Alarms blared; the sterile white of the medwing bathed in strobing red. Rusk lay on the floor, a blanket awkwardly coiled around his feet. A beat, a sound, a wavering warmth crept along the back of his neck. Sunless rays bathed the weakened man, prodding him to consciousness.
The Starglider shook as massive slabs of ice crashed against its rose-gold hull. Rusk struggled to open his eyes, his mind lost in a meandering voice that whispered words he’d yearned so dearly for. His heavy eyelids parted to reveal the gentle red glow of the pulsing alarm. The white noise of his mind melded with the red, the alarms flared to life as panic began to settle.
Where am I? I was by the docks, and… and… my Kyyr. His head stung—sweet Symbols—what’s happening?
Rusk struggled on the floor, encumbered by the pull of a tangle of tubes impaled in his wrist. Annoyed, he grabbed the tangle and ripped them out with a painful but quiet groan. He scrunched his face as he pulled out a long blood-slick tube, his eyes following the black blood as it slithered down his arm and onto the white gown he was wearing.
Fuck me… I’m in the medwing… and I heard the call, the answers… the solution. I know it. I know—
“STOOOP!” A woman screamed, abject terror spreading from her throat tearing wails.
Rusk sat up, ears perked past his bed and out into the pulsing darkness of the hallway. The screaming continued, the pain and sorrow freezing Rusk’s mind as he instinctively clambered to his feet. The screams became more desperate, the wail soon joined by the voice of a man screaming in agony. Rusk stared at the doorway, instinct screaming to hide, but his ideals pushing toward the noise. He wobbled to the door, muscles readjusting as the world around him trembled as the Starglider shook. Rusk stumbled, grabbing hold of the doorway as fierce, yet familiar Kyyr splintered through him. It shot through his body like errant radiation, wrath incarnate; a flaming burst of energy that bathed halls in dread.
Lord Bayren?
The screaming cut his thoughts short; the wails for help guiding him ever closer. Cautiously he walked down the hall, each step growing less confident as he faced the increasing bloodlust that radiated from the end. He swallowed hard as he reached the threshold that separated him from the medwing's lobby. Every hair on Rusk’s body stood on end as his eyes fell upon a dark red spray of fluid that covered the synthetic white floor. His nose flared. The metallic reek of human blood filled his brain with horrid possibilities—all far tamer than the truth.
He stared entranced, lost in morbid thought, but he had no time to process. The scream had crescendoed into a horrible cry that was cut by a thick thud and a crunch. The alarm's beating sound lulled into white noise, Rusk’s ear focusing on a new cacophony.
A wet, lathering echo ground against what Rusk could only imagine was bone. He froze for a beat, listening on, mind consumed with sickening curiosity. Pressing his back to the hallway’s edge, logic abandoning him, he peeked around the corner.
His pupils shot wide and shaky; they reflected something that shimmered in the flickering red glow. There—looming, dread-bound—a black armored thing stood triumphant over a man’s body. It was staring up, its attention elsewhere, its monstrous visage hidden by the lobby doors. Rusk narrowed his eyes, tracing down its monstrous body, its silhouette shadowed by twitching black tendrils that erupted from the harsh shadows of its frame. His gaze followed in terror, past the flickering limbs, until it found the talon—buried deep in the flayed chest of a man. The thing’s prey grunted in pain, sweat and blood streaming down his face as he clawed at the armored limb, fighting uselessly while the creature cruelly twisted its bladed feet. The ranger cursed and screamed, holding back tears as he fought against the weight of the sentinel thing that stood lost in some alien thought. Kyyr from beyond battered the Nordos, the creature spreading its arms and tendrils, embracing the waves of Kyyr with ritualistic tenderness.
Rusk watched in horror as the thing’s new pose allowed more of the alarm’s beating light to spill across the hall.
Oh Symbols—OH FUCKING SYMBOLS!
Rusk covered his mouth, strangling erupting bile, the acidic deluge bubbling in his throat as he stared at what remained of the screaming woman.
Twisted—her chest and back were braided around her spine. Her uniform, torn and scrunched around her limbs like an old wrapper. The start and end of her limbs no longer made sense; her bones confused, their white tips goring through the fabric and dripping blood in slow, obscene threads. Rusk felt tears well in his eyes as he noticed her breathing—somehow still alive. And amidst the horror, somehow, his eyes met her painfully living gaze. Dark eyes twitched as she struggled to blink through her tears.
