The Fall of the House of Three
Triforia, many years ago...
I scoop my hands in the bowl in front of me and splash the cool water over my face. A hand appears with a soft white towel and I recognize my mother's soft tones.
"Water won't wash out those bags under your eyes…"
I smile as I accept the towel and answer now muffled by it, "Couldn't sleep."
"Today is a big day, Trey. A moment long awaited by our people," she says as though it were a comfort.
I finally look at my mother. Her long shoulder length dark hair, that normally is pulled back in a severe ponytail, is braided and held in place with ornate golden combs. Instead of the utilitarian clothes most Triforians gravitate toward she wears a billowing gown of the deepest black that is checked by golden starbursts. The pattern is such that when she moves it looks as if the night sky moves with her.
I smile half heartedly. Her radiance is only a reminder of what's to come, "I could have had them wait a while longer."
She smiles warmly, one I know so well I could draw it blindfolded, and she rests her right hand on my cheek. She traces the bottom portion of my scar that sits above and below my left eye, "You were so young when you got this."
She stares into it, remembering. Even now, decades later, I see an echo of the fear in her eyes when she wrapped me in her arms. Blood running down my face, an Alliance blade thrust through my left hand. I think suddenly then what a terrifying thing it must be to be a parent.
I shake my head, "I was almost forty. And it's not like it stopped Specter's Alliance from taking Onyx."
She is about to retort when there's a slight knock and a voice speaks softly beyond the door of the small preparing room, "Your Majesty, the ceremony room is ready and we await your presence."
"Thank you, we're coming now."
I sigh and smooth my ceremonial clothes. A black doublet with a short golden half cape. Garish, in my opinion, but the traditional dress of the Prince of the House of Three, Lords of Triforia.
My mother hooks my arm and we walk toward the awaiting guests. This is the last moment I will be me. For a fleeting moment my spirit flutters and I can feel my three essences sewing themselves quickly back together. "Easy boys," I mutter to myself.
Then, almost anticlimactically, I step in.
The ceremony room that sits atop of the great Temple of Midrias is not very large. A group of about thirty people stand before a slightly raised stage to one side of the room. The walls are bare smoothed sandstone and the only decoration is the roughed outline of symbol of The House of Three that tiles the floor.
My mother unlinks her arm and approaches the stage and I'm left a few minutes to scan the crowd.
I lock eyes first with King Lexian from Edenoi. He's standing with his brother Dregon towards the front of the room and he gives me a knowing nod. Having just recently been empowered with the energies of the Masked Rider by his father he has some idea of what is about to happen. I wonder if he felt the same trepidation that churns through my insides too.
Dregon gives me a cursory glance and readjusts a flowing red cape rather haughtily. Compared to his brother's simple brown robes you wouldn't guess that it was Lexian who was King.
Two white robed Inquirians stand talking to Aurico of Aquitar who stands in contrast with a simple black jumpsuit. I see one of the Inquirians, a woman with lustrous black hair, shimmer for a moment. I think that means she laughed? Hard to tell with them.
Finally my eyes rest on one of my heroes. He looks resplendent in his polished blue armor, and as is now his custom, he has not removed his helmet.
Ever since he forged the Dragon Coin and it fell to the hands of the witch, Rita Repulsa, Ninjor has worn his helmet in a silent shame. There was a time, when I was a boy, I dreamt that I would be sent to Ninjor's Temple to study the vastness of the Morphing Grid and the sublime creation of Ranger Powers. But such is not the case, and the ancient Morphin Master hasn't taken on a student since Zordon of Eltar.
"Distinguished guests," my mother begins, "we gather here to witness a passing of the House of Three."
The lights begin to dim and my mother's dress begins to shift and the starbursts contained therein dance in a slow cadence.
"We gather here to witness an ascendance of the House of Three."
In a practiced gesture her hand moves in front of her face as energy begins to coalesce, briefly obscuring her visage.
"We gather here to remind ourselves that the House of Three is the House of One."
"The Three are One," the Triforians gathered amongst the crowd respond automatically.
In a flash the Golden Power Staff forms in my mother's hand, the flowing energy finally solidifying.
"Tricinius, Son of Triforia, you are called in to the service of your people."
"I am called, and I answer," I reply to her already having moved to the stage.
She raises the Staff over my head and I can look at nothing else. All of my anxiety begins to wash away. Somewhere in the distance a bell behind me begins to ring. The three primary essences that comprise my soul are buzzing in tune with one another.
In my peripheral vision I see that the form of my mother is flanked by spectral copies, one hued in violet and the other in brilliant crimson.
