Chapter 1

My name is Uruks. Just Uruks. I have no family name. I am the first of my bloodline. I suppose I could call myself a Toramir as Maranu raised me as his own son, but it might get a little awkward to call myself Uruks Toramir after I married Maranu’s daughter. A lot of people thought it was strange, that I would marry my stepsister. True, me and Sheila Toramir were not related by blood, but there was a great deal of talk. Most of those who gossiped, though, were Pureskins, so Sheila and I weren’t too worried as we would outlive most of them. When we married, Sheila took my name as her own, thinking it would be easier on our children down the line to have a name other than Toramir ... since a lot of people are now worshipping her father like a god. The reason I never took either my mother’s name or my father’s name ... that will become clear as well. For now, I’m not going to tell you my story. That comes later. Instead, I’m going to tell you everything that led up to my story ... and eventually, I’m going to tell you why you can never fall in love, Ryan.

Ryan was fighting. He had to fight. He had to fight to keep her safe. His flaming sword roared and clanged, making a resounding symphony of slaughter as he swung it with deadly precision. A Parasite’s bloodcurdling screech pierced the air behind him as it opened its flower-shaped jaws wide to devour him with its rotating fangs, not deterred in the least by the mounds of its dead comrades strewn all around. Ryan lopped its head off as he had thousands before it. Orange blood sprayed into his face, but he ignored the gore, ignored the blood of his countless foes mixing with the blood of his own wounds. He didn’t have time to dwell on the horror. Didn’t have time to rest his weary arms or massage his sore muscles. He had to fight. He had to kill. He had to keep her safe. Spinning with the momentum of his last swing, Ryan used a pirouette to bring his sword around in an arc to slash through two more Parasites before they could get their disgusting, slimy tentacles over him. Their guts and entrails seemed to hover in midair as he sliced through them, as if time had stopped at the moment of their deaths. The night was dark save for the red flames of his sword bathing the cavern in a crimson light. He held the golden handle of his Psionic Weapon with both hands, foregoing his usual one-handed style in favor of power ... for his arms were weakening and he feared letting his sword slip if he only used one hand. Even worse, it seemed like his flames were growing dimmer on his sword. His Elemency was growing weaker. He would soon be out of both psions and stamina, and then it would all be over.

He berated himself for his pathetic weakness. No! Don’t think about that, you pussy! You’re not going to let it happen again! You’re not going to wimp out and let it happen to her! Not to her! So stop being a whiny little bitch and kill these goddamn things so we can take her home where she’ll be safe!

A Parasite roared in the night. Ryan roared back just as fiercely, sending an arc of flames from his sword to kill scores of them, and immediately regretting the waste of psions as he felt like he might keel over. Dozens of Parasites were destroyed in an instant from his flame attack, their large, slithering bodies incinerated by the heat of his flames, filling the air with the stench of burning flesh. Seconds after the wall of red flame dissipated did the horrendous screeches of more genetic abominations return anew. It didn’t matter how many of them he killed. They just kept coming. Thousands upon thousands of pink, worm-like monsters that had nothing better to do than to rip him to pieces. The Parasites stank like death, green mist fogging from their mouths and covering the battle arena like a cloak. They reached for him with their bony arms, seeking to spread their taint. Ryan wouldn’t let them. He wouldn’t let them turn him into one of their undead zombie things. If they scratched his arm, he’d lop it off. He wouldn’t make the same mistake he did last time when the Horde Mother...

“RYAN!” screamed Éclair in the night, filling Ryan with terror.

“ÉCLAIR!” shouted Ryan back as he turned away from the advancing Parasites to follow the sound of the voice.

Hordes of the undead lay before him. The Parasites’ mindless victims. He tried to send a wall of flames to incinerate them, but he gasped as he raised his sword, his psions completely spent. As the fires wreathing his sword died out, a very large Zombie lunged for him, tackling him to the ground and wrenching his sword from his hand as it brought its putrid, rotting fingers up to throttle him. Ignoring the cuts as its claws dug into his neck, ignoring the fact that he was infected now and would likely turn as well, Ryan growled as he pried its foul-smelling hands from him. Blood dripped from the Zombie’s hands as small tentacles grew out of its arms and exposed its veins; a gruesome sight that had become all too familiar for Ryan. The creature tried to push its claws into Ryan’s eyes, but Ryan had his own claws. Locking its wrists with one arm, Ryan swiped at its neck with his free hand, his long fingernails extending into claws. Too late, Ryan realized that the infected victim was none other than his best friend, Grafael T’Macor, until the Saurian’s head was rolling off his shoulders. Even with part of his face covered in tentacles, those blue scales, reptilian features, and piercing azure eyes were unmistakable. As Grafael’s spiked head fell to the ground, he seemed to be staring at Ryan questioningly, as if wondering how his brother could commit such a dishonorable act.

