When Destiny Burns, Ep. 1: A Halo and Inheritance Cycle Crossover

Chapter 5. 3 Operator pt. 2

He closed his eyes and focused on calming his breath, which he always had to do before falling asleep. After everything that had been going on, he still felt the after-effects of the adrenaline-fueled chase with the shade.

His dragon seemed to know more about this world than he did...which made zero sense, as she had just been born. Perhaps her statement was true and she really did understand things through ancient blood. Seeing as she was a telepathic rapidly-growing smoke-exhaling black reptile, worse things could happen.

He exhaled softly and gradually, he drifted away in a light sleep.

The night had different plans for the Spartan, though. As his mind slipped into the dark bowels of an altered consciousness, images flooded his brain and memories rose up.

He was standing on a small, black rock, in the middle of a very thick fog. The voluminous layer of mist was pure white and he couldn't see more than a few feet in front of him, which was worrying. How was he supposed to find out if anything was hunting him? He couldn't defend himself if he didn't see what was coming, right?

...why would anything be hunting him? He was alone. All alone. With nothing to worry about. And why would he even worry? He had completed his objective. All was well.

And then the fog in front of him changed from a thick, white colour to a deep maroon one. The Spartan heard something liquid sliding over the floor with a subtle, wet noise and he instinctively reached for his assault rifle to counter the threat-

-only to find to his dismay that he did not possess such a weapon. He was completely unarmed –and even his MJOLNIR was gone. What could have happened to him that his armour and weapons had disappeared?

A stab of worry ran through him and his legs moved on their own, carrying him backwards without his consent.

He willed his legs to move otherwise, but they didn't. They simply did not obey him and moved on their own, taking him backwards to avoid some distinct danger that he knew was lurking in the now red fog.

Slowly, the white ground in front of him turned a dark shade of red that was frighteningly familiar to him. Large, red pools of liquid formed on the floor and soon, the blood-red stuff was flowing towards him.

The Spartan attempted to back away even more, but his legs seemed to choose that specific moment to pin him down. He couldn't move a single inch.

Pinned to the ground and rendered helpless, he watched as the blood streamed over his feet. A cold pit formed in his stomach and he gave a particularly forceful with his left leg, trying to tear it out of the sticky fluids that were engulfing him.

For some reason, he hated the red liquid. He despised it. He didn't want it to touch him, but still it poured all over his feet and he could not defend himself against it.

He had never felt so hopeless or underpowered. It was as if the stuff was violating him; ignoring his most basic needs and forcing him to give himself over. He couldn't get away, he couldn't-

The world around him shifted and changed; the blood that was steaming over his feet turned black and then disappeared and the dark fog turned into black smoke.

He looked around, searching for the origin of the sudden changes.

'Rest calm, my young rider.' A feminine voice spoke and suddenly, the world fell apart. It was as if a great wind raged through his surroundings, sweeping away everything that was strange and alien to him. He lowered his head and stared at his feet...his blood-soaked, wet feet 'All will be well.'