Rusk carefully lowered himself, his instincts screaming, begging for him to run the opposite way.
A mechanical voice flared over the intercom. “WARNING HULL INTEGRITY AT FIFTY PERCENT.”
The Nordos shuddered as a wave of flaming Kyyr burst through the halls. Rusk flinched in agony, head bursting with stinging pain, his vision whitening as he fought to stay conscious. The sheer intensity caused his skin to crawl as imaginary fire spread across his body. He wrestled it down, struggling to keep his Kyyr mellowed as he collapsed against the floor.
Clack…
Through the alarms and Kyyr, he heard something. A subtle, dreadful sound.
Clack…
It grew closer.
Rusk, teary-eyed, looked to the blood, where he saw it clear the amorphous reflection of that thing encroaching, approaching. Coming.
Panic broke him loose. He scrambled backward, dragging himself down the hallway, clawing for distance, for air—for any escape!
Clack…
Clack…
CLACK!
The chitinous black thing stared down an empty hallway—
Pax stared down the hallway.
Eyes stretched long and wide, his now black pupils had been split in two, the darkness growing wide as he relished in the high of mixing Kyyrs in the air, while his nose had grown. The nose bridge had grown into a hooked-scaled beak that dragged out his teeth—skin torn, replaced by jagged black scales that resembled sharp, overgrown teeth. The lower jaw had followed the bladed nose, unhinging, warping, deforming Pax beyond recognition. Chitinous black scales had consumed him whole; his hands turned into long claws. Though there was an aberration—a strange sixth digit that was nothing more than a lie with no bone or muscle to strain. His feet now ended in monstrous talons, heeled with curved claws that dragged forward his heavy armored frame, which was supported by 4 thin, armor-plated limbs that dug into the walls as Pax stalked the hallways.
A couple of doors down, Rusk panicked inside one of the rooms, eyes darting as he searched for any escape. He dropped to his knees, scrambling blindly until a flicker of relief cut through the terror as he spotted something under a bed.
KRAAM!
Pax’s limbs punched through the doors of the first two rooms, blasting them from their frames. They slammed into empty beds as his split eyes swept the spaces for any sign of life.
KRAAMM!
Another set of doors exploded into their respective rooms. Nothing… He moved deeper down the hallway.
KRAAAAMM!!
Another set flew, the beast growing closer to a door left slightly ajar. Pax’s split-eyes narrowed as he focused on the door—his nostrils flared—a familiar scent sliding down his throat. His monstrous face twisted into a grim smile as a clawed hand settled against the door. Calmly, deliberately, Pax pushed it open, revealing Rusk’s room. The flickering scent of his sweat and blood made Pax salivate, deranged hatred and obsession surging as his thoughts reigned the bloodthirst as he scanned the room.
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
Empty.
His monstrous smile lingered as he swallowed the scent. He entered the room, limbs slithering inside as he leaned down and planted a hand on the mattress. Pressure crushed through the pillowy surface—fabric tearing, fingers bending as they pulverized the hidden electronics beneath the electronic bedframe.
His black pupils constricted, collapsing inward to reveal a hollowed void. Scaled brows furrowed as his smile upturned, and the beast that was Pax snapped. Tendrils lashed and thrashed around him, destroying the walls as he slammed his claws into the bed, ripping the electrical components to shreds as he roared in anger.
“RUUUUUUUUSSSSK!” He bellowed, lungs flaring with monstrosity as he tore out of the room.
KRAAAAM !
KRAM!
KRRRAAMM!!
He tore through every door, searching, his senses flaring, ripping the hallway apart in an obsessive hunt.
Adrenaline washed over Rusk as the sound of his name rumbled from the beast’s deformed mouth scratching down his spine. He lulled his Kyyr, shuddering as he crawled—
KRRAAAM!
The sound grew closer.
KRAAAM!
“RUUUUUUUSK!” Pax roared, his voice inhuman, mangled by his warped throat.
Closer. Closer.
KRAM!!!
It was here.
Rusk held his breath.
Pax burst into the room—his monstrous frame skidding to a halt over another bed. His deformed jaw locked back into a demented smile as his tendrils popped and cracked, his full mass looming above the mattress. He drew in a slow breath, split eyes sweeping the space before fixing on the bed at the room’s center.
