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Cloaked within the void, the Hunter waited for an opportunity to strike. Bow string taut, keen eye observed a crowd. She released, piercing through the shields. A burst of void energy staggered the enemy.
A sizzle of flame whooshed over her head.
The Warlock snapped his fingers and a stray attacker set ablaze behind the Hunter. He watched her duck and dodge, slipping away, back into the void. The fire in his palm calmed, forming into a burst of soothing warmth. It flew to the Hunter. She passed through the doused flame, the pain of her wounds washed away.
From the hollow of entropy, the Hunter watched.
A brush with death, prevented by the Warlock watching her back. She remained hidden, recuperating. The Warlock glided through the air like the wind, a pyre pooling at his feet when he landed. With a gasp, she drew her bow again. A creature waited behind him.
Too late. With the swing of the sword, the Warlock fell.
The Hunter called upon the void once more, and slipped through the hungry crowd unseen.
A tiny drone hovered, looking for cover. The Hunter stood, providing. Her body shielded the drone from the shots as it weaved a Guardian back to life.
“Oh. OH! He will NOT believe a Hunter came back to rez him! Watch this!” The drone said, spinning. Her tiny shell was wrapped in a clearly handmade sweater.
The Warlock stood on his feet. The Hunter pulled them both into invisibility. Together, they observed the waves of enemies in front of them.
The Hunter leaped into the air and drew the bow; energy formed from the pull of gravity. She shot the arrow of space-time, tethering the whole crowd into a single point, disrupting, weakening, blinding.
The Warlock showered in orbs of power and surged with the fire of stars. From the blazing core, he pulled a sword, and illuminated the whole room as it stabbed into the ground. A pillar of Light, a field of protective fire.
In seconds, their enemies fell around them, and silence emerged.
The Warlock made several motions with his hands and fingers, looking at the Hunter.
“He says thank you ,” his Ghost translated. “And as I said! He says he did not expect you to rez him. Ha!”
“Thank you for the healing,” the Hunter replied. “I am Davan.”
The Warlock signed again. “You can call him Pye,” his Ghost said.
She extended her hand to him. He accepted the handshake.
A spark of memory ignited like an explosion in Davan’s mind. Hungry, the Dark latched onto the emotion from the depth of history.
The door closed.
Wails of terror echoed in the tunnels. Screams of being left behind, of the tomb etched into regolith by the folly of man. Twisting metal gnawed at the rocks above. Pounding at the door. Cries for help.
The door locked.
Ungodly screeching pierced the stone and metal. Whatever wanted in, could not. But whatever wanted out, could not either. Perhaps this was safe. Perhaps it would open when the war has passed.
The door strained.
The ground trembled. He was lost in a pile of bodies, desperate to escape, yelling for aid. Rumbling, so strong it drowned out the screams, convulsed the structure, swaying it like the wind would a leaf.
Something crashed above it all. Something dug deep into the regolith. This black knife would perhaps sever them all.
The door remained closed. It remained locked. When the quakes stopped, there were only the indecipherable sobs. They continued for hours. Days.
Until there was silence, and he was the only one still breathing. Except he did not need to breathe. There was pain, but he did not know why. He could not escape the crowd. There was no way out. He would never see the sky again.
The memory dug deeper.
Researchers with instruments of science surrounded him on the surface of Luna, excitedly gathering data. He wanted to stay and immerse himself in this data, but that was not why he was here. He was brought here to fix things. He was made to fix things.
Despite the freshly introduced atmosphere that would have to be studied for hundreds of years, he could see the stars just as well as before. Millions of tiny sparkles. Traces of satellites rolling through the sky in locked motion. Ships landing and leaving, carrying more scientists eager to dig deep into Earth’s eternal companion.
In the distance, a blue jewel, shiny with little lights. He smiled to himself. Nothing is truly eternal, after all. One day, Earth and Luna will part ways or burn up together. Humanity will be somewhere else then, with new exciting possibilities to explore. He hoped that perhaps he could partake. There must be a point to the newly discovered immortality.
“The Traveler’s terraforming abilities are beyond anything we could possibly comprehend, and yet, there is something infinitely simple. The data here is fascinating. Luna might eventually develop a breathable atmosphere and weather if the pattern continues. Have you read up on what the Traveler has done to Mercury? To Venus?”
The memory snapped like a cut wire and Davan stumbled backwards as if pushed. Breathing heavily, gasping for air, she remembered what it was like to not have to breathe. A link forged through time, kept somewhere in the Dark. Images and flashes of terror and death, and of hope that preceded them.
She stared at the Warlock, called Pye, and his Ghost dressed in a sweater. Behind the helmet, involuntary tears flowed across her face. She could not recall when they started or how. Drawn again back to the chasms of Luna, Davan used every atom of her strength to stand still. She knew what she’d seen.
The shadow still lingered inside of Luna, cutting through the ancient dead rock, among the uncounted corpses. It whispered to her, tales of the end of all things.
And among them, a tale of someone who died alone, never to look upon the sky again.
“I know where we can find some old records about weather science,” she said, breaking the silence.
Pye turned to her sharply. He signed so fast his Ghost blinked and shook her shell flaps in surprise. “Hey, hey! Calm down! He asks how did you know he is interested in that?”
Davan took a deep breath. “Lucky guess?”
Perhaps one day she will tell him.