The air split with the sound of a shattered sky as the warship descended into the Valley of Cindralis, casting a shadow over a forgotten world. Seraphyne Argallis stood unflinching at the edge of the cliff, her gloved hand resting on the hilt of the ceremonial blade strapped to her hip. The volcanic winds tugged at her black cape, its golden embroidery catching the angry red glow of the molten rivers below. Scorched earth stretched to the horizon, where skeletal ruins of an ancient city hugged the edge of the tectonic chasm. Mount Esh’ra, the slumbering titan of fire, loomed in the distance, twin plumes of darkness spiraling into the blood-drenched sky.
She looked a vision of authority in her ornate attire—every piece meticulously crafted as if for battle and ceremony all at once. A military-style hat, adorned with a crest resembling the twin moons of this dying world, crowned her short, white wig. Her glossy, white puffed-sleeve top shimmered deceitfully like serenity amidst chaos, punctuated by metallic spikes along its seams—a contrast designed to unsettle friend and foe alike. Black leather gloves gripped the air with quiet menace, while thigh-high stockings accentuated her commanding stance. Yet it was her eyes, colder than the void yet burning with an inner fire, that silenced even the gales of ash swirling around her.
Behind her, the strike team shivered under the heavy heat, their gray exosuits dull and functional compared to her theatrical splendor. Their doubts were clear in their hesitant chatter. Seraphyne had the bearing of an imperial demigoddess, but her presence among them whispered of something darker. Something the histories dared not record.
“Captain, the leviathan-class carrier has breached Exile’s Fold,” a soldier shouted into his comm. His voice was thin with restrained panic. “We’ve spotted skywalkers surfacing at the southern rim!”
“Prepare the perimeter,” came Seraphyne’s curt reply, her words as sharp as the spikes on her sleeves. She didn’t glance at him. Her attention remained locked on the looming warship, its obsidian hull etched with living patterns of luminous gold. She could almost hear it feeding—the souls tethered deep within its frame, screaming in resonance with the ship’s heartbeat.
A memory surged through her unbidden, as vivid as the scent of the ash-heavy wind. The child—her brother—reaching for her as the first of these ships took him. The metallic, insect-like arms dragging him through scales of curling smoke. The foreboding hum etched into her soul like an endless dirge. And her failure. Gods, the weight of her failure.
Her black boots scraped against the edge of the cliff as something shifted in the molten depths below. The golden embroidery on her cape seemed to move, shimmering like fiery veins of liquid starlight. For a moment, she forgot the strike team behind her, forgot the new recruits with their fear barely masked by weapons they didn’t yet know how to use. Her heart thundered at the rhythm of an old name—the Forgebound Sybil. A title that once brought fear to these infernal skies and the alien invaders who now claimed dominion over them.
“She’s doing it again,” whispered a young soldier, his voice barely audible. Seraphyne ignored him. Her work was not yet begun.
The churning mass of obsidian spreading over the horizon jolted her back into the moment. The levitating warship itself seemed alive, its intricate metallic surfaces pulsating in sync with the heartbeat of Mount Esh’ra. Seraphyne adjusted the brim of her hat, tipping it low over her unnervingly pale eyes. She let a flicker of a smirk escape. So, the invaders had sent their Primarch. How flattering.
“When the barrier drops, you’ll have exactly four minutes to extract the archives in the Temple of Broken Light,” she ordered the strike team. Her voice carried no humor, no doubt. “If you’re late, you’ll die screaming. Same result if you lose the seal. Understood?”
The soldiers offered stiff nods, visibly shaken. It wasn’t the first terrifying thing they’d seen—or heard—that day. Seraphyne turned to her second-in-command, an older woman with steely resolve etched into her fox-like face. The commander bore the scars of long wars and wore them like medals—swirls of acid burns adorning her thick jaw, contrasted by the synthetic silver sheen of her once-human left arm.
“Helgrith,” Seraphyne said, lowering her voice. “If I falter, destroy the god-star fragment.”
“You won’t falter,” Helgrith replied, her tone flat but laced with loyalty. “But I’ll do it. Even if I have to watch your corpse burn with it.”
Seraphyne almost smiled—but there was no time. The leviathan’s defense gargoyles burst from its hull, their twisted wings folding outward like fractured steel petals. The air grew thick with the echo of alien battle cries, a sound that bent the soul like molten glass.
Mainlining the pain, Seraphyne reached for the ceremonial blade strapped to her side. The weapon unfolded like origami in reverse, revealing kaleidoscopic edges of obsidian and diamond infused with veins of light—a weapon not built for mortals but for something else entirely. This was no longer about a dying world, nor even about vengeance. The very balance of what little above remained rested on her shoulders.
“Hoyreth,” she whispered, addressing some unseen force as she thrust her blade skyward, “borrow me strength a moment longer.” She sprinted toward the leviathan.
The battle erupted as if the universe itself had torn apart. Soldiers shouted, weapons discharged, the warship unleashed torrents of plasma-fire that carved scars into the valley. But amidst it all, Seraphyne became a shadow streaking through a storm of flame. Black and white against a blood-red sky, the embroidery on her cape glowing brighter with every step, she hurled herself at the leviathan’s heart.
Above her, the Mount groaned in its slumber. Beneath her blade, the invader’s will fractured. And inside her, something ancient began to awaken.
The fate of all worlds would turn in this hour.
Genre: Epic Dark Fantasy
The Source…check out the article that inspired this amazing short story: Capturing Cosplay Magic: Black Lobelia Marin Kitagawa Style
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