ETHERIA
May 15, 17:42 UTC
ONE YEAR AGO
Etheria was dying.
Towering pillars of emerald fire burst from its fracturing crust to pierce the starry skies. Across the planet, Etherians held their loved ones close as the planet beneath their feet shook itself apart. They cried out for deliverance. They cried for mercy from One who had none, One alone who's voice rose not in despair or terror, but in triumphant rapture...
"CRY, ETHERIA! CRY FOR PRIME'S MERCY! THERE WILL BE NO COMFORT FOR YOU!"
Horde Prime watched as the pitiful remains Etheria's 'Great' Rebellion huddled in the gorge below, their world literally crumbling around them. His treacherous brother's purple-haired harlot squirmed helplessly in His grasp, though not unpleasantly. A pity He could not save her… for later.
Alas it could not be helped. In just a few moments, Etheria would crack like an egg. The power contained within its Heart would burn across the stars, purging the galaxy of life. All who had defied and denied Him would be swept away in a single stroke. No more Lanterns, no more Reach, no more false gods - Old or New - and most importantly, no more She-Ra.
"ALL THE UNIVERSE WILL BE CONSUMED IN UNDYING FLAME!"
Then, everything stopped.
The planet's death screams fell silent. Pillars of eldritch fire evaporated like the morning dew, replaced by motes of soft golden light that drifted through the air like snowflakes. Prime dropped the Tech Princess, brushing the offending matter away. His clones simply gawked at the spectacle like awe-struck children. Why didn't the fools do something?
Then she came.
She strode radiantly out of the planet's depths, like one of the Old Gods arising from the ashes of Ragnarok. The cracked stone bloomed to life with her every step. With a gesture, she sent a lance of golden light firing into the sky where it struck His flagship hanging overhead.
He had expected the Velvet Glove to explode in a fiery cataclysm, sending chunks of molten slag reigning down on them all. Instead, titan vines burst from His flagship's hull, enveloping the entire structure in verdant foliage until it resembled nothing so much as a giant floating tree. He stared in bewilderment. The site was absurd, obscene. What was even the point of this display?
Then she struck the ground, unleashing another wave of life-giving energy that swept from one horizon to the other. Prime staggered backwards, tripping over something to land on His backside amid the new-born greenery.
That's she approached Him.
"Though all is reduced to rubble, Prime shall rise again. So, it has been, and so it always shall be," He snarled defiantly. Though perhaps the threat would have carried more weight had He not been crawling in the grass like an animal.
"No. You're wrong," she spoke softly, without triumph or malice, kneeling to meet His eyes. "It's time for you to go."
As she cupped His cheek in her hands, He reached out to his clones. He tried to escape, cast His consciousness into another vessel, only to realize with sharp terror that He had somehow been severed from the Hive Mind. For the first time in as long as He could remember, He was alone, truly, irrevocably alone.
She suffused His entire being with light. Not the cold still perfection of His own Light, but a light that lived and danced and burned. Oh, how it burned. So, for the first time in as long as He could remember, Horde Prime screamed.
And then… Oblivion.
[-]
- -, -:- -
The entity once called Horde Prime abruptly found itself alone in a void without sight, sound or sensation. There was no cold, no darkness, for cold and darkness would be something. There was only absence and negation of all material existence. Here, finally free of the limits of physical neurology, it remembered everything...
[-]
The world had no name, for the Wise held that there were no other worlds from which to distinguish it. A cold and dying sun had left the planet's surface frigid and barren since time immemorial. Life had drawn inward, colonizing the endless system of caverns that honeycombed the depths. Geothermal vents formed the foundation stone of a rugged ecosystem that clung stubbornly to survival.
Civilisation dwelt there as well, a people so old even legend no longer recalled when their ancestors had walked beneath naked skies. The stone ceilings of the upper caverns marked the absolute limits of their universe. At least they had, before the coming of a creature from the infinite gulfs beyond, a creature not of flesh and blood but of steel and wires.
The mechanoid had called itself the 'Collector of Worlds', in what few isolated attempts at communication had been attempted. The Collector had offered no explanation or justification for spiriting away the great capital city of Spelea, even when warriors from neighbouring cavern-cities had mounted a last desperate assault and the alien's titanic voidcraft.
Forefront in the offensive had been Seferus Kur, Lord Protector of the Realm. When he and his forces had been shot out of the air by lancing spears of light, all had expected the Collector to turn its wrath on the remaining cities. Instead, it had simply completed its task before disappearing back into the infinite gulfs from whence it came, leaving only a gaping wound in the world where the great city had once hung. For the first time in their recorded history, the cavern dwellers had glimpsed the cold stars and shuddered.
But that had been weeks ago. Now Seferus Kur's younger son stood before a mirror of polished obsidian, reflection pensive as it stared back at him questioningly.
Anillus Kur was, by the standards of his species, utterly unremarkable. His eyes were pale emeralds set in an even paler chiropteran visage. His scalp was bare save for a narrow strip of snowy hair running to the base of his neck. Some of his peers had described him as 'slender', which Anillus knew was simply a polite way of saying 'scrawny'. His vast leathery wings cloaked tightly about the gangly embarrassment of a body, hiding it from the outside world's gaze.
