The Last Silver

The lights went out.

For one heartbeat, the world was silent.

Then the First Weapon rose.

The floor of the ancient chamber exploded upward.

Metal screamed.

Stone shattered.

Thousands of soldiers scattered as something enormous forced its way through the ruins.

Dinraal stood atop the silver throne.

He watched.

And understood why his father had buried this place.

The creature was not merely large.

It was impossible.

Black armor covered a body so vast that Dinraal could not immediately understand where it ended. Six limbs dragged it upward through the broken floor. Red light burned between plates of ancient metal.

Its head emerged last.

The chamber suddenly felt very small.

Two enormous eyes opened.

Then four.

Then six.

Claire looked upward.

"Oh."

Johanna raised her weapon.

"That is significantly larger than the other one."

Vael's voice was almost a whisper.

"The others were fragments."

Dinraal looked toward him.

"What?"

Vael stared at the creature.

"They were scouts."

The First Weapon roared.

The sound tore through the chamber.

Several soldiers were thrown from their feet.

Dinraal grabbed the throne to keep his balance.

"Scouts?"

Vael didn't answer.

Dinraal pointed at the enormous creature.

"That is your idea of a scout?"

Arcturus drew his sword.

"Focus!"

The creature moved.

One of its claws swept across the chamber.

Dinraal raised his hand.

STILL.

The word entered his mind.

He reached toward the creature.

"Still!"

Silver light burst from the Mithril Gaunt.

The First Weapon stopped.

For half a second.

Then every red eye turned toward Dinraal.

The creature moved again.

Dinraal's expression changed.

"That didn't work."

"No," Vael said.

The creature lunged.

"EVERYONE MOVE!"

The ancient soldiers opened fire.

Thousands of weapons ignited at once.

Blue and silver energy filled the chamber.

The blasts struck the First Weapon's armor.

Nothing.

The creature smashed into the nearest formation.

Soldiers disappeared beneath its claws.

Dinraal's stomach turned.

"Arcturus!"

The commander shouted orders.

"FALL BACK! FORM THE SECOND LINE!"

The soldiers moved instantly.

Dinraal watched them.

They were organized.

Disciplined.

They were doing exactly what they had been created to do.

And they were dying.

For him.

His expression hardened.

"No."

Isolde looked toward him.

"Din?"

Dinraal stepped away from the throne.

Arcturus turned.

"Where are you going?"

Dinraal pointed toward the battlefield.

"To stop this."

Arcturus's eyes widened.

"Absolutely not."

Dinraal looked at him.

"Was that an order?"

"Yes."

Dinraal smiled.

"Good luck."

He jumped.

Isolde screamed his name.

Dinraal fell from the throne platform.

The Mithril Gaunt burned.

For an instant, silver light surrounded him.

Then he struck the ground.

The impact cracked the metal floor.

Johanna stared.

Claire blinked.

Isolde sighed.

"He does that a lot."

Johanna looked at her.

"Jumping?"

"Being dramatic."

Dinraal ran.

A massive claw descended toward him.

He moved.

The claw struck the ground behind him.

The shockwave threw him forward.

He rolled.

Came up running.

The First Weapon turned its six eyes toward him.

Dinraal stopped.

For the first time, he looked directly at it.

The creature looked back.

Something changed.

The red light in its eyes flickered.

Dinraal felt a presence touch his mind.

Not words.

A memory.

A burning sky.

A thousand worlds.

Screaming.

Then—

DINRAAL!

Isolde's voice shattered the vision.

Dinraal returned to himself.

The creature's claw was descending.

He raised his hand.

"HALT!"

Silver light erupted from the Gaunt.

This time—

the creature stopped.

Dinraal stared.

Its claw hovered above him.

The entire chamber became still.

Arcturus slowly lowered his sword.

Vael stared.

Dinraal's breathing was heavy.

"That's better."

The First Weapon trembled.

The command was fighting against something.

Dinraal could feel it.

A rage.

An ancient hunger.

But beneath it—

something else.

Pain.

Dinraal frowned.

He stepped closer.

"Dinraal!" Johanna shouted.

He ignored her.

The First Weapon's enormous head lowered.

The red eyes watched him.

Dinraal placed his hand against the creature's armor.

