Somewhere approximately 25,000 lightyears from the galactic core, a dim red sun drifts carelessly through the Orion Spur of the Milky Way Galaxy. It does not experience its destinationless journey alone, for a companion it holds close in orbit. The planet, an austere marble of blue oceans and purple flora, pirouettes lazily against a backdrop of stars. Geometric webs of blue-white light score the darkened side of the world, broadcasting the existence of a Tier-2 civilization to an otherwise quiet section of the universe.
From over the planet's western horizon, the red sun peeks. Warm light diffuses through a thick atmosphere, coloring it honey gold. Caught in the corona, a sleek, bulbous, midnight purple shape takes form. Betrayed by the sunrise, the CSS-class Covenant cruiser becomes apparent.
Shipmaster Xitan 'Kusamai gazed out the Pious Justiciar's digital viewscreen. Spread below his ship laid Kusam keep, a tapestry of peerless splendor in the Sangheili's fiery eyes. Light projected from the viewscreen reflected off the Sangheili's golden armor, failing to convey the basking warmth of the russet sun.
But now something diverted Xitan's attention from the sunrise over his homeland. An incoming transmission, an Elite officer informed him. From the High Prophet of Regret himself.
'Kusamai growled. Was it too much to ask to enjoy dawn's break? Apparently so. The shipmaster stood from his command chair, then dropped to one knee. His doarmir fur cloak, a beetle-green so dark it was almost black, pooled at his feet.
A giant blue hologram shimmered to life, dominating the bridge. The stern visage of the High Prophet of Regret loomed over Xitan.
"Shipmaster," spoke the Prophet, wasting no time on normal formalities. "I require your immediate assistance."
'Kusamai found himself gnashing his mandibles. Could his assistance not be required so immediately? He considered asking, but banished the thought almost as soon as it was formulated. Better not to aggravate a Hierarch. "What would you have me do, my Prophet?"
"Return to High Charity," instructed the San'Shyuum. "I have a particular assignment for you; I shall brief you upon your arrival. May the gods grant you haste."
"Yes, my Prophet," the Elite gnarled. The sunrise would have to wait another day.
CZYTASZ
HALO: Evocatus
FanfictionThe year is 2552. Alpha Halo lay in ruins as the Covenant's political hierarchy grows more and more unstable. Kusan 'Sunamee is an Elite Minor, just drafted into the war against Humanity. But as he seeks to prove his honor and increase his rank, and...