"Gift of Power, take flight," they begin.
"I, Selene of Patience, grant you the fortitude to withstand the long journey that awaits you."
"I, Selene of Power, grant you the strength of every soul to have carried this ancient staff."
"And I, Selene of Justice, grant you the guidance to make the right choices when it seems all is lost."
My mother is at apogee as the power of Triforia leaves her and washes over me like a cleansing rain. I feel an undeniable compulsion and my hand joins hers on the staff.
A window in my mind opens and I am Trey of Wisdom. I see the faces of the men and women who have preceded me. They join with my mother's three essences and all their experience is mine to know.
Their joy joins with mine and together they will help me carry this burden for all my days onward, and I am Trey of Heart.
A base layer of black armor covers my body replacing my ceremonial robes with fibers of power and stamina. With these I can stand against the darkness when no one else can for I am Trey of Courage.
I am the Gold Ranger, I call forth my armor and it surrounds me….
Angel Grove, Earth, now…
I call forth my armor and it surrounds me with not a moment to spare. A secondary explosion erupts some thirty yards to my left and I'm grateful that my chest armor absorbs most of the kinetic force. Most, but not all, and I land in the shallow waves that are lapping up the beach just ahead.
Another wing of Varox fighters scream across the sky overhead and I feel rather than hear the destruction in the water behind me. I whip around and see the fiery form of Pyramidas sinking in to the ocean, the moonlight painting the scene black and white, the red the only discernible color.
I can do nothing as my seat of power, ship, and home escapes my reach but offer a silent farewell.
I disperse my anxiety and fatigue across my essences, breathe deeply the rich air of Earth through the filters in my helmet, and get my bearings.
Dark cliffs made smooth by centuries of a wave's caress surround me on three sides. I know this place instantly. "This is the second time I've washed up on this damned beach."
Above the din of ocean noise I can hear the sounds of Varox landing above on the clifftops. By now they've used their scanners and have ascertained that I've survived the crash. They'll be closing a search net on me.
I've been fighting and running without rest or nourishment for a hundred hours, I won't survive a fight against a large group of Varox. No Pyramidas means no teleporting and summoning the Golden Power Staff would be like shooting off a flare. My only chance now is to punch a hole through their perimeter and make a break inland.
Digging deep in my power reserves I push myself to leap, and I move prodigiously. I become a blur of black and gold energy as I advance up the cliff face.
Four Varox patrolling in pairs leap to either side as I charge up, across, and ahead. Random bands of power from my aura explode out and rocket them away.
I am reinvigorated, I am whole, I am-
"Hrrk!" Impaled, I think.
I look down at the blade that penetrates my golden chest plate. Iridescent blue with streaks of gold drain away from the wound and I look up at my assailant and see the blur of a teleportation beam.
He, she, it was probably hoping that thrust would have killed me outright. An inch lower and it would have most certainly done just that. Only a ranger could have had that strength and precision. It was probably only my speed that saved my life and threw my attacker off.
Another piece of a bigger puzzle falls into place. The Varox, which have traditionally been a malevolent race of bounty hunters, have been uniquely unified toward my demise or capture. Perhaps not so unique as it's happened before, but now they seem so much smarter. Tactical in a way they've never been before this. Now a fallen Ranger…. A shot of electric pain broadcasts through my body.
My powers try desperately to stitch the wound but something is very wrong. The blade was… different… it has… disrupted me.
With slight panic I try to separate myself into my three essences to spread the damage out but the wound is cursed somehow and I snap back into form. My armor stays intact and I mutter my thanks to the wind.
My options are to let this consume me, utterly, or to seek out the only person that can help right now: the other Gold Ranger.
I'm not sure how much time has passed when I hear tires crunch on the gravel driveway. Honestly, I'm just relieved to hear anything other than my own ragged breathing.
This scene is likely ridiculous to behold. Here I sit, at a round table in the corner of a breakfast nook. I'm in my full armor sans helmet (I dare not dismiss my powers) with the Golden Power Staff propped up against the wood paneling of a kitchen wall.
Keys jingle at the door and I hear a man and woman's voice muffled through the thick wood. The door opens and the lights flick on. The woman notices me instantly and she drops into a crouch. Her right hand shoots around to her mid back, "It's Morph-"
"Kim, wait!" She waivers as her companion grabs her shoulder quickly to stop her transformation.
"Trey, what-"
I try to stand but fall to one knee. "Jason of Earth. Once again. I… need… your…"
The world swims to black.
To be continued...