Prompt# 379 –Launch- From the Darkest Night - Tekia – Exalted

[tekia.livejournal.com]

Title: From the Darkest Night
Fandom: Exalted
Prompt: Launch
Warnings: none
Rating: PG
Summary: Iron Dust came from humble beginnings, and snuck his way back into a humble life. Well, as far as we know…

There was something glowing behind the trees in front of them, steady and as bright as the noon day sun.
Iron Dust adjusted his path, his feet light on the ground, missing every trip hazard. White Song, behind him, followed without protest, no doubt recognizing the glow for what it was.
Father behind them they could hear the sounds of pursuit, but Iron Dust didn’t fear them catch up with them.
Unless they stopped, which they did, once they broke through the line of trees and found themselves faced with three Celestials protected only by the magic that flooded the small patch of bare earth with the bright light.
The lone woman was standing before the two men, teeth bared in a snarl as her guardian stood between her and the single man standing outside the protective circle of light. Her bright purple eyes, seemingly lit from within from her Essence, turned to him, and widened.
Ever quick to act before thinking, Iron Dust notched an arrow to his bow and hit the demon before he could even turn to face them. White Song crashed over Iron Dust’s shoulder and crashed into the roaring man. They fell together to the ground with a mess of snarls and growls.
The guardian shimmered minutely before it disappeared completely, letting Iron Dust come to a stop beside the woman. He didn’t have another arrow, so he pulled the Essence from the air around him and drew back the bow. The moment White Song gave him an opening, he shot the demon again, knocking him off his feet and away from White Song.
As quick as a snap of her fingers, the purple eyed Solar summoned her guardian once more, the circle forming around the five of them.
Panting, Iron Dust lowered his bow. “There are three lesser demons behind us.”
The Solar jerked her chin toward the glowing guardian. “It’ll protect us.”
The three of them watched as the demon pulled the first arrow from his chest, laughing as his black eyes met each of theirs in turn. “How long do you think your Essence will last.”
“Long enough,” a raspy voice said from behind Iron Dust. He turned to look at the two men that he hadn’t spared a glance toward before and dropped to his knees next to the black haired man lying on the ground. Under his naturally tanned skin, he was pale, and his yellow eyes, so very similar to Iron Dust’s own, were glassy. He grasped the man’s seeking hand and held it firmly.
“Brother.”
He blinked his eyes, trying to focus on Iron Dust, and when he finally got a good look at him, his breath rattled in his chest. Lightly pushing Iron Dust’s hands away, he reached for the Solar. Instantly, she was at his side, kneeling in the dirt and holding his one hand in the both of hers. “What do you need?”
“Your book.”
She frowned. “That’s mine.”
“You will have no need of it any longer. Give it to me.”
Her lips went thin before she pulled her satchel from over her shoulder and dropped it beside the fallen man before she stood, once more facing the demon that was watching them with intense interest.
Iron Dust’s celestial brother fumbled it up and shoved it toward Iron Dust. “You will have need of it soon.”
Something clicked in Iron Dust’s head, and he felt his own eyes go wide. “You’re Ranulf.”
The man’s nose wrinkled delicately in apparent distaste. “My name is Nolyn. But that matters naught to you now.”
Iron Dust settled his hand on the bag that seemingly held a book that was of great importance. “You’ve had a vision of a future. That’s what you do, isn’t it? It’s true.”
Nolyn nodded and shoved himself up from his prone position, the man behind him steadying him with hands on his shoulders. Iron Dust remembered something about Ranulf reincarnation- Nolyn- taking a dead lover, but he couldn’t tear his eyes from his brother’s face. He had had a vision about a possible future, and it involved him.
As far as he knew, Ranulf’s- Nolyn’s predictions always came true. He was the most accurate of all of them, in seeing the future. What’s more, it took several of their kind to make any sense of the visions they summoned to them, but Nolyn had visions come to him. Rumor had it that he never had to seek them out.
He licked his lips. “What must I do?”
Nolyn’s eyes flicked, first to the Solar now glaring purple hatred at the demon, and then to the demon. “Be prepared, for we die her.”
The breath left Iron Dust in a rush, and for a moment all he could hear was the pounding of his heart in his ears. A cold sweat broke out on his skin, dripping down his back as he looked to the Lunar that had followed him into this war.
True, it was a war that involved all of Creation, but she had been safe, well into the protection of Creation until she decided to follow him. He looked back to Nolyn and tugged the strap of the bag over his shoulder. “The book?”
Nolyn turned his eyes back to him, staring at him for the long moment that it took Iron Dust to realize that Nolyn wasn’t seeing him, was mostly likely still seeing his vision of the future that could happen. He struggled to his feet with the Death Knight’s help and held out his hand, awaiting a weapon he summoned through his bond with it through Essence. Iron Dust followed him to his feet and readied his bow.
White Song and the Solar both turned to look at them, waiting for Nolyn’s next direction. They all were. Somehow, they all looked for Nolyn to lead them.
He was staring at the demon, not seeing him, but still casting that yellow gaze in his direction. The demon stared back, not unruffled. His lips curled back from his teeth and rage and hatred twisted his features.
“Be prepared,” Nolyn said, his voice distant, steady, “for you are about to embark onto your next journey.”
Iron Dust readied his bow. The Death Knight stepped slightly in front of Nolyn, his own wicked black blade unsheathed and gripped tightly. The Solar glowed with Essence, her fists curled before her like a prizefighter. White Song’s hands turned into claws, deadly and terrifying.
Iron Dust turned to face the demon. The three that had been following him and White Song now arrived, flanking their superior, their own bared teeth gleaming in the Solar’s golden light show. Iron Dust stepped back to stand beside Nolyn, aiming his bow, his own yellow essence glowing where an arrow should have been.