The Mithril Gaunt flashed.

And the world disappeared.

He was standing in a city.

But it was not a city he recognized.

Silver towers reached toward the sky.

Ships moved silently overhead.

People filled the streets.

Humans.

Dragonkin.

Species Dinraal had never seen before.

They lived together.

For one brief moment, the world was peaceful.

Then the sky opened.

Dinraal looked upward.

Black ships emerged from the clouds.

Hundreds.

Thousands.

The people below began to scream.

A voice spoke beside him.

"They came without warning."

Dinraal turned.

Vael stood there.

Not the Vael Dinraal knew.

This Vael was younger.

Much younger.

Silver lines covered his entire body.

"What is this?"

"A memory."

The first explosions struck the city.

Buildings disappeared in fire.

Dinraal watched in horror.

The black ships descended.

Soldiers emerged.

Their armor was dark and featureless.

Ash covered their bodies.

Dinraal remembered Vael's words.

The Ashen.

"They did this?"

Vael nodded.

"They came to our world."

The memory changed.

Dinraal saw the people fighting.

They fought desperately.

But the Ashen kept coming.

Then the ground opened.

Something emerged from beneath the city.

Dinraal froze.

The First Weapon.

Smaller.

But unmistakable.

Vael looked toward it.

"Our ancestors built it to defend us."

Dinraal stared at him.

"It was a weapon."

"No."

Vael's voice became quiet.

"It was a guardian."

The creature roared.

Black ships fell from the sky.

The memory shifted again.

The battle was over.

The city was gone.

Bodies covered the streets.

The guardian stood alone.

Broken.

Its armor had been torn apart.

The survivors gathered around it.

Dinraal watched them.

Then something terrible happened.

One of the survivors raised a weapon.

The blast struck the guardian.

Dinraal turned toward Vael.

"What are they doing?"

Vael's face was filled with grief.

"They were afraid."

The survivors attacked again.

The guardian roared.

Not in anger.

In pain.

It fled.

The memory shattered.

Dinraal saw stars.

A ship.

The guardian being transported across the darkness.

Then another image.

The Draec Empire.

His father's ancestors.

Finding the creature.

Studying it.

Trying to control it.

The memories came faster.

Too fast.

Experiments.

Weapons.

War.

The guardian changing.

Becoming something else.

Something worse.

Dinraal fell to his knees.

"No."

Then he saw Bahamut.

His father stood inside the same ancient chamber.

Younger.

Arcturus stood beside him.

Vael stood across from them.

They were arguing.

Dinraal couldn't hear the words.

Then Bahamut placed his hand against the creature.

The First Weapon became still.

His father turned toward Vael.

And spoke.

This time, Dinraal heard him.

"I will bury it with Her."

Vael's younger self stared at him.

"And when they find it?"

Bahamut looked toward the Mithril Gaunt on his hand.

"Then I will make sure they regret it."

The memory vanished.

Dinraal opened his eyes.

His hand was still against the creature.

The First Weapon remained frozen.

But its red eyes had changed.

The rage was still there.

So was the pain.

Dinraal slowly stepped backward.

"I know."

The creature's eyes flickered.

Everyone watched him.

Vael took a step forward.

"What did you see?"

Dinraal looked toward him.

"Everything."

Vael became still.

Dinraal turned toward Arcturus.

"You knew what this thing was."

The old commander lowered his head.

"I knew some of it."

"Not enough."

"No."

Dinraal looked back at the creature.

"You turned it into a weapon."

Arcturus's voice became heavy.

"The Empire did."

Dinraal's eyes hardened.

"And now everyone wants me to inherit it."

No one answered.

Above them, something exploded.

The entire chamber shook.

Claire looked toward the ceiling.

"That's not good."

Johanna's communicator activated.

"Johanna!"

She grabbed it.

"Report!"

The voice on the other end was frantic.

"Unknown vessels have entered the atmosphere!"

Dinraal turned.

Johanna continued listening.

Her face went pale.

"How many?"

A pause.

Then—

"Too many."

Orbit

The Chancellor stood on the bridge of his flagship.

The stars outside had disappeared.

Ships filled the darkness.

His fleet.

The planetary defense forces.

And the Ashen.

The enemy vessels moved between them like shadows.

