(Writer's Notes at the bottom)
Prologue:
For two generations, the people of the planet Stregna have been forced to live in fear. Most have walked a very thin line all their lives. One step too far and they would be no more; drug out into the street and done away with. No last words, no final requests. Simply exterminated; their bodies tossed away. Their hopes and dreams for the future would be given no consideration, fore they would have no futures. And so each person would abide by a set of age old rules, carved in stone. Many wish to speak out against this evil that plagues their world, but in the end they are too afraid. And so they remain quiet, allowing this cruelty to continue. Some citizens have heard stories of peace and love brought from other planets, but none have felt it for themselves. To them it is fiction; nothing more. Their minds simply cannot entertain a concept that they, themselves, have never known. Happiness, freedom of expression, or any right to feel had been stripped away over fifty years ago when their government first came into power. Since then, the lives they lead are no better than those of a dog; subservient to one master.
At the head of this government is Empress Vulca. Hers is the face these people see in their minds. She is the one to make many wake screaming in the dark of the night, longing for those loved ones she's taken away. One look at the Stregna skyline to the imperial palace towering high above could bring tears to the eyes of grown men. Each one knew what that Hellish stone monument represented. Since the day it was built, they'd known no peace. They'd been forced to live under the rule of a single entity; the emotionally baron highest power of their world: Vulca.
The right of command had been passed onto Vulca by her mother, Cyann. It was Cyann's army who first over ran Stregna, forcing its people into submission. Following the death of their then-queen, Vulca stepped up, carrying on this curse on their world that her mother had put into motion. When all of this began decades earlier, many believed Cyann was the worst thing to happen to their planet. But if you were to ask one of that generation today, they would tell you a different story. Cyann was cruel, but she was not without reason. Life under her was one of limited freedom, but nothing like today. Any humanity Cyann may have had was not present in Vulca. She felt nothing. Why, most were unsure. But whatever the reason, their lives had gone from bad to worse. Cyann may have been the one to take control, but they never knew true fear until the day Vulca dawned the crown.
Chapter 1:
The Devil's Empire
Vulca stood stiffly on the marble balcony of the imperial palace; her shaking hands resting gently upon its rail. Through her longing emerald eyes, she gazed out into the night sky. The woman found herself surrounded by silence as a single tear rolled down her cheek. Thousands of tiny white stars twinkled around her. In their soft glow, she could almost see her mother's face. It was on that balcony Vulca had spent every night since Cyann's death. She would stand there for hours, staring out into the darkness, losing herself in those memories. She moved not a single muscle; hardly even blinked as she struggled to hold onto to those last images of her mother. Over the years they'd began to fade; the clarity they once held having been washed away by the hands of time. Though it was true Vulca didn't have much; she did have this. There on the balcony of the palace her mother built, she felt a sort of closeness to Cyann. Like maybe... if she just stood there long enough; stared hard enough into the starlight, she could recapture some of those memories that were slipping away. Vulca drew one breath after another, feeling the icy Winter air fill her lungs. Its chill covered her pale white face; her hands growing numb. But still she did not move. One step away and it would be lost; this feeling; this connection. At that moment she could almost feel Cyann there with her, as if somewhere in that pitch black sky, her mom was still watching over her, guiding her. No matter how bitter the wind became, she could never bring herself to walk away. Had she gone inside, she would be trapped; surrounded by those same feelings that have haunted her every day: loneliness, pain, regret.
"I could've saved you, Mom.", Vulca spoke softly, at last shattering the silence around her. "If I could've let go of my fear that day and stopped Andros.... gotten to him before he pulled the trigger, you'd still be alive. I should've gotten in his way, created a diversion.... anything that could've bought you more time. I should have fired upon him while I had the chance.... like you would have for me."
In those passing words, even she could hear the sadness. The rest of Stregna may have saw the empress as a grown woman of 22, but in her heart Vulca was no more than a little girl who missed her mom.
Some might've said this connection she felt on the balcony was only in her mind, but Vulca didn't believe that. Before the words had even fallen from her glossed lips, she could already hear Cyann's objections. She could feel something as she spoke, like a tidal wave washing over her, leaving her body trembling; goosebumps crawling up her pale arms.
"I know I was only a child then.", Vulca offered. This came as retort to what she knew Cyann would've said... if she were there. "You'd tell me I did everything I could. And that.... you'd never want me in harm's way. But that doesn't change anything. I was young, I was scared, but I still could've made some difference. If I had just tried a little harder......"
With those words, her head fell slowly. The regret over the things she should've done was eating her alive, as it had ever since the day her mom passed away. Andros may have been the one to pull the trigger, but in part Vulca blamed herself. She told herself she should've acted. Because she froze, Cyann died. There was no changing it now. Vulca knew that and yet she couldn't move forward. Her body aged with the years, but her mind never could. It just kept holding onto the past; to that image that haunted her. Her memories of Cyann, those that were good and pure, were fading fast. But that day, the day her perfect life came crashing down around her; that was one memory she could not escape. No matter how many birthdays Vulca had celebrated since then, how many candles she blew out on the cake, she could never forget what happened out there. That scene and the self loathing she felt from it, the empress feared, would be with her forever.
And so as she always did, Vulca began to slip away. Reality became a blur as her mind regressed back to that day. Her childhood memory was taking control; her mind forcing her to re-live it once again, as clearly as if it were happening in that moment. Just as she felt herself losing grip on the world around her, one word fell down from blood red lips, ".... Mom...."
- Flashback -
July - 1995
Andros and Cyann stood on the rooftop of a gray high-rise building with the hot summer sun washing over them. The air was thick, the humidity seeming to fall down upon them in sheets on that day in mid July. Cyann gazed across the concrete; her opponent held tightly in the gaze of cold, dark eyes. A trail of warm blood ran down her face. Her gown, a sparkling blue, was now torn, covered in dirt. Her chest heaved in and out as she gasped for breath. The sweat that poured down her body left her stung as it invaded open wounds. Across from her, Andros' long multi-colored hair was a shambles and his teeth stained as red as the shirt on his back. Cuts covered his being and a giant slash was seen across his chest, tearing through material and flesh alike. Their battle had been a fierce one. They'd begun with weapons, but soon those were discarded, left forgotten on the concrete as they tore into each other; hand-to-hand combat ensuing. At this moment both man and woman struggled to breathe in the heat. Their many wounds caused them to feel dizzy. The world around them spun like a top, but still neither one would back away. Andros and Cyann stared each other down, both waiting for the slightest sound to pierce through the silence, sending them back into battle. There was distance between them. They'd backed off to gather breath, though at any moment the violence could've resurfaced.