KRRRKCH!
The mechanical bedframe collapsed onto the tile in a violent crack as Pax tore into it, ripping metal and plating apart with frenzied strength.
“RUUUUUSSK!” He roared, tendrils lashing violently as clattering shrapnel scattered across the room, joining the alarms in a deafening cacophony.
Rusk, barely a couple of centimeters from the chaos, carried on with his escape, crawling through the narrow vents that lined the back end of the rooms. There he lay, tight against the metal, his arm positioned oddly as he moved as quietly as he could while Pax shredded the room in a blind rage.
How is he tracking me? I wasn’t making any noise? It couldn’t be my Kyyr? It’s getting overwhelmed by Bayren’s! So how? How? HOW!?
The thrashing abruptly stopped.
Rusk froze—silence plaguing him as a low growl permeated from the vent’s cover about a meter behind? his feet. Loud thumps came as Pax went on all four, his looming shadow cutting the flickering red light that seeped through the vent cover. Cackle-like chittering permeated from Pax as he got closer and—
The vents roared to life. Cold air blasted through the tight enclosure, the strong waft of frigid air rattling the metal and flooding the narrow crawlspace with a chilling bite. The vent shuddered and popped, cold metal constricting from all sides as Rusk’s lungs pressed against his ribs. His skin tight against the compressing steel, each breath harder, drier, faster, yet unfulfilled as Pax hissed as the cold air flushed Rusk’s scent the medwings deodorized air.
The monster pulled as the strong chemical blasted his sensitive nose, causing him to reel in anguish as he let out an enraged roar. Pax furiously lashed out against the vent, metal shrieking as the cover caved inward. Pax hissed and staggered out into the hallway, his tendrils thrashing wildly as he tore through the corridor.
Rusk panicked and forced himself forward. I can’t breathe! I can’t breathe! Fuck, I need to get out. It’s tighter—it’s getting tighter!
Rusk had wedged himself into the vent in a panic—elbows at awkward angles, his chest crushed tight against the cold metal.
“RUUUUUSK!” Pax roared from somewhere down the hall.
Shit? Was that closer? Or farther? Rusk fought for air and shoved forward, the endless black pressing in around him. The space narrowed—compressed—tightened like serpents' guts. The Starglider groaned, the shifting metal rocking the vents as he struggled not to make any noise.
“RUUUUSSSK!” Pax roared, but he was further away?
Rusk struggled to look back towards the void where the roar resounded. He gave up on searching the darkness, straining his muscles as he clawed toward the nearest vent. He shoved against the grille, sweat slicking his skin as the ventilation system shifted, the sterilized air replaced with regular cold air that dragged his essence throughout the Starglider.
Rusk smashed his elbow against the vent grating, pain ringing up his arm as the metal held. He struck again, harder, the echo of Pax’s roar swimming between near and far. The cover bent, then caught. Fuck! He clawed at the bent metal, his fingers slipping uselessly. He shoved the grating again, and it finally popped off. Pax roared in the distance, the sound of thudding claws causing Rusk to panic. He hastily dragged himself through the opening, smacking head against the electronics under the bed, face wincing with pain. Shit! He’d gotten stuck—ribs squeezing, refusing to release—as he squirmed, painfully wrenching his other arm through the tight opening. His breath hitched when it finally slid free, fingers snatching the underside of the bed for leverage.
The alarms blared incessantly around the bed as Rusk spilled out from under the hospital bed, collapsing in a shaking heap, chest heaving as he took a deep breath.
“Ruuuusk…” Pax’s warped roar echoed through the medwing.
Rusk shuddered as he staggered to his feet and ran out of the room, bolting to the blood-drenched lobby. Iron stung his nose as he stumbled, skidding to a stop before the two ruined bodies. His breathing was wild, thoughts in a confused disarray.
Shit…What the fuck happened? Mera, Lamia, Galene, Veladonna? Where are they? Lord Bayren! He patted his body, the horrid realization hitting him. Shit—where’s my crystalcomm!
“H...he…l…” a weak voice mumbled.
His focus snapped back, horrified he looked down at the unfortunately undying. Oh Symbols… th-they’re—they’re still alive!
The alarms were no more than white noise as the distant roars of Pax echoed closer than before. Rusk took a deep breath. I can help them. I can do this… He looked down at his hand. With my Kyyr…
Deeper in the medwing, Pax tore through room after room, mechanoids shredded in blind rage as Rusk’s scent spread through the complex, driving Pax mad as the blistering Kyyr from beyond washed over him in waves.
