that Keel-Tath, Her wisdom overpowering Her distress, granted the young one’s wish.
Gathering around Her a host of the now stricken males, the Imperial Guard, Keel-Tath returned them to their former grace and glory. “My guardians, My companions, shall you be, throughout Eternity,” She proclaimed. The warriors fell to their knees in devotion to Her, their voices as one pledging their eternal honor to Her name, in life and in death.
Turning to Dara-Kol, who alone had had the courage to venture into the Empress’s presence after the Fall, She produced a crystal heart. It was a work glorious to the eye, which was the greatest and last gift from Her lover. “When I rest,” She told the young priestess, “this shall be the key to My awakening. For the one who holds the good fortune to find it, and has the courage to brave the host of guardians, the one who lays a living hand upon My heart shall awaken My spirit and My call to thee.
“But the Curse shall not be broken,” She warned, “until My heart again feels the warmth of love. If I rise in spirit without such love, damned shall we all be to everlasting Darkness.”
Dara-Kol fell at the Empress’s feet in thanks, even then mourning the passing of the First Empress from the Spirit that bound their people together, the loss of Her power, Her magic. Her love.
Keel-Tath looked upon Dara-Kol and told her, “Rise, My child. For you shall be the First of the Last. In your blood shall flow My blood, that you may lead your people in their quest for redemption.” Keel-Tath took the young woman’s hand, and with the knife she carried at Her side caused their palms to bleed, then bound them together. “Your spirit shall bind with those who may follow in your footsteps, so that the wisdom of the living Empress shall be ever greater, as shall Her power. One female shall be born each great cycle, born with white hair and strong spirit, one who may ascend to the throne. I vow that this succession shall not be broken before the day the Last Empress receives Me into Her heart. This shall be My Promise to you, to My Children.”
Dara-Kol closed her eyes, feeling the power of Keel-Tath as Her blood mingled with her own. She trembled with fear and anticipation, of longing to lead her people to their redemption. “And how, Empress, are we to find you?” she asked.
Keel-Tath answered softly, as if from afar, “That, daughter, shall be thy quest.”
When Dara-Kol opened her eyes, Keel-Tath, along with the males who had pledged to guard Her forever, was gone. All that remained was a single braid of Her hair upon the floor, the Seventh Braid that joined Her to the spirit of the Empire. And as Dara-Kol watched, the braid fell into dust, to be carried away by a sudden tempest that swept through the great chamber and away into the great forests beyond.
Alone now, no longer a high priestess but the living Empress, Dara-Kol heard the anguished cries of Her people in Her blood, and She wept in Her heart for their loss.
Tesh-Dar shuddered under Reza’s hands. “And so it happened, my son,” she went on, “that Esah-Zhurah was fated to be the Last Empress before Keel-Tath’s return.” The pain in her voice deepened. “But Esah-Zhurah’s soul was dead, for she lived in the belief that she had slain the keeper of her heart, that she had killed you, Reza. Black with mourning has been her body since the day you left us, and blacker still was her spirit after the day her sword pierced your breast. And when the Ascension took place, the old Empress passing Her flame to Esah-Zhurah, the new Empress took the glowing crystal heart in Her hands, for it was time for the last part of the Prophecy to be fulfilled, for Keel-Tath’s return to the Blood.” She moaned at the memory, her great hand constricting painfully around Reza’s. “Never have I known such pain, my son, as when She cried out, as if Her heart had been torn from her breast. Then she fell to the dais of the throne and lay still.
“The Empire shuddered, my son,” she went on quietly, her eyes fixed on a place that Reza knew contained only agony, a Kreelan incarnation of spiritual Hell. “Billions of voices cried out in fear and pain as Her voice suddenly was stilled in their blood. And in the palace on the Empress Moon, the crystal heart, lying dark beside Her, began again to glow. But this time it was not as a summons, but as a warning. For all who attempted to approach the wall of blue light that it cast around Her body died, vanishing in a shower of sparks and the stench of scorched flesh.” She closed her eyes. “By the thousands did they perish, all the peers who witnessed the ceremony, all who tried to reach her. All of them. Gone.”
“And you, my priestess?” Reza asked quietly.
