The ringing silence of the unground dorm felt hollow, as the soft half light of the recessed fixtures flickered gently overhead, bathing the Blade brothers in soft, artificial twilight. They lounged around a sleek steel table, its polished surface reflecting the thoughtful faces above. Sil leaned forward slightly, his fingers idly tracing invisible paths across the table's cool surface.
"So, Sil," Raten started, folding his arms with an exaggerated sigh, eyes dancing mischievously. "Three angry aliens full of magical angst. Scale of one to 'oh, we're screwed,' how bad is it?"
Sil snorted, leaning back to balance precariously on two chair legs, a lopsided grin flashing white teeth. "I'd say we're always at least steady seven, but Vorden might bump it higher if he's nervous."
"Not nervous," Vorden said softly, glancing upward briefly before fixing his gaze back onto the table. "Careful."
Sil arched an eyebrow. "Careful's good. We like careful."
Raten laughed outright. "Says the guy who charges into battle face-first."
"Strategically face-first," Sil corrected, wagging a finger. "Totally different."
"Focus," Vorden interjected quietly, his voice gentle but firm. Instantly, both brothers settled, eyes expectant.
"Oriun, Vespara, Morvidk." He counted each name off slowly. "Oriun, angry, powerful. Controls...gravity. Maybe dark energy. He's emotional and reckless, definitely mad."
"Sounds like your average Blade," Raten chuckled, nudging Vorden with his elbow. Vorden did not look amused.
Ignoring them, Sil continued softly. "Vespara. Smart, at least from what I saw in that short amount of time. Armor is incredibly strong. Dangerous. Probably the strongest fighter. Uses some kind of force, maybe fire or heat. Strong striker, moves fast. Very tactical."
"And Morvidk?" Vorden prompted when Sil paused.
Sil's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "Cautious. Very covert battle style, not really much of a hands on combatent. Sneaky. Very sinister and potent illusions. Plays with your mind."
"Wonderful," Raten sighed theatrically. "One emotional wreck, one beefcake tactician, and a paranoid magician. We're set."
Sil nodded slowly, eyes serious. "Oriun has Bliss. We have the location of the planet on which he most likely has her captive, if—" Vorden pursed his lips as he tried to find the right words to use.
"You can say it, If they haven't killed her yet. There's no other way to say it. I know that ultimately is their goal. We just have to hope that those bastards are sadistic enough to draw it out." The cold and callus way that Sil spoke of Bliss's possible torture brought a cold chill to the room. The mood only soured further with the realization that torture would be their preferred outcome as opposed to the alternative.
Vorden nodded at Sil, then taking in a deep breath he continued. "But the exact spot isn't known just yet. We'll take some scans when we're close. First though, we need to remove the others. Bliss gave you coordinates of the locations that she believes are the correct ones— we should trust her instincts."
Sil gave a sideways glance at his brother's words. He knew that Vorden wasn't exactly a fan of Bliss, so this last thought was surprising.
"Well," Vorden stretched, standing smoothly. "Closest target first I guess. I'll prep the ship in the hangar. There's no use running off half cocked. We can depart first thing tomorrow. I'll speak with Shiro."
"Right," Raten echoed, rising. "I'll get Cassie and Emy sorted and off to your place." Vorden nodded in agreement.
"I'll check star maps, pull up the coordinates from Bliss" Sil murmured, already lost in thought, eyes distant. "Maybe I can find something useful."
"Sounds good," Vorden clapped Sil's shoulder affectionately. "Get some sleep after. We should all get a good night of rest. Early morning tomorrow, and I have no idea when we will be able to relax again for a while."
Raten stretched dramatically. "Yeah, we've got pissed off alien gods that have been experiencing a little too much bliss for their bitter constitutions. I intend to be at my best when we show up to take it back."
They shared quick smiles, the tension lingering beneath their banter but softened by familiarity. With brief nods and soft murmurs of farewell, they dispersed, each brother stepping into his assigned role with quiet determination, bracing silently for the storm ahead.
***
In the suffocating silence of the underground apartment, tucked deep beneath the Blade compound—the very room that once belonged to Vorden—Sil slept fitfully. The vastness of the abyssal dark, devoid of shadows, such darkness that the cold stone walls vanished, rendering no familiar corners. The imagination creates foreign shapes in the complete lightless void, twisting into nightmarish figures in the throes of Sil's restless dreams.
His brow knitted tightly, beads of sweat clinging desperately to his forehead. Beneath closed eyelids, his eyes flickered rapidly, tormented by visions.
Sil stood rooted, helpless amidst a scene bathed in blinding celestial light. A painful radiance burned the edges of his vision, swallowing everything until only Bliss remained, luminous but fading, her presence slipping from his reach. Celestial hands gripped her arms, relentless and inhumanely strong, pulling her into a brilliance so intense it seared Sil's heart.
"Sil!" Bliss called, a desperate cry, eyes wide with fear and something deeper, darker—resignation. Her delicate face etched in sorrow, mouth agape in a silent plea he was powerless to answer.
"No!" Sil roared, the words caught painfully in his throat. He lunged forward, fingers outstretched, desperate to grasp her hand, to anchor her back to him. But the relentless celestial force was too strong, too cruelly efficient.
His limbs were lead, betrayed by a weakness alien to him, his chest heaving with effort as unseen restraints held him in place. Panic surged within, primal and all consuming.
Bliss met his gaze one final, haunting moment—her eyes shimmering with unshed tears, the heartbreaking acceptance etched deeply in their depths.
Then she was gone, ripped into the merciless void of white-hot oblivion.
He staggered forward, his body trembling, throat raw from screaming her name. The light surged again, aggressive and consuming. He felt an agonizing pressure in his chest, crushing the air from his lungs, darkness encroaching rapidly, swallowing him whole—
Sil jolted upright with a strangled gasp, the nightmare's grip severing abruptly. His breaths came sharp and shallow, chest constricted with phantom pain. Sweat slicked his body, soaking through his clothes, chilling him to the bone despite the stifling warmth of the bunker.
"Bliss," he whispered shakily, clutching the fabric over his pounding heart, desperate to ground himself in reality. He clumsily felt around the night stand for the light switch. Slowly, agonizingly, the stark walls of the underground apartment came into focus. The ghostly whispers of the nightmare began fading, but her final, anguished gaze lingered in his mind, searing his soul with profound regret.
In that cold, oppressive silence, Sil slumped forward, running trembling fingers through damp hair. His voice broke softly in the shadows, a wish, a promise:
"I'll find you Bliss, I'll get you back."
Sil tire off the covers from his swear soaked body and paced around the room frantically for a few moments before stomping off to the shower, in desperate need of calm, before he lost himself and made a scene.
As he leaned, arms stretched out in front of him, standing beneath the shower head, hot water rolled down the rippling screases of his muscular frame. Tendrils of steam licked at skin and it escaped the plumbing and met frigid cold night air. Sil finished his shower with a practiced, absent minded, routine, allowing his mind to drift.
After toweling himself off, he wrapped the towel around his waist, and walked into the living room area, desperately seeking a different atmosphere. Settling down on the couch, Sil recalled the day Bliss had showed up and explained how he was going to die.