The First Age

The thing appeared out of nothing and latched on to the Ascendancy and he felt the power threshold increase dramatically. Nox grabbed him. Shook him before he looked at his friend.

He told him to go... He could help. But then Cruz looked back at the monster and nodded. This wasn't his job. He could barely weild a fireball in the calm of his back yard. Cruz turned and left and casually walked through the crowd. There was going to be a panic at one point and Cruz wanted to be away from it before it started.

He was careful not to push past people, and then when he heard the scream he hurried along.

Nox would take care of it. It was his only job to make it home.

The room fell to stillness. White globes of hundreds of eyes peering from below. From above, Nikolai searched from one to the next while the vision of his powers showed him their very souls. What he found transfixed among them all gave his own long-due rest. Finally! He was the god he was meant to be. They knew him for all that he was. More than Nikolai Brandon. The reason he was their Ascendancy. Eons denied his birthright, for this one moment, the universe began to repay the debt he was due. Naturally, his gaze fell to Evelyn, aglow with warm light, heavenly, pure. With her at his side, this room would be filled with peoples of the entire world soon. His patience would be rewarded. Decades to wait. A lifetime. An age.  Finally.

Jacques agreed upon the condition to speak. Publicly, he had to announce his alliance with the Ascendancy. That together they would do great things for the world. Their partnership was a benefit to all. Nik found himself watching the man's profile eagerly. Say it. A silent urgency tipped his expression when the man glanced.

A chill trailed the back of his neck. Nikolai tore his gaze from Jacques, turning sharply left and right, seeking. But there was nothing to see. The Nine Rods of Dominion were diminished to six now, waiting on the edges of the ballroom but nonreactive. They didn't sense it. Nik forced himself to focus on Jacques' speech, instead. Imagination, he told himself, and listened. The man was a natural orator, with a charming and easy smile. Talented, Nikolai noted, for the man's delivery was bedeviling. He sold the alliance smoothly. Like the most natural thing in the world. Indeed it was. Nikolai was proud.

His smile returned while the guests clapped, but a warning seized his heart. His clapping slowed, dropping its vigor while others continued the zeal. 

He slipped a step lower. Staring at the back of the wall, drawing more of the power like it may give him the eyes to see what whispered in his ear. 
Then he heard it. The claw scratching in the mind. 
Aidoneus, I come for you.

Nikolai's scream pelted the walls with terror.

Red flickered like the hounds of Hades a bare heartbeat before his eyes. He tried to release the power. To throw it from his grasp, but it was too late. White drenched the world.

The body dissipated. It was only the soul left behind. Then the shell of even a soul was gone. Only light remained. Pure, blazing light worse than the sun; worse than ten thousand suns. He pressed his palms to the floor, unaware of collapsing. A husk. Tears leaked. He screamed, but the barest plea emerged, "Not again. Not again." The tormenter didn't listen.  

Time stretched to nothingness. Infinite nothingness. There was only power. A spire to cosmos untouched. He yearned to do something with the power. To wield it. Though the final moments would tear him apart. The mist buffered it. Kept the threads of him bound together, but he ached with desire. To use it. To wield it. This glorious, celestial power. 


Until words fought through the torrent. A message of lies made his ears want to bleed. He was no pawn! Hatred churned somewhere far and indefinite. His grip on the floor turned to fists. This empire was built by him. The skeleton within writhed with the barest movement; sheer torture in the contortion, but hatred fueled the determination. With it, he screamed one last word of defiance at this filthy monster of hell. "GET IT OFF OF ME!"

---

The evening was going well. The fundraiser had done its job of course. Millions had come in and would be funneled to the Legion and their work in North Africa. 

And Evelyn and the American delegation were now more firmly tied than ever to the CCD. Poor President Dawson and his mouth piece Nicholas Trano had no idea what had happened. The cracks between the states were getting wider. Texas was this close to secession and would very likely take the southern states with it. The same could be said of California and the other west coast states or of the north east. Her people would continue to apply pressure.