Knock-knock!
"Enter."
Hec-Tor Kur brushed aside the beaded curtain that hung across the stone doorframe. In every way that Anillus was narrow, his elder brother was broad; both in body and in personality. His dark leathery wings flared back, proudly displaying a barrel chest encased within the ceremonial armour of House Kur. His hair strip was dyed an electric blue and styled in a spiky mohawk. He locked Anillus into something halfway between a bear hug and a headlock.
"How're you holding up, little brother?" Hec-Tor asked with uncharacteristic softness.
"I am... as well as can be expected," Anillus lied. Not quite a lie, but closer to the truth than he cared to admit.
"C'mon, we better start making for the Temple..." Hec-Tor let out one of his small snorting laughs. "You know what a stickler father was for punctuality?"
[-]
The Kur brothers' journey had been largely uneventful. Soaring through the vast city caverns, their wings carried them on thermal updrafts from the planet's core. Inverted towers carved from megalithic stalactites hung from the cave roofs, lit by phosphorescent crystals of every hue and shade imaginable.
One tower stood alone and without light. Its stone walls were inscribed with an ancient symbol, two wings of pure crimson: the symbol of the Goddess Horokoth.
The brothers alighted on a platform of cold polished onyx. They were greeted by a tall gaunt figure, impossibly aged. She gripped a dark blue crystal sphere in her long bony talons, her face hidden behind a crimson veil.
They bowed. "Sorceress," Hec-Tor spoke deferentially.
The ancient oracle's bony fingers beckoned silently as she led them deeper into the Temple of Horokoth, through dim corridors that eventually opening into a vaulting chapel. The two brothers cloaked their wings tight against the sudden chill as they made their way to the head of the silent congregation. Upon an altar of black stone, marbled with crimson, lay the cold still form of Seferus Kur.
Normally the ceremony would have been conducted mere days after the deceased's passing, officiated by one of the low priests and attended only by closest kin. But such humble private grief would not do for the 'Hero of Spelea'. Representatives from across the cavern cities, including the surviving High Council formed a quiet procession, murmuring their condolences to the two brothers.
Anillus hated every minute of it. Half the attendees here had been avowed rivals of his father. Now the hypocrites sung praises to a man they'd jealously reviled in life. Not that Anillus himself was much better.
Hec-Tor wouldn't understand. The elder Kur son had enlisted almost the day he'd come of age. Over the last few years, Hec-Tor had barely even visited home except for birthdays, annual festivals or to introduce the latest love of his life. There'd been more than few of those. Hec-Tor hadn't had to live with an aging bitter old man.
Anillus, on the other wing, could count on one hand the number of times he'd left his home city. All he had to show for himself was a rather unglamorous job at a local machine shop, hardly befitting the son of the Lord Protector. Something his father had taken every opportunity to remind him of.
He'd never realized how much he'd actually resented his father, until the day a sombre Guard Militant had delivered the news in the aftermath of the Collectors invasion. Anillus had felt some twisted knot in the pit of his stomach finally unravel after long years of walking on eggshells, of stoically enduring his father's constant calculated humiliations.
The sickening release had quickly given way to an ever deepening spiral of guilt. Anillus had barely slept or eaten in the last few weeks. Every stranger's kind word, every attempt by Hec-Tor to cheer him had only made it worse. His malaise wasn't born of grief but shame. What kind of son finds relief in his father's death?
"We have gathered this hour to commend our fallen into the Wings of Horokoth," the Sorceress spoke in sepulchral tones, clutching the crystal globe close to her withered bosom. "Let the First Born step forward!"
Hec-Tor did as bidden. An acolyte handed him a torch of blue flame as he approached the altar. He lowered the torch, igniting an azure pyre that soon consumed the mortal remains of his father.
"May he rest in Eternal Sleep with the Goddess," the Sorceress intoned. "As we all shall when She brings the Final Dark at the End of All Things."
Empty words, Anillus thought, stifling his own blasphemy. But it was true, wasn't it? Horokoth had not spoken to them since the Elder Days, and even then, only in garbled prophecies whose nameless oracles had long turned to ash themselves. When he was a child, Anillus had prayed every night to the Dark Mother. Not for wealth or long life, simply for connection, some sign he was not alone in the cold dark. And every night, She had answered with silence.
Despite it all, Anillus did not consider himself an atheist. Logic dictated that the Goddess must have existed at some point. Otherwise, how could anything else have come to exist? Perhaps She was long dead? Perhaps She simply no longer cared. Perhaps She never did?
BOOOOOM!
The distant thunder shattered Anillus' thoughts. The Temple's roof shook, tremors growing in intensity until the ornately carved ceiling began to crack.
"CAVEQUAKE!" Hec-Tor instinctively took charge, grabbing Anillus by the arm as he dragged his brother towards the nearest exit. "Everyone clear the temple!"
The fleeing congregants spread their wings as they abandoned the temple. Across the cavern city, every able body did the same, carrying the wingless and infirm where they could. Better to risk being struck by falling debris in mid-glide than be trapped a tower unmoored from the cavern ceiling.
