Prelude
Long ago, in the furthest edge of the universe, an event of wonder was in display. Dazzling lights of every hue were cast against the black and unblemished canvas of space. From a distance, one could've easily interpreted the streaks and bursts as part of some cosmic ballet, or a delicate celebration of prismatic stars pirouetting among the vast sea of nebulae. What one could never imagine, however, is that such a display was, in truth, a war.
It didn't have to end, especially like this. I had tried to warn the Lightsmiths. At times we warred together against a common enemy. Other times we turned our war upon ourselves. Whatever the reason, the inevitable effect remained the same; the stability of our once-unified world was slowly fracturing.
The Lightsmiths rarely, if ever, agreed which and who were the first or even worthy enough to harness and master the power of the Emotional Spectrum. It mattered not who started it, or who would be the last one standing. What mattered was that the union and harnessing had already begun. With the help of powerful converters, we Lightsmiths were able to channel our most strongest emotions into raw physical energy and transform such into absolute power. Such power was harnessed through our weapons and made rendered into the seven visible lights:
The Red Light of Fury, the Orange Light of Gluttony, the Yellow Light of Terror, the Green Light of Resolve, the Blue Light of Faith, the Indigo Light of Empathy, and the Violet Light of Desire.
In the hands of the Lightsmiths, unbelievable feats were performed by the weapons, unmatched by any other. The Furious of the Red Light would grant eternal life, the Faithful of the Blue Light was able to heal wounds and sicknesses, and the Empaths of the Indigo light could even travel unfathomable distances within the blink of an eye. Others chose to shape the light into solid constructs bounded only to the imagination of the wielders.
On a gigantic planet otherwise devoid of air, water, and life, an entire civilisation, bordered by each of the seven lights, was built not with stone, wood, or alloy, but with light. For all of this, I believed, I knew that conflict between the seven lights would eventually cost us this precious world. Each would fight for the belief that their emotion was not only the strongest of all, but also the only way to life and survival.
I called together the Lightsmiths on neutral ground and they came. Such was the depth of respect for my scientific acumen, even in spite of their minimal fondness for one another. I explained the Light we wielded to wage even the smallest of duels should be used to achieve peace, not war.
For the Light was more than just a mere distillation of mental emotion into physical energy, to us, it was our very way of life, and our way of survival. Each of the seven were of equal importance, all were needed if we were to maintain our lives.
Was not the gravity the result of our passion to be close to the planet we walked on? Do even the most basest of lifeforms persevere because of emotion? Did we not breath in the air because of our Faith? Desire for what we had, Terror of the thought of losing it, Fury against the Gluttony of others who sought to take it. Wasn't survival as a whole a vast exercise of Resolve?
Together, they would guarantee life. Apart or even without at least one of them, Death would be guaranteed. If at least one were to die out, a great price would be paid by all.
No one listened.
They called me a idealist, a weak fool who sought to achieve the impossible, a Relic of a less enlightened time. They chided and demanded proof that their conflict would indeed destroy our world instead of preserve it. So I assembled a ship for exploration and equipped it with instruments of my own invention. Refractors, mirrors, and collectors capable of capturing and analysing light.
If it was proof that they wanted, then I would seek it out for them. To save order and harmony became my calling.
I left the planet and travelled across the very rims of our system, and the galaxy itself, searching every world for a solution, a way to stop the fighting. My odyssey even took me to another far-flung corner of our galaxy, where I discovered a vast object that drifted endless across space and resembled a power battery of sorts. Anything and anyone that touched the battery became energised, at least for a brief moment. But beyond that, I couldn't find any more. With nothing left to search, even I began to doubt the probable consequences of conflict.
If only that doubt was proven correct.
In the heat of battle, the Dimming Death had already begun, starting with the Sector of the Blue Lightsmiths. For an eon, they had distilled and converted their Faith into azure light, enabling them to spread their teachings, across the planet and the star system. Now they were all slain, and their creations have vanished with them.
