The Chase
The first shot ripped through the air before her boots pressed too far into the alien loam. Mireya ducked instinctively, the sizzling whine of a plasma bolt striking the trunk of a crystalline trunk just above her head. Fragments of light-drenched shards scattered like rain around her.
“Kal! You always did have terrible luck with arrivals,” called a jagged voice from behind the shadows of the vast foliage. The figures began to emerge—three silhouettes clad in the brutal simplicity of Void Raiders' garb. Their patchwork armor glinted like jagged teeth under Zianthra’s tri-moon glow, and their weapons, all sharp edges and erratic energy cores, promised nothing kind.
Mireya smirked as she turned to face them. “Araxx, you mangled thief! This is the third planet you've interrupted me on this cycle. Dare I assume you want another chunk of my treasure?”
Araxx laughed—a guttural sound like rusted gears grinding. “The physics scholar turned artifact hunter,” he mocked, his jagged helmet tilting as he gestured lazily at her sash. “I didn’t think you were ready to die here on Zianthra. Give me the locator shard, Mireya, or my friends here will tear it from your cold corpse.”
She flexed her fingers at her waist, feeling the familiar hum of the nanite-blade hidden in her concealed sheath. “Over my cold corpse, Araxx? How unoriginal.” Her voice was ice wrapped in silk. “You're welcome to try."
The Hidden Vault and the Device
Hours later, after Araxx’s henchmen lay defeated or scattered like frightened leaves, Mireya stood before the Vault of Karesh. The entrance spiraled downward into the very skin of Zianthra, its walls carved from shifting crystal veins that thrummed faintly like heartbeat echoes. Blood trickled lazily from a gash on her forearm, staining her bodysuit; the silver bangles jingled faintly as she walked.
“Every step brings you closer,” whispered a voice from nowhere, yet everywhere. It was ancient, layered, and alien, brushing against the recesses of her mind. Mireya hesitated, gripping the locator shard tight in her left hand. It throbbed in harmony with the air itself, pulsating in tune with Zianthra's ancient rhythms.
Moments later, the chamber yawned open. There it was—the Lunar Prism, resting above a pedestal of liquid crystal. It radiated an iridescent energy, hypnotizing and yet laden with unspeakable gravity. The weight of countless precursors’ dreams seemed to rest in its fragile symmetry.
“I didn’t come this far just to admire you,” said Mireya, breathless. She reached out a hand, but the cathedral-like silence shattered at once.
Betrayal Among Moons
From the shadows, another figure emerged. This one wore the formal, martial robe of the Eridani Preceptor Council. A male figure—elegant, stern, and with piercing golden eyes that mirrored Mireya’s. Drennan Kal.
“You betrayed the council,” his voice boomed, its cadence rich with accusation. “And yet you still thrive. Why does the universe reward stubbornness?”
Emotion turned the air brittle. “I betrayed no one! The Council buried the truth to hide its own cowardice!” she snapped, her blade sliding seamlessly into her hand. “I should've known you’d follow me here, playing the dutiful son of power.”
Drennan met her gaze as his weapon hummed to life—a collapsible spearhead radiating azure power. “Answers are meaningless, sister. Bring harm to the Prism, and I will end you here.”
Light and fury clashed among the chamber’s crystalline echoes as sibling fought sibling, their dance of violence deeply personal. Mireya fought not just for survival, but to escape the centuries-long cycle of control enforced by the Preceptor Council. Her every deflected blow resonated with rebellion, her strikes steeped in bitter longing for freedom.
The Stolen Path
In the end, Mireya’s brilliance outshone her brother’s discipline. A feint, a flickering swipe, and Drennan stumbled—his weapon clattering to the ground. Yet her victory was hollow, her breath shaking as she gripped the Lunar Prism.
“I’ll keep running,” she whispered to her brother, who groaned as he lay dazed against the chamber wall. “But I’ll never stop seeking the truths that terrify you and your masters.”
And then she disappeared into the alien night as Zianthra’s moons scattered their pale luminescence through the cracked vault door, shadows reclaiming the remnants of war.
Genre
Sci-fi / Action-Thriller
The Source...check out the great article that inspired this amazing short story: Pure Luxury or Bitter Poverty - Life on a Rooftop
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