Tesh-Dar grimaced, turning her mournful gaze toward him. “I would have joined them, so stricken with grief was I, save that I was entrusted with the life of your son. Since the day of his birth, Shera-Khan’s welfare has been my honor and responsibility. Had I allowed either of us to be drawn into the fire, all my life would have counted for nothing but disgrace in Her eyes. Shera-Khan and I alone survived. Of the high priestesses and warriors, they are no more, their spirits having fallen into darkness as their bodies burned to ashes in the light. I left with Shera-Khan, closing the doors to the throne room and forbidding anyone to enter, hoping to spare any more the fate of those already dead and gone. It was then that I left the Homeworld for the Nursery where Shera-Khan was born, where your human… friend… found me, for in my bereavement I knew not where else to go, for I believed you long dead.” She shook her head sadly. “But even the nursery was empty, the Wardress having evacuated all of her charges when Her voice was silenced, her fleet returning the children – even the males – home. All that remained there were the Books of Time, dead stone recounting the lineage of a dying race.”
Reza felt the meaning of her words settle upon his heart, oppressive and undeniable. He could not imagine the strength of will it must have taken for her to resist the urge to reach for the Empress. And the deaths of the high priestesses, the greatest of the Empire’s warriors, meant that…
“I shall be the last,” he said slowly, the full weight of the responsibility he bore settling upon his shoulders. When Tesh-Dar died, he would be the last of the warrior high priests and priestesses.
“True are your words, my son,” Tesh-Dar said, gently stroking his face. “For when death takes me, you alone shall be the last of the warriors to bear the mark of the ancient orders. You alone have the gifts that have been passed down from generation to generation. You alone have the honor to lead the peers in this darkest of hours. You and your love are the last hope of the Empire, for all that we are and have ever been shall be lost if the breath of life is allowed to pass from Her body. Breathes does She still, but millions die each moment She sleeps in Darkness, in mourning, their crying souls lost in eternal Darkness. And in the moment Her heart stops and Her spirit passes into the Beyond, the Empire shall be lost forever – and all of us with it.”
Reza watched as her eyes closed and her breathing slowed. Her hand loosened from his as she fell into sleep, exhaustion finally claiming its due. Leaning forward, he kissed her tenderly on the forehead.
“Sleep, my mother,” he whispered. Beside him, Shera-Khan had fallen into a troubled slumber. The pain of reliving those horrible hours as thousands had cast themselves into the wall of blue fire in the desperate hope of reaching the Empress had drained what few reserves of strength the boy had. Reza laid him gently on the other bed, his blood burning with a cold fire at the Way that had been laid before him, the final steps of a great journey that had begun millennia ago.
Beside him, Jodi placed her tunic over the boy. Reza felt her hand on his arm.
“Will they be all right?” she asked quietly. Eustus had told her what he knew and what had happened to bring them to this strange crossroads, and Jodi had found herself filled with empathy not only for the boy, but for the dying warrior, as well.
Reza looked at her, and she was shocked by the stricken, almost desperate look in his eyes. “No,” he said, his voice hoarse with emotion, “they are dying. All of them.”
Eustus looked confused. “What do you mean?”
“Unless I can find a way back to the Empire,” Reza told him, “the Empress… my wife, shall soon die. And with Her shall die our entire race. The Empire of Kreela shall be no more.”
Jodi and Eustus exchanged a glance.
“Reza,” Jodi said tentatively, not sure just how he might react to what she was going to say, “I’m not sure that would be… such a bad thing, at least for humanity. I mean, we’ve been at war with the Empire for nearly a hundred years. They killed your parents, remember? There aren’t many people who would shed any tears if they all… died.”
“It doesn’t really matter,” Eustus added quietly. “Marchand told me that a fleet’s assembling for an assault into Kreelan space. While she didn’t say as much, I imagine that some genius at Fleet HQ finally figured out where the Homeworld is, and now they’re going after it. And whatever trouble the Kreelans are in is just icing on the cake.”
“When is this attack to take place?” Reza asked sharply.
Surprised by his friend’s intensity, Eustus took an involuntary step back. “It must be soon,” he answered
