Meanwhile, the Generals and aides to the alliance leaders remained as focused on their own as they could. General Blaze of Planet Fire, currently stationed on the battle moon in the civilian quarter, observing as several families waited for medical officers to tend them in the common areas down the corridors from the Palace entryway. All seemed to have patches of dulling ashen grey skin, instead of the usual deep charcoal and black contrasted with the pulsing flame within all Firians.
The illness seemed to be related to the atmosphere, the battle moon more equipped to be a short-term home for the Rockian military on dispatch, not a permanent home for Firian civilians. Blaze felt his ire rising, ear-spines rattling his jewelry as he continued on, he hated his people being treated as second-class citizens. They had sacrificed their home to save the entire alliance, had displaced even their magnificent palace, which still held the many wonders the Firian people had been gifted by the Makers in the time before any could remember, the space-worthy ship having easily found a proper spot to settle on the surface of the battle moon, the central support pillar adapting to its new home as though having a mind of its own.
"General Blaze!" called a younger Firian male, military garb denoting his status as a trainee, running toward him from the direction of the aforementioned palace. He recognized the young man to be a student of his son, Flare, of the Flame guard contingent and training instructor for younger Firians. Blaze paused and turned toward the young male, giving him a few moments to catch his breath. Flare, while only a year older than their Prince, had been at the top of his class of warriors in training and already taken on training the youngest members of the warrior ranks.
"There's a fight in the main throne room. Some have attempted to enter the treasury, they threatened group instructor Flare." The youngster breathed, Blaze hissed through his teeth and took off in the direction the youngster had come from, easily running faster than he had intended, the one who had alerted him chasing after as quickly as he could manage, as he had already been winded. A commotion in the doorway of the chute leading up to the palace had caused a crowd to gather and block entry, the guards hard-pressed to keep a small semblance of order. As he approached, the crowd quickly began redirecting to him with questions of concern and fear.
"Calm down! I can't find out the problem if I can't even see it!" He boomed, inwardly groaning that he had to force himself not to simply push the civilians aside for fear that it would reflect poorly. His coup and manipulation of his own Prince, even having gone so far as to gas him and send him out into space in an escape pod to be able to autonomously take a Rock Battle Moon to attack the Beast Planet directly. He had redeemed himself moments after, as his Prince and the others who had attempted to stop him had become the Beast Planet's target, unable to stop the battle moon and instead keeping their forces as a wall keeping the rest of the alliance from advancing.
"General, where is the Prince!? He must be alerted-" One of the palace guards bowed lightly and began to speak as Blaze managed to part the crowd, returning to the present from his spiralling thoughts. He stopped the guard mid-sentence and proceeded inside, stepped on the small lift that brought him up to the outer ring in a breath, and proceeded to the throne room where a half-dozen younger males stood holding another against a wall, with yet another two others attempting to pry open a massive elaborately decorated door.
"What is the meaning of this!?" Blaze commanded, the entire group of young males seeming to jump and quickly salute their General, Flare, the one who had been held fast by the larger group, glowering at his supposed students as he dusted himself off and moved toward his father, side-eyeing the two close to the doors. After none of the trainees seemed ready to explain themselves, Flare cleared his throat and spoke.
"They claimed they heard voices inside, refused to listen and decided to attempt to enter it while I left them for but a moment in the middle of a lengthy drill. Returning, I found them attempting to pry the doors, was promptly attacked and pinned by the rest." Flare explained, eyes narrowing and his partially-developed ear spines twitching angrily as he motioned to the group as he spoke. Blaze kept his feelings to himself, secretly proud of his son, despite the unruly group of students and one having the sense to come get a senior officer, as he was given a brief explanation by one of the boys, at first not listening, then when another mentioned they had also heard whispering from behind the locked vault door, he returned to the matter at hand.
"Whispers? What form of whispers, did you make out any words? If you waited outside the door, did you hear more clearly? You seem to be all action yet make no motion to investigate before you barge in." Blaze, having enough of the young males insistence on there being something in the treasury, moved through the throng of youngsters to the door, which had not even a scratch on it from the earlier attempt to pry it open.
Not a single one uttered a word, all of them more than cowed by Blaze reiterating what Flare himself had said earlier. Blaze stepped to the door, and motioned all to be silent. They concentrated on their flames, and blocked out the sound of the crackling fires of the room, only their breathing punctuating the silence of the throne room. After several tense moments, Blaze himself let out a boisterous laugh, the trainees jumping lightly and frowning but none daring speak.
"See? Nothing inside the vault, which is locked and rarely opened. None get in or out without-" Blaze began, before all of them tensed, whispers suddenly clearly coming from the door behind him. He turned, wide-eyed, disbelief plain on his face as he gathered himself, and while he hated to enter the treasury without strict direction from his monarch, he withdrew the specialised keystone he kept on his person and held it to the door. The door seemed to shimmer for a moment, before a heavy internal mechanism could be heard slowly grinding before a series of clicks and whirring akin to an engine powering up issued forth from the doors. Blaze stepped back, motioning all to remain away from the door, which slowly cracked open along the intricate central seam, then slid aside and up, hidden in the walls.
