Aegis: Celestial Lane Saga

Prologue

The walls shuttered with a monstrous intensity, and the sheets of metal relentlessly pulsated underneath the jail boy's feet.

Of course, this was nothing new. He'd spent many a sun trapped within the confines of his cramped prison overflowing with the scent of must and blood. Long had his eyes adjusted to only seeing an unforgiving void of blackness, small, momentary beams of light sometimes jetting through the crevasses breaching across the ceiling's burnished surface. 

For they were constantly moving. A journey from one world to the next. The jail boy hadn't the foggiest insight as to where it was they were headed, nor had he bothered to count the days as they quickly flooded past in cascading follies of seconds. This was his life. To be restrained in laser cuffs and given little to no food and water. To bathe in the filth infesting his body. To have the hope fade out his eyes.

Crouched in the corner of the box-shaped cell he'd dubbed his own, he would only aim his empty gaze ahead of him. Discounting himself, approximately eleven others accompanied him on the morbid venture. They came in all shapes and sizes. Prisoners and beggars from distant worlds. Funnily enough, however, when they'd first tossed him inside, he'd counted twenty-two. When you were a prisoner like him, only two fates awaited you: to either perish as a result of poor living conditions or to be sold off to a brutal master who perceived slaves as tools to be used rather than living, thinking beings. 

By some miracle, this jail boy hadn't succumbed to the haunting embrace of death. His head quaked in agony. His depleted stomach of which ribs pressed hungrily against his cracked skin howled like a famished beast. Every day, he felt himself growing weaker. But he survived. He was a sorry prisoner dancing on the borderline of this plane and the next, however, he utterly rejected the idea of dying in such a pathetic manner. Even if he had been discarded by the only family he'd ever known, he desired to live just as much as any other creature. 

Sadly, this meant not that he couldn't ignore or deny his limitations. The will to survive and the likelihood to survive were two separate concepts. And maybe, in this cruel galaxy, he'd merely meet a pitiful, lonely demise surrounded by imprisoned strangers.

It was these exact thoughts that were pestering him the moment he heard it. The screams of men and the firing of light rifles.

In a frenzied panic, the prisoners leaped from the door, hastily pushing past the jail boy. Their metal carriage had arrived at a stop. Typically, this was an indication that the time had come for their "master" to guide the next unfortunate soul to whoever sought to purchase them, either for labor or for pleasure. 

This night was different. 

Never had his ears absorbed the clapping noise of a discharging light rifle. They sounded so powerful, so electrifying. Whenever one was fired a flash of blue slipped through the crevasses and flooded inside. The jail boy pressed the side of his head against the metal wall only to discern an advancing symphony of pounding feet slamming into the earth. Cries of desperation followed though they were swiftly accompanied by a second bombardment of light rifle fire.

Something struck the cage. The impact had enough force to knock most of the prisoners off their feet, and he was no exception. The jail boy collapsed onto the floor stained with blood and piss. Another alien force assaulted the exterior of their cage, and then another, and another. Then, after ten solid minutes of spontaneous discord, everything went silent. Twelve statues stood frozen in the dark, not a single person daring to utter a word. 

They, like himself, had allowed fear to hunt them. His heart pounded furiously against his chest as his pair of golden eyes dilated in terror. Nothing like this had ever happened before. As such, he wasn't entirely sure how he was supposed to react. What were they expected to do? Had they been attacked by bandits? What had become of their master? These questions, they spiraled out of control, serving to solely amplify his already contagious and ever-growing consternation.

Suddenly, piercing through the barrier of silence, the front doors of the cage screeched open. Rippling rivers of the purple, crescent moon streamed down from the heavens and kissed his fair skin. Posted at the entrance wasn't their foul-mannered, morbidly obese parasite of a master. Instead, standing proudly with an uncoiled back was a man with obsidian hair, wrapped in a cloak of purple moonlight. This solarian donned a black suit of mechanical armor, decorated with plates of contrasting gold. In each of his hands was a shimmering null ax, devastating weapons meant for only the most elite of fighters. 

Whoever this man was, it was obvious he'd had a past tainted by war. The imposing aura he emanated very well indicated as much. He stood there for a full minute, a mute hero monitoring the cage's contents before stepping to the side and motioning towards the outside.

Without hesitation, every prisoner lunged for the exit, equipped with toothy smiles and watery eyes. They all fled. Every last one of them. All except for a single, frightened child too stunned to move. The warrior regarded him with a curious raising of a brow. He tried to move closer but the jailbird's instincts took the pilot seat. He opened his mouth and released an astonished gasp, scuttling to the rear of the cage in one, rapid motion. Confusion would attack this warrior, only for a second, mind you, until he spared a glance at the pair of double-headed metal axes he was wielding. With a reluctant sigh, he gently rested them on the floor. 

The warrior would approach the tiny prisoner once again, moving slowly and adopting a calming yet simplistic expression upon his face. Puzzled, the jailbird stared back at the warrior. His dark eyes radiated a welcoming warmth that exorcized the bitter coldness of his confinement. He could sense no hostility or resentment or anger. The warrior wasn't an enemy, not in the slightest.

Accepting a throbbing embrace, the jail boy was carried outside the mouth of his devourer in the arms of the gentle giant. Peaking over his savior's shoulder, he watched as the metal carriage, now covered in scorch marks, shrunk into the distance. A part of him doubted if this was reality or a mere dream conceived by the tortured architects of his mind. One fact remained certain, however. When his dreaded cage disappeared from his sight, an unsaturated wave of euphoria washed over him.

Finally, after so long, the jail boy was free.