“When the dust settles and we look back,
will we be okay with what we see?"

”End Times Alaska” by Craig Martelle


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Isolated and chased by soldiers looking to end his life and put the ultimate trophy upon their walls, Storm Veritas was desperate. He knew the feeling of broken ribs, and the salty, coppery taste in his mouth that indicated internal bleeding. His body was dying, and the carnage in the streets didn’t care to show the villain mercy or quarter. The sewer before him looked familiar; it was the same subterranean labyrinth he had used to escape after killing one of Radasanth’s Great Lords, a lifetime ago. He could hide, recover his electrical abilities, and perhaps charge the entire underbelly of the city with one horrible, fantastic blast of magnetic energy.

Sons of bitches won’t scatter, I wonder what happens when hell reaches up from the floor beneath them?

It was a terribly brilliant plan that was interrupted as the wizard moved quickly yet erratically, a truly desperate and broken thing. The red star that had grown before them was no astrological abnormality, but rather a meteor, and its approach had seemed slow, steady, and patient. From its great distance thousands of miles away, the warriors paid little attention. What they all failed to realize was the exponential growth that came with a massive, moon-sized weapon rocketing above Althanas at over ten miles per second would appear. The dot became a moon, which became a planet within a minute, and only the bizarre reflective white glow from the giant rock stopped the battle.

Gods…

The meteor rocketed above Althanas, missing it by several miles, or cosmically a fraction of an eyelash. For a few fleeting seconds, night turned to day as men and women warriors shielded their eyes from the sun’s strong reflections. None of them were prepared for the meteorite shower to follow the of the great meteor, as thousands of fist-sized molten stones raced toward the earth like the most horrific siege fire the world has ever seen. Straight over Radasanth this long stretch of scattered carnage, as concussive blasts raced in a rough line, a wave breaking thinner on either side of fire and brimstone.

Storm’s eyes widened from their light-scorched squint, catching the tail of fire ripping a path across the hills north of Radasanth, where many had already run. Thinking quickly, he scrambled for the sewer grate, struggling to find the top of the smelly, metal cap. He gasped for air and strength as he ignored the pain, his fingers finding nothing to grip. With what little magic he had available he pulsed the sewer cap upwards, allowing his fingers to get a firm hold on the bottom of the cap. Mouth agape, he looked at the oncoming soldiers, hearing the mix of screams, shrieks, and panic that accompanied the oncoming wave. The Brotherhood’s multi-year coup now seemed so inconsequential.

“What are you waiting for? Get the fuck in here!”

Storm’s long, sinewy muscles wrenched the circular cap aside, a satisfying thud as it cracked cobblestones aside it. The soldiers still held their swords, but they were lowered, and the men jogged forward in a convergence of fear, disbelief and panic. Their prize pelt would wait. As they moved forward, the tall, thin man disappeared into the darkness below. The devil before them was certainly less frightening than the one from the north. They quickly hopped down as the roar of explosions continued to pound the earth, closing fast on Radasanth.

Storm extended his hand to the man, pulling the first soldier into the subway in a large lead pipe, illuminated by his glowing hand. “Come in, duck in the pipe. Make peace with your Gods, if you choose to pray.” They hesitated only momentarily and then did, and the three men were bunkered in as untold chaos screamed above them. The whistling of rocks coming down, the crashing sounds of blasting, and one rock even crashed into the earth north of them, causing a stalactite of rock and earth near the manhole opening just fifty feet from them. Hell’s arrival also brought a terrible heat. No sooner had the reflective light of the passing apocalypse moved away than the heat began to follow, a growing wave of foul, stagnant air that at first warmed a cool air, and escalated into overwhelming heat. The sewer was already warm, but became oppressive within seconds.

His light still lit, Veritas examined the faces of the men beside him. A blend of horror, anger, and gratitude paralyzed them, as the instinct to run him through for his misdeeds was held back only by the uncertainty of what the world had just become. Did these men have families that were possibly killed in their escape? Brothers he had murdered atop the wall? Wordless, they simply shared a short gaze, waiting on the pounding above them to end. The elder magician heard the shower begin to pass, the heat relieving slightly. He spoke nervously, his hand moving from a simple glow of white to a rippling ball of energy, which caught their attention.

“I know you probably want to kill me, and I don’t blame you. Let me be. Let me run and help you rebuild. If we survive this, Althanas will need Radasanth again.”

He began to back away towards the opening they had descended, planning to show them a way out and dash to his right, east into the darkness. It was at this time that a second, impossibly loud explosion changed the world. Unbeknownst to them all, a massive volcano by Lornius had just erupted, filling the night sky with heat, ash, and liquid fire.

When Storm dashed away, the men didn’t give chase.