EndOfTheWorld/LastStandAtTheValleyOfGlass
The Last Stand At The Valley Of Glass, a Dream of the First Age for the series "To The End Of The World"
50,000 Dragon-blooded march in massive formations of a scope never seen before or again. War-striders stomp forward, issuing forth thunderclaps with each massive step the bellowed the rebellion of the Terrestrial Exalted. At the forefront of the armies, the generals ride, resplendant with their daiklaves sharp and their jade armor burnished. Divided into 5 main armies, one for each aspect, they surround the circle of Anathema in a large, barren valley just south of the Redwoods.
Up above the battlefield, at the edge of a cliff overlooking the entire affair, three men stand, mysterious in their way and wrapped in robes that shield them from the biting wind. Their faces are impassive as they gaze down upon the slaughter that is destined to occur within the hour.
The Dawn wipes the sweat from his commanding brow before clasping the Twilight in his arms, his glorious golden armor and her polished bronze skin resounding. Nearby, the Zenith watches the encroaching army, he a look of resolute acceptance swept over his countenance. As the Eclipse meditates on the repercussions of his deeds in life and the lessons he's learned, the Night caste paces furiously, eager to begin the fighting and thus die on his feet. Still, even now, in their darkest hour, the Great Curse holds sway. As the Dawn claps his Twilight paramour, he clings to her tighter than necessary, his rage at his fate taking over. The Twilight pulls herself free and chastises her circlemates on the inadequacies that led them to their fate. The Zenith remains petrified in place, his heart in tears at his inability to lead a successful counter-rebellion. As the Eclipse silently bemoans his comrades' incompetence, the Night caste steels her heart to the incessant whining and readies herself for the end.
All of that is forgotten as the combined armies of the Dragon-blooded charge forward, assured that they were guarded by destiny itself. The ground shook from the impact of the on-coming warstriders. The air was alive with the crackle of essence and the battlecries of men and women. This was to be a great battle. For the usurpers, and for those being usurped. The circle of Solars, the last of the truly organized resistance, stood in their namesake, making a circle upon which everyone's back was guarded by another's front, upon which their would be no blind-siding or ambush. They stood in their circle and summoned the last of their energy for this fight.
Upon the precipice, the 3 men stared impassively as 5 great pillars of golden light rose up to pierce the sky, creating a titanic golden circle standing in resolute defiance of fate. In the reflection of their eyes a great battle was waged. A great battle, and a short one.
As far as the eye could see, the dead and dying lay strewn about haphazardly, like a child's playthings. Here a jade daiklave lay stuck in the ground, shorn neatly in two. There, a warstrider rests, sunk halfway into the earth, it's rider entombed along with it. And in the center of that massive stage of carnage so recently wrought, lay five perfect dead men and women, the bronze already fading from their skin, their animas long since expired. The last standing Terrestrials, wounded and weary, drunk with victory hard-earned, began to let out cries of victory, cheering the defeat of their hated former overlords. Even amidst cries of disbelief that their enemies really were finally dead, one of those very same enemies rolled over. The smiles on the faces of those tired and beaten Dragon-blooded were replaced by a wicked, knowing smile on the face of the near-dead Twilight. Her palms spread before each other as if clasping the sphere of sorcery already forming between them, she spoke but a single incantation.
For the first time since the battle was waged, the 3 standing upon the cliff face blanched. A sphere of solid essence crackled and exploded outward, coming dangerously close to the place of "safety" where they stood. In fact, even as they stood transfixed with a curious combination of awe, stubbornness, and fear, the energy came within inches of them, actually gracing the face of one of them, before receding and then vanishing.
"So it is finished then," Kejak said, his voice sounding tired, "Vashna, retrieve their essences. It's time we slammed shut the gates of the Jade Prison." "Is that wise, Sensei Kejak?" questioned Vangelis, young protege to the already old Chosen, "Even as we speak, remnants of the Night caste are scattered throughout Creation, hoping to fight a guerrilla war against the Terrestrials." "We cannot wait for them. Every day we delay in sealing that prison is another day in which the essences within can escape, another day in which indignant Lytek can press his case to Sol Invictus, and another day in which the Tapestry threatens to unravel entirely." "As you wish, Sensei, I shall be honored to retrieve their essences." was all Vashna said, pulling his hood up to shadow his face. Kejak turned to walk away, and then turned again, facing the valley of devastation before him. "And may they never rise again..." was all he said before he turned one last time and departed, followed by young Vangelis.
The wind blows through the valley as the lone figure walks through, causing his hood to fall back, revealing a face fully half-encased in a curious green glass. All around him is glass. From the individual blades of glass crunching between his soft boots, to the once-Terrestrials, their arms raised to ward off some unseen blow, their faces transfixed with terror. Even the defunct warstriders and shattered daiklaves were now glass, mute testament to a battle of legendary proportions. As Vashna, the glass-faced man, approaches the glass forms laying in a circle, all that remains of the "enemy", he can't help but notice that the Twilight is staring at him, that wicked, knowing grin forever fixed on her perfect face. Even as their essences, glowing balls of energy, are sucked out of their glass corpses and placed within a glowing cage that looked not unlike a birdcage, Vashna couldn't help but feel a chill in his spine as he walked away. Silently, he echoed his master's desire, "And may they never rise again..."
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