"Lets be clear, you self-righteous son-of-a-bitch," Cyann called from across the scorching roof. "I conquered this planet. Its people are mine to do with as I please. There is nothing you can say or do that will make me give up what I fought for."
With his hands, Andros gestured to the world around him as he forced a response through his pain. "You don't have the right to call any of this yours. These are people, not possessions. They deserve a chance to live their own lives...."
"They had their chance and they lost it! If they valued their freedom, they'd have fought harder."
Lost in the background far behind Cyann stood a little girl of seven years: Vulca. She stood by the edge trembling with her green eyes full of fear. The child's arms were wrapped tightly around herself as she silently willed her body to stop shaking. She wanted so badly to look away, but the blood running slowly from her mother's mouth screamed to her. She was unable to tear her sights from it, even for a moment. Its bright red luster glowing beneath the sun's light called out to her. The young Vulca was trapped, staring on like a helpless deer in the headlights of a speeding truck. She wanted to tell her mom to stop; to please come back, but alas, she could not. Every time she opened her mouth, those words just would not come out. The fear she felt inside left her speechless.
Cyann knew Vulca was there, but in the heat of battle her mind was no longer focused on her daughter. Her only focus at that moment was Andros. The woman's mind was weighted down with anger. She had fought for control of Stregna and the idea of Andros stepping in to take it away from her was unacceptable.
"You made a choice when you came here, Red Ranger.", the blue clad woman went on. "When you answered that distress signal, you put yourself in the same place as any who defy me. Had you stayed away, you and I would have no issue. But you couldn't do it. You had to come. You had to play the hero. Well that was your mistake. I killed their leader to take this planet and by God I'll kill you too!"
The events that would end that fight unfolded in an instant through Vulca's eyes. She watched, frozen solid, as her mom charged; the woman's heals pounding the concrete as she stormed into battle. And somewhere deep inside her, Vulca could feel the truth. This was it. Her fairy tale life was coming to an end, but there would be no happily ever after. Watching her mom lunge forward, Vulca begged for this story to stop. Please.... please, she pleaded inside. She would've given anything for that last page not to turn. But it was too late. Cyann had sealed her own fate and her little girl's along with it. In the blink of an eye, Andros dropped down, rolling across the warm rooftop, and coming to a stop inches away from a blaster dropped long before. That gun, with its blue metal reflecting the sun's light, caught Vulca's eye. Her world seemed to freeze around that one image; the weapon. In her heart she knew how this would end even before those shots at her mom were fired. She wanted to scream, wanted to run, but her trembling legs would not move. She was stuck, feeling as if she had a cement block weighting her down. All that was left for the little girl to do was think. As Cyann's sword materialized from thin air, forming in her hand, Vulca could hear the soft voice calling out inside herself, "Mommy, no".
Swift in his movements, Andros made a grab for the Astro Blaster. Taking it tightly into his hand, he brought little Vulca's worst fear to life. With Cyann moments away from striking, Andros pulled that trigger, and the child's care-free life was destroyed. One blast after another was discharged from its barrel, slicing through Cyann's body. The hot red light cut into her torso. The ear splitting sound of the laser light emerging sent tears welling up in Vulca's eyes. Through the blur she could see the sparks flying from her mother's body as well as Andros returning to his feet. He watched without feeling as Cyann fell to her knees, then onto her side; her arm outstretched before her; limp, lifeless. Poor Vulca watched in horror the sight of flames rising up from where her mom's body once was. The explosion, bright and hot, broke the girl's heart into pieces. She couldn't move, not so much as an inch. Her only voice was that tiny one within her brain, calling out so desperately, "Mommy, no".
Like so many monsters before her, Cyann had been taken down. Good had prevailed. The Red Ranger had saved the day. That same scenario had played out so many times that it had become a cliché. But not once in all of their so-called victories did the Rangers stop to think who else they'd hurt. Andros saw the red, crackling fire created by Cyann's remains, but he like those before him couldn't see the full picture. He couldn't see Vulca; the innocent daughter whose life he'd shattered. Through history, no Ranger had ever looked beneath the surface. None could see the fall out of what they did; whose lives were ruined in exchange for their brand of 'justice'.
With a final glance at the flames dancing atop that roof, Andros raised his arm. His eyes shifted down to the morpher on his wrist and with one finger he pressed a red button, opening communications. The man's voice was cold and authoritative as he spoke; no emotion found at all in his words.
"D.E.C.A., the mission is complete. Stregna is safe. Requesting extraction."
His tone sounded almost as hallow as the computer who gave the response.
"Affirmative.", came the automated female voice through the speaker of his morpher.
Andros' words, so cold, so baron, finally broke Vulca. She fell to her knees as the tear drops rolled down her rose red face. One by one they fell onto the concrete like rain; her sobs being the only sounds left up there. Despite the sun's warmth shining down her back, she felt cold inside. She was alone in the world. Vulca knew that then. Her mother was gone; reduced to ashes before her eyes. She would never hear another bedtime story. She'd never feel another hug or have another moment lifted into Cyann's loving arms. From then on, she'd never be woken with kisses or sang softly to sleep at night. No one would be there to applaud her successes or to catch her when she fell. It was all taken away with the piercing sound of a blaster's fire. Her mom was gone and she was never coming back. All these emotions welled up inside of Vulca, forcing their way out in one lonely, forgotten cry, "Moooommmmmyyyyy!"
She felt lost out there on that roof, like those shots left her with nothing in the world to hold onto. And those same feelings remain with her today.
- End of Flashback -
Once free of the torment brought on by her memories, the grown Vulca found herself staring down at the marble rail through the tears in her eyes. Each time she got lost like that would bring the pain back to her, stronger and more crippling than before. This was the curse she was left with since Cyann's death. Vulca was forced to live with that memory, day in, day out; her heart breaking over and over again. Allowing the emotion to get to her, the woman thrust her hand down against the railing, causing her entire arm to throb with pain. And yet she did not care. No amount of physical pain could ever compare to what she felt inside.
Quietly she spoke again, looking out into the night sky. Her voice was weak with regret. Those words she formed were so soft, they were nearly lost to her.
"Why...... why did you have to die?"
