from a larger whole. Naiberg squints to examine the faded words stenciled into the wreckage's side.

"Salvation. This is it." Naiberg says, "But what are we looking at? Where is the rest of it?"

"Not a clue." Bobby answers, "We just have to keep moving to get our answers."

"I don't like this." the pilot murmurs as the group slides down into the crater, "We shouldn't be here."

"Why is that?" Bobby responds.

"The crater." the pilot shifts about nervously, "Someone wanted to destroy this thing really badly. Remember what I said about treading on toes?"

"Have faith." Naiberg says plainly as they approach the massive breach in the wreckage. The darkness within looms ominously before the group, daring them to proceed further.

Naiberg steps up without a second thought and plunges into the void with his team reluctantly following him. The silence within the wreckage is overwhelming, the only sound being the clang of footsteps against metal. The darkness is absolute and panic creeps up on the team as their sight fails. Trespassers. They have trespassed in a place where they have no business. They must leave now, before their punishment becomes due. A low moan of distress escapes from the pilot's lips. The footsteps of the technicians waver for the barest moment.

"Mother has shown me the way. Follow my voice." Naiberg says with inhuman calm. The procession continues fumbling forward in the darkness, the blind leading the blind.

And finally, they hear a noise. A hissing sound of a door sliding open. As the party troops forward, they see a dim light just ahead of them.

"No." Bobby whines, "It can't be. I don't want to. I don't want to."

Naiberg murmurs somberly, his voice echoing, "Be strong. We all have our parts to play."

The hum of ancient machinery starting up and the crackle of long forgotten circuits coming back to life. The sudden noise resounds like thunder and light floods the room. Banks of computers. Surgical instruments scattered all over the place. And in the center of the room itself is a glass cylinder mounted into the ceiling, holding an yellowed human skeleton bearing the horns of a goat and the petrified wings of an angel.

Naiberg falls to his knees in prostration while Bobby collapses, tears streaming down his face.

"Mother, your children are here." Naiberg declares proudly.

...

"So you have loaded everything then?" Naiberg asks the pilot while inspecting the cargo that had been loaded into the plane.

"Yeah." the pilot replies, rubbing the back of his head, "The technicians grabbed all the doohickeys in the room you told them to grab. Look I don't know whether I should be saying this but ..."

Naiberg graciously gestures at the pilot to continue. The pilot swallows hard and presses on, "That skeleton in the wreckage is no mother mine prof, no matter what you say. And Bobby has been spacing out ever since we got back to the plane. He summoned those snake tats of his and has spent the last few hours coiled up with them in a corner."

"And?" Naiberg queries with a raised eyebrow.

"And the whole thing's a mistake is what I'm saying!" the pilot snaps, "We'll regret coming here, mark my words prof."

Naiberg rolls his eyes, dismissing the protest, "Just get ready to take off. Leave the Shaman to me."

Another small mind, unable to comprehend mother's generosity, Naiberg curses inwardly. And now there's the matter of Bobby, who's too much of a coward to do what must be done. Naiberg stalks towards the Shaman, who lies on the floor crying quietly to himself.

"Bobby." Naiberg says, punctuating his statement with a hard kick into the Shaman's side, "I made my sacrifice. Its time for you to do your part."

Bobby sits up, his eyes red from the crying. He nods silently and the snakes coiled around his body scatter throughout the plane. At Naiberg's signal, the plane roars to life and takes off, gliding across the uncaring sky.

....

"Bobby." Naiberg orders, "Its time. We have almost reached the rift." Bobby stares forward blankly, completely unresponsive.

"Didn't you hear me? I said -agh!" Naiberg's demand gets stuck in his throat as a sharp pain erupts at his ankle. A sinister numbness spreads throughout Naiberg's body as he hits the floor, completely paralyzed. The Shaman's tattoo snake slithers off Naiberg's leg to coil around its master's body once more. Throughout the plane the technicians collapse as well, stricken by Bobby's sudden attack. The pilot lies slumped in his chair, a tattoo snake wrapped snugly around his neck.

Bobby turns his dead eyes to regard Naiberg and speaks, "The goddess told me that we had attracted the attention of her enemy, the Tyrant. She could only safely send one of us back home. She chose me."

Naiberg's mouth works desperately to scream, but no sound comes out. His face morphs into a look of utter sorrow, knowing that he had been betrayed by the one he loves the most. Betrayed by his own mother.

Bobby continues flatly, "All of you will find repose within me. That is the compensation provided to you by the goddess. I will bear your sins for you until my dying day."

Naiberg struggles, but his core is weak from the previous sacrifice. There is no escaping this destiny. The destiny he embraced on his own accord. Bobby speaks one final time.

"Goodbye."

.....

Bobby. The man who calls himself Archmage Naiberg stares at the name sewn on the uniform of the ORPO rifleman that lies dying on the ground. Naiberg shuts his eyes and lets the memory wash over him. At the end of the day, it wan't his choice right? This outcome was what everyone had wanted.

"Archmage." the SOPO officer accompanying him says, "We must retreat, ORPO has disrupted the ritual and they are storming the building as we speak. Representative Michael is sending troops to pick us up."

"Michael." Naiberg says, "I'm finished, aren't I?" The SOPO officer is diplomatically silent at this query. There's nothing that needs to be said.

"No Perfecta. No results." Naiberg laughs harshly, "And a massive crisis caused by me to boot. Be honest. I'm not long for this world right?"

The SOPO guard answers cautiously, "Perhaps the Representative may show clemency. You have served the goddess for a long time after all."

"The goddess." Naiberg muses, "I've always had second thoughts about her you know. Well, better get on with the dying I suppose."

A rubbery arm suddenly shoots out from Naiberg's back and slams the guard to the floor. Naiberg waives both his hands about in a flippant manner as he sing songs, "Blah, blah, child of the goddess, find peace within me, sins, etc."

The guard barely has time to scream before his soul is wrenched from his body. As the guard's body thrashes futilely on the floor, Naiberg's features begin to shift, his massive gut shrinking and his body bulking up with muscle. In no time at all, he is a spitting image of the guard that he just consumed. As the transformation completes, the rubbery arm dissolves into acidic sludge, melting away the original.

"There we go." the man who calls himself Theo says, "I wouldn't ordinarily be bold enough to do this, but things are going to reach a tipping point soon."

"It might be time to finally strike out on my own."