To Aspire (Amid the ruins of Armistance city, Elias must find a new life)

Read Time:4 Minute, 3 Second

By: Jonathan Gossett

Elias crouched in the back of his food truck, waiting for death.

The Champion hid with him, Etherium armor was the color of twilight sky. shushing him, she held one clawed finger to her faceplate. She peeked over the edge of the serving counter, watching the Fell daemon prowling outside.

The Champion crouched, leaning against the cabinet doors lining the wall. She took a deep breath then vaulted over the counter. Elias shouted, rushing to the window.

The Champion danced around the Fell daemon, weaving in between its twisted limbs. Viscous black smoke bled from its wounds. Elias watched the Champion dart forward and slam her blade hilt deep into the Fell’s chest. The daemon fell back, thrashing as it bled out.

The Champion stepped back, dismissing her blade with a puff of violet Ether and gestured to Elias.

“It’s safe,” she said.

He watched the Fell corpse, wary as it collapsed into oily smoke. He stepped from the food truck and into the ruins of Armistice city.

Once proud skyscrapers stood desiccated, ruins of their former selves. Rubble and debris littered the streets. The Starbridge, the tether that linked Armistice to the shipyards above, lay severed, whole city blocks crushed under its steel skeleton. Fine white dust coated everything like ash. He looked back at the truck, questioning if he would ever see his livelihood again.

Elias fell to his knees at the sight. His home, his life, was gone. He knew that the Fell would consume this city, this world until nothing but a rubble belt was left. His parents, his sister, his unborn nephew, all gone. He sobbed, the tears cutting rivers down his dust-caked face.

“Hey, look at me!” the Champion commanded, holding Elias’ head between gauntleted hands.

She pulled off her helmet, revealing indigo scales streaked through with gold. White horns swooped back from her head and her eyes were like the dusk sky, flickering with power, windows to the Ether.

“It’s going to be okay,” she said, her voice soft and assuring. “You’re going to be okay.”

This close to the Champion, Elias could smell the distinct scent of Ether. Hard to describe, it was like the scent of fresh meadow flowers, dew still clinging to the petals, mixed with the feeling in the air following a lightning strike. It reminded him of something, like a distant childhood memory.

“I swear by the Allfather’s holy light, we’re going to make it out of this. Just stick with me, okay?” the Champion said, eyes determined.

Elias took a few, shaky breaths.

“Okay.”

The Champion smiled, standing and proffering her hand. Elias took it and pulled himself up. The needles in his legs faded as they began to walk

The streets of Armistice were dead, the daemons had killed them. There was no life, no ever-present vendors, no crowds coming shopping in the market stalls. Only that oppressive, lung scraping dust.

A deep sadness took Elias as he looked around the desecrated city, deathly silent. His whole life had been spent on these streets, serving food from his truck. With them now dead, it felt he should be too.

“How did it happen?” Elias asked, looking up at the tall Champion.

“They got the drop on us.” She said, “The Fell took out our orbital defenses and landed ships before we could mobilize. But they won’t take this world.”

Elias saw the certainty in her eyes and hope sparked in him.

They finally reached the Champion’s base in the wide-open field where one of Armistice’s parks had been. A massive starship stood sentinel, surrounded by camps of refugees. Humans and Champions alike tended the wounded. The twilight Champion passed him off to a medic who checked him for wounds then gave him a bottle of water, telling him to rest.

Elias found a bench to sit on and watched the soldiers standing guard over the refugees.

“Aspirants,” rumbled a voice behind him.

Elias jumped. A metallic Champion, resplendent in steely plate, stood behind him watching over the group. His eyes, fathomless silver pools, flicked down to Elias.

“Sir?” he asked, confused.

“Aspirants,” The Champion said, looking back to the group of soldiers. “Humans who aspire to fight against the night and its spawn. They have been training for an event like this, hoping to prove themselves worthy of the Mantle and Championship, like young Mireclas did.” He nodded to the Champion who had guided him to the camp, now distributing water to families, then looked back to Elias

“Do you too, wish to fight against the night?”

Elias licked his lips, weighing the words. The image of his broken food truck, abandoned in the dust and debris, flashed through his mind. What else did he have to lose?

“I do,”