* * *
Miles away from the towering stone palace, a squad of Vulca's footmen searched a woodland area of Stregna. Each one wore solid black uniforms, blending in perfectly with the night sky. They were armed with giant machine guns, so heavy in their design that the men's muscles ached. Covering their faces were long hoods, matching the rest of their dark façade. No one on Stregna knew who lay hidden behind those cloaks, but all knew these men by reputation. The Drika: Vulca's imperial guard. They were faceless warriors whose sole purpose in life was to carry out the empress' orders. They rarely spoke and never showed any signs of humanity. Squads of them could be seen walking the streets; huge guns resting on their shoulders even in broad daylight. The sight of them moving with stiff posture and no emotion left Stregna's people intimidated. Thus, they fell in line. No man would choose to find himself on the wrong end of a soldier's gun, fore that would seal his fate. Their black figures littered the news programs. With every dawn new footage could be seen, each clip more horrifying than the last. They were the enforcers. All who defied Vulca would answer to them and ultimately.... most would parish.
At that moment a squad of five searched the landscape; their guns loaded and drawn. Their eyes moved slowly behind those coal black masks; their hearts beating rapidly in their chests. Little by little they searched the forest; the path before them shown only by the light of the moon overhead. The world was eerily silent with the exception of sticks snapping beneath heavy combat boots. The Drika moved in all directions, fast and without rest. Like a pack of hungry dogs, they scoured the woodlands in search of one woman; their prey.
One man's harsh, raspy voice broke through the night's silence. "Keep moving. The rebel is marked shoot to kill." This authoritative shout came from a single Drika with the position of field commander.
In response, the rest of the squad nodded their heads in unison, but none uttered a single sound. To even hear them breathing was a struggle. They were trained soldiers. Their thoughts and feelings were never spoken. Not a one within the army dared to explore their own hearts, not even on their time. They were Vulca's slaves. Nothing more. No personal interests to speak of, only missions. On this particular night, that mission was simple; track and kill a rebel who defied their empress.
"Check over there.", barked their leader once again, "She couldn't have gotten far."
Though their field commander wasn't aware, there was a great deal of truth in his words. A few feet south of their position was their target, knelt down in the shadow of a large rock. A woman in her late thirties stayed just out of view, too afraid to dare peer over that rock that gave her shelter. She could feel her heart racing inside her. Every muscle in her body was tensed. If she were to make even the slightest sound at that moment, it would be over. She'd be caught; having the same fate forced onto her as those poor souls whose faces filled the news. One deep, silent breath after another was taken as she attempted to calm herself. Sadly that icy wind that filled her lungs provided no comfort. Her life was literally in her hands. The woman's only friend came in the form of a blaster held close to her chest. It was her lifeline and undoubtedly her only ticket out of this situation.
Though she would've liked nothing more than to stay within the shelter of the darkness and the fog, that was not an option. They would find her. Sooner or later one of those men would stumble upon the improvised hiding place. What then? Her only shot would be to take them by surprise. To strike first, no matter how badly she hated the idea.
It may not have seemed that way, but this was in truth a regular occurrence for her. She was a hunted woman. Her open defiance of the empress' unjust policies had shoved her into this -- and despite her fear, she didn't regret it. Deep in her heart, she hated Vulca. Always had. From that, she found it in herself to become a rebel. One of a large group who fought back against their ruler. They would launch attacks against government buildings, murder Drika soldiers on their patrols, and some of the braver ones would go as far as to storm the palace itself. Sadly though, the rebels' numbers were depleting rapidly. With every stand they took against Vulca, more lost their lives. This left the frightened woman in a difficult position. She was one of the last rebels standing. There was no one to call, nowhere to run, and only so much time she could hide. Thus her mind returned to the situation at hand. The choice was simple through her terrified brown eyes: strike or die.
With one final breath, the woman pushed herself up, emerging from the cover of the rock. Moving swiftly, she glanced to her weapon pointing it at the Drika. Her arms were extended stiffly, both hands gripped tightly around her lifeline, that one silver blaster whose metal reflected in the moonlight. Two of the Drika turned just in time to see a smile form across her face.
"See ya' in Hell, soldier boys.", the woman said as the moon's silvery light flashed in her eyes. With that, she opened fire.
Bright beams of light immediately launched from twin barrels of the gun. Those two beams lit up the night sky as they traveled full speed toward the men. Less than a second later, that light collided with their chests, sending their bodies up in a giant ball of flaming glory. Bright fire, red and orange in color, danced through the sky. Its heat radiated onto the woman's face as she watched. This was the rush she so craved. To take down even two of Vulca's men gave her a sense of purpose in life. This made her feel as if she was making a difference.
Through angry, narrowed eyes she could see three left standing. With a primal cry, the woman thrust herself up. Up into that frigid night she went, spinning through open air with her gun still drawn. As the wind blew into her face, she fired once again sending a ray of blue light from the blaster. When it collided with the ground, a second ball of fire shot up, engulfing another of the men. She could hear their agonizing cries just as her perfectly toned body returned to the ground from that acrobatic stunt. The rebel woman had landed in a crouching position, instantly locking her sights on the remaining two. Like a rocket she took off toward them.
Mere feet away from them, a shower of sparks shot up around her. The sudden blast, erupting out of nowhere, knocked her off of her feet. Her side-arm flew from her grasp, sailing across the ground no longer within her reach. She was powerless. That thought sank in just as her shoulder collided roughly with the ground. A sharp pain shot up through the entire left side of her body. Her teeth were clenched, eyes squinted tightly. Laying there, the woman didn't know what had happened just then. She'd been running and then all of a sudden the mystery blast had knocked her down. But who fired?
It wasn't until those sparks had died away that she gained a visual. The rebel could see the figure of a woman moving through the fog. The sound of the approaching shooter's heals clicking against the rocks echoed in the silence of the night. Closer and closer those sounds grew, their rhythm as steady as a clock. The rebel struggled to see, but before her eyes could adjust in the haze, she felt herself jerked upward. The ice cold hands of the remaining Drika latched onto her, pulling her roughly up from the ground. She tried to thrust herself forward, but she could not break the death grip they had on her. The men's hands were like stone as they held her in place. None said a word; simply stood in silence, one on each side, forcing the rebel into submission.
While standing there in the grasp of those faceless men, Vucla's enemy was finally able to identify the shooter. The other woman at last emerged from the cover of that thick fog; her face coming into view beneath the moonlight. Her hair was long and golden; her body like that of a goddess fallen from the peaks of Mount Olympus. With tanned, flawless skin and eyes of the deepest blue, she would've appeared to be any man's dream. This was Cerina Morgan. To most she was known not by name, only by reputation. Cerina was the assassin; Vulca's right hand. For years she had followed the order of the imperial palace. Should a citizen of Stregna step too far over the line, they knew their fate. They would find themselves staring down the barrel of Cerina's gun and in a single shot their lives would be over. In their minds, Cerina was the embodiment of Hell itself. She felt nothing. In those eyes, they saw only darkness. Her stare, so cold and dead, could leave a man pleading for his life, long before her weapon was ever drawn. They all believed Morgan to be baron of emotion. She was a trained killer. Each time she pulled that trigger, it would seem as if she didn't care at all. There had never been any signs of remorse on her face. No second thoughts. Not a single tear having fallen for those lives she took away. It seemed all that mattered to her was Vulca's order. She, like the Drika, lived for the empress.
