The Starlight Lancer

Chapter Seventeen: The Eldritch

"There is no known solution to the Eldritch's attacks. Conventional weapons have failed. Unconventional weapons have failed, albeit with more flair. Such is my opinion that the High Command ought to consider higher-powered weaponry upon any sighting of the Eldritch—and before High Command asks in its reply, yes, even planetary-surface disrupting devices, and yes, even in highly populated civilian zones. For now its goals seem limited to the kidnapping and brainwashing of individuals, but that's unlikely to be its endgame. My measures may seem cruel at first glance, but not addressing the Eldritch is gambling with the galaxy itself—and with the power it wields, I don't like our odds."

—Allegiant General Dirus V'lantar, in a memo to JIAHC (Joint Intelligence Allegiant High Command) 1,500 s-years before the Crisis on Symerda

Zaina stared in horror as Demelia's visitor took form as if birthing itself in a womb of primordial shadow.

First there was a flash of light—an orb appeared amid the shadow's center, dark gray and small enough to fit in Zaina's palm. The shadows gathered, twisting into shape—the skull of an ancient monster emerged, an eight-eyed, four-horned monstrosity. Its eyes were pale red, as was its breath. Upon its head a golden crown emerged from shadow and encased the orb. The remaining darkness contorted into an ethereal cloak. A layer of gray fur coated its neck, and a dark hood was lifted over its head as whispers and smoke flowed from its empty, slack-jawed mouth. The skull rose atop the darkness, standing twenty feet tall.

The voices screamed over each other—whether they emanated from its mouth or within Zaina, the pain was sudden and crippling. It intensified as time stretched, bending and bowing—the shrieking voices swirled together into a dark, echoing word.

"Cease."

Zaina froze in place, and Gir fell to one knee. The entire room faded into shadow—everything except for the Eldritch's skull and crown was blacked out. A humming wave stretched over everything, leaving silence and darkness in its wake. Taking in a deep breath, Zaina was unable to even think.

The Eldritch's skull hovered above the ground, moving closer to Zaina. In a raspy, deep voice, it continued, "Poor little human, alone at the end of her world."

Agonizing pain flared around her eye—the Mark of the Recalcitrant was like a searing wound burrowing into her head. She loosed a weak yelp and groaned, all she could muster under the Eldritch's oppressive influence.

A skeletal hand reached out from the miasmatic cloak of shadows, stretching toward Zaina's head. Red-hot pain surged through her, as if her blood had turned to fire and was burning her from the inside. Zaina was slipping away, losing herself to the darkness—

"Is this where you imagined your resistance would bring you?"

Zaina fought, focusing on the light in the distance—was it the orb on its forehead, or something else? Not knowing or caring, she shut out the surrounding darkness, concentrating on the radiance at the center of everything; beyond the shadow was her momentary reprieve.

Zaina's finger twitched as something phased through the Eldritch's skull—a bubble of water. The shadow blurred, and Zaina's eyes fell on Gir, who was struggling to stand.

She reached out and shouted, "Gir—no!"

The creature turned to face him. His entire body was trembling as he stood in defiance of the Eldritch's magick. Gir's hand rose. With a flash he summoned his cipher.

In a weak voice, he said, "Zaina—run—you have to—live—"

"No, Gir—don't!"

It was too late—the High Lancer charged. The Eldritch retracted its hand and hunched over. Once more, its echoing voice issued a phrase of power, and a single word hung over the stilled air of the Hollow.