But the key would be that little slip of a girl, Evelyn Avalon. She was a fiery one, passionate. In many ways, as charismatic as Nik. She would sway a not insignificant portion of the populace. And of course the resistance to her would be just as strong. The fracture would continue. The US was done. The CCD would get a foothold in the America's. After that it was only a matter of time. It was a brilliant strategy they had worked out. But none of it was possible if Nik hadn't charmed the girl.

Well, Nik had been snared too. Women had come and gone in his life. They were like accessories, more or less. Nik was guarded at the best of times with nearly everyone. But Alexandrova could see the way he looked at the girl. As intelligent as Leonid was, he hadn't caught on. The way Nik's space seemed to now include her, the way his eyes lit up when speaking about her. The quiet smile that sometimes formed on his lips. She'd have to watch out for him. Nik was her friend. And he was the empire. No girl was going to take Nik down, not while she was there.

Most importantly, though, tonight cemented the special relationship between Nik the channeler and those in power. Giving them access to his abilities- those of himself and those like him- did much to tie them to him and hopefully allay any fears. The ease and trust would trickle down through the guests to the rest of the empire.

Fear was the real enemy of people with special abilities. Most were naturally frightened by those who could do things they couldn't. Mob mentality was a very real thing. A very dangerous thing. So far, outbursts and violence had been minimal. They had gotten ahead of things so far. Patheos had worked to their benefit, with James' abilities showing the positive side of their power. They would soon have to acknowledge that Nik had been healed, rather than had done it himself. Be caught once in a lie and they would lose their momentum.

So it was that Alexandrova had been speaking with Anatoly Yushakov when Nik called their attention. The man was brilliant and quite good looking. Alexandrova was willing to speculate that had she not been with Leonid, Anatoly would have done quite well. She did enjoy younger men, now and again. Their relationship being what it was, that occurred from time to time. A series of interviews with channelers could do much to humanize them to the rest of the empire. Especially if showcased the good these people were doing. Jensen would be a good start. Very likely, that would be the way to reveal it had been him who'd restored Nik to health.

As Danjou spoke, she noticed Nik looking around. An alarm went off in her mind. Something was wrong here. He looked worried. And then, a mist flew into the room. It seemed to alternate back and forth between the mist and a human shape. Someone screamed, then another. The temperature of the room went cold as it flew straight for Nik. Alexandrova was paralyzed. She'd heard Nik's account of the previous attack that had left him nearly dead. Frantically, she looked around for Marcus. He'd been there the last time, had saved him. Fuck, where was the boy!

It somehow seemed to settle into Nik and fear seized Alexandrova's heart. She felt it crushing inside her. Nik dropped to his knees, screaming in agony.

And through it all, the thing spoke and the fear that she had felt before was as nothing in comparison. Nik was in agony. And the thing was attacking the very foundation of the empire. The words were a knife that would cut out all the support from under Nik, It had to be stopped! "Dominions! Channelers! Attack it! Stop it! It's killing Ascendancy!!!"

The correction sent her speechless. The high-rise projects that Marcus described was dangerous and filled with criminals. She couldn't imagine a little boy ducking from danger, frightened, surrounded by poverty and desperation.  She wanted to apologize, though she wasn't sure what she was sorry for the most: a childhood like that or that she had fantasized about the complete opposite lifestyle in clueless whimsy.

Luckily, they were called indoors. Marcus had to be the most remarkable man alive to go from such impoverishment to the running the government. What happened to his parents? Danika followed him back inside, and in a moment of shame that mixed with sadness, she squeezed his hand and smiled just before doing so.

She didn't know who it was that Ascendancy introduced. Everyone else seemed to acknowledge him, though. He had to be someone important, duh, captain obvious. He was a handsome guy with a smile that made her want to giggle and look away, but of course she was far too sophisticated for that kind of reaction. So she tipped her chin and watched, the picture of elegance and poise.

Then, out of nowhere, Ascendancy screamed. Danika gasped, body flooded with ice, frozen, like she didn't know why -- until something...

...appeared.

The shape of a person fuzzed in and out of focus. Too afraid to move closer, but too fascinated to flee, her mind raced to figure out what it was. 

Her eyes blazed with the possibilities. 

The standard model of physics left no room for ghosts or spirits, men made of mist. Of course that theory was fraught with huge logic holes, but for the most part, science hadn't come up with a better alternative. 