At this moment Cerina stood with stiff posture, her eyes locked coldly on the rebel woman. The sight of her came as no surprise to the assassin, fore they'd been down this road before. So many nights they'd crossed paths. Equal hatred welling up inside each one, they would do battle by the light of the moon. Night after night they did the same dance, but this night was different. The rebel was right there for her this time, held in the clutches of her soldiers. The sight pleased Cerina, yet still no smile formed.
"Tell me, Kari, how many nights have we done this?", Cerina asked dryly while staring down range at her defenseless enemy. There was an arrogance noted in her voice as she spoke. "How many times has Vulca sent me after you? Hundreds maybe?. But still.... you don't learn. How many times do I have to shove your face in the dirt before you finally get it? You can't win."
Rebel leader Kari, still held by the Drika, glared angrily at Cerina through locks of dark hair. She would've liked nothing more than to break free of those men and shut Cerina's mouth once and for all. But she knew it was a lost cause. The Drika's grip was too tight and should she break free, she would find herself with a bullet between the eyes. She was trapped.
"Not feeling chatty tonight?", the assassin's taunt continued. "Suit yourself. Maybe I should just blow your head off and be done with it."
"Go ahead."
"Excuse me?"
"Go ahead and kill me.", Kari repeated. "Pull the trigger. But you just keep this one thing in mind. If I'm gone... Vulca won't need you anymore. And what do you think she's gonna do with you then? Set you up in an ocean front condo? Give you some nice little retirement package and a big ol' farewell cake? Dream on, honey. You're only up there because she needs you. The second she doesn't.... you're dead. She will end your miserable life without a second thought."
Once Kari's words had fallen to silence, she watched Cerina's face. Standing there beneath that blanket of stars, she prayed that some how she'd gotten through. That maybe, just maybe her words had made some difference. But the longer she gazed into the face of a killer, the lower her hopes sank. Cerina's expression hadn't changed. She still stood as cold and unfeeling as every other night. Kari would've liked nothing more than to shut this woman out. Held there by the Drika though, she had no choice but to stare on at Cerina, becoming more sick inside with each passing minute. "She's blind", Kari told herself. "She actually believes Vulca sees her as an equal." Now whether or not this was the truth, the rebel didn't know. All she knew for sure was that Cerina would not budge from her position. She was Vulca's assassin and no matter how many nights Kari tried to get through to her, it never worked. She would just shut down.
"I don't understand you.", the rebel woman finally spoke up. "Why do you waste your life this way? You serve this woman day in, day out.... and for what?"
Cerina took a few slowly paced steps forward. Her uniform, a silver ladies' business suit, glistened in the light of the moon over head. Once in arm's length of the restrained Kari, she looked down at her, shaking her head. "My motives are none of your concern.", she replied dryly.
"Damn it, she is using you! Either you are blind.... or you're as sick as she is!"
This comment tickled Cerina. She found a certain irony in it. That one statement alone proved how little Kari really knew. They had faced off night after night, yet neither one really knew the other. Leaning forward, Cerina extended her arm, running her hand gently across Kari's cheek. The patronizing gesture made the rebel want to lash out, to break free of those men's hands and rip that woman's face off. But alas, she could not. She was stuck there at Morgan's mercy.
As the moon's silvery light danced in the eyes of the killer, one could actually see a hint of a smile form on Cerina's lips. Her voice, upon reply, was soft, only loud enough for Kari to hear. The two were face to face, only inches standing between them. As those words formed, Kari could even smell the mint on Cerina's breath. "Vulca and I are nothing alike."
In complete contrast to her gentle touch, Cerina balled her hand into a tight fist and drove it into Kari's jaw. The sickening sound of bone cracking filled the night air. Upon contact, Kari's head was thrust to one side and a trail of freshly drawn blood ran from her mouth. She could taste it there lingering bitterly on her tongue as her attacker turned. She watched with a hatred burning in her deep brown eyes as Cerina began to distance herself once again. Taking her steps slowly, with an infuriating calm about them, she moved a few feet back from the now injured rebel.
"I have no interest in this planet.", Cerina told her without much feeling in her tone. "I don't want to rule beside her, if that's what you think. Vulca is carrying on her mother's dream -- one that I have never shared."
Kari turned her head downward, spitting a light colored mixture of saliva and blood from her mouth. She then refocused her eyes on Cerina, who stood proudly in the distance.
"Then why?", the rebel Miller demanded. "If you're not doing this for power, then I don't get it."
"You don't need to."
This was a question that had always puzzled Kari. Why would a woman like Cerina give herself to the empress? Through out their years at war, Kari had found Cerina to be a more than worthy opponent. She had skill. She was intelligent. On more than one occasion the rebel had found herself beaten, lying half dead in the dirt; her pride crushed in the palm of Cerina's hand. So why? She would be so much better off without Vulca. Kari always told herself that, but for whatever reason Cerina couldn't see it. She just kept on taking orders, living her life like a puppy on a chain. She would only go as far as her master allowed her.
"You're really content to throw your life away like this? You don't need Vulca. If you don't share her dream, then....."
"You don't give up, do ya?", Cerina questioned retorhically.
"You could turn on her so easily. Why don't you? You're the one with the power! Cerina, wake up! Break away from that woman while you still can!"
"Who says I want to?"
Kari breathed a frustrated sigh before letting her retort form. "How can you go on like this, killing for a cause that apparently you don't even believe in? You serve this woman blindly when you know deep down she doesn't care about you."
Up until that moment, the assassin had chosen to humor her; to simply allow Kari to drone on, even though nothing she said really mattered to her. This was amusing to Cerina, letting Kari think she could melt the ice queen. The time for games had passed however. She was growing ever tired of this; something made all too obvious by the shift in her tone of voice.
"Enough.", Cerina finally cut in. A pause followed, but only briefly. "There are times I actually enjoy playing this little cat and mouse game with you. That is the soul reason you're still breathing. But the novelty is wearing thin. Let me put it to you like this. If you cross the empress one more time, I will not hesitate to put a bullet in your head. One more step over the line.... and you're done."
