The Serpents and the Skulls, Epilogue
13 May 2017Michael Wolfe
The needle entered the flesh of the woman’s thigh, causing her teeth to grit as it emptied its regenerative contents into her system. With a short grunt, she pulled it from her leg and tossed it aside, collapsing into her pilot’s chair. Another coughing fit seized her, a reaction to the black market stims. Her hand came away sprinkled with blood, but not as much as before.
With a ragged exhale, the woman put a hand over the puncture wound in her side. It still ached simply to breathe, but her body would heal in time. No- it was the future that dominated her thoughts, not the present.
Like before, the woman had a decision to make. She had been so close. She had felt her nemesis’s body break beneath her, bones shattered and flesh torn. Yet she had become drunk on her own bloodlust, lowering her guard like a fool and allowing her prey a critical opening. Skull ships had already been closing in, and there was simply no time to both stem the bleeding and finish off the broken woman before her. Not if she wanted to see another day.
Her fingers traced along the skin of her throat. It would be forever scarred, a humiliating reminder of her failure and hubris. Perhaps she should have finished the job. Perhaps the cruel gods of Pegasi demanded her own life in exchange for that of the Black Witch. Perhaps she was destined to be forever denied satisfaction, coming close but victory ever vanishing in her grasp.
She could flee, of course. Leave the mad quest for vengeance behind, and become just another itinerant bounty hunter in the Bubble. Perhaps she could even migrate to Colonia along with the other lost souls of humanity. Surely the Skulls couldn’t seed agents everywhere. Had she been a fool the last decade, letting the myth of Pegasi’s reach override the reality?
The woman took a deep breath, ignoring the pain and brushing aside a lock of raven hair that had fallen over her face. No, she thought. Nothing had changed. There was no going back.
She had lived a solitary life for as long as she could remember. Though an Imperial, she had difficulty recalling any old feelings of chest-swelling patriotism. Though a Serpent, she had despised her clan. Any feelings of heartbreak at the prospect of vanishing from her family’s eye had long been numbed with time. The bounty on her head remained intact, and any joy at a reunion would be swiftly overshadowed by distrustful questions. No, she was as utterly alone as a woman could be. There was not only no going back, but nothing to go back to.
The endless black starfield surrounded the woman as she looked around her canopy. There was nothing left for her, nothing except the taking of one more life. Only then would she allow herself to fade into the black. Only then would she find peace.
Thus was it with a cold heart that the raven-haired woman made her decision. She would stay, and bide her time. No doubt a bounty had already been placed on her head. So be it. The shadows would become her new domain, and the floating wreckage of those hunting her the only trail that she would leave.
The time for arrogant theatrics was past. She would become the monster in the darkness, the cold touch of death itself. The Black Witch couldn’t stay protected forever, and no ship or pilot among the Skulls was her equal. With the inner peace that comes after a difficult decision is made, the woman settled into the pilot’s chair and brought her ship’s systems to full power. The black, serpentine dragons on her arms shifted and writhed as her muscles moved beneath them. Their snarling heads enveloped the throttle and joystick as she manipulated the ship’s controls, moving on from her hiding place.
Space around the woman trembled and distorted as the sleek Fer de Lance entered witchspace. Her course was set. She would become a spectre, a myth- haunting Black Omega space, hunting the Skulls one at a time until there was only one life left to take. It might take days, or it might take years, but absolution would be hers. As her ship hurled towards bloody destiny, a once-hated mantra of her extinct clan repeated itself in her thoughts:
I am the Black Dragon.
I am the bringer of death to the many.
I am the fangs of the Great Serpent...
The woman closed her eyes, surrendering herself to the dark path before her...
… and the Black Witch of Pegasi will know my wrath.
OOC Note:
I simply can't adequately express my gratitude to Caryn for her input, guidance, feedback, and most importantly trust during the creation of this arc. She has gifted upon our community one of the most compelling characters in not only the fan-expanded Elite universe, but in the all the science fiction that many of us will read. Sadly, her real-life commitments have kept her from furthering Marra's story, but fan demand- quite flatteringly for her!- never subsided.
I'd also like to express my gratitude to those who helped me with typos, foreign languages, and simple stupid goofs. Writing was easy compared to the subsequent game of whack-a-mole with the edits and errors! Thanks also to Deadeye Snipes for allowing the use of the events in his and Marra's RP, taking place right here in Inara's (in)famous bar!
It's my sincere hope that I've written the story that she- and the community- had hoped for. Though the process was time-consuming, it never felt like "work", even in moments of uncertainty and outright mistakes on my part. Happily for myself and the writing process, Caryn is in many regards Marra's opposite, and a joy to correspond with besides. From me in Idaho to you in Wales, thank you very sincerely for the trust, the friendship, and for being an amazing person!
-Matt