“General Vachir, enter, now.”

The voice of The Prophetess pierced Vachir’s skull. Although she sat at the rear of her vast underground meeting hall, one room away, the sound was as near as if she had been standing in front of him. The pain of her telepathic summon dizzied him for a second.

Vachir took a moment to center himself before pulling the massive brass handle of the chamber door. It glimmered under the gaslight of nearby wall lanterns despite being under a light layer of dust. The Prophetess rarely received visitors, and when she did, it was never to offer them praise.

Vachir shuddered at the coming storm waiting for him on the other side. Suddenly, a complicated collection of cogs and gears came to life behind the cool metal. CLICK CLICK zzz CLICK. Somewhere a pneumatic steam valve hissed as it brought the complicated mechanism to life.

The clockwork door slowly swung open after another click. Cool air sighed out of the chamber beyond. The moistness of it felt foreign upon Vachir’s skin. It should have chilled him but instead, it just left him feeling sticky and uncomfortable.

The meeting hall was massive. The room had been designed centuries earlier as a giant attunement chamber for the prophetess to project her enormous power from. She was the only awakened of water in the land of Ruin and by far the most powerful elemental in history.

Where the average awakened individual could hope to live a hundred years, and a prime two or three hundred, she had continued on for nearly a thousand and still looked no older than a woman in her mid twenties.

Through dark powers beyond Vachir’s understanding, she appeared to have mastered immortality.

His footsteps echoed off the smoothed stone walls. The entire dome structure was inlaid with intricate circular patterns of black-crystal; the hard crystalline substance that was the lifeblood of economies and trade across Ruin.

To decorate the walls of even a small space with them would be lavish beyond reason, Vachir thought, careful to hide his disgust under layers of mental control, Probably enough crystal here to lift a fleet for weeks.

When boiled in water, the crystal would slowly break down and bond with the gas to form lighter than air steam. The discovery of its gaseous properties had given rise to a golden age of airships across the globe during the First Era.

But, it wasn’t until the first awakened were born that it’s elemental augmentation properties were discovered.

Wars were fought for control of precious deposits and mines. More daring wanderers would face fierce beasts and weather in the deep desert in the hopes of making their fortunes. Many had ventured. Few survived.

Throughout the chamber, clockwork manservants darted around, going about their assigned errands quickly, as inconspicuous as possible. Her Grace had a temper and was known to lash out at the nearest unfortunate victim to abate her fury. She took twisted pleasure from watching others suffer.

He walked across the stone chamber floor, careful to cast his eyes downward. As he neared the throne, he could feel the icy stare of the Prophetess boring into his soul. In the chamber, her powers were greatly amplified by the black crystal inlays. An outburst or stray burning thought would be all she needed to kill him by accident, or intentionally.

The walkway to the throne was flanked by two crescent shaped ponds covering much of the massive round chamber. Its design was intended to imitate the official flag of the Holy Order.

Vachir kneeled as he reached the lower dais of her spiraling platform. “Your Grace, I have located a prime awakened of Earth. I come bearing this wonderful news in the hopes it will help abate my failure in capturing The Lib...uh Dagger..”

Even with his tall build, the room made him feel small. It was designed to intimidate, and it was most efficient.

The Prophetess spoke, her voice again in his head despite him being only a dozen feet away. “Rise, general. I don’t like talking to the top of your head.” Standing and staring straight ahead, he couldn’t help but be awed by her beauty.

She was mythically gorgeous. Her slender frame was draped in a flowing robe of reflective blue desert silk. It shimmered in the glow of the chamber pools. The dress flowed down steps of stone like gently flowing water. Truly the closest a woman could come to looking like a goddess, he thought.

As she descended the steps toward him, he couldn’t keep from stealing glances at her. Pure, white blonde hair fell perfectly down her frame to the small of her back. Her clothing, the walls, the pools, even the way she walked; it all flowed effortlessly.

She stopped on the final step, stepping in front of his fixed focus, forcing him to look into her eyes. While the rest of her was stunningly beautiful, her eyes hinted at a tainted soul within.

