Bayren loomed over an unconscious Rusk, his skin bruised in odd places, skin ragged and pale melding with the sterile room. Beside his bed, longingly watching with an unknowable face was Mera, her hands fidgeting nervously with her crystalcomm. Bayren took a deep breath, Lamia’s mortified face flashing across his mind, her trembling lips before she ran away to her room on the highest floor.

  “Dear Lamia…” he whispered to himself.

  The news had hit her differently—her small world growing dimmer. Bayren’s scales bristled tight as he drew a long, pensive breath. It had only been a couple of hours since he’d last seen Rusk, yet now he lay unconscious—‘half-dead’. His soul, described by a shy Mera, was like shattered ice, cracked and spread across the void of his body.

  The Calamity Entity sighed, patting the quiet Mera, his black claws gentle against silver-pink hair. The young girl put a hand on his coal-black claws and looked up at her father. Bayren’s visage cracked with a painful smile as he pulled away, her small hands lingering on his as he left, emerging into the corridor where the Nordos Security team waited. Bayren turned his attention to the ranger who’d found Rusk. A stern, but clearly nervous new hire, a young man by the name of Zhenyu.

  Bayren’s jaws parted. “Thank you, young Zhenyu.” his tone heavy, words grinding.

  The young ranger saluted, face strained, mouth agape, wordless.

  “What is it ranger?” Bayren asked, noticing his hesitation.

  Zhenyu looked at him, surprised to be humored. “I… I was just wondering what happened to Ranger Rusk.”

  Bayren paced past him. “By will alone, he broke himself—in frusta, overloading his Kyyr core.”

  Whatever had been weighing on Zhenyu melted into simple condolences. “I see… I hope for his recovery.”

  Bayren nodded, slithering past, before stopping before Pax. “I must conclude some business with the research team, carry on with your duties—and Captain Pax, I assign you and rangers of your choosing to heed the beckon and call of my daughters as if they were my order.” He carried on down the hallway, the air crackling with ominous frustration.

  The rangers felt nothing but relief as Bayren’s energy dissipated. Well—except for one. Pax, if anything, stared down the hallway longingly, savoring his self-denoted rise in the eyes of the uncaring Bayren. He breathed the rippling energy in with an almost smug expression, glancing deviously at the doorway that held Rusk. His fleeting joy, however, was cut short by a cocktail of purple emotion as he caught the scent of Galene approaching from down the hall.

  Appearing from around the corner, Veladonna accompanied Lady Galene, who sat gracefully upon her beautifully adorned chair, hovering just above the black-carpeted floor. Her normally graceful composure was lost, replaced by a sorrowful, downcast gaze that somehow seemed to track Rusk through the walls.

  Pax’s demeanor froze, his facial muscles held taut by an eerie warbling as he, along with the other rangers, snapped to attention and saluted while the two clearly flustered women entered the medwing.

  One of the rangers let out an exaggerated breath, cutting the tension in the room. He glanced toward Captain Pax. “So… who’s babysitting?”

  Pax exhaled reluctantly as he turned to face his unit. “Lord Bayren commanded me to choose wisely, so… Zhenyu, Lirien, you're with me until the caretaker recovers.”

  From the security team two rangers stepped forward; the new hire a tall, slender man with dark silky hair that was neatly tied to into a low ponytail, his ashen eyes settled on a stern face—the other ranger was a woman with short hair braided around a blossoming hair bun, her eyes were dull-black, shineless and settled on a bored face.

  “Sir.” they said simultaneously as they saluted.

  Pax nodded, addressing the rest of his unit. “Sierra will be in charge of security and Mick you’re in charge of rescheduling with the Navy.”

  The remaining rangers saluted before spreading out through the Starglider, though a female ranger lingered. Sierra walked up to Pax and leaned in. “Sir, I just received some odd intel—a strange vessel is approaching the Rip Gate. It bears no known markings and has avoided radio contact. What should we do?”

