Chapter 1: consequences

The destroyed remains of the once mighty Vampyrum Pyramid lay in ruins. Its great structural splendor was now completely destroyed by a single earthquake caused by the events of Ground Zero. Nothing remained – no one remained – no one except for several Vampyrum – this amount even had potential. Their army would grow once more. They had another chance.

The fallen warriors that fought in the pyramid were buried underneath the rubble, long forgotten under their stony graves. The corpses of owls, wolves, and Vampyrum alike lied deep in the rubble, becoming nothing more than lost machines of war – no longer useful, but meaningless.

Apparently, some managed to escape the collapsed pyramid safely, but the one lost warrior whose name was spread most of all was none other than the legendary Shade Silverwing – once a rebelling newborn, now a true-hearted warrior of Nocturna who died for peace. His name would never be forgotten in the history of bat-kind, no matter how old the days get.

The peace treaty signed by the owls eventually became signed by the wolves in turn for the owls assisting the wolves in a final bloodbath against the ruthless Vampyrum before the Ritual of Zotz began. Bats all over the world heard the great news, and a period of peace reigned over their world. Nocturna has been resurrected from her frozen slumber, and Zotz has been banished into the depths of the hellish Ground Zero – order and peace was restored under Her uprising, and all bats, Vampyrum or Silverwings alike, would enter Her realm and live eternally with joy and happiness. Shade desired nothing more than to be with his family, and so, every time his mate and son sleep, he enters their dreams, raising their spirits and sustaining them with everlasting happiness. Shade found happiness he could not comprehend in being with his family in a most peculiar way, and he wished he could never stop. This was so constant and continuous, that Marina and Griffin's sadness of his death eventually faded away, and was replaced with joy following every new upcoming day.

But now, soon, the world would once again be in potential danger, as these few Vampyrum start a new cult, and begin to practice the darkest of rituals in order to destroy the boundaries of life and death – Zotz's only wish. Before they could do this, however, they would need all the assistance they could get to practice an act even worse – the genocide of bat colonies around the world. This time they would eliminate all opposition – there would be no one to interfere their ritual, and finally they would get what they wanted. The world was about to be plunged into another dark war, but is there anyone to stop them from this horrible genocide?

Nethanel, the son of rat king Cortez, crawled out under a pile of stone just beside the ruins of the pyramid. His body was severely injured – he ached everywhere, and he was sure that at least three of his bones were fractured. He never felt such aching pain before. He found his spear caught in the grassy earth just beside him. He tried to reach out for it, but to no avail – he was too tired and too weak to move another inch. He barely escaped the pyramid before it crumbled down into this mass of stone and debris, and just barely escaped the clutches of the evil creature he had managed to kill before rushing out of the trembling pyramid with his life. The ugly gash on his chest was still fresh and painful, and he had no idea how disgusting it looked as of now – he did not even want to look. Was there no one around to help him? He could die here, weak as he is. He would try calling for help, but even his throat was weak and too dry. He needed food or drink, and he felt the power of hunger gnawing inside his body like a tiny creature eating away at his internal organs.

Nethanel attempted to lift himself up several times, but only fell flat on his face every time, causing himself more pain. He thought he could hear voices from above, but he could not even lift his chin up to see. The voices were also too distant for him to hear. His vision was blurry, and his eyes ached as if he had not slept in a week. He was exhausted, but he was so weak, he could not even fall asleep in a heap. He had no other hope anymore for his life and he lied there, waiting for death to finally claim him. The pain was unbearable, and he only wanted it to stop. Before he closed his eyes to rest, he started to hear "pat pat" noises on the ground nearby and he heard the rustling of grass growing louder and louder. If it was a predator, he wanted it to eat him, as long as it did it quick.

"That's horrible." He heard a voice very close to him say. He opened his eyes and noticed a shadow overlapping his head, blocking off the sun's rays. He tried to lift his head, but he apparently could not due to the pain in his neck. Nethanel then tried to say something, but he could not speak. He started to twitch his body to show that he was indeed alive, event though he hated to admit it.

"Captain, he's alive!" He heard the voice of another stranger say.

"Thank goodness, get him to the raft, pronto. This poor kid's in worse condition than his father." A hoarse voice called out from the distance. They were rats – he could suddenly tell by their voices. He saw the feet of one of the rats pass by his head and then he felt two pairs of paws slipping under his belly and lifting him up. His body was flipped over and carried by the two rats' powerful arms, and he felt himself moving. Nethanel caught view of one rat's face and he was not familiar with it at all.

"Rookie." He thought to himself. Even thinking made his head hurt. He had to relax – he was going to be recovered. Soon he heard the sound of the calm, rippling seas and breakers splashing up on shore, but judging by the smell, it was a river. He felt himself being placed down onto something soft and comfortable. He remained on his back, staring up into the blue sky, speckled by the canopy of huge leafs towering over him. He hated the jungle. He moved his hands around slowly and felt the soft texture of moss.

