The Rakasan homeworld was bathed in eerie orange light from its dying sun. The blacksteel buildings stood as grotesque mockeries of architecture. I watched from the viewport a city that seemed malformed against itself. Everything seemed so indistinct, blending in, melting into shadow, so much so that I saw more a landscape of shapes and vagaries than any normal city. I had not stepped a foot on this world, and I already wanted to be away.

  The Aphelion veered towards a towering pyramid that rose above the dark necropolis. Slanted blacksteel walls fell over on themselves, piling up into a jagged and harsh monument that pierced even the smoggy clouds. We circled around one of the lower landing pads, and I saw through the haze, the curator waiting with two bodyguards.

  Seeing their tiny forms, it struck me then how the city seemed completely empty. All around was an expanse of blacksteel and yet there weren’t any pedestrians or traffic. There were no flying cars, trams, or ships. There was not one sign of life besides us.

  Cities exist for people, but this one seemed to only exist for itself, and we were simply in its shadow. It seemed the purpose of the place was not for the living, but rather for what was done in its dark halls.

  I suddenly realized this raid might be far easier than we anticipated. We had spent so long making preparations, plans. Kybit had created contingency upon contingency, such was her fear of the Rakasa. Amon had trained and drilled me. We had run through mockups of the layout over a dozen times. Even Ingrish, in her infirm state, had taken her concoction. Her body was no longer powerful enough to reach far beyond like it once did, but she could detect the minds of any intruders attempting to enter the Aphelion.

  We went through all this for an enemy that simply wasn’t there. I listened to the hushed conversation of Rykar and Amon, their confused voices as the Aphelion ran scans of the city. But as I soon learned, we had been worried entirely about the wrong thing. The situation was far worse than we could’ve ever imagined. There was a reason this place didn’t need to be protected, and there was a reason why the Rakasa knew even if we left the planet—we would not be leaving the system alive.

  I stepped away from the viewport and entered the airlock with Rykar and Amon. They were dressed much the same way as before, except now with as much as weapons as they could hide. Amon wore the electro-collar, and he held out the zero-sword prostrate in both hands, as if Rykar was making him present the prize to the Rakasa. There was a shudder as the landing gears engaged, and the Aphelion touched down. The airlock door cycled open and the landing ramp descended.

  The three of us hesitated as the foul atmosphere mixed with the clean air of the Aphelion. I glanced up at Amon, and he gave me a reassuring look before we marched down and onto the blacksteel pad.

  The thin stretch of metal felt more like a thorn, reaching out from the spiked terraces and walkways ascending up the structure. Past the haze, I saw a set of angular doors, like a serrated gate, which marked the entrance into the museum. Although, I noticed something bizarre—that the locking mechanisms were all on the outside, as if their purpose was not to protect from intruders.

  Glancing around in the dim light as we approached, I felt as though we were being watched, though Kybit would’ve alerted us of anything. I hung behind Rykar, trying to disappear as we closed the final distance, walking towards the three monsters who awaited us.

  The curator looked surprised as we approached, as if by the unexpected appearance of an old friend. It glanced at Amon and then Rykar and then finally me, eyes wide with realization and delight. “So the promised time has indeed arrived, I am honored to finally meet you.” The Rakasa hissed my way, its mouth curling into the most joyous expression. I could only describe it as the savoring of a great victory, though I saw no battlefield.

  Amon didn’t hesitate. He walked up and ignited the zero-sword. There was only a second for the Rakasa to understand what was happening, but the lizard did not flinch nor try to flee. With one swift strike, Amon parted the monster’s head from its shoulder. The head toppled to the ground, its lips curled with unbridled ecstasy.

  …

  Dropping the two bodyguards with my pistol, I jumped into cover behind a metal guardrail, expecting sirens. But there was nothing, only silence and the shrieking wind. Amon tapped his arm pad, communicating with Kybit. And indeed, there was no alarm system. There was no port, nor net, nor access node. Nothing, except this edifice made for some unholy purpose.