  ????? ????/ It’s time…

  A head-splitting warble scratched against his skull. His face twitched for a second, struggling to maintain his facade.

  Pax calmly answered. “I’ll go discuss it with his Lordship myself.”

  Sierra nodded, “Sir.”

  Pax turned to his aides. “Zhenyu remain here and guard Mera, Lirien make your way to Lamia's room and guard her, there’s a strange vessel on approach.”

  Zhenyu nodded, sliding into position outside the medwing.

  Lirien stared at him annoyed, but shook her head, choosing to ignore the reality that he could simply call his Lordship and made her way toward the stairs.

  Pax parted with no lingering words as the warbling echo roared in his mind.

  Beyond the Rip Translate, cutting through the curved sea, a Starglider Frigate arrived at the doorstep of Himadri. Sleek and sharp, it was a vessel designed for speed and precision. Its fins like blades slicing the rain, its hull sharp as a knife. Its bridge pointed, ominous, a crow of a vessel, dark and deadly, it radioed the port.

  The Himadri Port Harbormaster was frantically summoned by those stationed in the port’s landing tower.

  “What’s twistin’ ya slobs?” The Harbomaster complained, his demeanor dulling as he stared at the screen displaying the two individuals who were requesting passage. His expression stiffened.“C-call his Lordship!” he demanded as the two figures watched passively from the other end of the feed.

  It didn’t take long for Pax and the Harbormaster to reach Bayren; their messages melding as Bayren faced the blaring alarms of the Rip Translate.

  Emerging from the icy darkness of the turbulent Translate the dark vessel emerged in defiance, authority be damned. The dock was in immediate disarray as the dark vessel hovered over the dock where Bayren stood. The crowd of dockworkers ran away, unsure, as the groaning hum of the Kyyr engine rumbling through the frigid air drowned the alarm. From its sides, pronged crystalline legs clattered against the metal of the dock; a ventral hatch opening downward with no care, crushing random boxes. The crowd, afraid yet drawn to the strange vessel, gathered behind Bayren. The old Calamity Entity, already upset, stepped toward the vessel, face splintering with lingering annoyance as he came to a halt alone at the vessel’s doorstep.

  A group of unexpected entities appeared, and Bayren’s visage cracked with unsettling bewilderment as he took them in. Armor and scales clattered as the eerie figures greeted him.

  Two octopus-headed Diodecians emerged first, bowing before parting to the sides, allowing? a dreadful entity to follow.

  A bronze-scaled being—a stuttering entity between the form of man and dragon. A creature incarnated from scales, horns, and bones twisted into a vague avatar of man. A feral sign of Draconic influence, a Dragon Plāga. With an unreadable visage, it looked around the crowd, its overlapping jaws twitching as it stopped just short of Bayren.

  Kyyr clashed—dragon and calamity greeting each other as the two met fractured visage to star-daggered eye.

  Following the Plāga was a pale, ghostly man, a condescending sneer across his face. Which was framed by wispy platinum-silver hair that contrasted against deep blood-red eyes. Crimson orbs that studied Bayren with his smooth-moving slit pupils that dug themselves into the old Calamity with a naturally devious expression. His sharp eyes, small pointed nose, matched lips curved into an eternally smug smile. He wore slender, dark, gothic armor, enshrouded in black gossamer veils that spiraled around a crimson red cravat.

  The pale man spoke in a devilish tone. “Lord Bayren, we meet again.” The pale man spoke, words loud yet piercing to the ear like a personal whisper. “I trust you are well?” He said with a curt bow. “Oh, and do forgive our unexpected visit—” he leaned in. “I assure you we bring naught but the most exciting news.”

  Bayren looked between the two, “What brings entities like you, to the hinterlands of the Crepusculata? ” He narrowed his gaze, shattering his visage.

  The Plāgas spoke. “Simple discussion. We’re quite aware of the current Veil imposed by the Saxcrar family and we simply wish to share information regarding a particular Diodecian.”

