Life, In Pieces

Setting sun illuminates a palatial suite, making the flowing soft gold trim soak up reddish hues. Wide, two-story-tall windows open up onto balconies and a slight breeze makes the long sheer curtains dance and whip around the walls. In the middle of the room a tall red-haired woman stands with her arms outstretched as servants dress her in golden ceremonial armor. Her green eyes stare onto the space outside, deep in thought. Her face and the white walls behind her change colors as lights explode in the sky.

My queen.

Broken out of rumination, she turns around and looks upon a handsome young man, bent on one knee, impatiently waiting for her attention. His golden hair curls to cover half his face, concealing a high forehead, thick eyebrows, and deep hazel eyes.

Jacob. You are here. Is it time then?

It is time, my lady.

He looks upon her with glistening solemn eyes, deep into hers. Her face betrays few emotions. She makes the slightest of glances at her ladies-in-waiting and they immediately stop what they were doing and walk out of sight. As soon as they are gone, the man stands up and swiftly walks right up to her. Their bodies touch, they embrace and kiss, then rest their foreheads together.

The vanguard?

All lost.

All armies and air squadrons?

Decimated.

The shield?

We have about fifteen minutes left.

She suddenly looks away from him, back outside, holding out tears. A sudden gust of wind tumbles her hair and a rumbling reverberates through the air.

I have failed our people. We have lost.

He reaches his hand out and puts it on her shoulder,

Not yet my queen. We still have a chance.

She looks upon him once more,

It's just some scholar's theory. It has never been tested. What if the miracle is worse than this hell we're in?

If what they say is true, if it really is a god we're up against, then we need a god of our own, if we are to have a chance. You need to sit upon your throne. Everything is ready.

She looks down as another gust of wind followed by a rumbling flows through her robes. She grabs his hand, pulls him close, and hugs him tightly.

If we were, but other people... if we could have been more...

You need to let me go, my queen. I will not let you down.

After ten quiet seconds, she lets him free,

Go, then. Turn on this god-killer! May Mechanus have mercy upon us.

I love you more than anything! We shall see each other soon.

She nods and follows him with her eyes as he runs out of the window and jumps, disappearing underneath the terrace only to reappear much smaller in the distance, pushed foreward by a jetpack. She whispers to herself,

 How bold were the men who looked upon thee 
 and said 'morrow we shall be the one who see, 
 'morrow we shall be the ones who burn 
 with the yearning of the sun, 
 we shall burn upon our foes 
 and we will never let you go! 

As soon as she ends, a searing flash blinds her and bathes everything in whiteness.

Eyes open. Everything around is chaotic. Senses are disorganized. Walls and frescos split into thousands of repeated images that flow into and out of allignment. Sounds blare in cacophony.

Before senses come to focus a burning energy overtakes volition and everything moves. It moves fast as the fire inside burns. The scenes move quickly. So many tunnels.

People appear in front. They pose no resistance at all. The screams die out quickly as the bodies dissolve. They are now part of the whole. All is one.

From underground tunnels to air and the streets. More people. A woman and a man with weapons, they are fighting something in the distance. All is one.

The scene ebbs and cascades, bounding off of walls, splitting through pillars, bursting through doors and windows.

An old woman eating in the kitchen. She screams with a face of horror. All is one.

Street after street, building after building. Moving faster and faster.

A whole cruiser taking off with soldiers in it. They yell and shoot weapons with no effect. All is one.

Things are getting smaller. Over the rooftops now and up a hill. A castle.

Guards yell and set off rockets. Energy grows. All is one.

Up the walls. Up up higher to the top.

There she is. A tall red-haired woman with green eyes, in golden ceremonial armor. Things stop. She is crying. She outstretches her hand.

Kali, what have we done my love? We should have never dared. I am so sorry.

All is one.