The Vault, lined with weapons racks and tablets of the first Kings, spoils of war, and several artifacts many knew nothing about in their own cases, remained dark, as though a shadow dwelled within the vault, ready to devour any foolish enough to attempt to steal from the Monarch of Flame. Blaze withdrew his sidearm, the high-pitched whine alerting the gathered younger observers that this was not a normal occurrence, even Flare watching closely with interest.
"Whoever you are, show yourself, and we may show mercy for your intrusion." Blaze commanded as he moved forward, arms straight out and clutching his weapon with both hands to keep it steady. His calm outer demeanor hid his inner turmoil well, as he knew some of the artifacts inside the vault to be either cursed, possessed by spirits, or possibly haunted by the Makers themselves. Blaze moved cautiously through the room, eyes wide and searching for anything that moved and ears straining for any sound. He reached the last display case, one known only by reputation, the Makers Blade, sheathed in its obsidian scabbard.
The blade and its scabbard, decorated with the head of a maned feline creature as the end of the pommel and on the flaring hilt guard as though the blade erupted from its maw, each seemed otherworldly, as though dipped in the stars of the galaxy itself, the elaborate swirling markings on them appearing to move as he approached it, ear spines flat to the sides of his skull. He moved to peer behind the display unit, when the whispers returned.
Blaze froze, swearing he heard the voice of his late monarch amongst the whispers, but in a language he had never heard before, and more pointed. He frowned, lowering his weapon, the power-down hiss seeming to break the concentration of the whispers, then encourage them to increase in volume.
"Where is it coming from?" Flare asked, stepping into the vault cautiously, ear-spines wiggling lightly as he tried to pinpoint the source of the whispers. They searched through the room together, only pausing when the whispers stopped, and were replaced by a tone that seemed to play in their minds, almost musical, calming, yet unnerving. The sound also carried to the others outside, the group of nine youngsters, the ninth having been the one who had retrieved Blaze from the lower levels and only recently caught up, peering into the vault from outside.
"That is certainly different, a sentient vault? What in the Inferno is going on…" The youngsters whispered amongst themselves, soon going silent when Blaze and Flare stopped before the blade again. Blaze frowned, watching as Flare moved to touch the glass case of the blade, and startled when both watched his fingers pass through as though immaterial. The sound stopped abruptly, as he made a second attempt, the false glass a hologram that flickered and disappeared, Flare able to gently touch the blade-hilt, which promptly gave him a light shock.
"Perhaps only the monarch can touch it?" Hazarded one of the youngsters outside the door, Blaze promptly turning and glaring, but did not speak a word. Instead, Blaze turned back and moved to do the same, resting his fingertips on the hilt cautiously. He frowned, about to withdraw, when the vault seemed to darken around him, as though he had been thrown across leagues to a darkened space, none of his former surroundings remaining as he heard one word echoed in the dark in a voice he had not heard since his Prince had been orphaned.
"Magmus?" He hazarded, breath hitching in his throat, the air around him suddenly frighteningly cold, as though no warmth came from him either.
"Blaze." The voice of his monarch first echoed in his mind before reaching his ears as barely a whisper. Tears began to form in his eyes, Blaze finding himself overwhelmed by his long-lost monarch speaking to him across the very planes between life and death. He tried to reach out, almost able to envision the last Emperor of planet Fire, Magmus the Infernal, standing in the black abyss before him.
"I am forever loyal, my Lord. What do you wish of me?" Blaze breathed, finding the cold air nearly choked him and held his words in the darkness around him, no echo, no repeated sound reaching his ears, as though the darkness were a tangible thing pressing against him. Blaze shuddered, he had never experienced anything like this, what in the Inferno itself was going on?
"You are, and I know you will continue to be." Blaze shuddered again, as though the voice of his monarch travelled through him like life-flame, invigorated and near overwhelmed by it. "Pyrus must keep the Blade with him. Now. The Makers call, and he must listen. Do this for me, and all will be forgiven."
"The Makers? My Lord, how will we know?" Blaze asked, receiving no response. No verbal one, at the very least, as he felt the darkness push him away, back into the light, where he stumbled back from the display case and the blade, his son Flare catching him before he fell.
"Father? What happened?" Flare asked, confused as to why his father suddenly seemed to step back and waver in place after touching the Blade of the Makers with only a fingertip. Blaze shook his head, as though to clear it, feeling strangely dizzy and disoriented.
"The Makers… They are returning." Blaze breathed, taking a moment to recover himself, breathing heavily and barely able to keep his feet under him. Flare dismissed his class, sending them all out and back to their families, needing to figure out what his father was going on about.