*This was entered for a science fiction contest. I originally was going to use a different story, but I couldn't finish it in time, so instead I used a story written for a 500 words comp about two years ago.*


1. War

War. It consumes us. Destroys us. Makes us do unthinkable things that haunt us in our sleep. War. It is an immortal, ageless living entity, feeding off the souls of the damned and condemned. War. There are some that would welcome it. Some that would rejoice for it. Some whose purpose in life is to bring its existence. But there are some who stand against it. Some who reject the evil, twisted nature of chaos. Some who rebel against death and destruction. Some who protect the borders of those who cannot protect themselves. These people seek only peace. And so there is hope, but only for those who are bold and brave enough to see it. The year is 5002038 and the futuristic planet of C’tan has been rent in two by a heart-splitting, soul-crushing war. And Sabriel Eldar is stuck in the middle.


Sabriel Eldar’s long black hair was tied up a ponytail, revealing her slender frame and pale skin. She wore a black, sleeveless tunic, deep blue jeans and a long stylish coat embedded with nicotransusaline, making it super strong and tough.  She looked down into Tyra’s green eyes, the grey wolf brushing her smooth fur soothingly against Sabriel.


Opposite Sabriel was Thrydan Farclaw, wearing the silver clasps and burnished gold epaulettes which displayed his rank. It was he who had called this meeting.  He stood by a simulator board, highlighting friendly troops in green. A sea of red flowed around them.


“The enemy outnumber and outgun us. We cannot outmanoeuvre them, we cannot fight them: therefore we must attempt to outsmart them. Legend tells of a devastating weapon, long ago lost to the race of men. This weapon passed through the hands of many daemons, before it disappeared. Our mission is to try and find it. We do not know if it works, or if it is even real. But it is our only hope. We will track its history through an ancestral memory generator, seek it out, and use it against our enemies. Sabriel, it is time.”


Tyra whined softly, sensing Sabriel’s disquiet. Thrydan pressed a button on the wall and the battle simulator sank into the floor, another machine rising up to take its place. Similar to a swivel chair, with a piece of retracting glass to cover her head and two glass computers to encase her arms. Sabriel sat in the uncomfortable steel chair and her vision grew hazy as the glass slid smoothly into place. As her sight cleared again she began to see hazy shapes and colours. She made out a background of what must be dark trees, a forest? Then a figure grew into focus, wearing old fashioned clothes. Another swam into her vision close by, and she realised that both were moving, albeit in slow motion. They’re fighting, she thought, the generator must be slowing them down. She saw that both wielded wooden staffs as big as the figures. Then her sight grew completely clear, and she saw her ancestor. She saw the past and she saw hell.


A/N This is an exerpt from a story I wrote a while ago. It's part of a series and the first one is called Going Solo. I'm writing them (slowly) and when I get to this one, I'll edit it a little more.

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