"I don't understand!?" Anillus cried, trying not to lose himself to the plague of panic sweeping the city. "There hasn't been a cavequake in gener-"
Burning light, brighter and harsher than any glow-crystal, flooded the city as the cavern roof began to crumble. Entire towers were sent screaming down into the yawning abyss. Anillus threw up his arms, futilely attempting to shield his eyes from the stinging glare.
Shapes prowled though the blinding haze like cave-sharks though the undersea. They seemed far too bulky to move through the air with the ease they did. One of them turned and came barrelling towards Anillus, a misshapen mass of flesh and metal on insectoid wings. It shrieked hatefully, fanged maw gaping hungrily.
"LOOKOUT!"
Hec-Tor shoved Anillus clear. The beast's fangs sunk deep into the elder Kur's right shoulder, drawing gouts of emerald blood and an agonized wail.
Anillus tumbled through the sky, landing hard on a rocky promontory before slowly staggering upright. His wing bent at an unnatural angle. He was surprised; should there not be more pain?
"Hec-Tor...?" He mumbled. "HEC-TOR!?"
Two of the half-metal demons turned, screaming down on Anillus. He tried to scrabble for cover, seeking a hiding place through watery eyes, but the burning light saturated every shadow.
The twin devils landed with deceptive grace, stalking leisurely towards their prey. They bared their fangs, reaching out with emerald-slick talons.
"Hold!"
As the new voice rang out imperiously, the demons froze. They parted reverently, making way for a being unlike any Anillus had ever seen. He towered over the prostrate fiends, over everything. His polished purple skin was like living marble. His star-frost hair blazed like a halo of cold fire. He was the most beautiful - and most terrifying - creature Anillus had ever beheld.
The God smiled beatifically, extending a hand. "Rejoice, Little One…" He intoned in cool bell-like tones. "For Grayven, Son of Darkseid, has come among you."
[-]
A year passed, an eye-blink in the reckoning of gods or galaxies, but enough to make the cavern dwellers' society almost unrecognizable. Not that Anillus would have known; he had not seen his homeworld since the coming of the Gods. He had been among the first wave of 'tribute' offered to placate the New Pantheon. Apokolips had been a revelation, pillars of flame that licked the stars, weapon factories that stretched across continents. An entire world dedicated to the creed of eternal war. What kind of beings could even conceive such a thing? What enemy could be so terrible as to justify destruction on such a universal scale?
He learned the answer soon enough. These were not the empty abstractions worshipped in the silent temples of his own people. They were True Gods, beings of incorruptible flesh who warred and loved across the expanse of an endless cosmos. They could literally step from one world to the next. Their machines could think.
"Servitor-Alpha-5891!"
Anillus nearly gave himself a concussion, sharply striking the back of his skull against the low access hatch.
"Servitor-Alpha-5891!" The synthesized voice repeated in a rapid-fire mechanized staccato "Acknowledge!"
"Acknowledged, Brother Eye," Anillus groaned, rubbing his head as he looked up.
The crimson optic lens regarding him coolly from the upper corner of the access junction. As a technician, Anillus knew the Twilight's internal sensors already monitored the entire crew. The omnipresent eyes of the ship's living computer were technically superfluous; they were there to be seen as much as to see.
"Report-to-bridge-within-fifty-two-cycles!" Brother Eye shrieked, impatience and paranoia literally hardwired into his personality. "Failure-to-comply-will-result-in sixteen-megacycles-sensory-deprivation!"
"Understood," Annilus hastily resealed the power node, gathering up his tools before racing through the ship's red-lit corridors.
The Twilight was one of the largest and most well-armed dreadnoughts in the Apokoliptan fleet, as befitted its commander. It was not built as a means of transport; the Gods had Boom-Tubes for that. No, like all Apokoliptan warships, the Twilight was built to punish. The disadvantage of the vessel's imposing size was that it took Anillus just a little under fifty cycles to reach the main bridge, clutching his folded tool kit to his heaving chest. He had barely turned the last corner before being halted by the metallic talon of one of the Parademons guarding the bridge.
The creature lifted Anillus bodily from the deck, snarling viciously. Its toothy maw stank of rotting meat. Images of emerald-slicked fangs flashed across the slave-technician's memory.
"I-I am expected."
The Parademon's head tilted oddly, like an animal listening for some sound only it could hear, before unceremoniously dropping Anillus to the deck.
The bridge's steel doors ground open, allowing a trembling Anillus entry into the cathedral like chamber. His breath caught in his throat. A glittering starscape spanned across his vision, a prismatic kaleidoscope of rainbow nebula littered with the still molten remains of slain worlds.
It took a moment to realize he was staring at a colossal viewscreen; he'd never been to the bridge before. At the center of the command deck towered a lone throne, silhouetted against the virtual cosmos. The throne rotated to reveal the living eidolon who commanded the Twilight.
"Welcome, Servitor," Lord Grayven spoke, His words little more than a rasping whisper. He rarely had need to raise his voice. When the Son of Darkseid spoke, all listened.