Before Ryan could dwell on this most recent horror, he heard Éclair scream again. “Ryan! Please help me!”

Shaking himself into lucidity, Ryan stepped over Grafael’s corpse to plow through the Zombies in his path. “Get the hell out of my way!” he growled.

Without his sword or the power of fire, Ryan used the only weapon left to him. His claws. He ripped through the ranks of Zombies, uncaring of what lay in his path. While carving a path of destruction, ripping out guts, snapping spines, and severing spleens, he couldn’t help but notice the familiarity of some of the Zombies. He split Rachel Kaves’ skull in half when she sprang for his throat with a malformed mouth. He ripped off Kormal’s arm when the Sage tried to claw his stomach with a deformed hand. He gouged out Torsha’s eyes when the golden-haired Werewolf jumped for him, her beautiful mane now tainted with writhing, pink tentacles. He jumped in the air to slash off Tork’s wings when his flying Dragon friend tried to flame him from afar. As he landed, Mozar the male Werewolf leapt for his ankles with a savage howl. Ryan brought his hand down to stab through Mozar’s head with his fingers as he fell, the squishy feeling of brain tissue tickling his fingertips as he dug through the thick bone of the skull. Two more Zombies double-teamed him, and he used a roundhouse kick to snap their necks. As their heads bent around at unnatural angles, he recognized the siblings, James and Sharon Morgan, his newly made young pirate friends. The sickening, squelching sounds of rending flesh filled his ears as he tore his own beloved teammates apart, but he tried to push that from his thoughts. Éclair. He had to get to Éclair. Nothing else mattered.

He finally broke through the lines of Zombies, dismissive of the ones he didn’t recognize while mourning the ones who resembled his friends. He thought his heart might break in half when he was forced to dismember Gumar, and then disembowel his friend Henry shortly after. Both of them had already sacrificed everything for him and Éclair, and he spat on their sacrifice by desecrating their corpses. As long as Éclair lived through this, then he supposed the tattered fragments of his soul didn’t matter. He caught sight of something. A ship. It was a small, white-plated space vessel. The spherical shape and spike protrusions made for an almost star-like design that was fairly familiar. With a start, Ryan realized it was the North Star, a sentient craft that had sheltered him and Éclair in their hour of need. The vessel was downed and smoking, flames spurting from within the cockpit. Had Eclair been in there? Did she go down in the crash?

“Éclair! Where are you?” he cried, beyond the point of desperation.

Ryan cried out in pain as something sharp pierced his back. He spun around and grabbed the neck of another Infected only to find the furious face of Leon Lurranna glaring at him. One of Leon’s swords was buried into Ryan’s shoulder, the purple-glowing blade’s point sticking out of his chest near his heart. The Psionic Blade burned and cut through Ryan’s flesh at the same time, subjecting his body to immense anguish as if someone were setting a fire beneath his skin. If not for his own psions counteracting the psions of Leon’s weapon, Ryan’s internal organs would likely combust since Psionic Weapons burned hotter than suns. Leon was infected as well with tentacles covering one side of his bleeding face, but unlike the others, Leon seemed to still be conscious of himself as a single dark eye regarded Ryan with intelligence and rancor.

“She wasn’t even yours to protect, half-breed,” said Leon hatefully, blood dribbling from his mouth as he spoke. “And yet she’ll die because of you all the same.”

