Destiny Fiction Producers Writer's Contest

[b]WARNING[/b]: [b] Possible Violent Descriptions[/b] in text. Story is hidden behind "Spoiler" out of consideration. #Finished [u]A World without Light: A 'Beyond the Forlorn Gap' short story.[/u] [spoiler]The library burned, and the heat tore a hole in Gwendolyn's heart. “They’re gone, Anu,” she said to the little green and silver ball cradled in the crook of her left arm. “Gone. What monsters burn books? Burn knowledge?” A drop of dark blue blood splattered on the green paint of the shell and left tiny blue marks across her dirty white sleeve. The sight of the motionless Ghost threatened her with tears. When was the last time she had cried? Gwen could not remember. Roars and grunts came from outside the shattered library doors. Gwen hefted her shotgun in her right hand and crouched behind a broken bookcase near the door to listen. They spoke in their own tongue, but she had been listening to their transmissions for decades. Inwardly she noted that the dialect was different, but if the Empire was as large as they surmised, this was hardly a shock. “This sector is clear.” A legionary reporting to a commander, judging by the syntax. “Did you account for the [Twilight] ones?” The word was an odd choice Gwen had not heard used in that way before. “They still show life-signs like the [Creatures]. And the [Constructs] are easily detected.” “The [Twilight] ones are naturals at remaining hidden, even without the Light. Sweep again, every room. Use the beast.” “I obey.” The legionary made a thumping sound Gwen took to be a salute. Something snarled just outside the door, a large animal perhaps. Then there was a scrabbling at the broken doors, debris being clawed at, followed by more snarls. The animal had caught a scent. Gwen considered her options. Barricade the door? No, that would just encourage the invaders to break it down with explosives, and the surviving manuscripts would go up instantly and cook her alive, not to mention consume what oxygen remained. Stand and fight? She was wounded, and though she had tried to Sing when she had regained consciousness, the Sun did not come to her call…and even if it did, that would just add more fire. The only choice was to wait. She backpedaled into the flickering shadows and watched the door. The animal dug its way through the remains of the door and into library, snuffling. It was big, red, and bristled with sharp points. Gwen made a note to catch one at a later date and vivisect it: large fauna had been rare in the system for centuries, and this was a brand new species that seemed at home in an oxygen-rich environment, unlike the legionary that had it leashed. The implications were fascinating. The legionary pushed his way into the sacred space, weapon sweeping side to side. He followed the red beast, observing its motions. The beast stopped and snuffled the point that Gwen had been crouching at near the door. The legionary lowered his bulk and touched the floor, wiping something up with his big finger. Then he looked into the room. “I know you are here,” he said softly, perhaps more to himself than anyone in the library. Gwen tried and failed to stifle a laugh at the sight: the legionary looked like a caricature of a fat boy and his ugly dog. An analytical part of her brain recognized the reaction as out of character, and suggested that the injury to her head might be altering her behavior. The beast raised its head at the sound and growled. “Show yourself, [Twilight] one,” commanded the legionary. Gwen flitted to another bookcase, this one between her and the fires, so it cast a long shadow. “Such an odd word you keep using. Why call me that?” The legionary halted and dragged back on the beast’s leash. “You understand our speech.” “My dear Cabal,” chided Gwen. She looped her shotgun's sling over her shoulder and gingerly crabbed one-handed up a bookcase that had been knocked askew to lean against the wall. “To defeat your enemy, first you must understand them. You know that to be true, as you clearly understand my tongue.” She crouched on the little space where the bookcase and the wall met, and the image of herself as a huge, blue spider dressed in white crossed her mind. The thought made her giggle again. The legionary advanced, letting the beast drag him forward a little. “I understand your kind perfectly,” he said. “Magicians and sorcerers who lack honor, cowering from their enemies and hoarding the gifts they are given.” Gwen hissed between her teeth and raised her shotgun in the direction of the legionary. “Gifts we were given, Cabal, but not just the kind you refer to.” “You do not call the Light a gift? Ungrateful.” He looked side to side, seeking the source of her voice. “It is why we took it from you.” “Oh, the Light.” Gwen really did laugh this time. “You are worse than the Hive. At least they understood what the Light and the Darkness were worth.” “And what is it worth?” The legionary had turned now, and narrowed his focus. The beast was growling at her corner of the room. “A means to an end. The true end. What you call Light is a paltry thing compared to the real gift the Traveler gave us.” “What gift?” The legionary sounded genuinely curious now. “It’s all around you." Gwen coiled and waited another moment for the legionary to step closer. "Or it was, until you burned it like the savages you are!” Then she jumped forward and pulled the trigger. The beast took the first shot to the head and dropped, its skull caved in from the short-range blast. The legionary had the presence of mind to sidestep, and the next shot scored his armor. He raised his own weapon and fired. Gwen spun and fell when the slug smacked into her. The legionary rushed in and raised a fist. Gwen rolled, still cradling Anu, and the fist cracked the floor tiles where she'd been a moment before. She raised her weapon and fired again, catching him in the knee. He collapsed, his armor spewing pressure gel. Gwen crabbed forward, blue blood dribbling on the floor, and pressed her knee against his chest and the muzzle of her gun against his helmet. “Savages!” She shrieked at him, her brain losing cohesion as her wounds spilled blood to the floor. “Light isn’t about fire and death! It’s not about the power to destroy or make worlds! It’s knowledge! Eons and eons of knowledge, trapped in the mind of a god that you and the Hive and the Fallen are all fighting over, while you burn the very means that could give it to you! Knowledge, you…you…[i]savages[/i]! This is a world without a Light, not because you took the Traveler, but because you don’t know Light when it you see it! You burned it!” Then she pulled the trigger. Gwen leaned against the corpse of her foe and tried to breathe. She was vaguely aware that CO2 levels must be increasing, and they were undoubtedly affecting her: even if she didn’t bleed to death she might suffocate. “Suffocate on the fumes of burning books. Oh, the irony Anu,” she said to her Ghost, and started giggling again. “Wait, is that actually irony?” She leveraged herself to her feet using her gun and began walking toward the door, swaying a little. “I wonder if the Cabal have a word for irony. I never thought to ask. Hey,” she said, turning around to look at the dead legionary, “do your people have a word for irony?” Then she walked out the door, still giggling, into the shadow of the Traveler. [/spoiler]