For one long frozen moment, Anillus gaped in awe at the New God, before falling upon his knees. His forehead pressed hard against the cool deck-plate as he tried to still his trembling body.
"My Lord," he whispered reverently.
"Rise."
Anillus did as he was bidden, eyes still downcast.
"Turn."
"M-my Lord?"
Lord Grayven twirled a long, polished finger. "Turn."
Anillus again did as he was bidden, giving his God a full view of his slender form.
"Hold."
Anillus froze, his back turned to the throne. He heard the God's massive form rise from the throne before he felt the great hand pressed against his back. His breath caught. The twin scars running down his back twinged beneath his technician's tunic.
"You are of the cavern world, are you not?" Lord Grayven's breath was hot on Anillus' neck. "Where are your wings?"
"I… I was told they would serve no purpose on a ship-based assignment, so, my supervisor…" Anillus' voice went dry, choked by memories of hurt and shame. "Had them removed."
"They were wise. All that serves no purpose is an imperfection." Lord Grayven circled until He was face to face with Anillus, tilting the technician's chin until their gazes met. "Do you not desire perfection?"
Anillus stared up into the sculpted visage of living marble. "More than anything, Lord."
"What is your name, Little One?"
"A-Alpha-58-"
Lord Grayven's eyes hardened slightly. "I did not ask for your designation."
"I… I am Anillus." The word tasted unfamiliar on his lips after so long. "Anillus Kur, my Lord."
"That's better." Lord Grayven turned back to admire the virtual starscape, arms folded behind him. "I've been reading your service file, young Anillus. You demonstrate a remarkable technical aptitude for someone from such an… undeveloped culture."
"I exist to serve, my Lord."
"Eager to please, too? I like that." Lord Grayven chuckled indulgently, before the bridge's steel doors ground open once again. "Ah, right on time."
Two figures approached the throne. The first was tall and gaunt with loose jaundiced skin. His compatriot was broader, hunched, and hairy. They both bowed low, though not fully prostrating themselves as Anillus had.
"Ah, gentlemen," Lord Grayven spread his arms in welcome. "Anillus, these are Mokkari and Simyan, my scientific advisors."
Mokkari eyed the slave like a particularly curious specimen. "Charmed, I'm sure."
Simyan grunted inquisitively.
"Young Anillus will be serving as my personal attendant from now on." Lord Grayven rested a hand on the slave's shoulders. "He will be tending to my every need."
Anillus blinked; he couldn't have that heard right, could he?
"If such is your pleasure, my Lord," Mokkrai replied non-committedly.
"Now gentlemen, I require a status report on Project Ordu," Lord Grayven pressed a datapad into a stunned Anillus' hands, bending down to whisper. "Take notes."
[-]
Anillus curled in the crook of a large observation port. Far below, detonations large enough to consume cities silently blossomed like fiery flowers before fading again into dim night. He could not recall the name of the planet off hand. Lord Grayven had graced so many such worlds with His presence over the years, they had all started to blur together.
Lord Grayven was currently conferring with Mokkrai and Simyan regarding 'Project Ordu'. His Master had grown increasingly secretive about that particular project, so Anillus had found himself with a rare moment of free time.
The sight of a world dying was almost beautiful if one could mentally divorce it from the almost incalculable loss of life it entailed. Life on Apokolips made such intellectualization necessary. Empathy was like a rodent's incisors, it needed to be constantly filed down lest it overgrow and cripple the beast.
Fortunately, the task that became easier with time, and the rewards had been well worth it. Over the last two years, Lord Grayven had shown him such wonders… such pleasures. Was his soul really so much to ask in exchange?
Anillus regarded his reflection, clad in little more than a golden harness and a few strategically placed strips of ebon cloth. The outfit left less to the imagination than he was entirely comfortable with but mirrored Lord Grayven's own, properly marking him as an extension of the New God's will.
"Servitor-Anillus!"
"Yes, Brother Eye?"
"Report-to-medbay-for-complete-physical-within-one-megacycle!"
Anillus clenched his shoulders, repressing an anxiety spike. His years of service to the Gods of Anti-Life had instilled a bone-deep dread of doctors. His last physical had involved far more needles than seemed strictly necessary, taking samples of fluids he'd had not even realized he had. Still…
"Acknowledged," he uncurled himself from his nook and set down a red-lit corridor.
Anillus had been walking for only a few moments before his mind started to wander. Little harm in that, he knew the twisting paths of the Twilight well enough to walk them blindfolded. Or so he'd thought before the lights flickered and died without warning, plunging him into Stygian blackness.
"Brother Eye?"
No response.
Anillus backed quietly into a side-corridor, pressing close to the bulkhead. He crept a few feet before a cold metallic claw clamped down on his jaw.
"Hey, little brother," rumbled a low voice in his pointed ear. "Miss me?"
The steel claw unclamped as Anillus turned. His vision was based as much on heat as light, so he had no trouble recognizing the warm aura of that familiarly porcine flat-nosed face bent in a garrulous smile.
"Hec-Tor?!"