Once again Cerina began to move closer. One step after another carried her across the frost covered ground until she was in arm's length of the restrained rebel. For a moment she simply stared at her; the woman's vacant eyes burning a hole down to her very soul. It was there in that moment that Kari gained perspective. She couldn't get through to Cerina Morgan, not now or ever, no matter how many different angles she took. She couldn't play on her emotions because she had none. Through years as Vulca's assassin, her heart was dead and gone. Now all that remained was a shell. Some how through those passing years, Vulca had turned her into a living weapon.
"You're making a mistake.", Kari cried desperatly in one final attempt to get through. "You might shut me out now, but one day you're going to see that. Vulca's using you and when she's done, she will toss you to the curb. She sees you as her possession.... just like she does everybody else on this planet."
Cerina made no response to this at first. Simply stood there in a careless sort of silence. When finally she refocused, her voice came low. "One step, Kari. Just one."
Kari's heart began to beat faster as she saw Cerina's hand start to move. Little by little she reached into the interior pocket of her silver jacket. When her hand once again emerged into the light, a gun could be seen held firmly in her grasp. Its metal, untarnished, sparkled in the glow of a thousand stars; its feel cold against Cerina's skin. Had she been lying? Was the one chance she offered Kari only a game? In their current position, the rebel was helpless. She could die. One shot and she'd be gone. That thought was all her mind could process in that moment. Staring at Cerina so close with the gun in her hand; it terrified Kari. Her attitude had faded away, replaced by a primal, uncontrollable terror. The woman's brown eyes, stricken with fear, focused on the gun. She couldn't blink, could barely breathe. A single shot, she told herself. One shot and she was gone.
Leaning forward once again, Cerina latched onto Kari's throat with her other hand. Despite her small build, her grip was fierce. Kari could feel the enemy's nails like daggers digging into her flesh -- tighter.... tighter. All the while that gun remained loaded in her opposite hand. The Drika still held firmly to both of Kari's arms. In a clear, but cold voice Cerina spoke to her. The words came out slowly and quietly for effect as the two stared eye to eye with each other in that bitter Winter wind.
"You.... have been warned."
In a flash Cerina threw back her arm, flipping the gun around. In a single blow, she pistol whipped Kari just as the Drika's grip was released. The force sent the rebel spiraling to the ground; her dark hair in tangles. The pain of metal colliding with flesh radiated through her face as she stared up at Cerina through the tear drops that filled her eyes. It felt as if her entire face was on fire in that moment. Through the pain, Kari almost wished for the sound of the gun's discharge, but this wish wasn't to be. At least not then.
Without another word, Cerina turned away from her, leaving Kari lying beaten on the ground. With the two Drika at her sides, Mrs. Morgan walked slowly into the distance, never once looking back. Her golden hair bounced with each step; her heals once again clicking against the ground as she moved.
Kari was in the clear, but this had been her final warning. One question plagued the rebel's mind, however, as she watched Cerina walk away. Why did she let her live? If she was tired of their games, why hadn't she pulled the trigger?
* * *
Kari shivered as a cold wind picked up, blowing through her tangled brunette hair. It had been at least a minute's time since her attacker walked away and yet there she lay. Kari remained in that same position against the hard, frigid ground. Each breath of that icy Winter air was a struggle. She had to literally force its chill down into her lungs. Over and over, she tried to catch her breath and some how will away this pain she'd been left with. Kari's entire head throbbed from Cerina's direct hit. The unforgiving metal of that woman's pistol had been driven into the side of her head; the sound of it crashing against her skull still ringing through the rebel's mind. She'd been handed a brutal blow and yet still she considered herself lucky in some way. Through all of the sub-zero wind, pain, and shattered pride, Kari knew things could've ended worse. Cerina could've killed her. And so as she lay there against the frozen soil of the planet Stregna, Kari Miller considered herself fortunate. In spite of everything else, she was still breathing.
As she stared on into the night, the world around her began to shift in and out of focus. The trees that loomed high above her were becoming no more than a blur of shadows. The woman's head trauma left her dizzy. She was forced to combat not only the throbbing behind her eyes, but also this sudden lack of focus. Kari could feel the ground beneath her begin to sway. It felt to her like she was riding the waves of an ocean. Clutching tightly to the blades of grass, she could've sworn this wasn't land at all.
Little by little she tried to force this feeling away. In the process, she began to think to herself. Not only about the pain that washed over her, but why she was even there to experience it at all.
"Why, Cerina?", Kari pondered internally. "You kill in cold blood time and time again. But.... why do you keep sparing me? You could've pulled that trigger tonight and been done with me. You could've hauled my body back to Vulca and finally claimed victory. So why didn't you?"
The more Kari thought about it, the more frustrated she became. Of course she was thankful for her life, but the internal conflict she felt toward Cerina was ripping her apart. There was a part of her that wanted to see Cerina the way everyone else did; as some cold, unfeeling woman whose soul had long since died. Yet still there was another part of her that just couldn't quite accept that. If her enemy was truly as sick as she seemed, then why did she spare her life? The two had fought for nearly three years. Cerina had chance after chance to end it, but she never did.
"I've seen the damage you cause. The bodies of your victims are all over the news. If they so much as look at Vulca the wrong way, you shoot them down. So why won't you do it to me? I'm no different. I've been defying that bitch for years and yet.... you keep letting me go. What am I missing? If you can kill all these people and feel nothing.... why can't you do that to me?"
Who knows how long she would've laid there sorting through the pieces of this puzzle? Hours perhaps, had she been given the chance. A faint sound in the distance instead caused her mind to drift slowly back to reality. The echo of boots pounding the ground grew nearer to her, so rapid in their pace, their thuds sounded similar to machine gun fire. More Drika? This was her first thought. Just imagining their hooded faces sent Kari's heart racing once again. A chill shot suddenly down her spine upon accepting the fact that this fight may not be over. But that wasn't it. Through the blur that was her world at that moment, she could make out a single figure moving toward her. As quickly as a flash of lightning the stranger's legs carried him across the dirt; his face still too far off to distinguish. The second this man came into view, Kari felt her voice start to leave her. The surprise of seeing another being so far past the city limits left her stunned. Still listening to the pounding of those footsteps, she pushed herself upward to a sitting position on the grass.
"Who....?", she uttered in an almost whisper.
Her head was filled with so much more, but in her shock that one word was all she could muster. After hearing it fall from her lips, Kari just sat there watching as the man grew closer. In time he'd sailed over the vast frozen field that stretched out before her; his features finally becoming visible to her weary eyes.
