UnWar

Nine weeks before the war Alecia was in the Un’s village, Serenviella. A beautiful spot between the mountain ranges found along the central belt. A place where war is never seen but the oppression of the Elvira Collective is forever felt, in that way it is like everywhere else.

As daughter of the elder caste of her village, and the sole remaining living member of that bloodline, Alecia is the guide for her people. Yet, more than that she is a woman who has always believed the Collective needed drastic alterations, for while it might deem itself divine the truth is it is crammed full of rot. The sort which has been left to fester, such as you might expect from a weak animal nearing its death, unable to fight against the infection; because of that it has been twisted to the monstrous entity that it is today. And with such disease comes an abundance of zealots ready to staunchly protect it as if it is somehow infallible.

That is why Alecia first ordered the ancient sites around Serenviella to be excavated. Her hope has always been that within one of these ancient sacred burial sites rests the remains of at least one of the great founders. It is said, in Un lore only, that the founders, those who the Collective claim there empire is built upon the efforts of, wielded unbelievable powers unlike any seen before or since in the world. That is how, it is believed in lore, the fifteen brought an end to the violence which plagued their era.

Everyone, except Alecia, believe this to be folly. Calling it naught but tales told to children passed down through the ages for seldom but entertain.

Breaking her zen, Hassan interrupts to inform her of a discovery he thinks she will be most interested in.

That was but a short while ago and now donned in armour, armed for battle, Alecia follows Hassan to the burial site.

In every way it is unremarkable. Not the sort of place you would expect one of the great founders to be buried in.

Perhaps that is the point!

“Tell me of what has been found.” Are the demands from the Un elder-youth, Alecia. A woman with long black hair flecked with white, vibrant green eyes, tattooed skin tanned but otherwise flawless.

The tattoos represent all that she is and is meant to be. Not things the woman has ever personally believed in for in her eyes nothing should ever be counted as certain.

It is true that all prior elders of the Un believed different. But then it is said they all saw what was to come. If they did then Alecia cannot say she is the same for she has never seen what is to come. Perhaps that is why she has been in search of something to change what previous elders have assured is set in stone.

The older folk of her village have long since branded her a potentially dangerous elder with just enough of a following to bring Serenviella to ruin. With this belief Alecia does agree for she is fully aware. Especially, as what she is doing here, if brought to the scrutiny of the Collective, would surely spell a murderous end to the Un.

Mercifully, the Collective tends to be so enveloped in its hubris that it rarely recalls the existence of the Un. That will change Alecia assures venturing into the unearthed burial chamber curious and compelled.

“Are you sure this wise, oh elder?”

Stopping and turning to fix Hassan with a look, sees him shrink where he stands. It’s quite the feat for such a massive individual, but speaks to his humble upbringing, his belief in Alecia. Not only because of who she is but because of how long they have known one another.

In a different life perhaps they might’ve settled together, had a family. With her being the Un elder and him being sworn as a protector to the elder, like the last eighty one generations of his family, their relationship was and will only ever be at most that of friends.

As a child Alecia had loathed the reminder of what she would have to forego in her later years. She even made efforts to rail against it, force a hand to eject her from this destined life. It didn’t work; none of it.

Is that why I wish to prove the future is not written?

“I’ll be fine Hassan, but don’t let anyone else inside. That includes you. Guard this entrance, my friend.” Her voice softens during her final statement.

“Alecia, I do not believe this a wise…”

“Those are my orders as your elder.” A line that once uttered never fails at forcing Hassan to comply.

She does so hate using it on her friend nevertheless, but now more than ever she feels it imperative her demands are adhered too. They are not, though he and others might believe to the contrary, offered lightly.

The man’s head dropping low is all the confirmation Alecia needs. Seconds later she disappears inside.

In the darkness beyond the small rays that manage to penetrate the darkness within, Alecia feels about for a while until her hands locate what she quickly learns is a torch. Deftly, she retrieves the sconce from its mount, turns back toward the light filled doorway, casts a spark and births a flame. The sconce roars to fiery life. A half smile appears across her face, made to look twisted in the wavering light, and then she advances deeper.

Slinking down narrow hallways barely high enough, in their decayed state, to accommodate her near seven feet of height, Alecia twists and turns until she can go no further for a dead-end is all that lies before her.

Her brow furrows.

“This isn’t right. There should be no wall here.”

All other burial chambers around Serenviella have possessed a different format to this one, but one that is identical with one another. For this one to be unique is impossible. After all, everything was built to a standard well engineered over the ages. That means…

Alecia bangs her fist against the wall. Stone, stone, stone… The fourth series of knocks elicits a different note in reply. A satisfied grin appears on her slender face making her tattoos wrinkle so that they resemble fangs too large for her mouth. They are the sort that would typically be expected to accompany violence.

A quick search sees her locate an empty mounting bracket; she slides the torch into the waiting sconce, pulls her sword, flips it in the air, grabs the blade tight and then uses the pommel like the head of a hammer.