She licked her lips as she watched, mix of abject horror for what was witnessed with the chaos of her thoughts swirling with hypotheses. Its words washed away, other than the fact that could speak.

Then everything erupted around her. She didn't care. She was basically looking at a quantum system. It was amazing.

No anxiety for the outside world crushed his spirit. Nor did Jaxen flee in fear over being caught. No snakes slithered through the party, fucking snakes, the only ones he truly feared. Unless Sora decided to zip him back to Tarim for more 'lessons,' the only thing he truly feared was unreachable. If they were caught? He'd send a check for the mirror. What else could they do to him? Might as well enjoy Oriena while she allowed the opportunity. She had to realize that she retained her freedom by his choice. He could as easily tie her down as his own bonds restrained him.

When Oriena moved, Jaxen braced for the impending pinches of pain across his back. Thankfully, her weight didn't settle onto him, but her palms and knees had to crush some of the glass. Then she winced, but the sharp intake of air was one of sadistic pleasure rather than true suffering. The sound of it flooded warmth through his body. A low murmur of gratification rolled from his throat. No woman ever acted like this before. They never took it this far. Fucking safe-words and all.

But the heat of her breath against his ear made him shudder. 

Power pulsed fresh through his veins. The next heartbeat saw every last shard of glass swept from them in one circular, sparkling river. The ones beneath his back remained, but he didn't give a damn. 

Jaxen released her wrist, allowing her bonds to clamp his own back in place. Trapped by it, he let his power be the hands that guided her, given his own were occupied. Any second someone would find them. But the urgency only added to the thrill. Being fucked by Oriena in the Kremlin grand palace was about the most obviously appropriate thing in the world. Maybe they'd take it to the throne next time. 

Pinches across his back wrenched his own painful gasps from his lips. His breath grew brisk and shallow. The sight of her filled the world. This vicious woman that he would never comprehend, yet continued to be tugged along by the mere curl of a finger. She was his. She wanted him. Damn he didn't realize how badly he wanted her in return.

The motion made his back arch. But Something dug into his shoulder, and there was no twisting away from it. The heat of it dug electricity down his arm, along his neck. Real pain that dug like the shackles around his wrists in that bathhouse dungeon. He grit his teeth, refusing to allow the weakness to rule.  When he cried out, he couldn't stop himself. His eyes pinched shut.

Then the world swarmed with power.

The entire. fucking. world.

Jaxen's eyes flew open, wide, searching. "Stop!" he ordered, panting. "Something's happening," he said and struggled to get up.  

He was done playing.

He yielded. The shudder through his body unravelled what little restraint she had been prepared to show. Ori laughed low in her throat as vicious addiction spread warmth through her veins, the thrill of unseen hands sparking urgency. Opportunistic plans forgotten, she allowed herself to be consumed by the diversion. Stinging palms and ruined knees only sweetened the pleasure. She took it precisely how she wanted it.

But there was a difference between pain and pain, and Jaxen's expression slipped over the edge. Delicate little flower that he was. Still, she shifted, tangled her hand in his shirt, about to urge him up off the wound before his eyes flared suddenly wide. He struggled to get up, and for a moment the bonds tightened as the heat abruptly cooled, just because she could. Ori skated on the edge of offence. She could overlook most insults, but she didn't deal well with rejection, and for the heartbeat before the blur of his words made sense, her expression darkened.

At least until a scream shook the very foundations of the earth.

The flat of her palm splayed against his chest to quit his squirming. "You'll make it worse," she snapped. Because although Ori played rough, she didn't like to completely break her toys. A grimace pushed her to her feet, careful enough to ensure her weight would hold. Glass caught in the snare of her skirts tinkled free, hot blood trickling down her shins. She flexed her hand as she stepped back, seriously considering leaving him there. It would only be an inconvenience; it wasn't like he couldn't release himself.

Panic thrummed outside their bloody haven; attuned to the power, it sang like music to Oriena's ears. Curiosity doused dark irritation. A smirk pricked her lips.

Roles reversed, he would have left her there.

