If Only

Erretrio Ildus

He saw it now in his mind's eye. Beyond the barren surrounding plains, he saw the blurry visage of approaching men, the only thing to be seen beside the barren waste and gray fog as far as it permitted him to see. Through the haze and disorder, he remembered what kept him up even in his current state on his knees.

It seemed both ages and instants ago when the invaders arrived. They came from the void without any warning or indication, unwarranted, unwanted, unexpected. He had sat in his chambers in the halls of the Palace of Irulin, the city that skirts the sky. It sat atop its own plateau overlooking the vast plains carpeted by clouds and infinite space beyond. The plains stretched on devoid of life but for the barren grasses and great beasts that none of they speak of.

The city teemed in vibrant vitality beside fruits growing profusely, fed by steady streams. The people of Cyphon Prime held water in abundance, some lived amphibious lives, for Ophilius had led them from the seas only an age ago, yet few speak of these days for the darkness they sought to flee in the depths are rarely disclosed, and rightfully so. He did not like to think of what the dark had brought upon his life or what it managed to deprive him of, for the loss was too great, the emptiness too wide.

The exodus and following diaspora led to the flourishing of their grand civilization, and the enlightenment of himself fed by the airs and their strange gas. He saw ways ahead, paths diverging from both past and present. He had foreseen the fortunes of their civilization and for that, they named him Maxus of the Trenarian deeps, the Fatum Princepes, Cyphon's seer, the only oracle recorded in their time. Some said he was Branith Orail reborn, he who needed neither air nor water who dwelt in the inexplicable realms of drifting time and sea. This was nothing more than a tale but it was their greatest mistake not to remember it. For this they suffered unimaginably, for he had never found the inexplicable place, he never saw beyond. He recalled a tale told in his most coveted tome, said to be that of Branith himself, retold and brought to mortals. A tale of leviathans descending from the heavens, who would rain their hideous offspring upon them and consume the world and its waters in all their abundance thus awakening an all-consuming evil; the face of destruction indefinite, a lord of all that is forbidding.

They called the fate the Erretrio Ildus, an end to all life, a fiery doom. It was an old tale, often discarded as religious rabble of Armageddon in this modern age. It never truly came, but what truly comes and what one foresees is never the same, the seer knew this better than anyone, for glimpses are all that is permitted. By whom, none shall ever know for sure. He came to know too late that the reality that now descended towards them would be far more complex, and perhaps more treacherous because of it.

He stepped away from his seat and reached for Branith's tome, high on a pedestal with others. But the sound thwarted him, he darted around, looking up along with all of his people. He heard them first, the great beasts belching the sound of a thousand immense fires spewed into oblivion, propelling them forward, larger and larger in his eye.

He saw them then, the leviathans, great beasts of steal brought through space and time to this very point, to the home place of the Cyphons, who were but a peaceful people, or as peaceful as people can be. While peace is the nature of few in the entropic realms of the universe.

They were a space-faring people, who ventured into the stars by ambition and a simple desire. The same desire within those who came to invade their world and despite the Cyphon's attempts for peace he saw an inevitable war in the future. Or did these aliens seek out war? Perhaps necessity drove them. He wondered if any war was truly necessary. They had known war, but not since they had fled the seas and adapted to the land.

The glimpses came, too many to decipher.

The alien ships did not gleam as theirs did. They spewed fire instead of gravitational waves. He had seen Ophilius' bright silver vessel slide through the horizon with the grace and majesty of the finest bird of prey many times. Above were simple titanium steel monoliths, holding a lack of artistry and beauty. Were these invaders capable of beauty? He wondered. He caught a glimpse of alien men working tirelessly to construct the vessels to flee. Would the invaders speak of what they had fled?