Prologue: Hope Is Dead

Three Powers. Between them, Unity. Oh Unity, where have you gone?
-Anonymous Soldier, circa 1,500 Post Fall of Meridian

E’vin Yaenke had been right. Heaven knew he hated it, but he’d been right. The Assembly had scoffed. The Governor had dismissed him. Outright war was impossible, they’d said. The Talar were neutral, they’d said. Well, now the Talar were here, and death with them.
Above Yaenke, battle raged as the enemy fleet bore down on its ragtag Ethean opponent. One would think the militia of a nation eons old could at least hold its ground. Alas, that was not so. Plasma ripped through the hulls of the remaining Ethean ships like blades through flesh, shredding the cruisers into pieces. Those pieces fell from the sky, a fiery rain that covered the streets in angry orange. Smoke billowed, blocking the city from view, though Yaenke could still see silhouettes collapsing amid the chaos. Inside the city’s inner shield, he couldn’t hear their screams, but he felt them.
He and the Governor’s Guard stood on a landing platform near the center of the city, just inside the protective bubble of energy that shielded the Imperial Palace from attack. It was the last remaining of Iala City’s three major shields; first the planetary shield, and then the city shield, had fallen, allowing the Talar to launch their devastating assault. Now only the palace shield remained, barely wide enough to encompass the landing platform. Ships and carriers sat dormant all over the concrete pad, their pilots killed in the early hours of the conflict. Yaenke did not dare use them to escape. The Talar had created a powerful defensive formation around the exit wormhole. He’d lost dozens of squadrons already trying to penetrate it. They’d have to find some other way out, hide in an obscure area of the system until the Talar relaxed their security. That could take months, years even, but it would have to work. Already Yaenke’s soldiers scrambled about, collecting supplies for whatever lay ahead.
I should leave them, Yaenke realized. As important as the Governor was, his secret was more important.
Yet his feet wouldn’t move. Perhaps it was fear of the Talar armies waiting outside the palace shield. Perhaps it was the enticement of death, for if the Talar found the Governor, Yaenke would certainly be slain.
Perhaps it was just weariness.
Either way, he found himself glancing back at the Governor. An insignificant figure compared to their chaotic surroundings, he was sheathed in a circle of Yaenke’s finest men, yet he still knelt, head in his hands. Coward. Even now that he’d been proven wrong about the Talar, he still wouldn’t do a thing about it. Yaenke had to protect him, though. In times like these, incompetent leadership was better than none.
Though the Talar will rule soon enough. I should leave…
It wouldn’t be hard. His feet remained planted anyway.
“Sir, we’re detecting a group of Talar headed our way.” Yaenke turned to see a soldier, face white, inspecting the sky with a pair of binoculars. His voice quivered as he spoke. “Look.”
Yaenke pulled a scanner from his belt and looked in the same direction. Sure enough, three enemy carriers were swinging around to the unguarded south side of the shield, heading directly for the landing pad.
Leave…
“Torment,” Yaenke swore. He tucked the scanner back on his belt. Could the Talar know the Governor was here? Yaenke had sent a plethora of false transmissions to cover up their escape.
More importantly, did Larsh know Yaenke was here? As far as he knew, no one in Ethea knew his identity, but Larsh would be able to detect it easily. Too easily.
Doesn’t matter. The Talar are coming, and you need to fight.
“Prepare yourselves,” he ordered, drawing his Surgeblade from its sheath. A long, elegant weapon, it had a jewel embedded into the hilt. The jewel glowed with faint blue light, the light of Ever, the First Power. Yaenke carefully avoided touching that jewel. When the time came, he’d harness its power, but right now was not the time.
“We have carriers headed for us,” he continued. “Defend the Governor at all costs.” The palace shield could stop an energy blast, but it wouldn’t stop the cruisers from entering.
His men snapped into action, baring lasertips, blasters, and other weapons. Yaenke counted five more Surgeblades among them. A lot, but not enough, not against a foe like the Talar. Though, they could hijack the enemy cruisers, and escape. Yes, that might work.
