The Starlight Lancer

Chapter Eighteen: The Surface

"You'll look at your home one day and realize you don't recognize it anymore."

—Tonfori Vrintas, Almstedan refugee of the Dexsiman War

The particle hook retracted at high speed—Zaina grunted as it pulled her arm and held on for dear life. The wind rushed by, blasting her eyes with cool air.

The walls of the pit rushed by—glancing up, there were signs of coming destruction. The planet's insides were breaking apart. Energy-spewing cracks raced up the chasm, though Zaina had long outpaced them. With a sudden jolt, she collided with the tracker tip. Her bleeding shoulder slammed into the jagged black stone atop the cavern, making her bellow in pain—Kitali's frightened barks rang out from the other side.

Zaina clung to the particle hook's grip, trying not to pass out—her eyes blinked open, and she stared down the pit. A crimson light was growing at the bottom, and a continuous, earth-shattering rumble was ascending with it. The walls cracked in a spiral pattern, releasing bursts of bright flame, which coalesced with the all-consuming light.

Zaina shuddered. Was this what it meant by the end of the world?

A drop of rain struck her forehead. Black clouds swirled overhead. The only light left was coming from below—and it was coming fast.

Zaina pulled herself up and over the rock right as a beam of crimson light rocketed into the sky, sending a shockwave of hot, putrid air through the area. She landed on her injured shoulder; after a screeching gasp, she huddled for cover against the stone as red energy shot into the sky and pierced the darkness. Had the particle hook-gun done that, or the Eldritch? Was it dead?

Horror grasped Zaina's heart—the beam of crimson flame illuminated the degradation of her home. The countryside was lowering into the earth, twisting and groaning in its descent; Mount Dialemor had folded in on itself, sinking and crumbling. Corpses roamed freely, pulling themselves from the folds of the land as the world wrenched apart. Ildegor had been swallowed. The same crimson energy coursed through the surface, threatening to burst through. It was a wasteland breaking before her eyes.

The sky was more horrifying—all the air in Demelia's atmosphere had been painted black. Swirling, thousand-foot tornados tore at the landscape—snow, hail, and rain were all falling at once; unnaturally massive bolts of lightning streaked about in the sky, setting fire to anything left on the surface that could burn. Gales of twisting darkness blanketed everything, and deep, ear-splitting cracks came from beyond the clouds.

Zaina shook her head. There was still a way out—the ship. The ground beneath Gir's ship was cracked, but it could probably take off.

After standing and collecting herself, a rush of voices flooded into Zaina's head, consuming every thought. She fell to one knee. Then, a fierce growl pierced the haze.

Kitali was before her, haunches raised and a frightful gleam in her eyes; gnashing voices gushed in and out of Zaina as she raised her hands.

In a weak voice, she said, "Girl, it's me."

The limphor lowered its head, and it growled louder, raspier.

"Kitali—no. You know me, girl."

The limphor was shaking and trembling, refusing to take a single step toward her. She tried to stand up, but Kitali snapped at her and cowered.

"What the hell is wrong with you, girl?" Zaina shouted.

The limphor didn't look like she was under the monster's influence—she was afraid. Maybe she didn't recognize Zaina. Were the whispers changing her somehow, making her unrecognizable?