The Corin Chronicles Volume I: The Light and the Dark (6 page)

Baran could only watch his brother’s metamorphosis into his higher physical form, something he had rarely seen before. Still smothered in a white glow, the God of Earth continued to grow. His head took on the appearance of a white mare, with silky, long hair flowing down to his shoulders. His humanoid arms grew and grew, with his fingers long and thick. Embedded in the middle of his forehead was a single, sharp-pointed, spiralling horn. His entire twenty-foot frame remained encapsulated by the deep white glow, which continued on to his face and the two large wings from his back.

“At last, you make an appearance.” Baran grinned. “Some would be forgiven for thinking that you were actually not a god.”

“I will stand by no more and let you do this.” Feliath pulled out a large, white sword as he approached his brother.

“If only you did this a long time ago, none of this would have happened.” Baran’s grin turned to laughter. “Perhaps you could have defeated me.” His laughter soared. “Or perhaps not. Either way, you have just stood in the shadows watching. How does it feel, Brother, to know that you are a coward? And to know that you will be branded a coward for eternity?”

“No more words,” Feliath said. Baran’s smile fled his face, as he charged toward his brother.

Without hesitation, Feliath dashed to meet the Red God, and in a tremendous flash of light, the swords of two of the galaxy’s greatest gods collided, followed instantly by darkness, which swallowed all of Semsena.

Each strike between their blades brought surges of light that spread across the battlefield. The hatred between the two gods was obvious to all those watching. It was a fight to the death, with any hint of sibling compassion long dead. Occasionally, on the back foot during the beginning stages of the fight, Feliath steadily regained his equilibrium. The white glow around his body shone brighter than the suns and was the only source of light on the near pitch-black battlefield.

They fought in the air and on the ground, their battle catching the attention of the armies surrounding them. Auphora watched the unfolding tragedy of Corin, his face expressionless. The screams of the dying men had not yet stopped. Neither had the roar of the Noboros or the Zoatans. He could feel the sweat from his palms, as he massaged his eyes in hope of removing the dust that filled them. Content with maintaining his distance, his mind raced as he wondered whether it was indeed the time to intervene. He had survived the conflicts of two eons. He had outlived all immortals, seen his own demigod children banished. But during those conflicts, he had always felt compelled to act. It felt different this time, and he continuously wondered about his own motives.

Auphora’s internal turmoil came to a sharp end when he noticed a strong burst of wind coming from the east. Unsure of its source, he turned around to face it. The soaring wind had come from a violent, rotating column of air, so high in the sky that he could not see where it ended. Returning his gaze to the battle, he saw the Red God with one hand outstretched, manipulating the wind, while the other continued to repel the attacks of Feliath.

The closer the cyclone came to Baran, the stronger it became. Feliath temporarily halted his charge, realizing the wind was nearly upon him, and took a few steps backward. Now directly in front of Baran, the Wind of Death rotated in place, as the Red God controlled it with the slightest movement of his hand.

“Do you still think you can compete with my power?” Baran’s voice echoed across the sky, drowning out the howl of the storm. It could be heard by every soul on the battlefield. “You have no idea what I am capable of.”

Maintaining the same stance, Feliath held his sword high in the air, with his eyes closed. The concentration on his face intensified, as the white glow that enveloped his body thickened. With a deep growl, Baran thrust his arms viciously in the direction of the blinding white light. The cyclone suddenly shot forward toward the Earth God. Feliath was now completely shrouded by the white glow, which stretched higher and higher until it connected with the skies.

Standing upright once more, Auphora continued to watch. His hands rested against his cheeks, and his mind remained clear. The worrying had disappeared, and the fear for loss of life evaporated. He had begun to grasp the reality that nothing could stop what had to be done. As the Wind of Death collided with Feliath’s frame, an enormous explosion erupted, and the ground began to tremble and split open. Deeper and deeper, the land beneath their feet cracked. Both armies saw the ground opening toward them and immediately stopped all fighting, as they tried to flee. The gods also put a temporary halt to their duels, so they could witness what was taking place. Within the main arena of battle, many soldiers fell into the ground, as the cracks opened wider and wider until fire emerged from the depths.