Was she dreaming, Kari asked herself? There she'd been lying beaten in the dirt when all of a sudden this man came toward her. Like a knight galloping bravely atop a white horse, he had come to her rescue. She was skeptical at first watching the stranger grow near. Had she fallen asleep? Was this vision little more than her mind's creation? Her hero had the build of a Greek God; perfectly toned muscles showing through a dull brown T-shirt. Hanging over it was a jacket of thick black leather, its once flawless material now left rugged with time. The longer she stared at him, the more flustered the rebel felt. Her hands began to shake as he slowed in his sprint, coming to a gradual stop before her. She was so convinced from her spot on the grass that this couldn't be real. That is until he spoke. A deep, confident voice carrying down to her broke through any doubts. It may have looked like something from a modernized fairy tale, but on this bitterly cold evening, her 'white knight' was real.
"Hey you. You all right?", he asked her calmly.
His question was so simple, yet it left Kari's hands shaking. She could feel butterflies in her stomach; a grin slowly forming across her dirt covered face. When she at last found the words to speak, she grew ashamed of herself. "Um.... yeah. Yeah, I'm.... okay.", stammered the woman. This voice, was it even hers? It sounded more like that of a love struck school girl, as opposed to a woman growing close to forty. It didn't seem possible, but like it or not that voice she heard was indeed her own.
She could've bitten her own head off for the way that retort had come out. Kari Miller was decades past zits, pep squads, and high school crushes. But to hear her then, she sounded no older than fifteen. What had come over her? Just as she was about to lash out at herself mentally, her thoughts were lost once again. The man towering high above her extended his hand with a subtle nod. Ever so slowly Kari glanced up, looking into his face for the first time. Within an instant she found herself lost in his baby blue eyes, as deep and mesmerizing as an ocean. In them she found herself captivated. Her heart began to race faster, that grin on her face growing ever wider. Of course she prayed this man couldn't see, but he could. The expression on her face beneath the starlight was impossible to overlook.
"Really, I'm fine. I don't need....", Kari started, only to have her speaking ability sucked away once again.
In the midst of her words, Kari felt him take hold of her hand. With a grip so strong and confident, he pulled her up from the grass. It was seemingly effortless. With one arm he'd taken her from a sitting position, pulling the fallen rebel back to her feet. Once releasing her hand, he gave a second nod, then stepped back from her.
For a while the two just stood there in silence feeling the icy Winter air blowing toward them. Its chill ran easily through Kari's long brunette hair, leaving it waving wildly over her shoulder. From her stance atop the frozen soil, she began to study the man. Not as she had before on such a superficial level, but deeper. She forced herself to look past the shell and down to his core. Who was he? Why was he out there so late, away from the crowds and the glow of the city lights? In her desperate attempt to escape the Drika, Kari's legs had carried her far from civilization. Their surroundings were baron. Only trees and open land as far as the eye could see. The last thing she ever expected to find out there was another human life. Why would any man choose to venture so far from home -- if indeed he even had a home? The stranger came as a complete mystery to her standing so stiffly, staring into the wind. This entire event left her puzzled. She was alone out there. Then all of a sudden this man came to her. In true fairy tale fashion he'd appeared ready and willing to save her from Vulca's dragon in designer heals.
The longer she stared in curiosity at her storybook hero, Kari's mind began to open. She could see so much even when she'd been offered so little. The man's expression reflected a hard, unforgiving life. There was a loneliness in his eyes that no one could over look. It was like he'd spent years out there, walking their world alone. No friends, no family; nothing but his own thoughts to keep him company. It seemed to her that he was a loner by nature. He didn't appear talkative or overly excitable. Instead he had this inner peace about him; a calm she rarely saw on Stregna. His clothes were worn down with age. The jacket alone told volumes of the man who wore it. Its leather was faded with loose threads here and there. The accessory wasn't for style, but warmth, she gathered. It proved more utilitarian than it did a fashion statement. In fact, she guessed her would-be savior didn't care much for such things at all. Fashion, appearance, the impression he placed in other's minds. One look at his face so empty proved this to her. He wasn't out to impress anyone. In fact, she wondered if there was even anyone in his life to impress.
It was true Ms. Miller was grasping at straws, but most times her theories about people proved right. She'd learned to read a person like an open book, even before their first words were spoken to her. Was it an odd trait? Probably, but one that proved quite useful in her world. From it she could also see whether or not one was friend or foe. This being a question she never even needed to pose in the case of her handsome stranger. From the moment his hand touched hers, she knew he was no threat; instead like something out of the storybooks her dad used to read her at night. It was as if the hero from her past had jumped off of those pages and stood there before her.
Eventually his deep voice sliced through her thought process, returning Kari to the world around her. For this she was slightly thankful. She'd been forced back to reality before her mind had completely run away with her.
"I saw what that lady did to you before. Are you sure you're all right? You don't think you need to see a doctor or something? You know.... just to be sure?"
A part of Kari was annoyed by this. He seemed Hell bent on treating her like a damsel in distress. Even though this was the picture she painted for him, Kari considered herself nothing of the sort. Still as she gazed into his mesmerizing eyes once again, she also found this endearing. It had been so long since anyone had even asked her that question, 'was she okay'. His heart was in the right place, even if his persistence could potentially drive her insane.
"Its no big deal.", she insisted with a shrug. "I get that a lot actually. Some women get mud on their faces at the spa. Me... I like to go for the real thing."
"Cute." A breath gave pause to his words as he shifted gears slightly. "What's her problem with you anyway?"
The question tore the words right from Kari's mouth. At first she attempted to answer, but as she felt her numbed lips start to move, she stopped herself. How could she explain this? She and Cerina had been locked in this grudge match for nearly three years. Night after night they would spar beneath the blanket of stars. How could she ever tell someone else this without sounding crazy? Ms. Miller thought and thought, but came up with nothing. A life as far from normal as hers wasn't something she could easily explain, no matter how long she stood there. It seemed she was not getting off the hook. Throughout the entire pause, this man's eyes hadn't left her. He spoke not a word, but she could tell he was waiting.
"She works in the palace.", Kari spoke up at last. "Like.... one rank below the throne, I guess. Vulca's lap dog, basically. If somebody goes against that lunatic's will, Cerina comes after them. I can't believe you haven't seen her before. She's all over the news.
"I don't see much TV".
"I mean, still.... the three leading causes of death around here are aids, cancer, and Cerina Morgan."
Something in her words sent alarms sounding in the man's mind. Maybe it was the care-free way she spoke of the fight, as though she'd been knee deep in it all her life. Maybe it was the disrespect in her voice when she said Vulca's name. He couldn't put his finger on it, but whatever the reason, the truth suddenly dawned on him.
"You're one of them, aren't you? A rebel.", he wondered aloud, pointing his index finger in Ms. Miller's direction.
