Morale was at an all-time low. The forces that now flooded the wastes were slowly, yet steadily, pushing her people to the brink of extinction. And there was nothing she could do about it. She was lucky that nobody was openly showing their discontent, which meant it wasn't going to spread like the plague. She was lucky… except she wasn't; nobody was in these last few, dark days.
Glace knew what had to be done. She had done everything she could; every last grain of coal dust, every fiber of wood, every ounce of steel… every body… All went into her plan to save her people. All of her efforts would have been for naught, should she shy away from what had to be done.
A quiet, yet firm knock sounded on the door to her study. "Come in." She called, her ragged voice tearing at her throat. She licked her lips, trying to stave off her hunger.
The door opened, revealing an elderly man; the ever-present old, ragged journal in his left hand, and a worn wooden staff in his right. "My lady, the procession is ready." The man said, bowing his head. The long, purple cloak he always wore shifted with his every motion, the golden amulet sat around his neck lilting forward. His long, white beard draped down his chest, the scraggly end swaying in the unseen breeze leading out of the room.
"Tell them I'll be out momentarily." She responded, probably looking as tired as she felt, and sounded. She cleared her throat, her voice following suit. "I have one last thing to take care of."
The man sighed, turning to the door. "Make it quick, the people are getting restless."
"And Reginald," She started, causing him to stop. "Thank you… old friend."
He nodded and left the room, shutting the door behind him.
Glace stood from her desk, setting down the pen in her hand. She drew in a deep breath, and headed for the bedroom door, being careful to be as obvious as possible with her approach. She slowly walked up to the bed, smiling morosely as the figure tucked into the covers looked at her.
She couldn't help but fondly shake her head as she noticed the book lying by the figure's head. "Hey." She called softly, catching their attention. "How are you feeling?" She asked, sitting herself on the edge of the bed.
"Better than yesterday." The girl responded, drawing in a deep, shaky breath, before releasing it. "How is everyone?" She asked.
Glace debated with herself for a moment, before sighing, and telling her the truth. "Things couldn't be much worse. I'm just glad they're willing to listen to me for the moment. I honestly don't know how much longer it's going to last, though." She hung her head in shame.
"Look at the bright side." Ember said, smiling. "Things can only go up from the bottom. Things can only get better from here." She held a shaky hand up, and Glace quickly took it in hers, squeezing gently. Ember's smile widened just a little. "Now, I think they're waiting for you." She finished, winking.
Glace chuckled lightly, patting the back of Ember's hand, and setting it back on the bed. She stood, heading to the door. "Wish me luck." She said, passing through the doorway. She closed the door behind her, putting on the most determined face she could muster as she made her way out of the warm building, and into the biting cold.
"Good luck." Ember called after her, still smiling. She put her book back on her nightstand, and drifted off into a deep slumber.
Prologue
Faith
As Glace left the building, she took a moment to steady herself; her long, blue scarf waving in the breeze. She declined the brown fur coat that one of her bodyguards offered, the bone-chilling cold the atmosphere offered keeping her grounded as she walked up to the small podium of wooden crates that had been constructed. She drew in one last, long breath, before speaking.
"People of Shattered Rock. I come before you today not as your goddess. Not as your Captain. Not even as your superior… but as a woman. A woman who believes she may have the answer to your prayers. I will not claim to have the answers to all your questions, nor do I claim I can bring back those who have been lost. However, I believe I have a way to end your suffering. To make your hard work pay off. To save those few of you who remain. So I ask you to put your faith in me one last time. Not for my sake; but for yours." It was then that she surprised everyone, stepping down from the pedestal, and dropping to her knees.
"I beg of you, give me one last chance." She said, her voice dropping lower as she all but prostrated herself. "Just one." She finished, her voice shaking. "Please." Her voice was so quiet only those closest to her heard. She dropped her head, afraid of the expressions her people may be directing towards her.
The last few weeks had her restlessly working day and night, attempting to keep her people both happy and alive. The construction of new child shelters. The closure of the public house. The demolition of a coal thumper… The replacement of the cemeteries. It was a stressful job, being Captain of a slowly sinking ship.
A single man strode forward, and knelt before her, reaching his hand out, into her vision. He opened his mitten-covered fist. In it was a golden pendant, no larger than a small coin, identical to the one Reginald carried around his neck. He took her hand into his own free one, and spoke as he lay it down in hers. "You gave me hope when there was none. Since I was a child, I admired you, strived to be like you. You never lost my faith. So, what's one last time?" He asked, giving her a tiny smile. It was fragile, just like everything else.
Another man stepped forward, as Glace slowly, hesitantly, lifted her head. "I've never been one for many words, so all I'll say is this." The portly man suck in a deep, chilled breath. "One more time. Because you gave us shelter."
An elderly woman hobbled forward next, looking Glace in the eye. "Because you accepted us." She said in a steely voice.
A teen aged man stepped forward next. "Because you fed us."
"Because you warmed our homes." A woman said, holding a child in her arms.
"Because you healed us." An elderly man continued, raising his prosthetic arm.
She clenched her hand, and let a single tear fall. As it froze on her cheek, she couldn't help but smile. She sniffed, and stood up, wiping the ice from her cheek. "I can't thank you all enough." She said, taking in one more deep breath. She released it, ready to face what came next. "However, my plan means that we will risk losing everything. Are you all prepared to face such an outcome?"
"Do we have much of a choice?" The first man asked, having risen from his kneel.
