The changes were more than anyone was ready for. Two days after receiving the decree, soldiers showed up in Trench Town an hour before anyone was due to report to work. First, they took the twenty oldest natives, put them in shackles, and forced them in a transport vehicle. A handful of family members tried to protest and get between the soldiers and their loved ones. Each one caught the back end of a blaster rifle to the face. Next, they took the biggest and strongest looking men at blaster point. They weren't the usual building team but the soldiers didn't care. The king wanted his facility built as soon as possible, so they picked who they thought could do the job. Omnira stepped forward and tried to reason with the soldiers, telling them the other work sites would be left lacking if they just pulled people indiscriminately. She was answered in the form of the business end being pointed at her face. As the transports were loaded, the soldier in charge yelled at her out the window. "You have the decree. Figure it out!" The transports sped off leaving all of Trench Town dazed and confused.
Omnira quickly gathered together a handful of the people that had worked at each site the longest. They got together at her home and took count of who they lost. With the strongest men gone, the mines and the factories were the ones that lost the most. They redistributed people the best way they could, but by the end of the conversation, every worksite was lacking and none of them had the best people for the jobs. They all sat there silent for several minutes, the weight of the situation threatening to crush them all. At less than seventy percent of the usual work force, it meant that those left would have to work much harder to meet the required quota. "Azaacar help." Omnira muttered under her breath as she dismissed the gathering. She sat there in silence with her head in her hands. Tears slowly began to make their way down her cheeks. She knew the workload would tax her people heavily. She knew they would struggle to make quotas, and would in turn be punished severely. She knew they would have to halt their training, and no one was truly ready to fight. She could already feel the pain her people would suffer in the coming days. She could already feel their hope waning and their spirits dying. Her chest heaved as she struggled to breath under the pressure of having to lead where she had no idea what to do next. She cried. Her tears streamed hot down her face and pooled at her feet. She fell to her knees, sobbing for her people, and for herself. She coughed nearly choking as she rasped the words again. "Azaacar help."
The room grew dark, swallowing Omnira, causing her to think she fell asleep crying. Suddenly, she felt warm all over as if basking in the midday sun. she felt a warm breeze and soft grass gently caress her skin. She lifted her head and looked around. She was no longer in her home. She stood, turning and looking in wonder and the lush foliage around her. It was the most beautiful scene she had ever laid eyes on. She heard the sound of running water in the distance and felt compelled to follow it. She made her way carefully toward the stream. When she got there she froze, astonished at what she saw. Just across the stream, sitting on a rock, face turned toward the sun, was Azaacar, in all her glory. Omnira sank to her knees and sobbed.
Azaacar appeared beside Omnira and wrapped her arms around her. The goddess stroked the young woman's hair and pulled her head to her chest. When she spoke Omnire felt more than heard her words.
"My child," she began, sounding like she was on the verge of tears herself. "I feel your pain. Your hurt runs deeper than any weapon can reach. Your enemies think they have beaten you, that they have crushed your spirit. But, be encouraged. I am with you. Your people will never miss their mark. The teachings of you and your mother have awakened the dormant energies within them and I will strengthen them. I will empower them for their work and for the fight ahead. My champion has completed his training and makes his way as we speak. Lift your head daughter. You have done well."
Omnira sniffed and lifted her moist eye to meet Azacaar's. "Your champion? Marley's coming? He's alive?"
Marley and Marcus rose early that morning. They had their few belongings packed and were standing at the exit of Azaacar's Embrace ready to go. The look on Marley's face was far off and determined. He knew Grayson was not going to sit on his hands and revel in his victory. If he knew anything about his brother, he knew that wasted time was something he abhorred. He was going to enact his plans on the backs of the natives as soon as he possibly could. The road home was going to be long and hard, and the fight he was in for at the road's end would be even worse. Marley gritted his teeth, chomping at the bit to get started. He had to save his people, he had to save Omnira.