But a contrary nature ruled over pettiness. The bonds snaked free. She offered a bloody palm. but only for the length of time it took to help him up. If there was retribution for cutting her short, it did not snap straight away. The glitter of her gaze absorbed the red imprint his body left across the mirror shards before she shouldered the door.

A deep, horrified scream ripped the air like lightning. Ryker flinched to attention, corded tight with defense.

What attacked did not provoke him. A woman barked orders. Gray coated men ran forward, the Dominions each blazing with power. The room swarmed with it. Ryker thought he might go dizzy with so much power in reach.

Most were wise to retreat. Some ran, others watched the spectacle. But the words cut through Ryker's mind like a scalpel, sharp and deep. He might have smiled for such accusations but for the real threat to life on hand.

He did not want Ascendancy to die. 

Death was too good for him.

He shoved his way forward, his mind grappling for the power just on the edge. With no knife to cut, he had no access to the weapons at his fingertips.

But the Dominions did. 

Others as well. One guy confronted the beast, his own teeth bared with wild defiance. Ryker didn't know him.

Dominions rushed. Some flung fire. Others grappled with barbed ropes. But they struck Ascendancy more often than not. What shape of a man Ryker glimpsed before was gone. Only the haze remained.

"STOP FUCKING ATTACKING," he yelled, grabbing the arm of an Asian Dominion like the restraint would douse him with logic.  Ryker sprinted in front of the others. They'd formed a natural line, waving his arms and grabbing their attention.

"STOP. You WORTHLESS idiots. You're only going to kill Brandon!"  
Their leader noticed. His voice raised, barking orders to stop.  But there was blood in the water. Their foolish onslaught continued. 

He watched Brandon endure two threats, helpless to stop it. If they killed Ascendancy now, Ryker would destroy them all.

As Jacques began to speak, Evelyn wished someone would have sent her the outline of his speech to review. Oh he did a fine enough job, certainly wasn't bad, and the fact that he was easy to watch would help his career in the long-run, but Evelyn could have helped him. The craft of speech making was an art. A few, minor recommendations here or there might have made him truly great.  

She clapped anyway, eyes crossing with Nikolai's as she did. He was absolutely stunning. No prodding or tweaking needed when he spoke. Nothing big, anyway. Everyone could find room for improvement no matter who they were. Nikolai, though.. She drew a deep, calming breath to ease the flutter to her heart. When his gaze roamed away, she actually ached for it to return to her, but jealousy was unbecoming, she told herself. She had to learn to share him, just as he would learn to share her in return. Two figures in the public eye belonged not to one another, but to the people of the countries they served. Evelyn and Nikolai belonged to the world itself.

Jacques continued to speak, but it was Nikolai who suddenly seemed distracted. Evelyn glanced beyond one bare shoulder, seeking understanding. An odd feeling tingled. Concern pinched her brow. What--?

Something drifted low. A cold mist like a fog brushed her skin as it passed. She gasped, but reason was slower than instinct. Fear gripped her heart as the thing pulsated between mist and man. She shivered, eyes glued to it. 

It flashed agitated red, and Evelyn shouted to warn him, but she was too late.

It rushed upon Nikolai. His scream pierced her to the bone. He was perched on a step when he collapsed, palming the floor in torment. The mist flittered and throbbed as it coccooned around his body. 

"NIK!" She yelled and ran to him. He didn't see her. No awareness. The whispers cut her heart out. She tried to grasp it, but the mist melted between her fingers. 

He begged for help. The thing spoke so near that Evelyn thought it meant to probe her very mind with the threat. Words clashed that she didn't comprehend. Then heat flashed. Evelyn screamed, trying to throw herself around him, but she was a poor shield. A whip snapped on her ankle. Another pang flashed an arm. The chaos continued, but they were as ineffective as she.  

Desperate, she huddled alongside him, closed her eyes and prayed. 
Jesus, please help me!

His light filled her with hope. She stood up, its power threading the air as she did.

He hadn't wanted to leave the balcony. It was odd. Just saying the name of the housing projects had felt like he had torn open a scab or unearthed a grave. Last bit of dirt removed and there it was, black pit surrounded by the peaceful green grass, a gentle mist in the air. Fresh air on a wound, It had felt...strangely freeing.