"Where you go, we will follow." The elderly man said, with a determined look.
"To hell or high water." The teenager continued.
"In sickness or in health." The elderly woman said.
"We will follow." They all said at once.
"Then allow me to reinstate my oath as goddess." She said, drawing the blade at her side. It was a clear blue longsword, with what looked like fractures running down the length of the blade, filled with a soft white substance. "I promise not to mislead you." She started, as her body began to glow. "I will guide you with a gentle hand, and lead you down the path of salvation." There was a faint flash of yellow. "I will punish you with an iron fist, and keep you on the path of survival." A flash of red. "I will be your sentinel." Of brown. "I will be your sword, and your shield." Of silver. "Your light, and your shadow." Of orange. "I hereby solemnly vow; your trust, your faith, and your labor, will never be misplaced in my hands. For the city must survive. At any cost." As she finished, the outline of light was a faint blue. Her eyes were hard, awaiting her peoples' response.
"At any cost." The crowd intoned solemnly, watching her transform before their eyes.
Her snow white hair had become an electric blue, radiating light as the sun shone down on her form. Her skin was impossibly pale; a stark white, just tan enough to resemble human skin. Her long blue scarf had turned white, only the newly flared ends retaining its blue hue. Her grey sweater and copper pants had become a tight blue bodysuit, the sleeves white at the ends. The suit left a thin strip of her stomach exposed, from her hip-line to just below her breasts, and the shoulders of her outfit had clear blue armor padding. The black mittens she always wore became leather, fingerless gloves, brown in color.
Her clear blue, ice-like sword had grown from a simple longsword into a skinny greatsword, the core retaining the ice-like form, and the edges turning a soft white like that of snow. It had a bronze guard, with what looked to be icicles hanging toward the point. On the pommel was what looked like a miniature generator burning away, smoke billowing out the top, as the point of the weapon rested on the ground.
On her back was a large sniper rifle, electricity crackling off the barrel every few seconds. It was dark grey in color, like storm clouds, and had electric blue highlights running up and down the length of it. Her wings were the same ice blue as the rest of her outfit, a spiderweb of exaggerated cracks breaking up what looked like solid sheets of ice.
The woman opened her eyes, revealing power symbols which had replaced her irises; they were a smokey grey, almost lacking in color. There were a pair of aviator goggles resting on her forehead, with green lenses, and red points in the center. Her lower face was obscured by a black bandanna, though it was difficult to see over the top of her scarf. Her posture radiated a cold indifference, her eyes tracking every member of the crowd. Her unusual eyes told a different story, that of a seasoned veteran, and tough love.
"Shall I prepare the apparatus, lady Glacier?" Reginald asked from his place behind the podium, never once having moved. The woman turned her head a little, only enough to see him out of the corner of her steely eye.
"If you would." She responded evenly, turning her head back to the crowd. Her hands rested on the guard of her weapon, thumbs wrapped around the handle, as she overlooked her awestruck people. She lifted her sword, and brought it down twice, breaking them from their reverie.
"Know this. If anything goes wrong, we are all doomed. There will be no going back. No resets. No starting over. If this plan fails, there is no doubt in my mind that we will all die. This is your last chance to back out. From here on, the paths set before you are set in stone. Whatever you choose, the other path will never be open to you again. Are you prepared to face the consequences of abandoning your very world?" She asked, the steel in her eyes translating to her voice.
The crowd looked to each other, eyes wide. They spoke amongst themselves for a long moment, almost silently debating the preferred outcome. After several minutes, they nodded to each other, looked to their goddess, and knelt; whatever determination they could muster out of themselves coming forth. It was the man who had approached her first that spoke. "We, as one people, decide here and now; whatever trials lay before us, whatever challenges are ahead, we will face that which awaits us. We have chosen to accept out fate, but that doesn't mean we can't delay the inevitable. With you as our guide, we have nothing to fear."
She nodded gravely, looking as if she were shouldering the weight of the world. And she might as well have done so. "So it shall be. Whatever happens, know it was an honor to serve as your leader. I can safely say I am content in my choices." She closed her eyes, and breathed as she lifted her sword from the ground, and gripped it in her left hand.
It was then that Reginald made himself known, handing her a small, black orb, which pulsated with bright purple light. She took the object from his hand, and held it for a moment, before pushing in a button on the side. It glowed brightly for a second, then lifted out of her hand. She waited for a moment, until it flashed again, then bisected it. The world seemed to shake for a moment; then the impossible happened. The entire city, generator and all, lifted from the ground; a massive chunk of stone coming with it.
Up it went, into the cloudy sky. Below, they could see the hordes of monsters they were now escaping; all seeming no larger than ants so far below them, scurrying about at random. Mere moments later, four more islands, all carrying similar generators, surrounded the main island; all were deserted. Another moment passed, and what looked to be a storm cloud collected above them. It grew in size for several long moments, and the sound of rushing wind filled their ears, as it continued to expand; the same black of the night sky filling the center of the cloud. Stars seemed to fly into the vortex, and slowly, the islands followed, until they too were swallowed; and the cloud dissipated.
The only evidence that the city and its compatriot islands ever existed were the craters in which their land came from.
End
AN:
I despise my muse. Yet another project which will drive me up the goddamn wall because I can't find any inspiration for it after chapter four. I have been working on this since the last upload for TTFWC. It's already irritating me. Ah well, not much I can do about it. This will likely become a story I experiment with, so heads up, little to nothing is set in stone with this fic. Thank you. R&R