A/N

I'm surprised there's so few stories about HZD on this site, considering how rich in potential the franchise is for material. Oh well, while the inspiration's fresh, let's add one to their number.

I admit, it's taken me a long time to get into it, but the world of Horizon Zero Dawn kinda grew on me.

As always, the disclaimer: I don't own Horizon Zero Dawn, just my OC's. Also, fair warning, the M rating is there for a reason. Violence and other naughty bits ahead.

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"Flesh forges steel, steel leads to rust, rust begets decay. Decay creates life, and from life comes flesh." – The Martian Circle, Tenets of Creation

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Mars.

The red planet, named after a forgotten god by the Old Ones, twisted about on its axis as it continued its perpetual orbit of the great yellow sun.

Though barren, life had long found a way to exist on its rust-colored surface. Early in the advent of human interstellar exploration, twin colonies were built from the rich bounty of minerals found in the dead earth. Situated in the two ice caps located on opposite ends of the planet's axis, Boreum and Australe, the humble miners who first settled there laid the foundations for the great domed cities that the future Martians called home.

It was an age that promised prosperity and just as much misfortune.

Mother Earth's voice was silenced in the wake of the machine uprising. Mars had to continue its journey alone, for mankind may have closed a chapter in its story but the end was not yet.

Boreum and Australe began to spread its influence upon the planet surface, covering vast mountains and plains in an intricate web network of hab-blocs and alloy-forges. It was no paradise, but life on Mars found a way forward. Fear of the rebellious tendencies of machines coupled with the inability to terraform the planet for a viable biosphere for the growing population of settlers led to discoveries once thought unholy.

Marrying flesh and steel, mind and core, the Era of Synthesis altered the Martians down to the cellular level. The only thing left, behind the adaptive shell that had become 'man', was the soul. As complex as the concept was, this vital constituent of the human race was safeguarded in an effort to preserve what little remained after they have sacrificed so much. The machine intelligences were replaced by carefully maintained soul-shards, delicate copies of human consciousnesses. The loyal few that remained were shackled and kept in perpetual servitude in the temples. The art and craft of the forges became the dominant Martian religion, mimicry of the bygone eras shaped their culture, and the desire to take to the stars drove the red planet's civilization skyward.

A little over a millennia later, just as Mars reached the zenith of its long and grueling ascension, long range listening-posts heard whispers from Mother Earth- proving that life found a way even in the war-torn homeworld.

Mars
Aeterna, The Temple Citadel
Circa 3037

Among the great forges of Aeterna, the temple citadel situated at the foot of Olympus Mons, stood the Shaper's Conclave. A place of worship dedicated to the ritual of bio-syncresis, the conclave was a vast single floor ring-shaped complex that housed hundreds of shaper pools.

Every year, dozens of young boys and girls would flock to conclaves to receive their first augmentation. In Martian society, status was defined by augmentations. This journey began with the first step- birth. Martian children were born either through natural means, or artificially through birthing pods. They, like all young Martians, subsist on the nutrient green fluid that sustains all organic and inorganic life on Mars. The first augmentation would be given on the day a child achieved adolescence, a stage in which their dependency on the green would be severed. Their digestive system, from their gnashing teeth to the softer peristaltic flesh-tubes within their bellies, would be replaced by a more robust cybernetic alteration. The second would come much later, when their bodies were fully developed, which would diminish their need for air to breathe.

These rituals were usually orchestrated by a group of shapers, the equivalent of tech-priests in the world of Mars. The complex works of the shapers, the secret craft of the Era of Synthesis, allowed for the seamless transition of organic flesh to semi-organic tissue called bio-silica. This material was the bridge between flesh and metal, ensuring that the augmentations that would come after would work as though the user was born with it. All of it, made possible by the work of billions of tiny microscopic machines slaved to the will of the Master-Shaper.

As each child stepped into their pools, each holding up to three ascendants, the thick jelly-like substance that filled the pools began to glow a shimmering gentle blue.

Master-Shaper Auctus Sidorov , a man so long in years that almost his entire body had to be augmented to keep him going, presided over the rituals by joining his mind with the soul-shards of other shapers. He was a tall spindly-limbed man, covered in gray silica from head to toe. His eyes were a multitude of little green open sockets, intricate patterns that pulsed with faint energies lined his cheeks till they ran down beneath his ceremonial red robes. Behind him sprouted additional limbs, two extra arms to assist him in his routine activities, which hung from his back like misshapen wings. Auctus had presided over thousands of these rituals, but each one was carried out with the meticulous care of a loving father.