Leon twisted his blade, sending fresh waves of pain coursing through Ryan’s whole being. Ryan gave an anguished gasp as he took hold of Leon’s wrist to try and wrench his hand off the weapon, but the man had a grip stronger than iron. If Leon kept twisting like that, his blade would slice right through Ryan’s heart. Why? Why would Leon do this if he was still aware of himself? Was the Horde Mother making Leon act this way? Ryan still had hold of Leon’s throat, applying pressure to dissuade the Lurranna from his violent actions. But Leon hardly seemed to notice as he continued to twist the blade deeper and deeper, snarling like a rabid beast. With no other recourse, Ryan gave Leon’s neck a sharp jerk, ripping out his throat with his claws. As Leon’s lifeless head lulled to the side at an odd angle, his hand slipped from his sword and he fell to the ground lifeless.

“What have you done, Ryan?!” screamed a familiar voice behind him.

He turned around to see Éclair blessedly standing unharmed in front of the burning North Star. The fires silhouetting her gave her an ethereal, almost phantom-like aura. She was wearing a simple white dress that looked like a nightshift which left her arms bare, her alabaster skin as smooth and as flawless as ever. The dress didn’t go past her knees, showing her wide hips and bare feet. She was tall for a girl with an athletic build that didn’t offset her curvaceous figure. Her well-proportioned breasts were quite large for such a young woman, but her waist was pleasingly slim. Ryan had never met anyone with such a slender frame combined with such an amble bosom, bestowing her with inhuman levels of attractiveness. Éclair always possessed a haunting sort of beauty that made her seem otherworldly, more akin to a statuesque goddess than a mere mortal. Her oval face was perfection personified with regal, high cheekbones, and a delicate nose atop a sensuous mouth of full lips. Her long, curly silver-gray hair flowed elegantly behind her almost like a cape, going down near her waist as it undulated in a light breeze. Ryan would’ve been glad to see her, if not for her violet eyes staring down sorrowfully at Leon’s corpse.

“Éclair,” said Ryan breathlessly as he stumbled forward, ignoring the sword still buried in his back. “I ... I had no other choice, Éclair. He was trying to kill me. They ... they were all trying to kill me. They were infected. They didn’t leave me a choice. You’ve got to believe me.”

Her face lost all color as she turned up from Leon to look at him, and the horror-struck way she regarded him just about broke his heart in twine.

“Éclair, we ... we can talk about that later. Right now, we’ve got to get out of here,” Ryan said as he reached out for her, his fingers still slick from Leon’s blood.

When he reached out to touch her, Éclair made a soft gasping noise, her eyes widening as she flinched slightly. A small trickle of blood ran down her lips. In confusion, Ryan looked down to see that his arm had transformed, showing signs of Parasitic infection as bloodied tentacles writhed out of his bicep like moving entrails. His claw-like hand was buried into Éclair’s chest, piercing her flesh like a spear. In horrifying detail, he could feel her ribcage rub against his elbow as his hand reached up involuntarily to grasp her heart.

Ryan started panting, his mind losing all cognition as he broke down into hyperventilating gasps. He tried to pry his infected arm from Éclair’s chest, but the tentacles sprang out, wrapping around his good arm and his throat, immobilizing him. Ryan gurgled as he struggled to break loose of the tentacles, but all his strength had been spent. Strangely, Éclair gave him a kind smile, even as his infected hand was squeezing the life out of her and crushing her heart. Then her violet eyes changed to a glowing crimson. A second pair of eyes appeared beneath her normal eyes, giving her four flaming red pupils that were all too familiar to Ryan.

Éclair’s kindly smile turned vicious as her voice morphed into that of the Dark Creature’s. “I already told you, boy. You’ll only kill me after you watch her die.”

“NO!” Ryan screamed as he jerked up in his bed.

He instinctively felt for Éclair nearby in the blankets next to him. When he couldn’t find her, he went into a wild rage as he sprang out from his covers and turned his bed over, desperate to keep her safe. In the dimness of his apartment, he searched for her like a prowling lion. He turned his quarters upside down as he opened every door and upturned every table. Did the Dark Creature take her? Did Ryan accidentally hurt her in his sleep? Or maybe the Parasites came back? Maybe the Horde Mother had infected him again and made him...

Only after a few moments did Ryan remember. They weren’t on Black Star anymore. They weren’t even aboard North Star anymore. He realized that he must’ve gotten too accustomed to her presence after spending weeks cuddling next to her. He was such a sick bastard ... all that time drooling over her when she lay next to him, and she was never even his to love.

