Part 21 - RemembranceMature

Eurydice's return to life began in an instant, before her limp body split the sea and she drowned in the murky depths. She washed up on the shore of an island jungle at dawn. Her skull was nothing more than spars of bone—dashed into a brass rail and crushed by the Sword of Mercy. There were no sensations, for the critical parts of her brain and the rest of her head were still regenerating.

The first spark of consciousness in her came as the sensation of falling. She couldn't remember tripping anywhere. Somewhere in the darkness below, she knew, the unforgiving ground waited for her.

Organic-green eyes flicked open, in step with the wounded cry that hadn't quite made it past her lips the night before, when her skull gaped wide. She then sung the agony she only eluded by death, loud and long.

Eurydice came to her senses while in her pained thrashing, when she saw the plague rise to the skies. A whole swarm of them, titan eels that eclipsed entire forests, flew for the stars and blotted out the sun. The aura of these evolved Locri fell upon her like heavy poison, blackened with malice.

She caught sight of Cyril farther down the beach, motionless. Wincing, she rose and staggered toward him, each passing second bringing to her a full week’s healing.

He lay swollen with the sea, lips blue, cloudy eyes gazing at the infinite unknown. The wrist of his sword arm was angled obtusely, the dent of a brutal grip still imprinted on his flesh.

His weapons, The Gate of Eden and Tyrfing, were there at his side.

"Damn you, Sword of Mercy," Eurydice bitterly muttered. "Why won't you fight for your domain?" She mourned Cyril's death, the suffering he had been through ...and the fact she had to thrust him back into a cruel existence.

First she drained the sea from him. She placed a gentle hand at his abdomen, and there she drew the water up through his throat and out the mouth. She then opened the vein in her wrist over his waiting mouth. Her blood was pure, from Eden. It would not, however, give him the Angelic ability of regeneration, but as sure as she rose, he too would rise.

Eurydice folded Cyril's fingers around Tyrfing's hilt. She then placed The Gate of Eden over him and read the lines and arcs embossed into the sixth prism, the language of her people that spoke through emotions.

Cyril vanished, sent half way across the world. She stood and walked toward the sea. The ocean liner was still there, a dot on the horizon. In the sky, hundreds of evolved Locri drifted past the clouds to the heavens.

Memories from girlhood, unbidden, came to her.

The ivory Temples of Knossos, ablaze. She saw the acid spilling down from thousands of Locri, consuming stone and flesh and tree alike.

She remembered the ground shaking roars of a hundred-thousand Cyclopes; they marched through the broken gates of her village, marshalling hordes of Acolytes that swam in from the horizons.

She saw the images of defenseless farmers torn to shreds. The afternoon sky, red with a scarlet haze, as those aligned with the wind element shot Lotas with blasts of air to wear stone into dust.

Eurydice's convicting gaze now fixed the evolved Locri. There was no way the humans' starships could survive them. There was a way to stop that force, however, and it was just watching on that ocean liner.

Her intent was clear, her blood holy, and her mind pure. She was a being attuned to the force of life itself, and the jungle behind her trembled to her conviction alone.

A great root erupted through the sand beneath her bare feet, induced into growth synthesis. She arced over the sea toward the ocean liner. Only the blistering wind dashed her tears as she gave Cyril her last thoughts.

It's happening again. Mighty castles lay broken in the mire among the stars. The suns no longer rise. Timid spears shatter once more before the plague's advance, and I am left with one last choice.

My home is gone to ashes, but I will do what I must to save yours. I will wrest the divine might from the Sword of Mercy, and you shall seek Lord Thor, in the ruins of the east.

You once asked if my ancestors never wrought the plague, would I ever return to Eden? After a lifetime in your domain, my answer remains. This galaxy is still a beautiful place. Fight for it. I'll see you soon.

Eurydice leapt from the root and landed on the ocean liner's deck. Leaned against the railing, the Sword of Mercy waited paitently, amused.

"You're really not from here, are you?"

Dressed in an arctic-blue night robe, the Sword of Mercy had the form of a beautiful young woman no more than twenty years of age. At five feet tall, it appeared harmless, but Eurydice knew this was only a deceptive façade.

A frigid breeze caught its close-cropped silvery-white hair, revealing a pair of icy blue eyes. At that moment, a terrible sensation struck Eurydice. Though her feet were without question planted to the deck, she felt as though her entire being fell into those terrible eyes.

"Your alignment is water," Eurydice finally managed to speak. "Mine is life."

"Is that a challenge?"

"I offer one."

The End

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