The soul-shards, containing the consciousnesses of his colleagues who'd long passed away, projected themselves as holo-spirits. They weren't as loving as Auctus, embodying a near-machinic cold callousness that most shapers had even when they were alive, but the collective knowledge they possessed necessitated their existence. And their detached dismissiveness kept the children in awe.

Auctus was soft-spoken, his voice was among the few things that hadn't been augmented yet, but it was soothing to the ears. He calmed the most skittish of ascendants with his warmth and encouraged the wary to give themselves over to the shaper's waters. Clutched in his hand was the holy book of all Martian craftsmen, shapers and warriors- the Circle. From its hallowed pages, the old shaper recited a verse that had long been the foundation of his creed's faith.

"Flesh forges steel, steel leads to rust, rust begets decay. Decay creates life, and from life comes flesh." As he spoke, the youths began to change. The flesh in their digestive systems became silica, their teeth and jaws like steel, and soon their capacity for alternative forms of sustenance grew wide in range. Their diet, which largely consisted of vat-grown nutrient sludge, could now include metal and other inorganic produce.

"These are the four tenets of creation, the foundation of all civilizations." Auctus declared, bidding the ascendants to give way for the rest. "You've achieved the next step in your individual journeys to ascension, a necessary change so that you might weather the unforgiving land of Mars. Every step that comes after, we leave for you to decide. But above all, never forget to know your limitations. There is no certainty in flesh, nor in steel."

The augmented responded in unison, "Yes, Master-Shaper."

There was a hollow grinding noise as the giant brass doors, each twenty meters tall, swung open. Even as he stood so far away from them, Auctus could see the unexpected visitor that came to visit the conclave. A young woman, about twenty years of age, traversed the obsidian black floors of the hallowed place of worship to approach the old shaper. She wore the light blue longcoat of a scientist from the Order of Keepers, the leading ministry of science and technology on Mars, with a glowing golden holotag depicting a circle orbiting a larger circle emblazoned on the back of her coat.

Her dark red hair was cut into a neat little bob, complimenting her long layers of pale white skin. Her eyes, electric green, gazed out sharply as though studying the outside world through the lens of a microscope. Every line, every curvature, and every tiny detail on her body was crafted with graceful precision. Every movement she made was deliberate, elegant and smooth.

Auctus should know. He was the one who helped shape her.

"Theoné, zdrástvujte." The Master-Shaper greeted her in the old tongue of their ancestors, putting aside the holy book to embrace the keeper. His gesture was received with similar warmth, and he stepped back to look upon his goddaughter. "Come, let me look at you... it has been so long! We must talk, we must! Tell me, how are things going in the Order?" With ritual and ceremony over, Auctus leaped at the chance to spend some time with Theoné. But it wasn't solely for a social call that she came all the way from Boreum to find him. The woman came to say goodbye.

"Godfather, you're aware of the rumors, yes? The rumors about the whispers coming from Earth?"

Old Auctus' many eyes whirred and clicked. He nodded slowly, "Da, of course. Not even the shapers are immune to idle gossip."

"The Council has vetoed the motion of severing contact with the homeworld. They've deemed it wise to send an expedition to Listening Post- Luna, to confirm the existence of life on Earth." Theoné paused as they rounded one of many corners in the conclave, "I am to lead this expedition."

She wasn't happy, he could tell. "Ah... I believe congratulations are in order? But why, pray tell, are you in distress? This news is cause for celebration!"

"I've..." Theoné trailed off, gazing into nothing as she stared straight at a nearby wall. "I know I possess the spirit of an explorer, but I realize now that I've made many enemies in my bid to discover the unknown. It was I who proposed the idea, fought for it, despite the impassioned pleas of my colleagues. I am to fly to Luna, alone and without friends."

"Oh child. Our people will not always get along. We may be of Mars, but we are still human. We will abrade, fight and even kill each other for the most petty of reasons. If our ancestors wasted their time trying to befriend everyone, would mankind have risen from the caves of the homeworld to tread the cosmos as we do now?"

"No. I suppose not."

Auctus took Theoné aside and gently squeezed her shoulders, "Be brave. Go to Luna. You will not be alone, I will make sure of it."

The woman closed her eyes and grabbed his wrist, reminiscing of the time when she was a young ascendant and no bigger than the Master-Shaper's knee. "Will you be there? Will you come to the launch?"

"I will. Now go in peace."