That word left Kari stunned a moment. Her muscles tensed on instinct, but only until her mind had time to process this. Most often she'd been forced to keep her rebel status a secret. Should the wrong person discover who she really was, it could spell disaster. By day Kari was no different than any others on Stregna. She worked her nine to five job, came home, cooked dinner. It was only after the sun sank behind the mountainside that her true colors were shown. She, and others like her, would cast aside their mundane lives and fight back against the unjust empire that ruled over them. This man had the chance to see through the façade, though Kari didn't really try to hide it. At least not from him. There was something about him. The two hadn't even exchanged names, but for some reason she felt she could trust him. Perhaps it was foolish. He could've turned her in easily and gained the reward. Yet Kari didn't believe that he would.
"Yeah. Been with 'em for years. My name's Kari. You are?"
"Stone.", the man replied in a stiff sounding, but not unpleasant tone.
The name, like his presence there at all, took Kari by surprise. Her head tilted slightly to the side while she pondered it, wondering to herself if she'd even heard him right over the howl of the approaching wind.
"As in 'sword in the....'?"
"Yes.... exactly that like.", Stone answered with a smirk.
Said smirk had been the first sign of actual emotion she'd seen in the man. It wasn't much. Merely a half grin, but it was enough for Kari. She guessed by his otherwise dry facial expression that this was a rarity for him.
The more she studied him, Kari could sense some irony there. Stone was a fitting name for someone who gave off the vibe he did. The way he would've come off, had he not attempted to rescue her just then, would've been as hard as an age old stone. He was quiet, stiff, rarely smiled. Sometimes she guessed talking to him could've been like talking to a wall. But then Kari couldn't really blame him. If indeed he had lived alone the way she assumed, it was a trait that simply came with that choice. Years of having no one to talk to would generally leave one cold and silent.
Eventually he did speak again, however. Stone was a man of few words, but for Kari's sake he chose to stay active in their conversation as much as he was able. Social situations were not his specialty, but he tried.
"For what its worth", he offered, "I really respect what you guys do out there. Over the years, this world's gone to Hell. Vulca; she's ruined it. People can't even walk down the street anymore without having to watch their backs. Those Drika things, Vulca posts them on every corner now. Stregna's people are all under her thumb and that woman makes sure they know it. Nice to see there's somebody out there willing to stand up to her."
* * *
Deep within the confines of the imperial palace, Cerina found her mind plagued with questions. The expression upon her tanned face was as blank as the white marble walls that surrounded her. One step at a time she carried herself down an empty hallway, narrow in its design. She found herself surrounded by silence, with the exception of her heals clicking against the cold stone floor. Every second she grew closer to the open doorway laying ahead; the entrance to Vulca's throne room. Though her steps were slowly paced, Cerina was moving ever closer. Her time was running out.
In the silence she struggled to find an excuse. What could she tell Vulca when finally her legs had carried her into the vast, open throne room? The empress had given her a simple and direct order; exterminate the rebel Kari. There had been no misunderstanding and yet Cerina didn't do it. Kari had been right there for her, mere inches away. Two Drika held her in place. There was nowhere for her to run and as far as the assassin knew, no one around to hear her scream. In spite of it all, Mrs. Morgan didn't fire. How could she ever explain this to Vulca and still keep her life?
Before she knew it Cerina found herself at the open door of the throne room. The time for thought had come and gone. Standing at attention ahead of her were two Drika with massive guns resting upon their shoulders. For most they would've drawn their weapons and requested ID, but when they saw Cerina growing near, those men merely stepped aside. Her path was made clear. From their distance they could see the cold, empty expression that was written so clearly across her face. Her eyes were vacant and her mouth frozen in a frown. It was their duty to question any who approached the empress' chamber, but on that night they chose to ignore it. Neither had the guts to speak a single word to Cerina. As she blew past them into the room, the Drika diverted their eyes from behind their black masks. On instinct, both peered down to the gray stone floor, never daring to make eye contact with their superior.
"Empress.....", Cerina began once blowing through the doorway.
Hearing that one word echo off of the bare walls around her, the woman grew silent. She found herself frozen there in the entrance to Vulca's chamber. The bright lights above her caused her silver uniform to sparkle with the beauty of a thousand rare diamonds. The room before her stretched on forever, but was mostly empty. A large, jewel covered throne sat in the center of the open floor. It had been designed with that familiar white marble, matching perfectly to the palace walls.; this being the only decoration to speak of. All else looked dull. She gained much the same feeling in the throne room each night as she did staring into Vulca's face. Both were empty and motionless. The room seemed to reflect the empress' bleak world view perfectly.
"Empress Vulca?", she repeated. Her words carried across the air slightly louder this time.
Cerina gazed on through uncertain blue eyes to her master in the distance. Vulca sat on her knees atop the steps of the balcony with her long blue gown tucked partially beneath her. The woman's face was mostly covered by a black vale, but even through it Cerina could see Vulca's pain. Her cheeks were wet with tears. They'd grown red in shade over the hours she'd spent there. This sight caused her second in command to stand without motion in the open door. She no longer spoke, just stood in silence gazing across the floor to her heart broken empress.
When Mrs. Morgan saw to it to speak again, a note of concern could be heard in her voice."Are you all right? You seem..... troubled tonight."
The relationship between Cerina and Vulca was complicated. There had never been a friendship between the two. In all of her three years within the palace, Cerina had never tried to reach out to this woman. She simply lived by a code, no different than the Drika beneath her. She would report to the empress, she would follow orders, but never would she offer a shoulder to cry on. Cerina knew very well what had transpired between Cyann and Andros so many years ago. Vulca had spoken of her death many times, but Cerina never offered much comfort. Her feelings for Stregna's ruler confused even her. For the most part she didn't care for Vulca, at least not on a personal level. Friendship had never been a part of Morgan's job. At the same time though, she couldn't help feeling sorry for the empress. There were nights Cerina's heart truly did break for Vulca, even in spite of what had happened between the two women.
This appeared to be one of those nights. Cerina may have been cold and stiff at that moment, displaying an almost militaristic stance, but beneath it all a small part of her did sympathize. Cerina had learned something in her time there. No matter how evil Vulca could seem, nor how dark Cerina's own feelings for her may have been, she was still a human being. Vulca was a person like everybody else and she was in pain.
"Its Cyann.... isn't it?", Cerina asked softly. Of course she knew the answer to this question long before it had even formed on her glossed lips.