—!
His pupils tightened as he felt a mind-numbing pulse of Kyyr spread down his spine as he slowly turned back.
“Rusk…?” he mumbled with a throaty growl.
Split-eyed—hollow, the beast dropped on all fours and broke into a gallop, his claws skidding on the tile floor as he violently slammed through furniture and glass, tendrils stabilizing him as he crawled along like a gigantic black spider.
“RUUUSSSK!”
Rusk flinched as his name echoed closer. He pushed his Kyyr harder—panic and resolve blurring together as sweat streamed down his face. A low light sparkled from his hands as the blaring red consumed both him and the two mangled bodies.
“RRRUUUUUUUSK!” Pax roared as he crashed into the hallway where he’d first followed the scent. At its far end, a flickering red light revealed blood smeared across the floor—dragged out by frantic human footprints. “RRRRRRRRRRRUUUUUUUUUSSSSSK!” he bellowed as he charged down the hallway, fueled by hatred. He barreled down the narrow corridor, tendrils snapping out and catching on doorframes—metal and glass exploding from the force of his rage.
Pax erupted into the lobby, skidding across the tile as his mass slammed into furniture. Tendrils unraveled blindly, lashing at the lingering Kyyr and—
Nothing.
“WHEERE ARE YOU!!!!?” Pax roared as he ravaged the lobby, bladed tendrils tearing the rose-gold frame, before he suddenly stopped. His split-eyes focused on the stained flooring where Lirien and Zhenyu had been mangled by him. There was nothing, not even a stain.
“RRRRRRRUUUUUSK!” he roared, smashing his head into the floor with animalistic fury as he took a long, overdone whiff of the floor, digging through the layered scents of the Starglider.
“THERE YOU ARE!” he growled as he readied to run when—
??????! YOU HAVE A JOB TO DO! Cythrallis’s shrill screech ripped through him. Pax reeled and slammed his head into the nearby wall, metal caving as he screamed like a dying pig.
“BUT—”
The warbling tore at his mind, pulsing Kyyr into his brain, split-pupils dilating, blackness blooming under Cythrallis’s enchanting miasma. His armored frame went slack, standing quietly in the middle of the hallway, his chitinous frame reflecting the beating red light as Cythrallis ripped his ego.
????? ??? ??????/ Find the girls.
Cythrallis commanded, its warbling voice freezing Pax in place. The monster stood there for a second, thinking, as his slowly reformed, bone and scale retreating back into something vaguely human as a crystalcomm forced its way out from beneath the chitin. A Kyyr tendril snapped around the crystalline device, steadying it as Pax cleared his throat.
“Security Head ámon Pax reporting. All active rangers be advised: the situation aboard the Nordos Starglider has escalated to critical. Rangers Lirien Edith, Zhenyu Riv, and Rusk Holt are confirmed to be in collusion with hostile elements responsible for the attack and the attempted abduction of Lord Bayren’s daughters. Lord Bayren is currently engaged and unavailable, occupied by Dragon God of Waves and the Vileblood Traitor. All available rangers are to continue civilian assistance and stabilization efforts city side while I assume direct control of counter-insurgency operations aboard the Starglider. Standing order: if any of the listed rangers are encountered… purge orders are to be enacted!”
All across the city and the docks, rangers who were amid the crisis of the collapse and chaos heard the transmission. Their eyes glanced toward the rose-gold glider in disbelief—yet they had little time to process Pax’s words. For the city was on the brink of destruction as ice and Kyyr bombarded the populace. Structure pillars collapsed, the Kyyr knocked out most people, some died unaware, others barely conscious enough to feel Bayren’s burning Kyyr tear at their souls. It was a catastrophe—a calamity.
Pax switched to a private channel. “Hendrick’s—if you’re still alive—cut the insurgents from the network.”
The crystalcomm warbled. Then a disciplined voice answered, sharp and immediate, with assent.
Pax smirked. Black scales flowed back over the crystalcomm, swallowing it whole as his jaws warped once more into their monstrous form. He drew a slow breath and resumed the hunt, senses flaring as he caught the scent of Lirien and Zhenyu—somehow on their feet running along with Rusk.
-L. Osric