  Bayren stared into the two wordlessly, his Kyyr rippling as his face shattered and mended itself as the crowd began to pull away instinctively.

  The Plāga’s monstrous visage twitched in realization. “ Forgive us, we’d love to introduce ourselves of course. If we may…”

  Bayren just stared, his monstrous body bubbling with Kyyr as he grew impatient.

  The Plāgas cleared his throat. “I am Talas the Dragon God of Waves,” he said with a deep beastly voice.

  The pale man stepped forward with a bow, “And I am Simon Mere, one of the Bastard Spawn of Cain—the Paper Prince.” He placed a hand on his red cravat.

  Bayren’s cracks widened in recognition, though only for a second, as he stared deep into the eerie presence of the two.

  Talas continued, “And the fine Diodecians behind us were merely escorts we hired to guide us to your icy retreat.”

  Bayren felt uneasy as he felt the curious eyes of the humble dockworkers, their frail bodies seconds from death if his instincts were to be trusted. “Follow me,” he said, Kyyr flaring as black constructs erupted from his feet, rising over the confused crowd as he gestured for the two to follow.

  Talas and Simon didn’t hesitate, following Bayren up the treacherous black bridge. Though as they went, Simon glanced at a confused Pax as a warbling echo rippled through their minds.

  Pax watched in silent awe, the sound of thundering slams pulsing through him over and over, heart clambering, pores widening, senses flashing as his calm facade carried him back to the Nordos Starglider.

  A warbling cry rang through his mind as he felt the presence of other souls echo from the raven-black Starglider.

  ?????? ???? ????—Hurry.

  Pax rushed into the Starglider, fumbling with his comms. “Zhenyu, Lirien—gather the twins and Lady Galene in their common area.”

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  There was a brief silence as he rushed up the stairs.

  “Sir…” Lirien spoke over the comms. “Miss Lamia ordered me to leave. She wished to be alone in the gardens, with her only guard—the Setacian mechanoid.”

  Pax frowned as he continued upward. “AND?! Where are you now?”

  Lirien hesitated but continued, “I rejoined Zhenyu outside the Medwing. Miss Veladonna instructed us to wait outside.”

  Pax felt drowsiness crawl up his head as he slowed to a stagger. “Ugh… fine, just wait there…”

  “Is something wrong?” Lirien asked, her words fading into white noise. The sound swelled—overpowering, like the roar of the ocean—as a shrill warble pierced the nothingness and—

  Pax.

  A metallic voice shouted in his mind, the sudden noise visceral, painful to his animal-like instincts. He crashed against a wall, his skin bubbling as scales erupted from his hands, slashing deep into the rose-gold metal.

  Bring the ????? Let that vaunted ????? of yours learn remorse. For it has trespassed upon ??!

  Tears poured down Pax’s eyes as the piercing screech warbled into a dissonant chorus of alien voices, as beyond the Nordos Starglider the raven-black vessel began to hover, slow and ominous.

  Pax took a painful breath as chitinous scales erupted from his mouth as he was swallowed by his/its Kyyr.

  A couple of floors above, Mera and Lady Galene looked over an unconscious Rusk. Galene longingly watched ?him with Mera. Veladonna leaned against the nearby wall, whispering some old prayer from her homeland, her hands ceremoniously clasped around a strange trinket.

  Outside the medwing, Zhenyu and Lirien guarded the doorway. The two were recent hires from the lower Planuras and found themselves awkwardly staring at their crystalcomms, with Zhenyu in particular drowning in an odd anxiety as he opened the calculator app on his crystalcomm and began doing aimless math.

  “Zhenyu…” Lirien suddenly spoke up. “Earlier when you asked Bayren about Ranger Rusk… why did you look relieved when he told you why he was hurt?”

  Zhenyu raised a brow, internally screaming. She was looking at me? Why? Huh? Yet outside his face remained stern, his thoughts catching up to her words as they mellowed into a pensive second. “I…” he hesitated. “After we landed I was sent to chase after Captain Pax who randomly left, and… I’m not saying he did anything, but I saw him running away from the direction where I found Ranger Rusk.”