  Rykar unholstered a miniature beam rifle. A quick shot and a large hole was blown for the door. The explosion kicked up dust and debris which was carried by a gust of wind from inside. I waited for the dust to settle, but before I could take a step forward, I suddenly doubled-over from some noxious fume from the interior. Unable to breathe, I quickly put on a respirator. Rykar slumped over a guard rail, doing much the same while Amon stood between us. The old man stumbled as the dust settled, and we finally saw what was inside.

  Of everything I had seen in the galaxy, nothing, not even the descriptions Amon gave, were enough to prepare me. He later admitted that it was far worse than what even he was expecting. Indeed, Amon had raided many museums, knew many cruel species, but none quite like this. The Rakasan people had labored tremendously, all for a palest imitation, born of nostalgia, for the Fifth Aberrant War.

  The next thing I remember is Amon shoving me forward, snapping me out of my stupor.

  “Go! Stay with Rykar, and then get out!” The old man yelled, his outburst returning me to my senses, and then he charged inside first.

  Rykar practically had to drag me along as my legs refused to work. Even he was struggling, and we supported each other like two wounded soldiers, half-dazed as Amon raced inside.

  It is so difficult to describe anything of what was in that museum. The most restrained descriptions would not fail to burn the horror into the mind. And in good conscience, I cannot relay these atrocities in their full detail, as that would breathe new life into their memory. It is better that some things remain plunged in darkness, as to drag them out before their final accounting would do more harm than good.

  If you desire an idea of the tamest Rakasan taxidermies, of which I hesitantly place so the galaxy understands the fate of its victims, I shall refer you to the appendices.

  But in short, I will say Rakasan museums are much unlike other collections. The intent was not to observe but to partake. The vivisected exhibits roamed the halls—and the dead their ornaments. There was no description. There was simply everything: nailed, bolted, driven, fused, pierced, bisected, grafted, flayed, hung, melted, boiled, deposited, everything except disintegration, though I was in such a panic that I would not have been able to tell.

  We ran through halls where I could not tell where the suffering ended and the geometry began. Rykar’s talons dug so deep into my shoulder that he accidentally blood, and I didn’t care, for to be let go in this place was worse. As if in a trance, I clung to my weapon, it being such a small defense against everything we saw.

  I emptied my gun so many times that I lost count. Even then, it could not be called mercy killing because I could not tell the difference between what was alive, what was re-animated, and what was only imitation. It was all a blur as we fought through, though I still do not know whether we were being attacked.

  Rykar dragged me back as something with claws swiped at my head. Or perhaps it was a loving embrace. All that was left was a smoking hole.

  We raced down those dark, slanted halls of orange haze, wandering from one gallery to another, each opening into a worse scene of carnage. Only the muscle memory of our training sessions carried me through. It was that with every passing moment, I wanted to gouge my own skin, feeling the very air contaminated with the disease of the place. I wanted to shut my eyes and curl into a ball.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  I wanted to forget.

  Finally, we reached one gallery that was of a spaceship, where it was supposed to be anyway, though I would describe more of what we saw as a mass. And it was then my courage broke completely, and I tore myself from Rykar’s grip.

  The old bird snapped his gun in my direction, expecting something to be dragging me away into the labyrinthine corridors of this place. When he saw nothing was there, he realized it was instead that I had found my limit.

  I wanted a look of pity, of assurance—anything. But the old bird was in fight and flight, and he planted me to watch the exit as he shoved another pistol in my hands.

  “Stay here!” Rykar yelled as he charged into the vessel.

  In a daze, I fell to my knees. My hands were shaking, and the guns felt like lead weights. Down the corridor, silhouettes approached, obscured in the hazy light. It took all my strength and even then I couldn’t aim properly as I fired. Loosely shooting round after round, the wave thinned until there was one left. I dropped my weapons and lowered my head, not even able to bear the sight of what was approaching.

  I heard its footsteps stop right in front of me, and I heard a gurgling voice as it pressed a finger—no a scalpel—against my neck.