Ryan crumpled down to the metal-plated floor, trembling as he wrapped his arms around himself. He wanted to find her. She always helped calm him when he felt scared. He knew she was in the Fire Ministry ... her apartment complex wasn’t too far from his. Maybe he could...

No! He couldn’t think like that. He was the monster that nearly killed her after carelessly getting infected ... that could still kill her if Grafael’s vision came true. And then there was Zand’s prophecy to consider. Zand had told him that his mother had died because of his father ... and that Ryan now bore the same curse. He wouldn’t let that happen. He wouldn’t let her die because of his pathetic need. So for the time being, he just sat there shivering, his chest heaving as he drew in breath after shuddering breath while he ran his fingers through his hair. He wished with all his might that he could go to her, to just know that she was okay as he held her in his arms ... but he knew it was better for her this way.

“RYAN!” screamed Éclair as she sprang up from the bed, her blanket spilling over the side and her nightshift clinging to her perspiring body.

She had an immense stab of panic as she felt around in the dark for him, but couldn’t feel him near. She stood up from the bed and started to feel all around her, groping blindly in the night for his familiar warmth. Her breathing skyrocketed as she started to imagine the worst had come to pass ... that perhaps the Horde Mother had taken him while they lay sleeping. Only after a moment of fruitless searching did she realize what a fool she was making of herself. Ryan wasn’t sleeping next to her. It had been weeks since they shared the same living space. No, even longer than that considering that she had only recently awakened from her month-long coma. When the truth finally settled in, she collapsed to her knees beside her bed, burying her head into her mattress as she sobbed uncontrollably. She had experienced another nightmare. Morlocks and Parasites coming for her and Ryan. She even saw many of her friends on Squad 99 turn into Infected, and Ryan had been forced to fight them to keep her safe. The dream felt so palpable. Ryan’s terror and desperation looked so real, as if he was right there by her side fighting with all his might for her sake as he had countless times before. She heard him scream ’NO!’ and then she woke up.

Éclair shivered as she continued to cry, rubbing her arms as a dreadful chill came over her. She couldn’t remember feeling so cold until Black Star, but when that cold did come over her, Ryan could always keep it at bay just by holding her. She stood up, looking towards her doorway as she contemplated going out to find him. She knew where his apartment complex was. It wouldn’t take long to get to him. With her superhuman speed, she could dash across the Ministry grounds to find him in no time, and then he could...

What am I thinking? she thought beratingly to herself as she tore her gaze from the exit. I can’t do that! I already stole into his room once after getting back with Leon, and Ryan made it perfectly clear that he wanted nothing more to do with me ... and I can’t blame him.

Sniffling back her tears, Éclair looked forlornly to her door one last time. For some reason, she had been absolutely certain that Ryan had called out to her, as if he were in the room with her and had needed her desperately. But nothing could’ve been further from the truth. She was back with Leon now. He had been so relieved when they were reunited. She should count her blessings and focus on the man who truly needed her ... since it was obvious that Ryan did not. Éclair sighed as she rested her cheek against her mattress. She doubted she’d be able to get back to sleep anytime soon given how rattled and cold she felt. So for the time being she just massaged her shoulders as she tried in vain to warm herself ... and not think about how Ryan used to warm her.

“It warms my heart to see you on your feet, Seconds. It seems that I am under obligation once again to commend you both for your recent exploits,” Saria said appraisingly, her hands folded in front of her as her elbows rested on her desk.

Ryan and Éclair knelt before the Minister of Fire in her office. The large spherical room was empty with rows upon rows of typing desks vacant of their usual analysts. The Minister sat behind a large, dark gray metal desk on an expansive golden chair with red cushions. Her chair seemed more like a throne than office furniture, more ornate than the other plain chairs at the desks lining either end of the Minister’s seating place. The familiar furnishings of the Fire Ministry decorated the chamber, gold and red artistry, symbols of Dragons and Lions etched into the walls. Saria’s office was just like Ryan remembered. Funny enough, everything looked exactly the same the day that Saria had sent him and Éclair on their last mission the better part of a year ago. Looking back, it seemed a lifetime given all that he and Éclair had endured together. He tried not to look at Éclair, and she seemed content not to look at him as they kept their focus on the Fire Minister.