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Mismar

You walk towards the humming noise, wondering if this abstract thing is the unknown enemy which you had feared, or if perhaps the noise housed whatever great evil had trapped you and your friends here. Your head begins to ache as you walk closer, and you know that whatever is ahead of you are what took your memories. You mind is trying to take them back, release them from their captive prison but whatever held onto them so tightly was much too strong for you Alone, even aided by the souls of departed you held onto like a security blanket.

When you finally reach the source of the humming, what you see surprises you. All that lays there is a small wooden door, some sort of vibrant cherry wood. You inspect it, and decide it would be harmless to open. You wonder what such an out of place object is doing in this state of the art virtual (or not) space, but write it off as strange anomalies that had been plaguing this whole not so grand adventure.

The brass door knob is solid in your hand, and you wiggle it a bit, finding it turns easily. With a small flick of your wrist not cradling the diving tool from the Sorceress, you open the door and see what the source of the humming is. Or, perhaps, with just as fluid of a motion, you slice through the wretched door with the swordswoman’s trusty weapon, and end the ceaseless humming that has been plaguing your brain. Both options are equally favorable to you, and both might give you answers to what the mystery of this virtual space might be.

But neither will give you back your companions. And it is this reminder of Loneliness that causes you to make up your mind.

What do you do?

When the door finally creaked open, Myos’s already pale skin faded to downright colorless to what lay before him. Rows upon rows of the Empress’s guards lay in front of them, armed to the teeth with weapons far out of the caliber of what the small rebellion had their hands on. It was four against an entire army, and suddenly the fearless leader wasn’t so sure of their odds. Achernar yowled in rage, about to materialize her sword when Zeke grabbed her shoulder forcefully, vibrant emerald eyes never leaving the scene in front of him.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Achernar screamed, throwing off the man’s hand with venom.

“Just running in there is suicide. Do you want to die?” Zeke sneered, but didn’t bother to grab the woman’s shoulder again.

The rows of soldiers stood perfectly still in an impeccable formation, as if their only duty was to stand there for eons, denying the passage of time its right to break down and degrade their bodies all in service to the Empress, on the small chance that a powerful force might come to stop her. It was unsettling and disheartening, hitting Myos for the first time just how ill prepared their so called revolution really was.

“But...we’ve, we’ve come so far,” Amaya said weakly, her lips quivering as if she were going to cry. Myos could understand the wall of hopelessness, those very emotions threatening to overcome him as well.

The young man took a deep and shuddering breath, and forced himself to put on a smile. It was fake and first, painfully so, but slowly evolved into something genuine as he faced his own troops, meager in comparison to the enemy. “And we’re still going. We can’t give up now.”

He stepped away from them, in the direction of the awaiting forces instead. They tensed in readiness, as if this one man was a serious threat. Myos stood with his legs shoulder width apart, planting his feet into the ground. Below him he felt the hum of the propulsion system, the ever present force that had propelled them through space and further and further from their original home since the moment he was born. He and his companions were humans who would never know the soil of their homeland, the feel of a real gust of air that barely buffeted the fields of golden grain, a color so much more natural than any they would ever know. All they knew were the stars.

All he knew were stars. Endless pinpricks of light in a seemingly endless void that would carry on far longer than Myos could ever hope to imagine. And so, Myos pointed to the heavens, drastic cherry hair fluttering around his triumphant face like a beacon, star outline proudly emblazoned on the back of his neck facing his teammates. He was going to fight the pull of whatever twisted false fates the Empress had in store for them, to resist little by little in what may be a useless struggle because every real hero knew that just one step and one push and one last battle would be enough to start a miracle, only truly conceivable by the stars that surrounded them. And so, he held his fist to the heavens. And so, Myos took a confident breath, staring down an impossible number of guards that only wanted to see them fall if for no reason then by the Empress’s orders.

And so, Myos shouted out with all his might as the armored gauntlet around his upraised arm twirled off like a shooting star spiraling through galaxies with all the simplicity of drawing a single pencil stroke.

“You think we’re just gonna give up now?!”

Myos had transformed into his robotic battle form, every line and curve on the sleek steel body overflowing with power. He drew his missile powered crossbow and took aim at the mass before him, the large disks of the headphones spinning in place rapidly on either side of his head, creating a powerful whirring that began to emit a blinding light. His suit began to transform once again, as if the light had enveloped it, melding with the metal and steel and nuts and bolts and the very soul of the machine itself.

“Well, get a fucking grip!”


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