Half a dozen blows are all it takes for the ‘stone’ to crack, then explode into the space beyond a few additional blows afterwards.

Several swift kicks of her armoured legs emblazoned with wings, much like the rest of her armour, reduce the remainder of the false section of wall to dust revealing a proper glimpse at the passage beyond.

Wasting no time, Alecia reclaims the lit torch and squeezes through the gap after ducking.

It isn’t easy for her but she manages, then resumes her trek which takes her down an identically bland set of corridors that twist, turn and also descend.

Three times in all she saunters down surprisingly well preserved stairs. Four more corridors follow right after and end at a stone door.

Yes, this time the stone is a door and not another seemingly dead-end meant to baffle those who are ill-informed or ill-intentioned.

Regrettably, this time there is no sconce for the torch. A sigh escapes the Un elders full lips, tightly pursed together once again immediately after.

This expression is one Alecia often resorts to when deep in thought that is not meditation.

Unfortunately, a search of the area, walls, floor and ceiling, surrounding the stone door reveals nothing of note. The elder-youth would definitely prefer not to resort to battering the stone door down, but will if she absolutely has too. After all, there can be no doubt that this place holds a secret. Whether it is what she has been searching for Alecia refuses to consider.

Time will tell, as it always does.

Sound trickles from behind her. Alecia turns. There is nothing there, no one. She wonders if it was distant, an echo reverberating from up on the surface.

Likely, she forces herself to believe.

Then perhaps there has been a cave-in?

A period of consideration follows. She discounts the prospect without proper analysis to return to the problem immediately in front of her. She has no answer to it except to resort to brandishing her sword once again.

This time the blade will be needed, she believes.

About to stab it forward with all her might, Alecia takes a half step forward only for her foot to sink. Not as though there is a hole or some trap, but rather as if where she positioned her foot was not a floor at all but a…

The stone door rolls open.

“A pressure plate for the door; how ingenious!” Is the exclamation uttered while looking down unable to tell the stone button from those which surround it.

Seconds after, with the door fully retracted, Alecia glides over the threshold and into whatever room lies beyond.

The Un elder quickly discovers what the room contains seeing as no sooner has she set foot inside than the stone door slams shut, at twice the speed it managed to roll open. In doing so it becomes bathed in fiery light, and not from the torch which had illuminated her route thus far either.

“Magnificent.” Alecia mutters taking in the scene of the mighty tomb.

Discarding the torch for what she feels will be the final time, Alecia hurries to the single tomb in the centre of this grand but otherwise empty space.

The sarcophagus bears no name upon it. Such a discovery makes her heart sink.

You see the story told made mention that the tomb of the founder said to be buried here was marked.

Her head falls back in exasperation. Her closed eyelids slide open sometime after a deep exhalation of frustration. She had been so sure this was it, the place she’d been searching for.

No sooner have her eyes opened than they come to focus on writing, on the ceiling. An odd place for it to be, she concludes. After all, who scrawls on a ceiling of a tomb? This is the first she has heard of such a thing, let alone seen it with her own two eyes.

While staring at the writing it dawns on her what the scrawl says. Her jaw drops. Her eyes sparkle. Her head falls back to level. With a quick lick of her lips she leans in, braces her shoulder against the sarcophagus and pushes. Nothing. She pushes again convinced her efforts have not been enough. This time it moves, barely. But the movement means little in light of the click sound which reaches her ears. It is of a switch, she is sure of it. Her back straightens, she looks around. From nowhere gap opens up in the wall. Through said gap shines a brilliant light. It dazzles her, though when finally her eyes grow accustomed, it dawns on her there is a new room. This one is a fifth the size of the tomb. At its centre is a tree shaped like a statue of a person, remarkable itself, but considering how it is also covered in pink blossoms, Alecia has to admit she cannot think of how best to describe it.

The tree-statue more than remarkable is holding something in its bent at the elbow outstretched arms of offering. It is a box. Alecia reaches for it. From the box she can feel warmth. Her hands come to rest upon it in an exact mirror to the wooden ones which support it from underneath. The bo glows and Alecia feels compelled to close her eyes. She does and focuses. She hears a voice and immediately knows it to be one of the founders, though she cannot say how she knows this.

He says this gift is bestowed upon her so that she might right the ills of this modern age.

The elder-youth feels strong surges of energy flow into her through her hands, teaching her all she must know before finally the founder, Wermire, says one final thing, “Time is yours. End the wars.”

Then it is over and Alecia opens her eyes. The box is gone, as if it was never there to begin with. The tree statue with its blossoms remains however. Seeing it fills her with comfort.

Now she will fix what has become broken just as Wermire showed her; by fighting and rewinding time over and over, for as long as it takes, until the Elvira Collective are defeated and the world is set back on its rightful course of peace without oppression.