Nolyn turned to him, then, his eyes for the first time focusing on him. There was pain there, and an understanding that Iron Dust had felt inside himself every time his own duties bided him to hurt someone undeserving. His heart wrenched in his chest, and he turned his own eyes to White Song.
“I’m sorry,” Nolyn said, and Iron Dust shook his head. It wasn’t his fault he knew the possible future for them all.
Like a bolt of lightning, the weapon that Nolyn so patiently waited for arrived. A six foot long weapon, half handle, half blade. He swung it lightly in his hand and launched into movement.
In the same motion, the Solar disengaged her guardian and threw herself at the demon. White Song howled as she tore into one of the lesser demons. Iron Dust lost sight of the Death Knight, for in the next breath the very fabric of Creation was being ripped apart around them.
Chaos swirled beyond the tears, and the noise, the motion, all that defied Creation, was too distracting. Iron Dust ducked under a sword’s arc, but felt something much wider and heavier slam into his chest, knocking him from his feet. He rolled to his knees, gasping for breath.
Through the tears of Creation, ugly limbs writhed and snaked about. Iron Dust felt bile rise to the back of his throat as he realized that the Neverborn had ripped their way into Creation.
Long ago, the Brotherhood had asked for a vision of the possible future. Ranulf had warned them all that they were going to fall into Chaos or Death. He had said that this war was going to destroy them all.
He had said.
They hadn’t wanted to listen. They hadn’t listened, and now here they were. Creation weakened to the point that Chaos could tear its way into their realm and attack them on their own level.
They were going to lose this war. It had been foretold.
Nolyn dropped down next to him, his black hair sticking to his face with blood. He gripped Iron Dust’s arm with force. “The book will tell you where your path lies.” And then he was back into the fight, his naginata moving so fast that it was only a blur of star-metal and yellow Essence. Iron Dust jumped to his feet in time to engage one of the demons, knocking his sword’s attack with the hard face of his bow. He swung the bow around, using the string as a garrote to drag the demon to the ground. Nearly as fast as Nolyn himself, Iron Dust twisted the bow free and stabbed down at the demon’s exposed neck with the bladed bow tip.
Still alive with the length of the blade stabbing him through the throat, the demon snarled up at him, his fingers curled into claws as they swiped wildly. Iron Dust jerked the bow free and stabbed again, this time catching the demon along the jaw.
Freed, the demon twisted up and tackled Iron Dust at the knees. They fell together. Iron Dust managed to loop the bow around his arm and touched both hands to the demon’s face, pooling his Essence into his hands, summoning to him the holy light of the Maidens to curse and burn the demon.
His pale white flesh burnt and turned black under his hands, and the demon screamed in agony, shoving away from him.
Iron Dust jumped to his feet, but before he could take a step, the tentacles of the Neverborn intercepted him, catching him in the stomach once more. His breath was knocked from him, but he still had his Essence flowing into his hands, and he grasped the tentacle as it grasped him, burning it, thick black smoke raising up and chocking him.
It wasn’t enough to free him, as the tentacle curled around him and dragged him off his feet. Quivering in pain, the tentacle’s grasp was unrelenting as it hauled him into the air and toward the rip in Creation.
Cursing and sobbing in fear, Iron Dust struggled with all he had, kicking his feet as they left the ground, fingers clawing at the tick skin of the Neverborn, voice calling forth spells that were never enough to free him.
He heard White Song scream his name, but he couldn’t see her. He couldn’t see anything!
Creation faded away from him like a candle’s light being blown out. He gasped for breath as his voice was stolen from him. Sight was useless as Chaos swirled around him, muddling his mind as quickly as it took a heart to beat.
The limb around his chest tightened until he lost the ability to hold onto consciousness. His head dropped forward as Chaos took his life from him.
When he next blinked his eyes open, his body ached in ways he hadn’t felt since before his Second Breath, the wind was blowing his hair wildly about his face, and he couldn’t feel the ground under him.
He was falling!
His Essence came to him in a rush, and he twisted and turned in the air until he could call to him the spells to save his life from a fall from such a great distance.
Above him, the rip in Creation was a wicked sight, the tentacle writhing as it burnt with his Essence’s residue. Moving quickly, he pulled a spell from the back of his mind, tied it to his Essence arrow, and pulled the bow into position from where he had hooked it around his arm before.
The Essence arrow struck true, hitting the edge of the rip, and yellow Essence turned green as it leeched into the frayed edges of the torn fabric. Within seconds, the rip began reweaving itself closed, and Iron Dust breathed a sigh of relief before he turned his attention to where he was falling.
He hit the ground at a tumble, the hard surface breaking under him. He quickly stood and turned toward the rip as the tentacle slithered back into Chaos and the spell worked its way through the fabric.
Satisfied that the spell was a success, Iron Dust finally turned to look at his surroundings. To his right there was water as far as the eye could see, but to his left, the direction he slowly turned to face fully, terror settling into his heart, was a city unlike any he had seen before.
Buildings towered over him, taller than even the pagodas in Great Forks. They all gleamed in the pale sunlight like glass, and there was a noise unlike any he had heard in all his seven hundred years of life filling the air. Air that was thick and stale and heavy enough to block the natural brilliance of the sun.
He dropped his bow from nerveless fingers as he gaped at the sight before him.
What cursed place had the Neverborn sent him?