That was when I I had been correct all along, and that more will be lost soon. The sudden demise and genocide inspired a moment of pause among Lightsmiths of the other colours, then the war between them only grew more fierce. The Light continued to dwindle as the armies and people soon fell, one by one.
Indigo Empathy, Violet Passion, Red Fury, Orange Gluttony, Yellow Terror, and finally, Green Resolve. All vanquished. The Lightsmiths mocked me and my warnings of what result of their quarrelling. In the end, they sealed their shared fate, it ultimately brought them to their downfall.
By then, it was already too late. I looked down at the last living Green Lightsmith and listened to his dying breaths as the planet eventually tore itself apart, having been so used to thriving on the Light that losing it would indeed spark doom. We could've stopped the ancient squabbles, I warned them what would come of their fighting, they should've listened. I should've made them all listen. I waited for the end to consume me as well.
As our world crumbled, darkness spilt out from within, emptiness, all we had created collapsed into a void.
Would I find the source of our power I had so long sought? Would there ever be a way to undo the destruction that had been brought upon us by our ignorance and mistrust? Forever a scientist, what else could I do but escape and survive? If this were to be my final moment, then I would fill it with discovery.
It seemed to last an eternity. Drifting the rims of space, it felt as if time itself became a foreign and archaic concept, what would feel like infinite years if there were a planet and sun to turn and orbit. I couldn't even tell if my breathing was gradually becoming slower or quicker, either way I knew not to use up too much of my air tank in little time. It was beautiful and excruciating and agonising all at once. For a moment, I thought, believed even, that this would be what death truly felt like.
Then something unexpected happened. I was reformed as part of a new time and space, reenergised, refuelled, no longer a relic in name only, but by definition as well. The only surviving artefact from a world of creation that would never be seen, heard, or spoken of again.
Millions of years passed, and I already became something a scientific mind such as mine could only dream; the embodiment of a self-destructed colony planet. But the slow transformation left me inert, isolated within an anomaly in time and space. A discovery for the new rulers of the galaxy to decrypt.
Inquisitive beings, in awe of the vast universe they had already explored, driven by curiosity to ask questions and seek answers. Curiosity, the engineer of innovation and chaos. Sensing a presence suspiciously similar to that of a Lightsmith, I stirred from within this imprisoning anomaly. I tried to reason with the Lightsmiths back at our home-world; to convince them through, debate, science, peace and order. But they only understood war, domination, and violence.
So with violence I'll take my argument to the new wielders of the Light, and I won't cease my purpose until it's fulfilled. I shall end the cycle of death and rescue Light and Creation from the wantonness of those would dare abuse it for their own gain. It was, is, and always will be my calling. With these thoughts, I break free from this personal prison of mine.
Long ago, my name was Antik, but now, I am Relic, and I awaken...
Location: Space Sector 3579
Timedate: Present Day, Present Time
In the furthest rims of the galaxy, the two human Yellow Lanterns, Blaine Huang and Rhys Proulx, ventured through the sector temporally assigned to them.
"Can you remind why we're still roaming about in the middle of nowhere instead of actually doing something about those bloody green jeans?" Rhys huffed, close behind Baline.
"In case you needed to be reminded again, we've been tasked to mark and maintain many planets and systems as territory of the Yellow Lantern Corps," Blaine rolled his eyes and explained to her, being able to breath and communicate in the airless space.
However just ahead, they spotted something rather out of place, a strangle glowing shape in the near distance. Continuing forth, they got closer to see what it truly was. Before them, a gigantic cocoon-like apparition floating still and silently in this tiny corner of the cosmos.
"What is this thing?" Rhys asked, her eyes narrowed suspiciously at the sight.
"Hell if I had a clue," Blaine shrugged. "Possibly some kind of weird trap set up by those Green Lanterns or even the Star Sapphires in order to ensnare us."
"What do you say we blast it open to see what's inside?"
"That would be what they want us to do."
Suddenly and surely, the cocoon rumbled and vibrated before bursting open and revealing a gigantic alien humanoid from within.
To be continued...