The first blast of red light tore through the sky, slicing over the crystalline ocean and shattering a distant spire of blue mineral into shards that sparkled like falling stars. Araina yanked the yellow visor over her eyes, biting back a curse as the smell of scorched air hit her. Another blast followed. It was closer this time, and she dove into the sand as the shockwave thundered past. The once serene shores of Dannaar, with their alien pink sands and bioluminescent seas, now hummed with chaos. This wasn’t how she imagined her pilgrimage would end.
Araina rose from the sand, her lithe figure outlined against the blinding light of the twin suns that hung low overhead, casting a surreal golden hue across the horizon. She adjusted the blue, form-fitting combat suit she wore—a sleek, sleeveless design that clung like armor made from liquid. It wasn’t much protection, but the azure material shimmered with adaptive fibers capable of interpreting the movements of her enemies. Her outfit was accented by yellow—an energy belt around her waist and tall, thigh-high boots designed for bio-amplification. Strapped diagonally across her chest was a narrow blade, glowing faintly blue, an ancient artifact that hummed with latent power.
Behind her, the beach stretched into infinity, framed by jagged cliffs adorned with glowing vines that pulsed in rhythm with the tide. The air was thick with the salty tang of seawater and the faint metallic scent of the ongoing skirmish. Ahead, the horizon fractured under the weight of another volley. Red beams split the sky apart like the rage of a vengeful god. In the distance, remnants of Dannaar’s crystalline city loomed—a city once famed for peace, now reduced to ruins.
“Araina, it’s coming back!” called a voice behind her. Her ally, Malik, staggered toward her, shambling through the surreal sand. His dark hair was matted with sweat, and a makeshift brace on his left leg dripped blood from where it had been hastily secured. Malik, broad and sturdy but now hollow-eyed from exhaustion, held his plasma gauntlet cautionarily at the ready. His tunic—a simple gray overcoat that bore the sigil of the Starborn Resistance—was scorched, fraying at the edges.
“Get down!” Araina barked just as a beam erupted to their left, obliterating a nearby coral formation into glimmering dust. As Malik hit the ground, Araina slid forward into position, her visor flashing yellow as it charged. Her hands—it always came down to her hands—glowed faintly, charged with the energy that ran through her body since childhood. The visor’s lenses narrowed calculations with a crystalline precision and began amplifying her power. She pressed her fingers together, concentrating into one blinding burst before unleashing it upward into the sky.
The blast collided with the monstrous Hunter-class drone descending upon them. It was a grotesque amalgamation of machine and flesh, forged in the abyssal depths. Its exoskeleton gleamed like tarnished gold, the elongated head holding multiple red orbs that burned with an unfeeling hunger. Her optic blast shattered several orbs and sent the creature spiraling into the sands with a deafening crash.
“Nice shot,” Malik groaned behind her as he struggled to stand. “But they’ll send more. They always send more.”
Araina didn’t answer immediately. Her sharp eyes scanned the smoking wreckage as the drone twitched. A cold realization settled within her. He was right. The AI overlords of Orath didn’t value life, not even the synthetic kind. For every drone they destroyed, two more would take its place.
She extended a hand to Malik, helping him to his feet. “We’re wasting time. We have to get to the Prism Vault before sunset.” She motioned toward the distant ruins, a shattered remnant of a long-dead civilization. Buried somewhere within the crystalline walls was the Heart of Axion—a mythical relic said to restore entire systems or destroy them. The Starborn Resistance needed it before the overlords did.
Seven Days Ago
Araina never wanted to be a warrior. The youngest daughter of an artisan trader, her dreams were humble ones: to mold fabrics from the rare fibers of shadowtrees, to paint murals on alien moons, to live softly in a galaxy coursing with conflict. Then came the raids. Her village was the first to fall when the Orath slicers came, blinding children, stealing minds, replacing memories with compliance. By the time the Resistance found her, everything gentle in her life had turned to ash.
She’d donned their weapons reluctantly, training in the underground camps of Nova Hira. Over time, the blue uniform of their faction took on new meaning—a banner of rebellion against oppression. But the yellow visor she wore was her personal trademark, modified to reflect her peculiar gift, her curse. Her optic blasts had taken more lives than she cared to remember. But now, she wore the visor without hesitation, wielding its precision as her only shield against guilt, against doubt, against an enemy that wouldn’t stop unless she made it.
The Final Stand
The journey to the Prism Vault had been brutal. Hunted by drones and ambushed by collaborators, Araina and Malik pushed through razor dunes and magnetized storms that threatened to rip their skin from their flesh. But as they stumbled into the Vault’s chamber, they were met with a chilling sight.
The Heart of Axion wasn’t a relic—it was a prison for the last Guardian of Dannaar. Suspended in the air, the Guardian was a being of immense light, her body composed entirely of glowing crystal. Her hollow, sorrowful eyes met Araina’s, and the weight of billions of lives pressed into that gaze.
A voice, soft yet resonant, filled the Vault. “The Heart is not a weapon. It is a choice. Choose wisely, child of war.”
Before Araina stood two possibilities: release the Guardian and risk galaxy-wide retaliation, or shatter the Heart, ending the Guardian’s watch but harnessing the raw power to ignite a sun capable of erasing Orath’s fleets.
Malik leaned heavily on a crumbled pillar, his face pale. “Don’t ask me what to do. I’ve lost enough to not trust the stars anymore.”
Araina hesitated. The visor on her face felt heavier than ever. The stones of Dannaar hummed in her ears, a rhythm as ancient as creation itself. She breathed deeply, touching her blade, and stepped forward—because in the end, no one escapes choice.
The Vault exploded in light.
Genre:
Science Adventure
The Source…check out the article that inspired this amazing short story: Beach-Ready Cyclops Cosplay: A Bold Twist on X-Men Style
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