  I felt an energy beam pass over me, and a container full of fuel rods landed next to me. Rykar practically picked me back up to my feet, shoving the heavy canister into my arms.

  “We need two!” He said, holding another in his talons. “I can’t carry both on my own!”

  I barely registered his words, and Rykar had to fire several more beams as I came back to my senses once more.

  “Come on!” Rykar yelled at me. “Hard part is done! Now we need to get out of here!”

  It was just enough for me to follow Rykar back through the twisting maze of halls and galleries. It was all a blur as Rykar struggled, fighting with his weapon while carrying the heavy canister in his other hand. I do not know how long it took for us to get out. It was all a nightmare, as I stumbled down the never-ending hell. I remember a final turn, an opening out into air again, a landing pad and the Aphelion, though I scarcely recognized it in the smoggy haze.

  I followed Rykar, and with every step which drew me closer to home, some sense came back to me. Panting heavily as I dragged the container until I saw the landing ramp, I saw Amon there with three other canisters safely secured, and I saw the airlock. Back home. Back safe. Back to sanity.

  But as the Aphelion loomed over me, its hope returning me to myself again, I hesitated at the ramp as Rykar climbed the steps and joined Amon in the airlock.

  I remained below, dropping the canister at my feet.

  “What are you doing, kid!?” Rykar screamed at me, but I simply looked at Amon, and the old man looked at me.

  As addled as I was, barely holding myself together, I knew one fact. If I went back up into the Aphelion—that was it. And I would have to live with the knowledge of that place, and in somewhere of all of that, she was there too.

  Realization entered Amon’s eyes, and we both looked at each other utterly defeated. For myself, I saw my sister. For Amon, I knew he saw all the comrades he had been unable to help, forced to leave behind and all the bitterness that came after.

  I now truly understood what the mind poisons were, and Amon gave a slight nod, knowing that even if he dragged me, kicking and screaming into the Aphelion, he would not be able to save the boy he knew.

  I took off running for the opening again. This time I was only armed with my knife, but I was so distraught that I didn’t care. I heard Amon bark an order at Rykar before he set off sprinting after me.

  I suppose we could’ve both been more cautious about it, but it was all I could do to keep myself going. I charged back into that nightmare, dodging past some of the things crawling out of the opening. I feared they would chase after me, but several shots eased my worry.

  Rushing past the tangles of the exhibits, I followed the route like a child caught in a fever dream. I was running and yet my legs seemed too slow. The Rakasa had worked these halls with infinitesimal detail, and yet it all looked the same, as if I was going nowhere. And I was going nowhere. There was nothing I was running towards—only more of the same.

  There was no good thing waiting for me at my destination. I knew it. I wasn’t an idiot enough to think that whatever around the final bend would be anything different than what I had already seen. It would just be another awful answer to add to my collection. And the list was getting so long that I struggled under its weight as I cut the neck of something as I ran past.

  I stumbled. I fought. I bled. I ran.

  And then I stood still. I wasn’t sure why I had stopped moving, dropping the bloodied knife on the floor like a stone. Faint and lightheaded, my blurry vision resolved into a final shape. I didn’t know what to think. I didn’t know what to do.

  She was dead, and I suppose that was a mercy in this place—in this galaxy.

  I heard voices of grafted vocal cords. But just as the things shambling behind me caught up, I felt that familiar sensation. I was so surprised that it was here of all places, but I was so spent that I fell to my knees. Like falling into the endless abyss of sleep, I let the vision take me.

  …

  Bloodied and broken, I awoke again on a plain of silver grass. If not for what had happened, I would’ve said this place was peaceful, but I still was not in my own mind. It took me a moment to realize I had stood up, and it took longer for me to understand my surroundings. In the far horizon, I saw the rolling hills rise into mountains, and I saw a strange, white city that seemed more distant than anything.

