The Silence [Unfinished]

2508

In his words, there is nothing like a trip alone to ease the mind of the things that eat away at you the most. Even if those things are questions you need to know.

In his words, there is nothing like a friendship between a girl and a monster. A monster which is him, Zular.

He hangs his head low as he sniffs the ground beneath the frozen earth. He is far from February, and far from sanctuary. But he has traveled too far to turn back.

Zular's thoughts remain on the question of death. He has no idea what to think. He doesn't know what to do anymore and is in question of his own. He has no idea what he is getting into and he doesn't dare think about the consequences if it fails.

The crash site that he remembers is dead ahead and all he has to do now is walk to it, walk in, and ask questions or a request. His kind, he thinks it is awful too think of himself as one of them but the urge to kill still inflicts him, have harmed enough of the population of the planet as a whole. Birds are scarce and animals that once flourished are now dead and decaying. Most of the animals that once lived will never walk the face of the earth again. Pain and suffering is what his kind brings, and Zular wants to end it.

But he might never be able to, however he is a traitor and one of the best of his kind. A bred killing machine and the top of the killing machines. A warhead they called him.

The wind howls in his ears, bringing snow with it, and it coats the little bit of body he has left. He has not eaten for days, walking through the tundra of what was once the arctic circle of Canada. Polar Bears put up a good fight, but they were not fast enough, nothing is fast enough to out run Zular's soldiers and his planet's army of silence, and nothing is strong enough to take them out quickly. The monsters were made to hit without being hit. Kill without being killed. They are fear, death, and nightmares.

The crash site still smells of death, a few bodies lay covered in ice, frozen in decay and will be for a long time. Others have just become whatever skeleton they possessed. The different breeds of his kind are not as apparent as skeletons as they are when they are alive. The only obvious differences, to Zular, are teeth, claws, and spinal shape. Although it is hard to differentiate when the bodies are contorted and disassembled from some of the scavengers that lived here for months before spiraling out.

The familiar scent that has lived with him for all these years rears in his nostrils and hurts his head, he has not seen any part of the crash since he left. Then he thinks about it; his sister's body might be there.

Zular runs to the crash, getting cut and stung by the snow, and breaks through the atmosphere barrier that is still up to his surprise. The atmosphere from his old home is refreshing after so long, but it is not as comforting as it once was. Before this place was paradise, now it is a living nightmare of his past.

Zular pushes into the crash through a familiar door and walks through what he used to call home. The dark fog is still there...an aura of suffering hangs in the air and suffocates the oxygen. He is used to it, but this is agonizing compared to the world outside of this place. It is unnatural and almost foreign to him now.

Zular looks around the crash for any sign of life. Surely there must be if the atmosphere barrier is up after so long. Someone has to be taking care of it in order for it to work.

The old warhead rehearses his questions in his head before stopping in his tracks. The scent in the particular spot is familiar to the point where he remembers.

"Sister..." He has not seen his sister or thought of it since the crash. He follows the scent into a room and looks around, his eyes adjust to the old training room he was in before the crash. Movement catches his eyes and a glimmer of hope sparks through him.

"Sister!" He calls and the movement stops and prowls towards him. The figure was all black as most creatures are. No key spots on it that Zular could make out in this mist. He could only stand his ground.

As the creature got closer, he realized it is bigger than the rest as he remembers them. Zular lowers his head threateningly.

"I wish to speak with the elders." Zular states. His voice commands attention as it booms. He is filled with life, even on the last few shreds of it.

The creature nods and starts walking off. Growling when Zular does not follow. But in the end Zular does follow, not seeing much choice in the matter.

The more he observes the crashed and destroied ship, the more he observes the micro workers. The ship was being rebuilt. The micro workers are reconstructing the ship. It is made from the micro workers and they eat...too little bodies. They've been feeding the workers the dead!

Normally Zular would laugh, but Zular honours his species' traditions. You bury the dead. Not eat it. The body should be given four tokens from the body's life, and buried with them. As well as the essence of Knarth would be injected into the home planet as fuel.

Knarth? Knarth is the god of Zular's kind. Representing everything in life and out of it. Knarth is everything. When you die you are judged by Knarth. They worship this idea. This... larger being. They are all judged. But these bodies cannot be judged as they have nothing for Knarth to judge.

Tokens are memories Knarth looks at. Feels. Four is the magic number. You always want four items to favour Kanarth. Life essence would be trapped in the fourth and after months of the death, the elders take the token, Kanarth blessed this token to be a memory of this person's death. A worthy life. The elders would just... know which one it is.

But the tradition has clearly faded for the micro workers.

Zular does not say anything though. He holds his tongue from all this. He knows when to shut up. So he follows the creature. Micro workers hiss and spur as they work.

The elders feel the presence of Zular and ready themselves for his arrival. They know what he seeks. But is he willing to pay the price?

Zular sees the elders for the first time. They're different than he imagined them to be. More... fragile and delicate. He wanted to be one. Why? What are the benefits of just sitting and being worshiped?

"Zular the warhead. You have returned from the cleansing of this planet, yes?" They ask. Zular shakes his head no and looks up at them.

"I wish to warn you. I wish to warn you of what i will rein down upon you. I have seen morals. I know no fear but I know what it's like to live from it. You will know fear. I will shove it to you. I will spit it on you." Zular growls. His life is shattering at the seams. His sister could be alive, but from this, he may never see her again. If he did, he would be forced to kill her.

He does not want that.

The elders are taken aback by Zular's words. They had not expected Zular to spit on them so fearlessly. But they do nothing.

"You disgust me." Zular says, "May Kanarth have no mercy on you." He finishes before walking away. He runs as he exits the ship.

He has started a revolution.