The Alpha and the Omega: Act II | Chapter 2
24 Aug 2018User1355
ACT II - WHEELCHAPTER 2
The funeral pyre rose, Cassian Ortega’s body consumed in its flames and great cries of mourning filling the Kamorin night. The Patriarch’s ashes would be spread to sea, mixing with the waters of his homeworld in the custom of his clan. All present wanted to reach out, to touch the man’s greatness one last time before the fire had its way- yet such was impossible, his body on a floating barge, drifting away until only a faint glow could be seen in the distance.
The first tears fell from Sola Morgana’s eyes, her hand drifting to her swollen belly and saying her final goodbyes to the man she loved. Parallels from her hated past presented themselves to her. Like with Father and my brothers, she thought. Except this time none have betrayed me except the fates themselves.
Cassian’s death had been sudden, violent, and unexpected. He and Sola were on one of their hunts, laughing and jesting from their respective ships as the Gal-Cop Quirium freighters succumbed as swiftly as usual. Their lead ship retreated into a nearby asteroid belt, Cassian of ended at the thought of such a prize getting away, his boosters glowing brightly as he alone gave chase.
Yet it was a trap. A full squadron of Elite bounty hunters lied in wait for the eager Patriarch, each with the wings of the famous guild adorning their vessels. His ship was weighed down with a hold full of Quirium, and his weapons nearly spent from gleefully destroying the hapless Gal-Cop escorts. There was only one way that the ambush could have ended.
Cassian’s final cries were of Sola and their unborn child, his ship exploding around him. Sola and those under her command sped to his location with all haste- but they were too late. The final, distant flash of Ortega’s vessel would be burned into her memory forever, and it was with a scream of heartbreak and rage that she opened fire on the honorless hunters. The ambush was turned upon them and devolved into a great slaughter, until Sola coldly commanded that as many hunters and Gal-Cop regulars be taken alive as possible, the idea forming within placed by the Void itself.
Great games of mourning were held on New Cambria and Kamorin alike, those unfortunates captured in the asteroid battle slaughtered for the amusement of the clan mob. All, except one. The finest doctors of Pegasi were flown in, equipped with state-of-the-art regenerative drugs and paid obscene amounts of credits to revive time and again the hunter by whose hand Cassian had perished. Again and again was his body recklessly healed, only to be rebroken to riotous cheering as the games moved to dif erent venues. Attending each was Sola herself, her eyes cruel as she repeatedly gave the order to end the man’s life. At each death scream did a dark energy spread within her, the woman as sustained by his agony the twentieth time as she was the first.
Finally the games ended, and the hunter- by now insane from the hellish cycle of death and torture and death yet again- was sacrificed at the site of the temple sanctum that would become Dinas Wrach, his blood sanctifying the place in a spirit of vengeance as well as love. It was by Sola’s own hand that his throat was opened, the blade that was her wedding gift chosen for the task. The Matriarch’s eyes were pitiless as life drained from her victim for the final time. Even after the man collapsed into a lifeless heap the woman fell to her knees, thrusting the blade into his corpse again and again, wailing with none of the dignity that was expected of a Matriarch. Finally her rage subsided, burnt out with nothing left but the ashes of her grief. None had dared lift a hand to restrain her.
Sola Morgana was left alone, kneeling at the very place that her blood had mixed with Cassian’s, neither speaking nor moving well into the night. It was in the midnight hour that the presence was again felt, a dark tendril reaching out from behind her.
So you have loved, it hissed. And thus like a slave do you kneel, weak and alone.
With a scream of battle Sola spun and lashed out, the tendril dissolving into black mist as her blade passed through it. The warrior woman scrambled to her feet, one hand protectively covering her belly and the dagger pointed wherever the shadows were darkest.
You lie, she spat. Your covenant is a fool’s bargain.
The tendril again reached out, joined by others as the presence surrounded the Matriarch.
Helpless against so many, Sola surrendered to it, the Crone’s face drawing close to hers. Sola could almost make out the hag’s features, but the darkness within her shawl proved impossible to penetrate with simple mortal sight.
The pact remains unbroken, it whispered. Did I not prophesy that the path forward would be hard?
Sola stood her ground, baring her teeth. This is not mere difficulty, she countered, but cruelty.
A tendril caressed along Sola’s jaw, filling the woman with icy chills. Blackened, ethereal lips formed inches from her ear.
No, it hissed. This is opportunity.
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