The Slag

The Master-Shaper meant what he said when he told Theoné she wouldn't be alone in the expedition. And so, the following day, he emerged from the conclave aboard his fancy skycar and traveled to a neighboring domed habitat a quarter of a mile away from Aeterna. Named 'The Slag', it was located far from the citadel for a reason. It was a home for the forlorn, the unholy, the dregs of Martian society. To see a shaper among outcasts, it was rare but known to happen every now and then. As the skycar left the skylane to descend deeper into the packed hab-blocs, there was a subtle change in the atmosphere. Men of unscrupulous character wandered the streets in packs, while women of questionable repute openly displayed their bodies in scant dresses or obscene body-modifications. Provocative music and tantalizing holo-spirits danced in the open air.

The seediness and the palpable moral decay- Auctus knew it well. In another life, he'd mingled with the same people. That was before he found his faith. Whereas the shapers and other members of the ecclesiarchal clergy would look down upon them, Auctus regarded them with pity. They were a necessary thing, a personification of two of the core tenets of the Martian Circle.

Life and steel cannot exist without rust or decay.

"Wait for me here." He said to the driver once they've safely parked, then stepped out of the vehicle.

The shaper merged with the sea of bodies that flooded the district. He shielded himself from the pervasive advertisement programs by donning a protective firewall, which helped block out the unnecessary distractions. Auctus followed the waypoint on his internal navigator, heading deeper and deeper into the dens of iniquity until he reached a place called 'The Oasis'. As sordid as they come, establishments such as these serve a similar purpose as the temples. Communion with the old gods of debauchery and vice, the fellowship of other like-minded patrons, no civilization was without a good old-fashioned drinking den. The Oasis permitted all sorts of customers to indulge in its many amenities, barring none to enjoy the exotic fruits of civilization for the price of a few golden crowns- the currency of the Martians.

Auctus stood out like a sore thumb, which only made him the target of obscene gestures from the rougher-hewn denizens of the Slag. He actively avoided the beckoning caresses of the den's prostitutes, picking up the pace to draw nearer to the group of Martian soldiers huddled around a table.

"Za zda-ró-vye!" They cheered, followed by the crash of a dozen glass tankards. Down their throats the vile stuff went, and the soldiers went back to swapping stories of their many adventures. Their armor, made from a secondary and tertiary layer of hardened composite and bio-silicate carapace, was red and bordered with gold. These were the colors of the Red Deluge, a paramilitary organization that sometimes acted as the main army of the technocratic government of Mars. Most of the time, they were just mercenaries.

Every man that sat at the table had been modified to the point that they hardly resembled anything human anymore. Every line was bedecked with chromed synthetic skin, every limb bulged from military hardware amalgamated masterfully to fit into their augmented bodies. There was one exception, however. One still had a face of a man, though it was scarred deeply in one way or another. Under the dim light, he looked like a sculpted bust left out in the rain to be beaten down by the elements. His friends were happy, but even in their company he seemed isolated in his personal misery. The hard lines on his face betrayed a hollowed out soul, drowning itself in the squalor of self-pity and inaction.

Nimrod Rhaskov, that was his name. The Master-Shaper smiled to himself at the sight of him, for he knew he'd come at the best time to show the lost man his way.

"Lieutenant Rhaskov, zdravstvuyte." Auctus declared. All mirth left the air as the group suddenly went silent. Nimrod turned his head up slowly, and with just as much vigor, arose to meet the visitor. The lieutenant was bigger than his comrades, almost as big as the old shaper who towered above everyone else in the room.

Nimrod didn't smile, but his electric red eyes turned yellow as they lit up to express his guarded happiness at the sight of the Master-Shaper. "Dobro pozhalovat, good shaper." He welcomed his company, turning to the other Deluge warriors. Nimrod was rather laconic in nature, a man of a few words but clear of intent. His men left the table to drink elsewhere, without so much as a grunt of discontent.

"Sit." Nimrod invited.

"Spasibo." Auctus said gratefully, thankful to find him so welcoming despite appearances. "How are you, my friend?"

"Good. Alive." Nimrod replied, "Bored, maybe?"

"Why? Running out of crowns to spend in this pit?" The old shaper observed, noticing how the soldier nursed his empty tankard.

"Da, you can say that. The Council is running out of enemies to send its dogs after. My men and I need a job, and soon."

"Ah! We touch upon the subject of my visit, then."

"Fortunate for me. What's the work?"

"Protection. There's someone's safety I want ensured, on an expedition to Luna. I believe you can handle it."

"Oh, but that depends. Who's the client?"

"My goddaughter... Theoné."

Suddenly, Nimrod wasn't so amenable. There was an audible sigh as he let out a breath, "Oh blyat."