  It was lonesome, as the onslaught of sights, sounds, and everything… ended. In that space, I felt room again to breathe. I ripped the respirator off my mouth and tasted cold, alpine air. And with the sharp wind, my heart lurched in my chest. I tried as I did many times before, recalling Ghiza VI. Instead, the illusion that world promised shattered in an instant, like a dam finally exploding, and I fell to my knees crying uncontrollably.

  “I beg you, do not weep, for you do not know how this moment shall end.”

  Slowly, I turned my head, and I saw a silver alien of seven wings. It was so large I could not have missed it earlier. It had no mouth, but words spoke anyway, not that I listened to them. My rage was such that my hand slammed on my pistol holster, passing empty air as I realized to my horror that my weapon had been long abandoned. My knife too.

  “If you calm yourself for but a moment, I will correct this injustice. I know the identity of your sister’s murderers.”

  “I already know who they are!” I yelled at the top of my lungs, my eyes seeing nothing but red.

  “No, the Rakasa were but the tools of greater forces. As we speak, great wars across the galaxy are being fought in your name. The Voices from Below—their name as you know them—contrived this. They desire you to make the Sacrifice. They will offer you power, and you will become their slave. The Xurak think they have outsmarted their gods. They are mistaken.”

  Waves of grief and rage poured out of me like vomit. Hearing that name again, after all this, brought more the memories of agony and suffering back to the surface. I wanted to murder this alien and then every alien. I wanted to burn the whole galaxy down for what it had done.

  The strength of my knees almost gave out from under me. It was all too much.

  The alien spoke, “Just the same, as it was inflicted, so too was it permitted.”

  I raised my eyes again, and I suddenly didn’t care anymore about this alien’s fearful size. But just the same, I stopped again because of the alien’s saddened expression.

  “You suffer greatly because you are ignorant. Your ancestors denied you the Truth, and so you are blind whilst seeing, deaf whilst hearing. Know you are not hated to be handed over to the Xurak. You are greatly loved.”

  “I will kill every last one of you!” I screamed, remembering the kindly expression of the Xurak doctor and expecting nothing less than the same treatment.

  “I tell you that you are forgiven for you do not know the words you speak. You desire to amend the past. Your ancestors did as well, and so we sealed the time vortexes, for they had no wisdom. But I tell you there will be a New Sun and a New Earth, and on it will walk people full of wisdom. The vortexes shall be opened, and all who suffered—even under the Rakasa—will not cross still, for they will know The Truth of All Things.”

  I didn’t know how to respond to the alien’s nonsense. I had no idea what this planet “Earth” was either. I stepped forward, not caring anymore.

  The alien raised a hand and a great fear suddenly gripped me, beyond all the rage and grief. The alien continued. “You were handed over to the Xurak so that your blood may be poured into the Waters of the World, that you may be permitted to walk where no other man may tread. Behold, go and draw your sister back from the first fate, as you have been from your own death. Then go and tell the people of Sanctuary what has happened here. It will be their only comfort on the Day of Wrath.”

  I was about to snap at the alien, but I blinked, and I was back in the display room. To my shock and horror, I saw the Rakasa holding their scalpels. And to my utter bewilderment and heartache, I saw my sister lying unharmed on the vivisection table. The Rasaka all turned to me, surprised at my sudden presence. I felt I was being drawn back, and before I could think, my body acted of its own accord. I rushed over to my sister and hugged her tight as I felt sudden resistance. Before I could blink, I felt enveloped by an onrush of water. I passed through easily as if it were air, but the torrent threatened to rip my sister away. I wanted to cry out, but I couldn’t open my mouth. I grabbed all the tighter, and just as my grip felt like it was going to give, we were spilled out into the vivisection room again.

  I was only able to get to my hands and knees, glancing at the awful sight that was still behind me, unchanged. And yet everything was changed. My once older sister turned to look, but I hugged her again, stopping her from seeing what had been scarred into me.

  And as Amon finally burst in the room, mowing through the shambling things and catching up to his wayward son, he saw two children coughing and soaking wet on the floor.