Men, Akarai, and Monoroi fell screaming to their deaths. Those still on solid ground continued to flee, many killing each other for the remaining horses. The more fortunate ones, who had not dismounted, spurred their animals on and raced away, desperate for survival.

Kraipo, aching from his battle wounds, crawled to a less-crowded section of the desert, but he could not avoid the cold gazes of the dead. He counted numerous familiar faces, men from his battalion lying motionless beside him. Many more he could only assume were from Corin, Crazar, Tyranis, and a number of other planets, each man swallowed into the ground.

As he slowly lost the feeling in his legs, he felt tears rise in his eyes, as they caught a glimpse of Melot’s corpse disappearing into the chasm. Embracing death, he thought back to happier times on Tyranis. He pictured his wife’s warm smile, and he even managed a smile himself. She would mourn him, he knew, but his memory would always be cherished. He wished he could have similar thoughts of his brother, Kirinki, but it had been nearly eighteen years since they had last spoken. The anticipation of death filled him less with fear for his own end than with fear for the well-being of his only remaining blood relative. Closing his eyes, he released himself to whatever his fate would hold.

The Zoatans in the skies dispersed in multiple directions. The Noboros growled, while also trying to avoid the continuously escalating destruction. In the midst of the commotion, a great mass of molten rock began to rise. The screams that spread across the land burned the ears of Feliath, who stood motionless, looking at the sweeping death before him. Walking toward him was Baran, with eyes as bloodshot as ever, the Sword of Corin still firmly in his grasp.

“Do you not see, Baran, that the more you fight us, the more your planet is destroyed? Let us stop this now.” Compassion crept into Feliath’s voice.

The Red God did not reply immediately, but continued to march forward. “I will fight until every last one of you is dead, even if it means the death of my planet.” Baran’s eyes burned red with rage.

Feliath spared a glance at Auphora, who approached his two sons calmly. Moving his gaze to the ground beneath him, the glow around Feliath’s body had dimmed, but he knew the battle was far from over. “Then let it be known,” he said, turning his eyes back to the Red God, “that the destruction of Corin was at your own beckoning.” The Earth God lifted his sword with both arms and ran straight for his elder brother. For the first time in the battle, he did not concern himself with achieving a diplomatic solution.

1.5

T
HE
L
IGHT AND THE
D
ARK

A
nd so it was, that after the claiming of untold lives, the Battle of Corin ended. A crushing blow from Feliath brought an end to Baran’s reign. Even in defeat, the Red God lived up to his brutal promise, and the galaxy wept in blood—the blood of millions of innocent men, women, and children killed at his pleasure.

In the dark days after the final battle, fear continued to grip the universe. Mothers feared for their lives and the lives of their children, as bandits and rebels fed on the chaos. All of the planets tried their utmost to maintain the peace, but whole towns burned to the ground, and the followers of one god found persecution and slaughter at the hands of those loyal to other gods. It was the beginning of another potential apocalypse, and drastic measures were required.

As the Corin sun shone down on Mount Anobis, the ice fortress simmered with tension. Auphora and the gods tried to agree on the best course of action to take with Corin and its citizens, while also maintaining peace and order across the galaxy.

“The time to act is now, my Lord.” Craxin’s voice trembled. “Corin must be destroyed, along with every form of life here.”

“But that will make us no better than Baran,” said Feliath. “This vengeance plaguing our galaxy has to stop, and it has to stop now. Baran and his children are now our prisoners. Why destroy this entire planet?”

“But what will stop them from rising again?” Craxin’s voice steadily rose. “And if they do, it is more than likely that the planet’s inhabitants will resume their worship of Baran and his children.”