The Talar ships were now close enough Yaenke could see them with his naked eye. Twisting above the pad, they descended through the shield, heading straight for the Governor.
You need to leave…
How could they know? He’d covered his tracks as well as he knew how. With a sigh, he pushed his worries away. There was no time for speculation.
His men waited, tense, eyes following the three ships as they landed in an even circle around the group. So they did know. How? Wait… thos! Yaenke wasn’t ready for that.
The carriers remained ominously silent for a good minute, heat billowing from their dying engines. Yaenke tried not to panic. They didn’t have a memory burner. They couldn’t.
And if they do, then maybe he can finally put you out of your misery.
Pneumatics hissed. Yaenke’s men turned in unison as one of the cruiser’s doors slid open, the interior of the ship shrouded by smoke.
“Attack!” Yaenke yelled.
His men obeyed, sending bolts of bright plasma ripping into the smoke. There were no screams in reply, however, just the shriek of metal tearing. Yaenke’s eyes widened as he realized his mistake.
“Hold!”
It was too late. The other two carriers slid open, and Talar soldiers poured out, figures clothed in purple and gray armor, their visors darkened to keep their eyes from view. Catching Yaenke’s men off guard, they unleashed their own volley of attacks. The Ethean guards yelped as bolts of energy slammed into their ranks, dropping more than half of them. Their corpses fell in a flurry of blood and shouts.
Yaenke froze, dazed, fighting off shock. Why did battle still overwhelm him, after all these years? He hesitated a moment, then Reached for his Surgeblade, mentally pulling Ever from its reservoir of power.
Instantly, he felt his senses sharpen. Energy pounded in his head, like adrenaline but only for the mind. The world slowed, and Yaenke’s skin glowed blue.
Then the echoes began to whisper, thoughts of other people, speaking into his own mind. It was mostly incoherent phrases, sometimes even just a single word, but it was enough to put a man on edge even after just a few seconds. That was the drawback to connecting to the First Power — the magic you used took a toll on your mind.
Unfortunately, Yaenke needed that magic. Two armored soldiers rushed toward him, drawing electric pikes from their backs. Desperately, Yaenke swung his Surgeblade, barely parrying their attacks. The thoughts clouded his mind, distracting him, making him slower than he should have been. A blade cut into his arm. He screamed.
“No!”
He ducked around another strike, then, for the first time today, he used Ever, burning the magical fuel the Surge had given him. As he did, the echoes became even stronger, but a cone of force exploded from his hand, throwing the Talar men backward. They clattered to the stones, necks breaking.
Yaenke let his finger slip from the Surge. As he did, the energy, and the echoes, faded. His arm throbbed. Tucking it to his chest, he turned to the rest of the fight.
If half his men had died in the initial volley, they were now down to an eighth of their original number. There were only a dozen left, desperately defending the Governor from the seemingly innumerable Talar. The Governor himself was curled up in a ball, sobbing, his robes soaked in the blood of men who had fallen for his sake. All the other Surgeblade wielders were dead.
You need to leave.
Except there was nowhere to go. He breathed, the shaky breath of a man trying to calm himself in the face of damnation. There was only one thing he could do now. Closing his eyes, he Reached again — not for the Surge this time, but for the memories dancing all around him.
Immediately, the echoes intensified, becoming ten times louder, practically shouting in his ears. They were accompanied by images, flashes of the not-so-distant past. They overwhelmed Yaenke, driving him to his knees.
A Talar slave, one who had never even seen the green of a tree’s leaves, died to a spear through the neck.
An Ethean guard screamed as plasma struck his spine, leaving him paralyzed and bleeding on the ground.
A woman nearby fled, trying not to think of the child she’d left behind, yet knowing the infant’s cries would give her away.
Memories. Terrible, horrible memories.
It took all his strength to stand, but he stood. His eyes flashed open, and he burned the memories, using them to flood his body with Ever. His mind raced, ablaze with energy. Though the echoes did not fall silent, he regained his composure, pushing them toward the back of his consciousness.
He grinned.