The feel of the air on the wound was like salt, being rubbed into it. Fucking Highland Park! All those rich assholes, their clubs and their cars. So weak, with mommy and daddy's money to buy the world for them. Private schools and uniforms, La Cross sticks and ski trips. Not a one of them knew what real life was. How disgusting and painful and humiliating it was, the stink of a freshly unearthed grave, putrefaction wafting up to fill the nostrils and expose violence that was within.

Malik growled deep within himself. And then Marcus felt a soft smooth hand take his. It was so tiny, in his hand. But it squeezed, as if to impart strength or something. He looked at Danika, surprise on his face. After a moment, he covered it with a friendly smile. Inside, though, he didn't know what to think.

Ascendancy had Danjou by his side. Marcus knew what this was about. A public affirmation of loyalty. A new chapter for the Legion. And a new arm of CCD influence. He doubted Danjou really understood the ramifications of what he was doing. Carpenter was a Rod of Dominion now. That was not accidental. With the finest gossamer threads, the Legion was being tied to the Empire.

His eye caught the Representative from the United States and it narrowed slightly. He thought he had figured out the plan. At least caught glimpses of it. Almost assuredly it had been cooked up by Ascendancy, Vladislavovna and Bykov. Just what he had reasoned out was brilliant. But...he didn't like the way Avalon looked at Ascendancy. Certainly there was worship there. Expected. No, there was ownership there. That bothered him. Even more so because he caught Ascendancy with a similar look for her.

It was an unexpected complication. The Inner Sphere was a known quantity. And he had been making his connections with them. But Avalon....she represented something new. New and dangerous. Unpredictable. Perhaps he could do something about that. Carefully, of course. 

Frankly, it made him antsy. He felt like something was wrong. He looked at Avalon again. She was dangerous but...he stopped, feeling his hackles rise. No. Something was very wrong. He looked around trying to see what it was that spooked him. He looked at Ascendancy and saw the man doing the same thing. What the hell? His heart pounded inside his chest and he didn't know why.

He pulled the Force into himself, tried to hold as much as was possible, tried to see what was going on.

And then it flew into the room and his heart stopped. Oh shit! The ijiraq was upon Ascendancy in no time and the man's screams came to him. The words of the creature rolled over him but he had no time to think. He was frozen in time, the sound of Ascendancy's wails and howling bringing back the memory of that night.

Almost as if both instances merged. He is in the ballroom and he is on the floor of Ascendancy's apartment. The sweat covers his body as he writhes in agony, feeling as if he is being cooked from the inside. His head aches. His vision is blurry and vibrating. And he is terrified. Blackness threatens to engulf him, to scour him away, to erase him from the universe.

Someone is screaming. Many are screaming and running. He feels the power being woven around him, hears the cries. Vaguely he see the Rods of Dominion attacking the creature, striking at it. And yet it is Ascendancy they hit as often as not, Avalon trying to shield him to no avail.

He knows it will not die. Not like that.

But he is frozen in terror. He is in the dog cage. He is hiding under the covers. He is being whipped. He is trapped in the closet. He can't breathe being held under the water. He is in the bed trying to avoid the probing hands. He is everywhere in that tomb.

Malik writhes and thrashes about inside him, seizing at the Force, demanding control, finally succeeding in wrenching it from him. Energy surges into Malik. I am Darth Malik, Dark Lord of the Sith! he rages to himself. Grabbing the Force by its throat he crushes it under his feet. He has pushed the weak Marcus to the side.

Striding forward, he weaves threads of air to carry his voice, making it crash over the room like a wave."Stop attacking! You are killing the Ascendancy!" And then he raises his hands and sends weaves of water and air and fire to the thing, as he had the once before. He draws the fire from the creature, sending it into the gold leaved walls, the precious metal beginning to melt and dribble down.

The creature writhed in torment and the screams from inside may have lessened. The cocoon mist was still there, but it bubbled and boiled and he could see limbs or even a man's head thrash about. This one was strong, though, far stronger than the other. Malik was channeling as much of the Force as he could and it still fought.

"Dominions!! Like this!!"