Thursday, February 2, 2017

Infinity: Chpt 8 (2) - Siric

Siric Space

There cannot be light without dark. Action has reaction; cause has effect, and good has evil. Or lumin has darak.
The Siric were once both good and evil, born to one or the other. Unlike other Immortals they had the ability to conceive and give birth - a process so mysterious it defied description. In this, they remained unique. Through the ages they were constantly at war, their battles awesome, spectacular creations - or destructions - of the fabric of space itself.
The Siric desired to destroy each other. Traditionally Lumin Siric sought and engendered war against Murs Siric. Lumin Siric believed the universe was a marvellous creation and desired it to remain the beautiful home it was. This they still trusted in first before all.
Thousands of years would pass between battles, and it was during such a period that Murs gathered the forces of evil. It would be the first time various factions banded together, and it would be a terrible force.
The resultant war raged for millennia.
Finally, the Lumin chose the place to end it, a huge vacuum removed from any galaxy. They lured the Murs and their forces to the chosen place, and even in Siric terms it was a stupendous battle that ensued. That section of the universe was twisted and reformed repeatedly. The Lumin won and banished what remained of the Murs into the furthest reaches.
Of the Lumin Siric only twenty-two remained. The proud and winged Immortals were virtually extinct. It was a blow for a mighty race, made even worse when they realized not one was capable of reproduction. The Siric were what they were, and thus they took to a different future. No Murs could be born to them; the cycle of contradiction had ended.
If the humans upon Valaris could comprehend the great span of time and gaze backward to the beginning of their world, they would recognize the Siric as the parent to their wonderland. That final confrontation in space’s vacuum led directly to their solar system and a new world’s evolution.


The Dome

The Siric of present-day Guardians knew they created a galaxy with a benign sun system to cradle the blue planet they know as Valaris, but were an emotionless people. They launched their strength against all darkness and fought for Valaris’ freedom because of the monster Drasso, no more.
Yet even the fearless Siric were afraid. The eons had not prepared them for the Arcana. The legend was fearsome and the images of Chaos horrifying - how to stop a nightmare?
Llettynn, Siric leader, jumped tiers to stand within the Circle. True to Siric psyche, he was a cold being. In all the time Taranis had known him, he never revealed anger, elation, humour or even simple contentment.
Even now Llettynn’s smooth face betrayed no emotion, and Taranis knew that was not the reality. He asked the Siric once what he was afraid of, and Llettynn reluctantly admitted “… only that I learn one day the Arcana legend is no legend …” Llettynn had to be feeling insecure. It did not show.
The Siric were small in stature. Llettynn stood at five feet and was pale as were all Siric. Also common was the white, cropped hair that gave the appearance of feathers, and the colourless blue eyes. When they turned around, however, and presented their wings, lo! The full spectrum of the rainbow resided there; their wings alive, changing with circumstance and emotion.
If one knew how to read their colours one could read their emotions. One colour was always dominant and Llettynn’s was turquoise, it being the leader’s mark. Llettynn, Taranis knew, would show no emotion in his wings either; the man had remarkable self-control.
“Taranis,” Llettynn ignored Gren’s question regarding the format of the game. “We have been Guardians a long time, fought spectacular battles, some of which we lost only to return to another time. We have never run from a darkling, nor have we turned our backs on a friend in need. Bluntly, we have never been afraid. Feel the atmosphere.” The Siric lifted his pale eyes to the ceiling, pausing to collect his thoughts. No one interrupted; Llettynn was de facto second-in-command.
Then, rather than address Taranis again, he faced his fellow Siric from the white arena.
“It may be the worst we have encountered.” He met each one’s eyes to impress upon them that nothing in the past prepared them for the Arcana. “What of it? If we lose we lose, but we can win this.” His voice altered into a shivering resonance, “There is no other who will try harder!
His face reflected only calm, but his eyes flashed violet, a sure sign of an aroused Siric, rare, particularly for Llettynn. So rare, every spine in the Dome stiffened with resolve.
“And I speak not only to you, Siric! All of you! Stand tall, by god, and set aside fear; it serves only to weaken. We are not weak! It is a reversal of truth, and only minutes have passed … but why fear it?” His eyes raked all those gathered. “Do we even know if the Arcana seek re-entry? Are the images of Chaos real or a manipulation? We know nothing, and thus there is nothing to fear but fear itself. We know not what form this game takes, yet Taranis tells us it buys time … do we waste that discussing fear, or do we act and use the opportunity to find victory? Somewhere someone already knows how to close a Rift, and we need find it. From this moment we play to win!”
Llettynn turned to Taranis, and glanced at Gren and Glint standing among the seated Sagorin as he did so. They stared at him in awe, and Glint grinned. The entire gathering felt like applauding, but knew Llettynn would despise them for the emotion.
“Taranis, my lord, I apologize for the theatrics.” Llettynn bowed.
Good for you, my friend, Taranis thought, for now the will to do this is in play.
“Taranis, like the Sagorin, the Siric ask, what is Infinity’s game?”


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