His thoughts were interrupted by Jarka's voice and strode up to the pair, carrying a large pack on her back. "Looks like you too are ready to go. Shall we?" Marcus looked at the short, elderly woman quizzically. "We? I thought gods and higher spirits didn't get directly involved in the affair of us lowly mortals." Jarka snorted. "Good thing I'm neither. I'm a chosen one just like him" she jabbed her thumb in Marleys direction. Long story short, I was empowered to protect my kin when we were being hunted by the first hunters. Becoming one with Azaacar's energy just happened to extend my life by a few centuries." She laughed to herself. " Tussling with this one just reminded me how long it's been since I've had a good fight. Now, are we going or not?" Marcus blinked stunned, a storm of questions brewing in his mind. Marley remained stoic, the task at hand pulling at him like a mount's bridal. He simply nodded solemnly, and started walking. The other two nodded at each other and followed close behind. Determination and destiny seemed to pull at Marley as he slowly quickened his pace. He could feel the energy rise and crackle within him as he moved faster and faster. It wasn't long before the trio were little more than streaks of blue energy as they weaved their way through the Old Woods.
Greyson sat on his bed, the morning light peaking through his drawn shutters. He hadn't slept, not since he took the throne. He should be on cloud nine after achieving his grand goal, but he was being tortured. There was this persistent, dark presence in his mind that was not his own. Greyson knew he was a terrible person, but this was something different. Greyson wanted to rule the world, this thing wanted him to burn it. It would whisper to him day and night, trying to influence his decisions. It fed his anger, his hatred, his insecurities. It encouraged his worst desires, amplifying them to levels he would normally not even dream of. Grayson peaked over his shoulder at the woman he had bedded the night prior, he shuddered at the things he had done to her. He slammed his fist against his own head. He hated who he was becoming, but he couldn't resist. At first, the presence had promised power. It helped him manipulate his way to the throne. He had submitted to it then, thinking he'd be able to cast it off once he got what he wanted. But now, he was bound to it. When he tried to sleep it would show him a vision of a frozen waste land and keep repeating the same words over and over. "RELEASE ME." Greyson just wanted it to stop. He prayed for it to let him rest, or kill him and get it over with. Hot tears threatened the corners of his eyes as he felt himself edging to madness. Suddenly, the chime at his door rang harsh and loud, it jolted Greyson back to his senses. Startled, he sprang to his feet. He shook himself and put on the most regal demeanor he could muster. He cleared his throat and answered in a commanding voice. "What is it?" An uncertain voice came through the intercom. "Your Highness, the personnel you requested have arrived in the courtyard." Greyson sighed to himself, glad for something to do.
As Greyson made his way down the corridor to the courtyard, one of the servant girls walked up next to him carrying food and wine on a silver plate. Greyson, just then, realized he was ravenous and snatched the sandwich off the plate devouring it as he walked. He grabbed the goblet of wine and chugged it like he'd been in the desert for a year. He handed the goblet back to the servant and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, taking a deep, but still unsteady breath. Having already put the girl out of his mind, he was startled when she spoke to him. "Forgive me your highness," she began quietly, "Are you alright? You seem a bit out of sorts." Greyson stopped walking and stared at the girl silently for a long moment. He couldn't remember the last time any of the servants actually spoke to him. What was even more strange, this one actually seemed concerned. He thought about slapping her, yelling, reprimanding her for daring to speak to the king directly. But, he was tired and he truly did feel out of sorts. In the end all he did was continue walking and say, "I'm fine."
When the king entered the courtyard he saw the servant gathered there had been organized in neat rows and columns like a military formation. They all had their heads bowed, their hands shackled in front of them, and their shoulders slumped as if their shackles weighed a ton. He looked across the formation seeing only faceless masses. "Look at me, every one of you." He commanded loudly as he began to pace slowly in front of them. "Yes, pick your heads up, be proud, rejoice! You are the chosen few. You have been given the honor, the privilege, of being a part of the new era for your planet. An era of prosperity, of greatness, of glory! You are here to build something that will elevate me, as your king, to the pinnacle of the Rednasi Empire! You will all be a part of something truly mag…"
His speech was cut off when he noticed a man in the middle of the formation breathing heavily. His shoulders were rising and falling visibly as a faint blue glow began to radiate from the man's body. Greyson stood frozen, staring at the man confused, unable to place where he had seen something like that before. The voice in his head, on the other hand, began to rage, screaming at Greyson to kill it immediately. All at once, the man broke his restraint and rushed toward the front of the formation, eyes fixed on Greyson, barreling past his kinsman. The moment the man cleared the formation, a member of the royal guard was there. With a single wide swing of his sword he relieved the man of his rage, and his head. The momentum of the man carried his body to the feet of the king. The momentum for the guard's sword carried it in the neck of the servant standing next to him. Both Greyson and the voice in his head shared a grim satisfaction. A wicked grin spread across Greyson's face. "Let's begin, shall we."