  Lirien watched pensively when—

  Death.

  Lirien’s Kyyr receptors flared, her icy look melting as she turned to face the front of the ship. “Zhenyu!” she suddenly hissed, her Kyyr coiling around her.

  Zhenyu instantly picked up on her tone, pulsing his Kyyr, his guts dropping as he felt a familiar presence erupt in waves.

  “Is-Is that—?”

  Lirien was decisive; before Zhenyu could finish his words, she rushed into the medwing and into Rusk's room. “Something is happening! Miss Veladonna, I request your priority contact to call for Lord Bayren!” she shouted, startling both Veladonna and Mera.

  Veladonna turned to her, confused—but the urgency in Lirien’s voice was undeniable. She drew her crystalcomm and called Lord Bayren’s direct line. The device hummed, then abruptly splintered into garbled noise as the Kyyr failed to carry the signal. Veladonna tried again, the garbled sound sending shivers down her spine as she was assailed by an overwhelming bloodthirst in the air.

  “We’re getting jammed!” Veladonna shouted.

  “Same here.” Lirien complained as she struggled with her comms.

  “What’s happening?” Mera quietly asked.

  Zhenyu burst into the room. “You need to get out of here! Whatever this nasty Kyyr belongs to, it's coming HERE!”

  Veladonna ran over to Mera and swooped her off their feet. “What about Mr.Rusk!?”

  Lirien thought for a second, but Zhenyu interrupted.

  “I’ll take care of Ranger Rusk!” Zhenyu said with a bright smile. “I’ll keep him safe! It’s my job to protect you all after all!”

  Lirien felt relieved as she helped Veladonna with Mera as they wheeled Galene out. “We’ll protect our Mr.Rusk, while you and Miss Veladonna go to your sister, okay?” She said with an awkward smile.

  Mera grabbed Lirien by the arm. “He’s already hurt… so please.” She begged.

  Lirien nodded. “We promise.”

  Zhenyu joined in. “Promise!”

  But they had little time to talk as Veladonna guided Mera onto the chair, joining her mother on the armrest of the chair. “Hold on.” Veladonna said as the chair whirred to life, moving on its own.

  Zhenyu and Lirien accompanied them to the farthest exit of the medwing before running back towards the hallway with the thickest of the vile Kyyr.

  “This Kyyr…” Zhenyu whispered. “It’s him isn’t it.”

  Lirien swallowed hard as she stared down the hallway. “I always felt weird around him… but this energy—”

  “It’s terrifying.” Zhenyu finished the thought for her as he lowered his stance into beastly form. While Lirien wove her Kyyr like string around herself, the strands coming together to form a shimmering ghostly armor.

  They stood there, unsure and terrified, as the pulsing Kyyr approached.

  And as tension rose within the Nordos Starglider a couple minutes before; somewhere high above the city of Himadri…

  Bayren glanced back at the two strange guests, who carelessly expelled their Kyyr—sparks of energy clashing with his as they walked across the sky. Simon lingered close, smiling at the Calamity Entity whose patience was cracking at the seams.

  Their uncomfortable silence finally came to an end as the black construct bridge stopped over the black depths of the Pit of Styx, which was now home to hundreds of research facilities that were built into the icy walls like a sprawl of metal vines that disappeared into the frigid abyss.

  Bayren stopped, his visage cracking as he turned to Talas. “Your Kyyr… stop it.”

  Talas regarded him blankly. “Forgive me… but being compressed to this size is rather exhausting. I unfortunately need to let my Kyyr swim around, if you will.”

  Bayren’s gaze shifted to Simon. “You—what’s your excuse?”

  “It’s been such a—”

  KKRGHCH!

  Before he could finish, a black construct ripped his jaw clean off. Yet Simon didn’t react—save for a single tear that slipped from his crimson eyes. Talas’s Kyyr began to swell, but—

  Recreation.