"Don't act too surprised," Hec-Tor snorted, about to slap his brother across the back when his hand stilled. Hec-Tor's expression harden at the sight of the pale twin scars running down Anillus' back. "Wings of Horokoth," he swore softly, voice trembling with rage. "What did they do to you?"
Anillus stiffened self-consciously. "What was done to you?"
"Oh this?" Hec-Tor flexed the clawed mechanized appendage that now served as his right arm. "Just something I threw together. Guess neither of us got away without scars, eh?" Hec-Tor grabbed Anillus' wrist without warning, dragging him through the lightless corridor. "But c'mon, we don't have time to jaw."
"Where are we going?!" Anillus demanded hotly.
"Shuttle bay. We gotta rendezvous with the rest of my cell and get off before the bomb blows."
"Bomb?!"
"Would you keep it down?" Hec-Tor hissed. "In a few minutes, this ship and everything on it is going to be cosmic dust." He smiled grimly. "Including Darksied's preening brat!"
"Lord Grayven?"
Flashing lights swept the junction ahead, mounted on the eyeless heads of a pair of prowling Parademons. Hec-Tor pressed Anillus against the bulkhead, still and silent as statues. The Parademons had almost moved on when…
"HELP!"
The voice reverberated through the corridors like a Boom-Tube. It took Anillus a moment to realize it had been his own. The Parademons turned as one, search lights locked on the brothers, fanged maws salivating.
Hec-Tor pushed his brother to the deck. "WHAT'RE YOU DOING!?"
The elder Kur flared his great leather wings, mecha-claw shifting into a particle cannon as he opened fire. The darkened corridor blazed blood red as Hec-Tor managed to clip the first Parademon, only for the second to body-check him into the bulkhead. Hec-Tor cried out as metal talons dug into his prosthetic. The raging Parademon smashed the artificial limb repeatedly against the bulkhead until nothing was left but shrapnel shards and dangling sparking wires.
"Brother Eye, light," rasped a voice in the darkness.
Illumination flooded the corridor. Hec-Tor slumped limply on the deck, wheezing weakly, cradling the smoking cybernetic port that was his right shoulder. Anillus had always remembered his elder brother as a towering, barrel-chested giant. He was surprised how gaunt, how haggard, how… small Hec-Tor looked in the full light.
Lord Grayven strode into the pooling light, flanked by yet two more Parademons. "My, what curious quarry we've managed to ensnare?"
Hec-Tor snorted grimly, wincing only slightly as a Parademon yanked him roughly to his feet.
"Does something amuse you, wretch?" Lord Grayven asked.
Hec-Tor snorted again. "Just imagining the look on your purple puss when this scow goes up like a birthday bonfire."
"I assume you're referring to this?" Lord Grayven allowed a small, jury-rigged device to clatter harmlessly to the ground. Anillus recognized it as a small explosive device, not especially powerful itself but had managed to rupture the Twilight's radion core…
"I've known about your insurgent plot for weeks now. The rest of your pitiful rebel band have already been taken into our custody," Lord Grayven sneered. "You were doomed the moment you even conceived this folly."
"So, you set all this up as some kind of trap, just for me?" Hec-Tor snorted defiantly. "I'm flattered?"
"Don't be. This was no trap, but a test…" Lord Grayven's eyes turned to Anillus. "For him."
Anillus blinked. "Me?"
"You were offered the chance to escape with your misguided sibling, all you had to do was remain silent. But you chose to stay true to My Light. You chose the Grace of your God above the ephemeral bonds of blood." Lord Grayven ran a finger along Anillus' cheek. "You have pleased me, Little One, and will be rewarded beyond measure for your faith."
At a snap of Lord Grayven's fingers, the Parademons began dragging Hec-Tor off.
"Wait," Hec-Tor spoke weakly.
Lord Grayven nodded. Hec-Tor paused before Anillus, glaring coldly before spitting wordlessly in his younger brother's face.
"How crude," Lord Grayven drawled, signaling the Parademon to be on their way with the prisoner.
Anillus was numb as he wiped the spittle from his face, watching his brother be carted off. Grayven's titan arms curled about his shoulders.
"Do not mourn for him, Little One," cooed Anillus' God. "For he has chosen Darkness, and so to Darkness shall he be consigned."
[-]
Anillus awoke in a cold sweat, blazing emerald flames haunted his nightmares, along with his brother's hateful gaze. But no, that was years ago. Or was it just now? Memory and dream bled into one another so easily. And he was no longer certain they were all entirely his own. He steadied his breathing, curled under a thin blanket in the dark alcove adjoining Lord Grayven's private chambers on the Throneworld.
Hec-Tor was long dead and Lord Grayven was far from Apokolips, leading a campaign against a vainglorious species who hubristically styled themselves 'Guardians of the Universe'.
It was unusual for Lord Grayven to leave Anillus behind for such an important campaign. In the long years since he had been first summoned to the bridge of the Twilight, Anillus had barely left his Lord's side. Anillus was certain he was being punished for one of his myriad shortcomings. If anything, he was surprised this had not happened sooner. How could a God look upon such a wretch and see anything but flaws?
