Page 40 of Scorching the Alien Empire
The first globe appears lifeless—just a barren rock as dark as Scarn’s molten plains. But as it rotates past our ship, the truth is revealed: an endless cityscape of arcweave and circuitry sprawls across its surface. Towers pierce outward, breaking through the faint haze of atmosphere like jagged fangs, their surfaces crawling with ceaseless activity. Blue plasma flares sporadically from their tips, spewing plumes of greenish smoke into the void. This is no place of life, yet the Scythians thrive there, a metallic plague feeding on the dead husk of a world.
“Harkus spoke the truth,” I say, my voice low, tinged with weary resignation. The ceaseless, intermittent ghostly static now seems a fitting and familiar dirge for these macabre, nightmarish realms. “You manipulated me to your own ends, Ignixis. You brought us to this.” I flick a dismissive wrist at the viewport.
“As if you could be so easily manipulated, you stubbornboy!” Ignixis scoffs, his gaze following the horror outside. “It was you who wanted to emulate your father, you who sought glory, you who sought to become War Chieftain. Not me. I urged caution, temperance, calm.”
Our fleet drifts past another massive planet, eerily similar to the last—a vast machine world belching green fumes into the cosmos. This one is ringed by a striking celestial band of gray-red. For a moment, I stare, awed by its grim beauty, until realization dawns: the ring isn’t debris. It’s made of countless billions of Seeker drones, moving with perfect, menacing synchronicity. Their purpose is unknown, but their presence alone is a chilling testament to the Scythians’ efficiency.
“You lie,” I mutter absently, unable to tear my focus from the chilling vistas outside. My voice drips with quiet venom. “You encouraged myglorious destiny. You brought us to Earth and set this in motion.”
“You really ought to show more appreciation,” Ignixis replies, incredulity coloring his tone. “Did I not deliver exactly what you so ardently wanted? Expertly threaded with what Arawnoth also bid me do—a feat none but I could accomplish, I assure you. And yet...” His voice grows louder, mock indignation dripping from every word. “Instead of praise, I receive only scorn and ridicule as my reward. You break my heart, young Dracoth, you truly do.”
I barely register his incessant whining, each syllable grating and as hollow as any hope of escape in this realm of mechanical madness.
Through the viewport, what I mistook for a black moon orbiting the massive ringed planet unveils its true nature—an immense shipbreaker, the largest I’ve ever seen. Its scale is breathtaking. The broken husks of alien vessels—mostly Nebian, their distinctive sleek and colorful shapes now shattered—float in its orbit.
Thousands of drones descend upon a wreck, swarming it like metallic insects. In synchronized precision, they boost the vessel toward the shipbreaker’s gaping plasma furnace to be devoured within its fiery maw.
“Oh, don’t look so glum. There is always a choice, young Dracoth,” Ignixis says, flashing me a yellow-fanged grin that’s as reassuring as the unfathomable amount of drones filtering through the void of space. “Sometimes, only in the belly of the beast does an opportunity reveal itself.” His tone, for once, carries surprising clarity.
“Look!” Princesa exclaims, gesturing to yet another planet turned over to endless mechanical endeavors. “I mean, if you two are done with your little domestic situation,” she adds, glancing between Ignixis and me, a playful smirk dancing across her lips. “I think that might be what we’re looking for, right?”
Despite everything—the suffocating void, the weight of my destiny—her smile manages to stir something within me. A spark of warmth in my molten heart.
In orbit around the planet, a sight steals my breath: a warship of such immense and grim beauty it could only be theRavager’s Ruin.
Its gleaming hulk of black-red arcweave looms like a colossal shard of volcanic stone torn from the core of a dying world. Plasma cannons bristle along its sleek form, more than even the mighty Voidbanes can boast. The ship is a testament to the legacy of its master. My father’s flagship.
Soon, it will be mine.
“Behold theRavager’s Ruin, my Princesa,” I reply, my voice carrying both pride and the weight of inevitability.
Seeker drones swarm ahead of us, their crimson-lit forms slotting into place to form the final section of the glowing path. Their purpose is clear—guiding us toward the waiting hulk.
“Brilliant!” Princesa exclaims, her eyes alight with excitement. She glances between Ignixis and me with a playful glint. “You two worry too much. Arawnoth guides us.”
Guides us... but to what end?
Chapter 9
Dracoth
First the Worst
Westepoutofthe creaky, battered shuttle into an immense docking bay. The walls, layered in gleaming black marble, reflect the soft glow of violet spotlights overhead. This area is immaculate, and even the recycled air feels crisper, almost reminiscent of the clean winds of Klendathor.
A sudden clang reverberates through the chamber, causing Princesa and Sandra to flinch. Their frightened eyes dart to the now-sealed docking hatch. Its heavy bulk shields us from the Scythian horrors lurking beyond—for now.
“Your cloaks,” Ignixis rasps, shuffling forward with bony hands outstretched, his gnarled fingers grasping for the clasps of my armor. He moves like a nightmarish specter made flesh.
“Begone, you old gas-cloud,” I growl, shifting my weight to evade his groping hands.
“Must you always be so obstinate, young Dracoth?” he sighs uselessly, persisting in his efforts.
“Just give him the damn thing, babes,” Princesa interjects, her voice cutting through the tension with a mix of impatience and amusement. She’s already shrugged off her chieftainess cloak, the scorched white-blue scales glimmering in the dim purple light. She hands it to a wary Sandra, who takes it with a bemused expression.
“Though our poor little chug bug has no blankie now,” she adds, stroking the pointless creature perched on her shoulder as it stretches its plump, segmented body.
I glare down at Ignixis, reluctant to part with the symbol of my authority.