Gazing down at her, Cerina could clearly see the tears streaming down Vulca's face. Her eyes had become blood shot and her body trembled there in the wind that blew in from over the railing. Held tightly in the empress' hands was a picture framed in pure gold. Since the moment that Cerina set foot into the room, she'd seen Vulca staring at it. The empress' tears continued to fall, puddling onto the frame's glass like drops of rain. Depicted was a woman in a baby blue dress with multi colored sequins running down its center. Atop her head was a helmet of matching color. Though Cerina had been in Vulca's service for some time, she'd never seen that picture before. The longer she stared at it, the photo's clarity fading with time, she began to see a resemblance. The woman in the photo had Vulca's eyes. In her arms was an infant. The baby wore a fancy blue dress matching perfectly in color to her mother's. Morgan didn't need words to know what this was. The picture, over twenty years old, was of Cyann holding a baby Vulca within her loving arms.
Cerina bit her lip a moment prior to forcing her next words. In tone they came off cold, creating a contrast to the words themselves. "She looked happy.... holding you. Cyann.... she looked happy. She must've loved you very much."
It took time, but eventually Vulca's head did raise. This was the first movement seen in the empress thus far. Through the last of her tears, she looked up at Cerina who towered over her. The pain was so clear on her red face.
"She did.", came Vulca's response in a whisper. In those words, her slave could hear the last of her sobs beginning to fade away.
There was a part of Vulca that longed to open up to Cerina, but the longer she looked up at her from the icy floor, the more she began to tell herself no. She knew Cerina wasn't anything more to her than a servant. When she looked into the blue eyes of the assassin, she wanted to see a friend. In her heart she wanted to believe they'd bonded some how, but in her mind she knew that could never happen; not after the events that lead Cerina into her service. They could never be friends. Reinforcing this for herself, Vulca's tone suddenly grew colder. Reality was setting in once again. She'd been vulnerable at first, but that emotion in her was being forced away, soon to be buried deep inside as it had always been.
"Why are you here?", Vulca questioned without feeling. "You and I both know you don't really care. My feelings.... they mean nothing to you. As well they shouldn't."
"We'll never be close, Vulca. Not after what you did. Friendship is not an option for us. But in spite of that.... I know what you're going through. I've been down this road myself and I don't want to watch somebody else go through the Hell that I did." She paused as her voice grew slightly more bitter. "Even if that somebody is you."
This was difficult for Cerina, extending an olive branch to Vulca. But seeing her down there crying over her loss was like looking into a mirror. In Vulca's pain, Cerina saw herself. At that moment, that common thread over powered what had happened in their past. The agony Cerina once felt regarding a similar loss was something she wouldn't wish onto even her worst enemy. Beneath those bright lights, she could actually see the human side of Vulca; that side that was so often over looked. Cerina may not have liked her, but she understood her.
"Cyann wouldn't want you to spend your nights this way, crying over something that you can't change. Its in the past. She would want you to stand up, to be strong, and to find it in yourself to move on. It took me a long time to understand that. I spent so many nights just the way you are now. I was broken."
"It isn't the same, Cerina.", Vulca cut in, still with the same soft, helpless tone. "I watched Cyann die. I have to live with that picture in my brain for the rest of my life."
"Yeah, you do. That isn't something you'll ever forget. But does that mean you have to spend every day after that obsessing over it? I know it hurts.... and in a way, it probably always will. But...." Once again she stopped, but only long enough to gather her thoughts. "Look, no matter how many tears you shed, it won't bring Cyann back. She's dead. The sooner you deal with that, the better off you're going to be."
"Cold and bitter as usual.", observed the heart broken empress following a sigh.
"I'm only what you made me, Vulca."
Cerina's words were harsh, but true. There was nothing Vulca could do for Cyann then. She'd left their world fifteen years prior to that night. It was too late, but this was what proved most upsetting to Vulca. She missed her mother and deep down she knew there was no way to fix that. Cyann had left her and no amount of fallen tears could ever bring her home again.
At long last Vulca started to stand, pushing herself up slowly from the floor. It felt like ice against her hands as she brought herself back up, coming eye level with Cerina.
"If you have a point, make it.", Vulca snapped in a harsh tone. In her mind, her grief was being belittled. Letting go was something Vulca couldn't do and the last advice she wanted to hear.
"You can't go on this way. Sooner or later, these feelings you have will destroy you. They'd have done the same to me if I had stayed on your same path. You have to let Cyann go."
"Fine. You said your piece. Now get out."
Cerina would've liked nothing more than to turn and walk right out that door, but she knew she could not. She hadn't come into that room to offer Vulca advice. This was no more than a spur of the moment thing -- a chance to offer her the words Cerina wished someone had said to her personally so long ago. The true reason for the enforcer's intrusion was left unspoken. With her previous thoughts shoved out of her mind, she returned to her duty there.
"You requested a status report on the rebel." A pause followed these words as Cerina waited for a response. All she'd received from Vulca, however, was a stare through lost green eyes. Thus the assassin continued. "The Drika located her, but.... the mission was a failure. She.... escaped us."
This had not been the truth, but the truth Cerina knew could spell her end. The place Vulca was in on that night was so dark. There wasn't a doubt in the other woman's mind that she would've killed her. Were she to tell her what actually transpired out there, she would not have lived to see the sun rise again. This lie meant her survival; at least in her mind.
Across from her, Vulca's expression did not change. As those words met her ears, not even the slightest flinch could be seen. "It doesn't matter.", the ruler huffed bitterly.
"I am sorry, Empress. Miller killed three of five Drika and in the end, she...."
"I told you it doesn't matter. I can't deal with this now. Just..... get out."
It seemed Cerina had been saved for the time being. Vulca's mental state had given her an out. With the memories of Cyann weighing heavily on her heart, Vulca didn't care about the battle. The planet, the rebels, none of it mattered to her then. All she wanted in that moment was to be alone with her thoughts. And so Cerina nodded her head. This had worked in her favor. She chose to let Kari go for reasons that were clear to her, but reasons the empress could've never understood. She was too far gone. As Cerina began to back away, she considered herself lucky. Vulca hadn't questioned this. In her current state of mind, she couldn't have.
"As you wish.", Cerina said with a respectful nod.
Writer's Notes:
I originally came up with this story in my mid-teens. I've always liked the characters, but my writing at the time lacked description. Since then, I've decided to go back and re-write the series, as I feel I can do a better job now than I did in 2001.
The Ranger suits intended for the series are from Gaoranger. As I said, this series was originally written in '01, so Gao was the Sentai airing at the time. This has no connection to Power Rangers Wild Force what so ever, seeing as it hadn't aired yet. The story itself has very little to do with Gaoranger other than character designs.
I hope you all enjoy this series. I've done a lot of fics, but this has always been special to me. If you'd like to leave feedback, I would love to know what you think.