“There was a remnant who opposed Baran,” Feliath said, also raising his voice. “Or are you choosing to ignore that? What about the many on Corin who fought for us? What will become of them?”

“A small minority, yes,” snapped Craxin. “But in my eyes, that is not enough to save this world.”

Feliath drifted his attention to the God of Gods, who seemed withdrawn. “Father, what is your opinion on the matter?”

After much hesitation, Auphora rose from a large slab of ice that served as his seat, and all the gods shifted their gazes to him, as he walked around the gigantic fortress, studying each one of them. “Here I stand,” he said. “Within Mount Anobis, home of my eldest son, and I continue to wish our presence here was under better circumstances.” He paused to cast a gaze at the sun in the sky before continuing. “I have seen so much over the past few years,” he said. “I have learned things about the human spirit. Things I could before only hope existed but did not truly believe.

“It is natural to put your faith in those you worship. The people of Corin did that, but it was to be expected. After all, Baran had given them no reason to distrust him.” Auphora paused for a few seconds, looking deeper into the eyes of his children and human advisors before continuing. “What I did not expect was the people of Corin, actually speaking out and fighting against Baran, which cost many the loss of their lives by the hand of their own god.

“That act of bravery, going against their god in favor of a righteous path, is something that cannot be overlooked.” The strain on his face became all the more visible. He continued glancing at the many eyes on him. “I agree that things cannot remain as they are, but what I must do is not simple,” he continued in a firmer voice. “It is true: Corin, as it is, will cease to exist.

“In its place will be a planet unlike any other—one that will not turn and will never have an Alpha and Omega.” The chamber suddenly shook tremendously, nearly knocking a number of both gods and people off their feet. Undeterred, Auphora continued speaking. “Instead, it will be one extreme from the other. One half of this world, the Omega, will be a fortress, a prison with no sun. It will remain in perpetual darkness, with the only light being the red Corin moon, which will reside solely there.”

Large shards of ice began falling to the ground. Looking toward the skies, the human advisors noticed the sun fading into the horizon at an astounding pace. It seemed to be sucked into an invisible hole, far beyond their view. The deep bellowing sound that followed nearly tore through their eardrums. Darkness quickly smothered everything around them, and the red Corin moon began to pass unnaturally overhead. It drifted toward them from the distance, before settling in the sky where the sun had previously been, directly above Mount Anobis.

As the gasps from the humans lessened, Auphora went on. “This place of solitude shall be a home for all of Baran’s followers, whether they be man, woman, child, or beast. They shall inhabit this place, and in time they will evolve into the walking dead, devoid of any emotion.

“They will mutate into creatures of the night, with their predatory senses overshadowing any remaining human compassion. The darkness shall cover the most settled half of Corin, including Ismail, Mount Anobis, Sena, Semsena, and every other town, city, or country with allegiances to the Red God.”

The mouths of the human advisors within the fortress were now firmly open as they listened, overwhelmed at the same time by the pitch darkness in the sky. Slowly, whispers filled the room. Craxin, Feliath, and the other gods remained completely expressionless. Auphora’s voice echoed across the whole mountain, such was the ferocity of his tone. “Baran, along with all of his children and hyper lords,” he continued, “will remain imprisoned here, within Mount Anobis, where they shall reside for all time. From this day forth, this place shall come to be known as “The Dark World,” the prison of the fallen Corin gods.”

Pausing for a few seconds, Auphora returned to his seat, sparing glances at the still bewildered faces staring back at him before continuing with his judgment, albeit in a much calmer voice. “The other half of this planet shall be the Alpha, the Light World. It will blossom with flowers, trees, and all forms of life. The sun will shine brightly there, and for the rest of their days, the inhabitants will never know darkness or ever see the red glow from the Corin moon. It shall be a world with endless daylight, and it is there that I shall place every human and beast opposed to Baran’s evil. And this place shall become the last hope of Corin.”