  His arms and legs exploded from within, bone and scales scattering across the blacks as his torso crashed onto a construct spire that erupted from the ground. Simon soon joined him, impaled on a second spike as his limbs burst apart. Yet neither screamed nor begged. Simon looked up at Bayren as white roses bloomed from the ruin of his jaw, white petals unfolding into a sinewy red overlapping the blossoms as he grew a new mouth.

  “Have we done something to offend?” Simon asked as he licked oozing blood and saliva.

  Bayren’s jaws parted, fracture marks spreading like lightning. “Why are you here?” He addressed them as one.

  Talas began to speak. “Who are you tal—”

  KKKKGRCH!

  A long black pike tore straight through his neck.

  He stared at Simon, whose limbs had already regrown. “I’ve never met Simon Mere before, and I’m not a fan of ghosts.” His Kyyr pulsed. “So tell me, why are you back, Cythrallis?”

  Both figures went limp. Simon’s Kyyr faded, but Talas’s Draconic Kyyr lingered. The air trembling with his waves, Kyyr dissipated as the black construct disintegrated under the pressure of the Draconic surge.

  Bayren leapt free, recreating the head of a multi-horned dragon from the icy wall itself. He landed upon the tip of its snout.

  Talas regrew his limbs and rose into the air along Simon, their bodies limp like dangling flesh before being dragged upright. There, Talas and Simon stared at Bayren blankly, their eyes shuddering as Cythrallis’s warbled cries echoed.

  “Was I too obvious?” Cythrallis warbled out from nothingness, the two hovering entities nothing more than puppets to a spiteful poltergeist.

  Bayren ignored the remark. “Why are you back?”

  “Unfinished business.”

  Bayren balled his fist, his own strength shattering his scales, before pointing an amber-ignited finger at the floating figures. “Am I to believe one of Alvlad’s living trinkets has a sense of duty? To a degenerate like Poltheris, of all people?”

  The bodies began to spin, as if caught in orbit around an unseen star.

  “I never cared for the Kraken. I took the job on a whim.” The bodies drifted apart.

  Talas began to speak. “I was planning to move on—”

  “But alas,” Simon interjected, “I was attacked by these two.”

  “And somehow these pathetic creatures—” Cythrallis violently smashed Talas and Simon into each other, Talas’s coarse body slicing Simon’s frail human skin.“These pathetic worms managed to damage MY main body for the first time. MY! MY MAIN BODY! IT WAS DAMAGED! DAM????! ?????????! ?????????! BECAUSE OF THIS ?????????? JOB!” It shrieked, his alien tone warbling into a dissonant roar that lulled into a whisper. “I tried to return to my lordship. But I was too damaged. He cast me aside.” The floating bodies stilled. Their necks snapped with a sickening crunch as they were forced to stare at Bayren. “How could HE?!” Its voice rose again, shrieking. “After all the bodies I stacked under his grace. Did my work mean nothing? A simple misstep… a simple curiosity?” Talas and Simon began to spin, Cythrallis’s voice spiraling into a venomous hiss. “All because I wondered what my lordship's kin was doing in such a miserable corner of nowhere?!”

  Bayren sighed, uncaring. “Are you still after my daughters?”

  “Am I?” Cythallis hissed, words hanging as a crimson light erupted from the Rip Translate. An ominous blood-red flame, surrounded by blades, shot across the city like an evil comet. It arrived in a crimson flash, forming a vaguely humanoid figure—its vile Kyyr exploding with rage as the weaker citizens below collapsed, consumed by the evil energy. “Who’s to say?” It continued. “Do you think I’m petty enough to still serve that filthy cephalid bastard?”

  Bayren pulsed his Kyyr, clashing his energy with Cythrallis’s and Talas’s as he strained to discern the state of the Nordos Starglider. He glanced at his wrist; a crystalcomm erupted from within his skin. No new notifications. He tried to call Pax—but the crystalcomm failed to connect.