Lord Grayven had rescued Anillus from a brutish - and doubtless short - life of unforgiving drudgery out of sheer pity. But even the forbearance of a God has limits, and Anillus could not help but prove inevitably inadequate to the task of repaying such divine mercy.
Anillus' heart had finally decelerated, his breathing deep and slow. He was just about to drift back into the warm shallows of unconsciousness, when he abruptly realized something.
His was not the only breathing in the dark alcove.
Before Anillus could react, hairy crushing limbs clamped down about him, squeezing air from his lungs, pinning his arms, muffling his desperate screams.
"Careful with our template, dear Simyan," drawled an unseen voice Anillus recognized as Mokkrai. "One hair out of place, we'll pay for it with our heads!"
Simyan grunted irritably in response. Anillus squirmed futilely in the ape-god's grip, gagging on the animal reek of Simyan's bristled paws.
"Yes, he wouldn't have been my first choice either, but ours is not to question." Mokkrai rustled for something in the darkness. "Fatherbox, if you would?"
BOOOOOM!
The sudden fiery light of an erupting Boom-Tube blinded Anillus as he was unceremoniously hauled through like so much uncooperative luggage. The three of them were already on the other side of the vortex well before his eyes had time to properly adjust.
The ornate stone chamber was vast and almost unrecognizable. At the far end stood a row of cylindrical vinculums, filled with murky green amniotic fluid and vaguely organic forms. White light, harsh enough to make the crimson winged sigils adorning the carved wall seem almost black by comparison, flooded the chamber. Yet no matter how much it had changed, Anillus could never truly forget this place…
The Temple of Horokoth.
"Like what we've done with the place?" Mokkrai asked. "I can't tell you how much bother it is, reattaching a building to the roof of a cave."
"Why have you brought me here?" Anillus demanded haughtily, as Simyan strapped him to a cold metallic chair at the base of a pillar of cables winding upward. "When Lord Grayven learns of this affront, His anger will be unima-"
"Lord Grayven is dead."
Anillus's throat ran dry. "You… You're lying!"
"It's true," Mokkrai replied silkily. "It happened almost half a megacycle ago."
Simyan ooked, tightening the strap about Anillus' skull.
"Fine, fifty-two point sixteen cycles ago!" Mokkrai rolled his eyes. "Must you be so pedantic?"
"H-How…" Anillus managed weakly.
"I would love to regal you with the whole grisly tale but as my chronologically conscious colleague constantly reminds me, time flies." Mokkrai checked his timepiece. "We don't have long before Lord Grayven's essence is fully consumed by the Void."
"I-I don't understand," Anillus pleaded. "You said He was dead!?"
"No one expects you to understand, meat. You're simply a convenient receptacle." Mokkrai snapped the timepiece shut. "Simyan, activate the Soul Siphon!"
Something cold and sharp pierced the back of Anillus' neck, sliding between vertebrae to release a thousand nano-filaments directly into his brain stem. He felt every nerve in his body simultaneously light up…
And then go dark.
[-]
As the darkness lifted, flames danced before his eyes. Anillus found himself inexplicably upon the bridge of the Twilight, klaxons blazing as sparks flew from multiple consoles. Apokolitan officers clung to their stations. The ship shook violently as though in the jaws of some cosmic beast.
"Status report!" Lord Grayven's voice rasped, though He was nowhere to be seen.
"Lanterns have broken through our port flank," replied the ship's gunner, her auburn hair tinged with soot. Her eyes narrowed, stinging smoke obscuring the read out.
"Call back the attack wings!" Though the voice was unmistakably Grayven's, only now did Anillus realize the words had issued from his own lips. "Have them reinforce our flanks!"
"They not responding, my Lord!" The comm-officer frantically tried his console. "I can't raise any-"
The communication console blasted apart, showering the screaming comm-officer with molten shrapnel.
"Worthless," hissed the voice of Grayven.
"My Lord!" The gunner tried to keep the panic out of her voice. "The Lanterns are charging weapons! THEY'RE GOING TO-"
Just before the bridge was engulfed in all consuming green fire, Anillus caught sight of Lord Grayven's reflection gazing back at him from the broken black glass of an inert monitor. He had to realize He was mere moments from death.
So why was He smiling?
The emerald flames burned brighter and hotter, incinerating all substance until only a pure white void remained. Anillius steeled himself before slowly, cautiously glancing down. He was momentarily relieved to see his own torso and limbs, unimmolated. What just happened?
"You died," answered a voice that echoed Anillus' own. "Or rather I died, you merely relived My last moments of incarnate existence."
"My Lord?!" Anillus glanced about frantically. "Where are you?"
"I am everywhere, My Little One… I am everything."
"I… I don't understand," Anillus whimpered.
"It's fortunate you're pretty." The White Void almost sighed in exasperation. "It's really very simple. I cannot return to the material plane without a vessel to house My essence."
A cold unseen hand caressed Anillus' cheek, drawing a shiver from somewhere deep and primal within him.
"Surrender yourself to Me, Anillus…" the Void whispered. "Allow your will to be subsumed… and we need never be parted again."
