Tyr clenched his sword as he moved down the dark corridor, his steps silent and cautious against the black tile floor. No sound came from The Inestimable Room, and much to his surprise, it was pitch dark. The infrastructure had failed, leaving only inky blackness.
Tyr brushed the fingers of one hand together, bringing a flicker of light to his palm. Many Ohations had the ability to manipulate the surrounding energy. The Chair had concluded that using the energy for destruction would only cause the collapse of their society, so most used it only for healing and illumination. Those who attempted using it to destroy ended up mad, often taking their own lives to escape their misery.
The light from his palm expanded as he entered The Inestimable Room, bouncing off the endless black walls. It felt as though he was standing in the center of nothing. He heard a rustle behind him and pivoted, his hand clenched around the hilt of his sword.
"Do you see anything?" It was Damien.
Tyr shook his head and turned towards the room once more. He moved his hand around like a beacon until the light revealed a shadow to the far side of the room. The light picked up the faint texture of fabric and with a gesture from Tyr, it increased until the room was lit. A terrible noise came from Tyr's throat, and shock washed over his strong features.
The light that filled the room revealed the crumpled form of the Chair. His trademark white robes pooled below him, wrinkled and clumped next to his lifeless body. The clarity of the fabric looked strange, a bright contrast against the black floor. The Chair's face was ashen, a cheek pressed against the floor next to his hand. He looked calm, his expression blank, unreadable, and with eyes that stared forward in an endless gaze. Unsettling tendrils of black stretched over his skin, leaving strange organic patterns all over his face. His other hand still clutched the simple wooden staff that signified his position.
Tyr fell to his knees, placing his hands on the Chair's shoulders. He hesitated at first but shook him with gentle motions, almost fearful of disturbing him. The overwhelming waves of emotion cascaded over him, and he gripped the corpse's shoulders harder. The strong tug of Damien's hand pulling him back made him realize how hard he was shaking. He swallowed, his throat parched and inflamed.
"No..." Tyr rasped, his voice fading into silence for some time before speaking again. "What is this? Who would do such a thing?"
Damien murmured, disbelief in his own words, "What travesty is this? I've seen nothing like it!" The old man stammered with difficulty, his face growing pale. "Tyr, everything we have fought to maintain is falling out from under our feet; hundreds of years torn apart in mere hours."
When Tyr turned to face Damien, he glimpsed a tear twinkling down the old man's cheek. The attendant knelt beside his Master, pausing for a moment in solemn silence before prying the staff from The Chair's cold fingers. He shifted until he was kneeling next to Tyr.
"The duty falls to you. He named you." Damien's grizzled voice, dripping with sadness, cut through the silence like a knife.
"No. Impossible." Tyr shook his head in denial. "The man is hardly cold, and you wish to hand me his position without thought?" His words burned with rejection, and he narrowed his eyes.
"I am as devastated as you to lose such a man in a way like this, but the Chair named you as his heir when you were but a boy. This moment would have happened at some point." Damien kept his voice calm, taking in a long breath before speaking.
"How long have you known this, Damien?" Tyr's eyes filled with suspicion. "You knowingly kept me alive when Alendor was at risk? I am one of few, if not the only one left. How could you do this? Alendor has fallen, and I was left sleeping!"
"You would have died along with the others, Tyr. Then where would we be now? It was not a decision for me to make, my boy," Damien whispered, grasping the staff in his hand and extending it to Tyr. "The Chair is the one who determines his descendant. He chose you long ago. He gave me these instructions years ago when I was first appointed attendant. If the Bastion were to come under attack, I would preserve you to take up his position and to safeguard whatever remains. Your survival is paramount."
The old man frowned when Tyr turned away from the staff.
"Tyr, accept this post as an act of graciousness by one of the most revered and respected entities of the galaxy. Do not drown in spite and regret. If there is one time that Alendor needs you, it is now."
"Hundreds died, yet here I am. How is that right?"
"The continuation of the Bastion is the most important thing, Tyr. You know this. It's been ingrained in you your entire life and in your service as an Agent. We are dealing with a threat we do not understand how to fight. You must take up the title of Chair and go to Reso to see if there is a connection."
"Leave?" Tyr exclaimed, his eyes widening. "You expect me to become Chair and then just leave whoever remains?"
"If you stay, whatever this was may come back and take you. As far as I know, they are unaware of your survival. There is an advantage here. Whatever they are, they cannot think to look for the Bastion's Chair on a human salvage vessel." Damien pushed the staff in Tyr's direction again, his gaze filled with conflict.
Tyr watched the light glint off the shining wooden staff. It was thousands of years old, handed down from Chair to Chair when death finally came. Now, it was being offered to him. It was something he never imagined happening. How was he the heir? He couldn't fathom how the Chair thought he was ready.
He exhaled and wrapped his hand around the staff.
Damien gripped it with him for a moment, speaking. "I couldn't have made a better choice myself, Tyr." He released the staff from his grip and wiped away the tear that had made its way to his chin. "Even though you pass me in age, you've become like a son to me. You are ready for this."
Tyr blinked. The staff and the burden it represented felt heavy in his hands.
"Come. We must locate any survivors and make plans for the tough days ahead. It won't be long before the entire galactic community knows what has happened here tonight. To see the Bastion fall so easily will only cause rapid and extensive panic."
Damien took a step towards the corridor, turning back to look at Tyr through a veil of tears. "We will arrange for a proper burial for the Chair once we have assessed him. We need to find out what happened. You need to prepare for your mission. Let me take care of everything."