Flecked blue sparkled over white-hazel eyes. She stared into him, probing, digging, questioning. It took all his mental faculties just to bury his inner feelings from her ever perceptive powers.

Her blackened soul polluted and dulled her beauty. Even for a being as powerful as she, the age old adage held true, “The eyes are the windows to the soul.”

The Prophetess’ tone pitched into something between motherly and playful. “Vachir, you are holding something back. You wouldn’t be keeping anything from your Prophetess, would you?” She stuck out her lower lip jokingly. The cruelty in her eyes hinted at the price to pay should his answer be unsatisfactory.

He had to think of something.

“Your Grace, I’m just...hiding my excitement over finding the last Prime. It would be inappropriate to celebrate such a discovery in light of our losses during last week’s attack.”

After a moment’s contemplation, she was at ease, satisfied with his excuse. “Surely. The loss of interceptors and their ether cubes is shameful. Not to mention, expensive.” She failed to mention the loss of lives. “A normal man would have been drained of life for such a failure.”

The Prophetess gently brushed his cheek with her cold hands. He shuddered as his face numbed and his body temporarily weakened. Her power to sap others of will and strength was frightening and, Vachir suspected, the secret to her eternal youth. Many a man before him had suffered and died for her twisted desires. He prayed he wasn’t next.

A glint of dark pleasure flashed across her eyes as she watched Vachir squirm under her deathly touch. Another moment and she withdrew, her point having been made.

“However, I’m pleased to hear we have finally found the last Prime. And what luck! Two on the same ship! I think it may finally be time to put the spy among them to work.”

Vachir was one of only a handful of people who knew of the spy embedded within the crew of The Liberator. “Your grace, if we send him instructions, we have but one chance. If he fails and Rychist’s crew discovers his duplicity, we will lose our only insight into their whereabouts, not to mention someone very close to you.”

The prophetess thought on his words. A brief flash of genuine worry crossed her face. For a moment, she looked years older. Then, a storm gathered in her expression. After a moment, she shook her head and grabbed his hands. Squeezing just a little too hard, again, she sapped his strength and replied, “That is why you will not fail. If you do, it will be the last such failure of yours I have to endure.”

Her voice was ice again. His dizzying headache returned with a vengeance as he replied shakily, “Yes my Prophetess..ugh...I...will do as you..-” She withdrew her mental probe, her face awash with pleasure in his suffering.

She continued, “Of course you will do as I command. You’ve served me loyally for years. You may be a soldier of the Free Citizen’s Federation, but don’t forget, the leaders of Ruin answer to me. By extent, so do you.”

How could he forget? The Warlord’s Alliance and Free Citizens of Ruin had been subjugated in the Last Holy War nearly two hundred and fifty years ago now. Her “priests” occupied every city, town, and village south of The Protectorate. They were always on the lookout for potential awakened as well as rebellious populace. Agitators were dealt with swiftly and publicly.

The last rebellion resulted in the deaths of tens of thousands and spawned the thorn in the Prophetess’ side that was the crew of The Repurposed Dagger class airship. Vachir would never admit it aloud, but he was fond of Alia and her crew of awakened rebels.

While the whole of Southern Ruin had cowed to her power, Alia’s raiders continued the fight against the Prophetess aboard their aged airship. “The Liberator” would emerge from hiding from time to time, raiding a monastery and emptying it of its students before disappearing again into the night sky.

Many times, the Holy Land had dispatched airships to hunt them down, and many times they had failed. Now though, the Prophetess was nearer to their eradication than she had ever been before. After years of waiting for the right moment, her spy had been dispatched and boarded their ship. Soon, he would be activated and the last bastion of freedom would be swept from the skies.

“Now, my dear Vachir. I believe the business of the so called Liberator will soon be concluded. On to more...pleasurable matters. Will you please join me in my chamber for a more private conversation?”

As beautiful as she may have appeared on the outside, he dreaded such requests. “I really must return to my men and set the plan in motion. Perhaps we-” She grabbed him by the elbow and his strength was again sapped. Forced into compliance by her overwhelming power, he could only obey her wishes.

“I’ll be gentle.”

No, she wouldn’t.