Anillus could feel the edges of his consciousness begin to fray. It would feel so good, to finally let go of the shame and guilt and self-loathing that dogged his every waking moment. To be free of the burden of Free Will and embrace the ecstasy of nothingness was so tempting.
But…
"No,"
Silence.
"What?"
"I… I don't want to give up being me!" Anillus' vehemence surprised even himself. He was not sure if it was courage, stupidity, or simple panicked self-preservation. "I have already forsaken my Goddess, my world, even my family! Haven't I given you enough!?"
"'Given'?" The Void grew suddenly cold. "You gave Me NOTHING!"
A lance of icy light pierced Anillus' heart, bringing burning agony worse than any flame.
"You cannot 'give' what was never yours to begin with! You belong to Me, Anillus! You have always belonged to Me! The very cosmos belongs to Me!"
Anillus tried to move, tried to scream as his very soul was consumed from within by burning tendrils of cancerous white light.
"And I will take what is Mine."
[-]
Anillus' emerald eyes snapped open, but what dwelled behind them was no longer Anillus Kur. When He spoke, His voice was cold and imperious, brooking not even the conception of disobedience.
"Release me."
Mokkari and Simyan wasted no time unlocking the restraints. Their Master's presence was like a weight in the air, leaving no doubt that the last spark of the slave's psyche had been utterly extinguished.
"Core consciousness now fully integrated." Mokkari consulted a read-out. "How do you feel, my Lord?"
He rose from His throne, stretching His new limbs. Hot blood surged through his veins. The chill air bit deliciously at his lungs. His heart was a constant drumbeat. He was acutely aware of every last cell in his new vessel. Each was a tiny chemical furnace waging a constant war against Entropy itself. So, this was what it was like to be mortal. How… intoxicating?
"I am… alive." He placed a pointed talon to his temple. "But not whole. My memories are... fragmented somehow, blurring into Anillus' own."
"Unavoidable, I'm afraid," Mokkari replied. "A mortal brain is a poor vessel for the essence of a God. We will have to transfer you to a new body before this one burns out. Fortunately, we already have fifteen cloned blanks standing by, my Lord,"
Simyan grunted.
"My mistake, sixteen."
"Sixteen?" The creature that wore Anillus Kur's flesh chuckled. "Oh, we're going to need far more than that."
For the first time in His millennia long existence, He was truly free of His father's long shadow. In all the cosmos, only Mokkrai and Simyan now knew of His new incarnation, and they would be dealt with in due time. Infinite possibilities stretched before Him.
"As you command, Lord Grayv-"
"Do not address me by that name, ever again!"
He paused before a cloning tank, wiping away the film of condensation clinging to the glass. Anillus' – no – His face stared blankly back at Him from the green amniotic fluid. It was the face of the legions that would soon march across the galaxy, bringing unity to a divided cosmos, before inevitably coming to the gates of Apokolips itself. There, by the light of the Fire Pits, He would finally cast down the last milk-blooded descendants of the Old Gods.
"I am no longer the Son of Darkseid! I am unbegotten, self-created, the Alpha and the Omega..." A leer curled about his thin lips.
"I am Prime."
[-]
The memories faded as the void somehow shifted and churned without substance. The entity's consciousness was pulled back down into the material plane, flowing like water down a funnel, until...
[-]
APOKOLIPS
May 16, 00:00 UTC
ONE YEAR AGO
Sensation seeped back into His limbs, slowly at first, edged by a slight ache of newly woven flesh. His eyes flickered open to find Himself floating in crimson haze, vague shapes moving just beyond His vision. A Reanimate Matrix?
"Soul siphon initialized," rasped a familiar yet distant voice, a voice from another lifetime. A leering face, thin and pallid under a purple hood, regarded him quizzically.
"Core consciousness fully integrated," Desaad spoke, thoroughly pleased with himself as always. The God-Scientist took a step back. "Would you care to examine him, my Lord?"
Somewhere beyond the red haze, a shadow loomed. It slowly resolved into a visage of weathered granite, two pits of hellish fire smouldering in place of eyes. Darkseid smiled, an alien expression on his cliff-like face.
Wᴇʟᴄᴏᴍᴇʜᴏᴍᴇ, Mʏ sᴏɴ.
[-]
APOKOLIPS
June 22, 23:16 UTC
NOW
"Th-this isn't possible," Catra stammered, standing between the still unconscious Adora and the towering figure that blocked their only escape from the narrow corridor. "You can't be alive! You can't!"
"Oh, you mortals have such binary concepts of life and death," drawled the being who was somehow both Grayven, Son of Darkseid; and Horde Prime, self-proclaimed Emperor of the Known Universe reborn. His acid green eyes burned like jade stars in the gloom as he advanced. "As I told your precious Adora before, Prime is, Prime was, and Prime shall always be!"
"Stay back!" Catra snarled, panic building, seizing up her muscles.
"Do not fear, Little Sister. Despite all your sins, you can still be forgiven... You can still know Prime's peace."
His hand reached for the frozen Catra like a grasping talon. She wanted to attack, lead him away from Adora, do something. So why couldn't she move?