Suddenly, he felt a lurch in his stomach, and he felt nauseous. He put his paws over his mouth instantly, his cheeks swelling. The rats noticed this and immediately lifted Nethanel's head over the water just beside the raft. Nethanel vomited about four times before finally stopping. The rats laid his head gently on the moss once again and Nethanel felt horrible and embarrassed. He was in worse condition than he thought.

Every second he heard the non-stop pitter-patter of the rats' feet against the wooden raft as they did their busy work. One of the rats came up to him with a stone bowl full of pure water. He bent over and tenderly put the edge of the bowl against Nethanel's lips and he drank gratefully. Once he finished the rat immediately got up and went out of his sight. He felt somewhat refreshed and his throat was no longer parched. He started to even talk.

"Am I-" His words caused a few rats to crowd over him anxiously.

"Give him room, sailors!" A gruff voice called out. The rats scuttled back a few inches and a burly rat with various nonsensical tattoos strewn across his slim body walked up to the scene. He bent his head over Nethanel and perked up an ear. "What was that, prince?"

"Am I…okay?" Nethanel said, his throat trembling with each word.

"I'm afraid not, prince. You have bruises all over your body as well as a huge gash across yer chest. Not a pretty sight, I can guarantee you. We will get you back to the rat kingdom to get patched up by our best medical doctors, don't you worry!" Nethanel squinted his eyes in disbelief and the burly rat stood still for a moment. "All right fine, if you wanna know, your left leg is near broken as well." Nethanel groaned unhappily. "But like I said, we'll patch you up and you'll be just fine! Men, get to rowing immediately!" The rats asked no questions and walked around the large raft to retrieve their paddles. They started to row, and the raft smoothly glided along the stream.

Nethanel felt horrible to be under such conditions. He found his harpoon weapon set just beside his moss bed and he reached his arm out weakly to grab it. He softly glided his fingers across the rough handle of the spear as he stared up into the jungle canopy. He was absolutely not used to being in such weak conditions. He wanted to move around, and he wanted to be active instead of sitting around without an iota of energy in his muscles. He was trained to be that way. He closed his eyes.

"Son, you are a pathetic wretch of this world. You are a useless, jagged, misshaped backbone that any insect would reject into a pile of useless fecal matter!" A young general Cortez shouted at his son as he swung a small spear with great difficulty at an armored rat guard. He thrust his spear so slowly that the guard did not even have to dodge until after one second. The child rat breathed heavily and wiped his brow, his spear dropping from his hands. Cortez stamped his foot in a rage. "You no good rotten mass of boneless, drooping muscle!" Cortez marched over to his son in a huff and lifted the spear with great ease. "If you want to get a stab at your opponent, don't be a snail! Put all your energy into one blow! Focus, Nethanel, focus! Observe!" General Cortez swung the spear at the guard's head in a split second, knocking him down heavily. The guard groaned in pain as he slowly stood up. "You've got to focus on your energy, Nethanel. Focus, that's the key word! Remember it at all times!" Nethanel lifted his head, beaming against his pride for having such a strong father. Cortez dropped the spear and it landed on his son's paws with great gravitational force, sending him falling on the floor flat on his stomach. Nethanel got right back up, pretending that it did not even happen. Cortez sat against the wall of the small training room and watched as his son still struggled with his strength.

"He's growing." Cortez thought to himself. "He'll be just like me. I know he will. I'm proud to have such a fervent and competitive son who will always try his best to be the best. One day he will make it as general and then eventually king. He will make me the proudest I've could ever feel in my life."

Nethanel opened his eyes to see that the night had overtaken the jungle instantly. The warm air still clung under the canopy, and he could hear various insects chirping and buzzing all around him. He moved his eyes around and kept his body still, trying to get the energy back into the eye muscles. Once he felt wide awake, he noticed that some of the pains had disappeared. He tilted his head to the side and was happy to know that the pains in his neck had disappeared. He lifted his head up to find the burly captain of the raft seated on the edge of the raft, humming a familiar tune that rang in Nethanel's ears like the fresh smell of home. The captain started to sing softly.

"Oh, one day I'd see

On that watery plain

A shipman or two

Rowing on their way.

Chins up high

Facing white and blue skies

Calling down on them

Revealing their pride.

They are warriors

They are symbols of strength

Facing great perils

With an unafraid face.

Authority driven

Is how they're known

Showing the world

Just how we row:

Triumphing, victorious

Eternal

Dignity."

Nethanel sighed to himself. That was the national anthem of the sailors of the rat kingdom, showing how hard-working and humble the sailors were. He heard this song many times when he traveled on rafts across many tributaries across the continent. He always wanted to explore as a child, but he found his place in the heart of the rat army. He started to feel proud of his hard-working colony, knowing just how great and prosperous they really were and have been for hundreds of years. He smiled peacefully and lied his head down on the moss, thinking about the dangerous events he experienced in his previous journey. He wondered to himself just how the rest of the team was. He wish he could be with Shade and the gang again and sighed in frustration as he remembered how mangled his body was. The time of reunification would have to wait for now.