Auctus raised one of his many hands, "My friend, I know you two have history but-"

"History? That's putting it mildly." The lieutenant bristled, "Did she put you up to this? What, are things not working out for her in the bejeweled city of Boreum? Or was it too much to handle that she would remember me only when she has no one else to turn to?"

"No, Nimrod. She does not know."

"What do you mean?"

"I came on my own. Theoné does not know I chose to speak with you, but I promised her that she would be protected. I am keeping that promise by coming to you, because I know what you can do."

"That's a promise you'll have to break." Nimrod stabbed a metallic finger into the table so hard it threatened to pierce the surface. "Do you know the last thing she said to me when she boarded that shuttle to run off to the city?" Auctus gave no reply, so the soldier continued. "She said I was a destroyer and that's all I'm ever going to be good at. All that I touch, I kill. And that she had no place in her life for a killer."

"My heart weighs heavy for the frayed bond between you."

"It's not frayed, old one. It has long been severed, by her own hand."

"Is it?"

Nimrod frowned, "I don't want your pity."

Auctus shook his head, "No, you don't. You want money, and a distraction. That is all I offer in this job."

"But Theoné-"

"Is a client, nothing more. I'm sure you can handle watching her for a few weeks."

Nimrod mulled with the idea for a few moments, allowing his attention to be diverted to his men who were in the middle of a brawl that started out of nowhere. If he was honest with himself, the sights and sounds of The Slag were getting rather dull as of late. Distracting himself with a job just might be the change in his daily routine that he was looking for. But could he handle being around a woman he despised, and who despised him in turn? "Ten thousand crowns. For each of us."

Auctus stared at him, dumbfounded. When he finally spoke, his voice was a broken flustered shadow of itself. "W-What?"

"You gave the job, I show the price. Ten thousand crowns. Clearly, you can afford it."

"I should've expected your business savviness would've won out in the end."

Nimrod, amused by the old shaper's disposition, wagged a finger good-naturedly in his face. "Now now, Auctus. You came to me. This is not a price I put on your goddaughter's life, it is simply the professional and hazard fee. It's not cheap to fly in space, you know."

Auctus' eyes glowed as he accessed his personal accounts to wire the transfer. "Very well. Half now and half when the job is done, as incentive for you to see it through."

"So must it be." Nimrod raised his empty tankard, then smashed it against a bumbling brute's head when one of the Red Deluge soldiers tossed him his way. Nimrod got up, so did Auctus. "I'd ask you to stay and drink on the sealing of our contract, but..."

"You know me better than that." The Master-Shaper retreated just as the brawl erupted into a full-blown bar fight. "I'll see you all at the launch."

Nimrod nodded then joined his brothers in the fight, now a little heavier of purse and fired up for a good old-fashioned scrap.

Boreum
Augur 13 Launch Site

The hour of the launch was hailed by the people of Mars as any event, with an ordered gathering and a formal blessing from the Council.

Theoné and her team arrived at the site ahead of the crowds and councilmen to make the necessary preparations. Boreum, like her sister city in the south, was a utopian megapolis situated on the great ice cap from which she took her name. A towering megastructure, the great dome, that protected the entire city from the powerful glare of the yellow sun had always been the Martians' best friend. It gave them a cool atmosphere, an artificial paradise complete with artificial weather patterns like rain and sunshine. When people wearied of the toil of working the great forges of the creation network, they went on the pilgrimage to Boreum and Australe, to unwind and reconnect with their Martian roots. Indeed, it was a magnificent sight even for one who'd lived in Boreum for years. Theoné looked out from the windows of her transporter and saw the skylanes full of skycar traffic, with the streets and arching walkways crowded with pedestrians. They passed by the canopy-shaped halls of the megacomplex that acted as the main institute of the Keepers Order, the towering brass statues of the forge gods and the floating garden islands that drifted along their preplanned routes.

The wonders of Martian engineering knew no bounds.

The launch site was housed by a massive hexagonal complex built for the shuttle that was bound for Luna- Earth's moon. All around the expedition team hovered builder automata, drones fitted with a myriad of tools for swift construction procedures. The robots made their final diagnostic scans, signed off from the site, then allowed themselves to be guided by a soul-shard proxy. The proxy was a humanoid drone, complete with a body lined with armored bio-silica for its specific tasks as a builder, and was capable of carrying around the soul-shard of a Martian foreman. It gave the team the all-clear for ascending into the shuttle, then powered-off to be loaded in with the rest of its drones.