A tactical officer turned.

"Chancellor, the unidentified fleet is ignoring all hails."

The Chancellor's expression remained calm.

"Of course they are."

Another officer looked up.

"Sir?"

The Chancellor walked toward the central display.

The planet rotated beneath them.

Beautiful.

Blue.

Alive.

For now.

He stared at it.

Then spoke quietly.

"Open a channel."

"With whom?"

The Chancellor looked toward the communications officer.

"Everyone."

Moments later, his voice spread across every military channel.

Every ship.

Every planetwide emergency system.

Every surviving communication network.

"This is Chancellor Aurelius."

Below, millions of people heard him.

"In the coming hours, you will hear many lies."

The bridge became silent.

Aurelius looked toward the planet.

"They will tell you that I came here to conquer."

His eyes hardened.

"They are wrong."

A warning alarm sounded.

One of the Ashen ships opened fire.

The Chancellor didn't flinch.

"I came because something beneath that world must never be allowed to awaken."

The communications officer turned.

"Sir, the transmission is being interrupted."

"Continue."

A second explosion rocked the flagship.

Aurelius finally looked toward his officers.

"Prepare the evacuation."

They stared at him.

"Evacuation?"

"Yes."

"Of the planet?"

Aurelius's expression darkened.

"If possible."

The Ancient Chamber

Dinraal looked upward.

"Evacuation."

Johanna lowered the communicator.

"That was the Chancellor's order."

Claire stared at her.

"He wants to evacuate the planet?"

Vael laughed bitterly.

"Now he cares about civilians."

Isolde said nothing.

Dinraal looked at her.

She was staring toward the floor.

"Isolde."

She looked up.

"What?"

"Talk to me."

Her expression tightened.

Dinraal had rarely seen her hesitate.

But now she did.

"What if he's telling the truth?"

Johanna immediately spoke.

"My lady—"

"What if he is?"

The room went silent.

Isolde looked at Dinraal.

"My father came here with a fleet."

Dinraal nodded.

"Yes."

"But he ordered an evacuation."

"Yes."

"And Vael has been lying to us."

Vael's expression darkened.

"I have not—"

"You kidnapped us."

Vael stopped.

Isolde's voice became sharper.

"You attacked this city."

Claire quietly moved away from the argument.

"You kept telling us that you were trying to save everyone."

Vael said nothing.

Isolde took another step forward.

"So tell me."

Her hand tightened around her rapier.

"What aren't you telling us?"

Vael looked at the First Weapon.

The answer came quietly.

"The Ashen cannot control it."

Dinraal frowned.

"That sounds like good news."

Vael looked at him.

"They don't need to."

Silence.

Dinraal's expression changed.

"What do you mean?"

Vael pointed toward the creature.

"They only need it awake."

The First Weapon suddenly moved.

Dinraal raised his hand.

"Still!"

Nothing happened.

Everyone froze.

The creature's red eyes burned brighter.

Vael stepped backward.

"No."

Dinraal tried again.

"HALT!"

The Gaunt flashed.

The creature continued moving.

Arcturus drew his sword.

"What's happening?"

Dinraal stared at his hand.

The Gaunt was still glowing.

But something had changed.

A crack of black light spread across its silver surface.

Dinraal's blood went cold.

The creature roared.

The chamber walls exploded inward.

A black ship descended through the opening.

Not crashed.

Descending.

Controlled.

The Ashen had found them.

The soldiers inside the chamber opened fire.

The black ship ignored them.

Its doors opened.

Figures dropped into the chamber.

Dozens.

Then hundreds.

Ash-covered soldiers landed among the ancient army.

The battle began instantly.

Arcturus shouted orders.

Johanna fired.

Claire grabbed Isolde and pulled her behind cover.

Vael drew a blade Dinraal had never seen before.

Dinraal stood still.

The First Weapon was moving toward him.

Its massive head lowered.

The red eyes stared directly into his.

Then a voice entered his mind.

Not ancient.

Not strange.

Familiar.

Run.

Dinraal froze.

The voice came again.

Dinraal. Run.

He knew that voice.

His heart stopped.

"Father?"

The creature roared.

And somewhere inside the darkness of its mind—

Dinraal heard Bahamut scream.

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