Pawns of Sovereigns

Chapter 1: Broken Pawns

A Tower was falling from heaven.

Its shape was tearing through the dark clouds, raining debris upon the world below as it made its descent. Among that debris was Cross, who grinded his teeth together whilst watching his hopes and dreams fall apart before him.

He fell with the debris, leaving a trail of his own black ichor falling amongst the pouring rain around him. It was seeping from his broken armor, leaking from cracks and holes that had only recently been carved into his shell. His eye turned to the biggest of them, that damnable cross torn into his armor.

Seeing it brought him back to his senses, turned his dismay into rage as he struggled to bring his hands up. To steady his descent, to cover his wounds, anything to alleviate his scenario. Alas, he had grown far too weak from the blood loss to fight against the swell of wind around him. He'd have to hope he could deal with the wounds after landing, it wasn't as though he was lacking in material to patch himself with.

All around him were pieces of the Tower, dark chunks of blackstone that the attackers had blasted apart during the battle. Their jagged forms twirled in the air with Cross as the ground sped up to greet them, taunting Cross with how close he was to aid.

Yet even as he fell, Cross could only wonder whether every pawn that died meaninglessly felt the same things he did at that very moment.

Spite and regret.

Those were the two feelings he carried upon impact, tearing a crater into grass and dirt as he was forced deeper by his sheer momentum. He wasn't alone for long, as soon pieces of blackstone debris were slamming into his crater, kicking up dirt and burying him more than he already had been.

But even that wasn't enough, as the rainwater came soon after. Struggling to rise amidst the mud and debris, Cross had to pause several times to scrape at the rain and dirt that had gotten smeared all over his eye.

He couldn't blink it away fast enough, and several large pebbles wound up wedged under his eyelid. He jammed his gauntlet covered fingers under the eyelid to pick them out, flicking them into the crater around him as he was finally able to get to his feet.

He wobbled, his motor functions still deteriorating from the unstifled leaks. His vision had already become next to useless, the darkness of the crater and the storm clouds having made everything blend together for him.

Cross had to feel along the edge of the crater, pushing himself up before he was able to claw his way out.

A bright flash of light briefly illuminated everything, followed closely by a resonating boom of lightning. It showed him the top of the crater, and Cross wasted no time in fumbling for it as best as his weakened body could.

His hand latched around something hard and firm, prompting him to haul himself up out of the crater and onto the mud-slicked field above. It was only once he was pulling his legs out that he realized what he was holding onto, another chunk of Blackstone that had skidded to the crater's edge from an impact nearby.

And it wasn't the only one.

Even with his vision blurry and foul, Cross saw all around nothing but chunks of the Tower. What had once been a vast field of luscious green had been turned into a maze of rubble and mud with cross stuck in the thick of it.

But it didn't matter to him, nothing did. Not the enemy, not the mission and not the Tower he'd lost sight of.

No, at that moment the only thing flittering about his mind was the ichor still leaking from his body. The fall may not have exacerbated the problem, but it had kept him from rectifying it. He could just barely cling to the Blackstone in his hands before driving his fist into it.