When Theoné entered the main hangar, where the industrial lift was located, she froze in her tracks when she recognized a familiar but unwelcome face.

There was a large Devourer war mech all packed up for the trip, a behemoth of a machine designed to encase a rider pilot in several rolled slabs of armored composite- and drown any potential enemy in a storm of magnetically-accelerated rounds. Beside the machine stood a small group of soldiers from the Martian Red Deluge. It was easy to distinguish them from the rest of the voyagers. Their carapaces were painted red and gold, with the symbol of a yawning razor-toothed maw on their pauldrons. Together with a few engineers, they were loading the mech along with their equipment into the storage compartment of the Augur 13. At the moment, they looked passable for Martians. But once they donned their helmets, they would look anything but.

Theoné remembered recoiling in horror the first time she saw them marching through the parades thrown in commemoration of their efforts against Martian separatists. Their helmets, fashioned in the likeness of grinning savage skulls with hateful glowing red eyes.

"Nimrod." Theoné greeted one whom she recognized, bypassing all the formalities. "What are you doing here?"

The hard lines on his face softened a bit when her voice reached his ears. Nimrod was a soldier known for his brutally efficient track record on the field, hardly the kind of person Theoné expected to see in an expedition. The moment she saw him, she knew that he was the one her godfather brought to keep her safe. "The Master-Shaper hired me to protect you." He grunted, "And before you protest, don't. The contract has been sealed and I'm seeing this through- regardless of how you feel about it."

"Don't worry, I won't." She said quietly, "It's... it's good to see you again."

Nimrod's lips pulled into a thin taut line. He didn't say anything, but Theoné knew he didn't share the sentiment. She said some very hurtful things the day she left him, and every day after that she wished she could take it all back. The folly of youth, her young uncompromising naivete, both cut him out of her life. She regretted it ever since. Perhaps, in the course of the expedition, she could mend the bridge between them? So much time had passed, it just might've been enough to heal the wound she inflicted.

A loud fanfare from the stage, where the councilmen were set to arrive, heralded the final events before the launch. Theoné turned to see the opulent carriages that brought the elders of Martian civilization, then glanced back hesitantly at Nimrod. To her disappointment, the lieutenant had already turned his heel and walked away from her. Theoné sighed. She wasn't going on the expedition to rekindle the long dead embers of young love, neither was he.

She had a job to do.

People of note, besides the councilmen, arrived to see them fly including Master-Shaper Auctus. But not everyone in the Council agreed to the Augur 13 venture. It had long been the prevailing motion that Earth, the source of all troubles, must be left undisturbed. It was a cursed planet, and every Martian since the first days of Boreum and Australe believed it so. Naturally, every other generation had its fair share of conservatives and progressives. Theoné was one of the latter and eventually she gained enough support to have the expedition proposed. One of the councilmen who strongly opposed the motion was Orko Sokolov, a bitter and ancient individual who held considerable sway over the political offices of the technocracy. But as loud as Orko proved himself to be, his was drowned out by the unexpected opposition.

So it came as a surprise to all when he showed up at the launch.

A stocky fellow, with the constitution of a large lumbering ox from the days of Old Earth, Orko slowly approached the team with the grim countenance of a reluctant participant forced to congratulate his opponent. His headdress was shaped like two long horns extending forward and upward. Orko had no eyes, but the half-plate that covered the upper part of his face acted as their replacement. His rotund body was an incoherent mess of assorted livery, creating shapes and patterns that no mind could comprehend. The bio-silicate muscles on his neck and arms bulged slightly as he pushed up his chest, preparing what was certain to be a memorized speech.

"Keeper Theoné Romanova, Master-Shaper Auctus Sidorov." His low grating voice assaulted their ears, "Congratulations on the passing of the motion. I hold true to my skepticism, but I do hope you find what you're looking for. May your voyage be long and eventful. Let the gods forge your deserved path among the stars."

With that said, he was gone. The other councilmen had their own blessings to share, but somehow Orko's resonated louder than the rest. For one who was on the opposition, it was largely expected he would cause a bigger scene. Theoné was glad to have that bit of drama pass away without damaging her day. After they've finished with the parting, the ship was ready for the trip to Luna. Everyone onboard the Augur 13 climbed into their personal pods to prepare for the powerful thrust of the giant engines. Each pod, filled with a special fluid designed to negate the bone-shattering forces of gravity made from the movements of the shuttle, embraced its user by connecting them to the ship network through the multitude of tethering wires built into each pod.

The navigators said their prayers before assuming control of the vessel, then all went black.

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