  “The Dragon God of Waves,” Cythrallis went on, “he was a tricky adversary. One blessed with a Draconic spirit and an incredibly versatile ability.” He waved Talas around the Plāgas, shuddering as his Kyyr spiked, causing the surrounding ice to tremble; cracks spreading out across the icy firmament. “But alas—he’s naught but an overblown replica.”

  Bayren didn’t spare a second. He lunged toward Cythrallis, his Calamity core igniting in response.

  Recreation—Apotheomachy

  His Kyyr unfurled as the technique urged black constructs to erupt from every direction—massive, impossible recreations of the world's mythos tearing free from howling nothingness. Titanic fists descended first, Blackstone-heavy colossi, their blows cracking the air as they slammed down. Claws followed—vast Draconic talons raking through space. Then jaws came. Leviathan maws split all around Cythrallis, rows of blackened teeth crashing shut, each bite accompanied by thunderous concussions that rippled through the surrounding ice. The constructs struck again and again, overlapping, relentless; fists pulverizing, claws tearing, jaws devouring the light—each impact driven by Bayren’s will, absolute and merciless as it tore into the Hy’Kyyrian blight.

  Yet somehow, amid the unleashed mythos, Cythrallis weaved through it—its alien body straining as it shielded its newfound puppets. “Impatient are we?” Cythrallis hissed, sparks tearing from its frame as it twisted, dodging waves of claws and teeth. “You and your deadly construc—” A giant smoldering black construct fist slammed into the Hy’Kyyrian. “UGH! You boring bastard!” It roared.

  The black fist dragged Cythrallis downward, grinding him through the air and into the yawning, recreated jaws of a dragon. Those colossal jaws snapped shut with a resounding, bone-deep rumble, shockwaves rippling outward as teeth the size of spires crushed down around him.

  Bayren vaulted onto the open palm of a recreated dragon hand as it surged upward to meet him, its fingers curling around their master. He turned gaze toward the Nordos Starglider, his body detonating with Kyyr, energy flaring, bleeding outward in violent arcs as the hand elongated, carrying him toward the vessel, when—

  ?!!!

  The surrounding constructs disintegrated, their void frames collapsing into ash as gravity seized Bayren by the talons. He watched the Nordos Glider rise away as he collapsed down into the yawning abyss. He pulsed his Kyyr—agony!? His Kyyr receptors exploded as he felt his body bursting with undesired energy. Confused, he looked down, his humanoid form breaking apart, swelling and expanding into a massive, beastly frame. His body deformed and elongated, proportions tearing loose from reason. The horns along his snout peeled back through his scales, grinding and reshaping until they settled upon a thick, muscular neck of blackened scale, their tips churning and twisting with demonic inclination.

  His spine bubbled beneath his flesh, pressure building until it split his scales apart. From the rupture, a black skeletal tail tore free, vertebrae locking into place with viscous, grinding pops. His skull ignited as he painfully grasped at his visage. Amber fire washed over his head as layers of scale burned away, sloughing off to reveal a monstrous black skull beneath. The skull began to shatter-split each side, spreading outward into infernal fractures.

  Pain pulsed through his body in violent waves, his visage shattering to the extreme as he looked down and found himself staring into a mirror-like mirage of water. It reflected a beautiful, deep blue sky, an unseen sun shining overhead, and within it, his own distorted reflection.

  Bayren panicked, covering his face with desperate, deformed hands that did little to spare him from the reality forced upon him.

  “WITNESS YOURSELF!” Cythrallis roared from beyond the pale as the monstrous Bayren reeled backward, his Kyyr accelerating, his sense of self beginning to fracture beneath the weight of what he saw.

  Beneath the faux sky, Simon Mere shuddered in the grasp of Cythrallis as he finished whispering the grave words of the Calamity Hunting Technique.

  “Imago.”

  Imago, it's a thing that's been sitting in my mind for years and I'm pretty happy I get to explore it now.

  -L. Osric