The Shard Chronicles - Book One: The Naissance

Prologue - The Endeavor

Prologue - The Endeavor

On the day the planet sealed its fate, the man fundamentally responsible stood on a large, moss-dappled shelf among some old and long forgotten ruins, completely unaware of his involvement in its extermination.

From the top of a carved-stone temple high in the thick, steaming jungles of Guatemala, he stared across a broad canopy of trees laid out below as trails of sweat ran down his flattened forehead and honey-brown cheeks, mixing with the raindrops that still dropped and dampened the shoulders of his cream-colored, muslin shirt. A delicate and drizzly mist remained after the heavy downpour, obstructing a normally modest view of the Pacific Ocean stretched to the south, its narrow band of azure, shimmering waters currently hidden behind a veil of low-lying cloud. The fading afternoon sun blazed close to the horizon, bringing with it a welcome relief from the dwindling heat and humidity, its stifling clamminess unrelenting up to now. Somewhere in the surrounding forest, troops of loudly grunting howler monkeys heralded the return of wildlife after the rain while a pair of majestically-colored macaws swooped abruptly overhead, their massive red, yellow, and blue wings flapping noisily. They squawked, a shrill, raucous din that tingled his eardrums as he flung his hand out to slap at a swarm of mosquitoes hovering nearby. 

Taking a deep sniff, savoring the wet, piney scent, the man reviewed the questions in his mind, unsure of the motive behind the solitary, explicit instruction to visit a place he had not seen for a very long time. On his back, a khaki, canvas rucksack quivered, its vibrations trembling through his entire body, and he spun around, pacing forward and frowning while he scuffed the vibrant, green moss from its sturdy hold on the weathered rock. To the northeast, he sensed the damage in his barrier, and wondered if that could be the reason, because a third of its triangular shape was missing, starting on a point at San Juan, Puerto Rico, a mere 1,300 miles away. As the query came to his lips, at a location a little over 8,000 miles to the northwest, a crewman on the most important aircraft flying at that particular point in time activated its specially modified, pneumatic bay doors, and with a loud clank, they yawned open, exposing the interior to bright sunshine and a wind that roared furiously. 

Far beneath, the scenery rolled along, revealing a countryside peppered with river systems, the occasional town, and a scattering of roads. Approaching their target, the broad brownness of tilled farms and emerald grassland gave way to the foundations of an extensive city, basking in the early morning light. At about 32,000 feet, the gargantuan plane gave regular, twinkling flashes from its silvery, gleaming fuselage, making it clearly visible to anyone observing the heavens at those exact moments. But they discounted it as just more aerial reconnaissance, for the blitzing received by other urban areas had passed them by, and the citizens knew an attack would never happen. Unbeknownst to their false belief lay a meticulously designed and deliberate motive, with the purpose being to study and record the expected destruction caused by a new weapon never before used in the history of mankind. Even the firing mechanism remained untested on that level, instead relying on the results of extremely small scale experiments and theoretical equations to achieve the required effect. 

Consequently, an earlier air raid alarm remained cancelled and not one siren clattered as a device codenamed 'Little Boy' detached from its hook, spending the following forty-three seconds in gravity freefall while the crew of the B-29 Superfortress immediately employed a new flight path, their predetermined escape route to safety during the gadget's rapid plummet to the ground. At a height approximately 2,000 feet over the sprawling metropolis it detonated, and the world beheld a raw and devastating power that instantaneously destroyed everything and everyone within a one mile radius. 

A thing, an entity, fumed at the moment of widespread annihilation, and at the same time fed voraciously on a death toll exceeding 70,000, including its new recipient, a baby, who cried in her creaky, wooden bassinet on the second floor of a dilapidated hospital, clenching her tiny fists the second before being vaporized, along with every other being. 

An entity, captured, ensnared, confined within a part of itself, surrounded by conquerors who had failed to thwart it, failed in their duty... lured yet again by a deceptive slumber while it appraised various life forms through countless eons, waiting patiently, preparing and gauging when to begin its next endeavor. 

An ancient entity, its true origin lost over an incomprehensible span of time. 

An entity now undeniably evil. 

And at those moments of unleashed energy and obliteration, its seething anger turned to euphoria once the strategy's failure became a resounding success. The humans had rewarded it by demonstrating their newfound ability, and now that warring, violent species confirmed their place as outright winners in a dual plan. Its final plan. A plan forced into action after an incredibly short duration, just over half a century later, when its conquerors found the real successor. Here, on Earth. Again.