The walls of the corridor suddenly imploded in a flash of yellow and violet, sending Catra and Prime staggering back. The smoke cleared, revealing Glimmer, Halo, Bow, Terra and Forager forming a defensive wall between Catra, Adora and the New God.
"SPARKLES!?" Catra blurted.
Glimmer shot back a wink. "Hey, Horde Scum."
Catra's eyes nearly popped out of her skull. "How did you even find us!?"
"Glimmer used a scrying spell to track you once we entered orbit," Bow answered, arrow drawn. "It was pretty amazing, actually!"
"D'aaaw, it was nothing really!" Glimmer blushed. "But c'mon, we gotta get back to Darla before Melog's cloak gives-"
"Leaving so soon, Your Majesty?"
Glimmer's blood froze as she turned towards the speaker. His form was unrecognizable to her, but not the cool mocking disdain etched on his face.
Prime's lips curled into a sardonic leer. "I was hoping to have you as My 'guest' once more."
"That voice?" Bow said. "Catra is that...?"
"Escape now, talk later!" Halo interjected. "Terra, give us cover!"
The Earth Princess leaped forward, planting her feet, reaching deep into the tortured crust of Apokolips. A slab of jagged granite burst from the ground, tearing through the metal floor plating as it cut the corridor in two.
Now that the young heroes were momentarily shielded, Halo turned, their aura flaring bright indigo.
BOOOOOM!
[-]
DARLA
June 23, 23:19 UTC
Catra tumbled across the cool crystalline floor of the First One starcraft, shielding Adora's unconscious form with her own body. Hands reached out for her. She cried out reflexively, mad with panic.
"GET BACK!"
"Whoa, Catra easy!" Glimmer protested, drawing back.
"It's okay," Halo added, aura dimming as the Boom-Tube sealed behind them. "You're safe now."
"No, I'm not," Catra whispered, holding Adora close. "No one is."
[-]
APOKOLIPS
June 23, 23:20 UTC
Prime ran his hand along the cooling stone, violently rent from the very bedrock of Apokolips. Impressive, these Earth mortals. So much raw potential, needing only His hand to mold it.
"Herr Prime!?"
Colonel Vundabar huffed as he came running up the corridor, followed by a squad of battered Parademons. "Herr Prime!" He saluted. "We subdued de rogue Kryptonian... eh, eventually."
"Poor misguided child. Such ingratitude wounds Me deeper than any blade," Prime sighed forlornly. "Still, even she can be made to see My Light."
"What of the de deserter Despara and her accomplices?"
"Let them run for now." Prime turned with an imperious sweep. "Come General Vundabar, we have a universe to conquer."
"I… Of course, Herr Prime!" Vundabar beamed proudly, strutting after his Master like a prize peacock.
[-]
Barda perched atop the Fury barracks, watching snarling Parademons herd throngs of Lowies through the packed streets below. The poor wretches seemingly spent more time being force-marched between their ramshackle hab-blocks and the war factories than actually working in them. Not so long ago she'd have looked down upon them with disgust and scorn, or pity at best. Now? Now she wondered if she was any better than them?
They'd come for Gilotina while Barda was out on manoeuvres. When Barda had found out, she'd torn apart half the barracks. Even Mad Harriet had been quailed by her rage, impotent as it was. Barda had always assumed she and her sisters had some degree of privilege in the hierarchy of Apokolips. But that was the thing about privileges, they could always be taken away.
"Captain Barda?"
Barda perked up to find Black Mary hovering a few feet above. "Cadet?"
"Sorry to intrude," Mary saluted as she touched down. "I was just wondering if you've seen Zor-El or Des-"
A titanic holographic figure suddenly shimmered to life above the skyline of Armagetto, arms extended as though in benediction, dwarfing even the Divine Palace. An angelic smile curled about the shimmering titan's all too familiar lips.
"Rejoice, Apokolips, for Prime has come among you!"
"Lord Grayven?" Barda whispered.
"Do not fear," the New God proclaimed. "For I have delivered you from Darkseid's shadow, into the embrace of My Light. No longer shall you toil meaninglessly to prop up a decaying empire, but strive to usher in a New Era. An Era where all - from the highest of the Elite to the lowest Lowlie - shall be equal Brothers in My Grace. An Era where you shall know naught but the undying bliss that is Prime."
Mary looked to Barda but the Fury Captain couldn't processes what she was hearing. Darkseid couldn't be… gone. Darkseid was eternal, Darkseid was infinite. Darkseid… was. One might as well announce that the galaxy itself would no longer turn on its axis.
"Welcome, my children, to the dawn of the Fifth World!" Prime exalted. "Welcome... to the Horde!"
For the first time in over sixteen millennia, all Apokolips fell silent until...
"HAIL PRIME!" cried one of the Lowlies, raising a fist to the air.
Within moments, others took up the cry as it spread through the throng like a virus. Parademons stepped back from the maddened mob, the cybernetic horrors suddenly uncertain of their place in the order of things. High above, Barda kept her own council, certain of nothing anymore as all Armagetto soon echoed with the first words of a new creed.
"Hail Prime!"
"Hail Prime!"
"Hail Prime!"