He knelt, then used the Ever to push heat into the air, lighting it ablaze. The Talar yelped, some pulling shield generators from their hips, but Yaenke pushed harder, and the shields collapsed. Flames pulsed in a ring around the remaining Etheans, ripping apart the ground, melting the concrete. Within moments, the Talar were unconscious, fleeing, or dead. Yaenke exhaled. His glow had mostly faded, and exhaustion was setting in. He let go of the Ever, and the echoes ceased.
He shouldn’t have enjoyed that. But oh, it was thrilling anyway.
His soldiers stared in awe, some dropping their weapons. The Governor lifted his head, eyes bulging, seemingly more terrified of Yaenke than he was of the Talar that had nearly assassinated him mere moments ago.
“Okron,” one guard whispered. “You’re a memory burner?”
“Yes,” Yaenke said. He didn’t elaborate. He needed to leave, to protect the secret. With his men, if he could, but if not…
Something moved. Yaenke whirled, squinting. Then his eyes widened.
A lone woman stood in the smoke, eyes closed. Dressed in thin purple robes, she appeared unarmed. Her clothes clearly bore the Bladed Wheel, symbol of the Talar. She smiled, and then her eyes flashed open. They burned red.
“E’vin Yaenke,” she said. “So nice to finally meet you.”
Yaenke tightened his grip on his Surgeblade, touching the jewel and connecting to the First Power once more. “Who are you?” He knew the answer before she even spoke.
“I am Jadis Larsh.” Jadis Larsh, leader of the Talar. And a far more powerful mage than Yaenke would ever be.
Unless…
But no. He’d never use the secret again. Not even to save his own life.
Larsh wasted no time. Snarling, she raised her hand and snapped her fingers. Red flared, and dozens of tendrils of hissing crimson, hissing Void, flew from it, lashing around the necks of Yaenke’s men, then snapping them in a symphony of crunches. They collapsed in unison, twitching as they suffocated.
“No!” Ignoring his training, ignoring any rationality, Yaenke ran toward Larsh, pulling his blade back to decapitate her. Her grin widened, and she allowed him to approach, then twisted away, throwing Yaenke off balance. She snatched his arm, then yanked the sword from his grip with a clever turn of her wrist. Before he could react, she lashed out with another tendril, which slammed into Yaenke’s chest and threw him several feet backward.
“Aezer said you were wise. He also said you were an excellent warrior. Apparently, he was wrong on both counts.”
“Voidling,” Yaenke cursed. He closed his eyes, Reaching for more Ever, then threw his hand forward, letting the First Power consume him as he summoned a massive bolt of energy that streaked toward Larsh. However, through the haze of pain and memories, his shot was askew, and Larsh easily dodged the blast. She snapped her fingers, and a tendril of red light smashed into Yaenke’s legs, knocking him to the ground head-first. His mind swirled, exhausted from burning Ever. Blood dripped down his cheek.
The secret. Have to… make sure…
Larsh stalked toward him, twisting the stolen Surgeblade in her hand. She stepped on his back as he tried to rise, then pressed the tip of the blade against his neck.
“What do you want?” Yaenke gasped. His vision was blurring. He could only pray she didn’t know. That she’d kill him, rather than find out what he knew.
“You know what I want,” Larsh said
Yaenke laughed. “And you know I will not give it to you.”
“Oh, you will.”
“And what makes you think you’ll succeed where others have failed?”
Larsh shrugged. “Perhaps I will. Perhaps I won’t. Either way, you have already lost.”
Yaenke snorted. I should have run… “The Endowed will stop you,” he wheezed. “If the Final War is truly coming, then the Endowed will come with it.”
“The Endowed is a myth,” Larsh sighed. “ A myth that has failed every time before. This will be no different.”
“They’ll prove you wrong. The prophecy says so.”
“Perhaps. Perhaps not.” She knelt beside Yaenke. “It matters not to me.” She stood, letting her foot off him. “You could kill me, if you wished. But you won’t, I think. You have not used it before, and you won’t now.”
Yaenke hesitated. He could kill her. He could end all of this, if he wanted to.
But he didn’t. In the end, the cost was still too high. In the end, he was still a coward.
He closed his eyes and accepted captivity.