Theta Mists Part Five

 

Read Part One

Read Part Two

Read Part Three

Read Part Four

Part Five

 

        The morning light on Theta-13 was unlike anything on Earth. The diffuse golden glow bled through the mist, casting the alien forest in hues of green and amber. The atmosphere was charged with a peculiar tension, as if the moon itself held its breath. Aiden, Kael, Orin, and the twins Jeph and Garret gathered their gear and set out toward the Abyssal Crown, a destination that seemed more myth than reality.

Orin led the way with an energy that belied his years, his swagger exaggerated by the clang of his metal boots on the forest floor. The twins flanked him, their military discipline evident in every step, while Kael and Aiden brought up the rear.

Orin’s voice carried through the air like an old bard reciting an epic. “You lot don’t know what you’re in for. The Abyssal Crown isn’t just a place—it’s a labyrinth of madness. The air shifts, the ground moves, and the Mist... it has a way of playing with your head. I’ve seen men lose themselves in its embrace.”

Aiden’s grip tightened on his newly acquired pulse rifle. “And yet you’ve been there?” he asked, skepticism laced in his voice.

Orin shot him a toothy grin. “Been there? I’ve danced on its edges and lived to tell the tale. The Crown is alive, boy. It’s the heartbeat of this moon. The Seraphim live near it because they draw their strength from its pulse. The Mist is thickest there, almost liquid. If you’re not careful, it’ll drown you without a drop of water.”

Their journey took them through treacherous terrain. The forest’s lush undergrowth gave way to jagged outcroppings of obsidian-like rock. The ground beneath their feet was spongy, and with every step, strange bioluminescent fungi lit up in ghostly hues of blue and violet. Towering trees with translucent leaves loomed overhead, their branches intertwining like veins in a living organism.

Orin’s voice rarely faltered. “You know why the Mist has been so damn thick lately?” he asked, not waiting for a reply. “The colony’s drills have hit something. Deep veins of the moon’s lifeblood. The Seraphim, they’re connected to it. The Mist is their essence, their sustenance. Every ounce we sap from this place, we’re sapping from them.”

Kael nodded grimly. “It’s why they’re stirring. If they’re preparing to strike, it’s because they have no choice. It’s survival for them.”

Aiden’s thoughts swirled as he followed the group. He tried to reconcile Orin’s tales with the stark reality he had lived in the colony. Could it be true that the Seraphim were sentient beings with a symbiotic connection to the moon? And if they were, was humanity’s presence here a slow genocide?

Hours passed, and the terrain grew harsher. They reached a ridge that overlooked a vast chasm. The drop was dizzying, the abyss below shrouded in swirling Mist. Stretching across it was an ancient bridge, its structure a haphazard assembly of scavenged materials—metal beams, wooden planks, and rope that looked suspiciously frayed.

“This bridge,” Orin said, pointing his chin toward it, “is the only way across. It’s older than the colony. Built by the first settlers who thought they could tame this moon. Fools, the lot of them.”

The group approached cautiously. The bridge creaked and groaned in the faint wind, its ropes swaying like the strands of a spider’s web. Jeph stepped forward, his keen eyes scanning the area. “We’re exposed here,” he said. “Perfect spot for an ambush.”

As if on cue, a low whistle cut through the air, followed by the faint shuffle of movement in the shadows. Aiden’s pulse quickened. He swung his rifle toward the sound, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end.

Orin’s grin didn’t waver, though his hand drifted to the hilt of his machete. “Told you this place’s got its dangers,” he said with a wink.

From the forest on the far side of the chasm, figures emerged. They were humanoid but shrouded in tattered cloaks that seemed to blend with the Mist. Their faces were obscured by crude masks fashioned from bone and scrap metal, their movements deliberate and menacing.

Kael’s voice was a sharp whisper. “Mist Reavers.”

“Who?” Aiden asked, his voice barely audible.

“Outcasts,” Kael replied. “Scavengers who’ve lost their way. They’ll kill us for our supplies, maybe just for the sport of it.”

Aiden’s grip on his rifle tightened. The Reavers fanned out, their weapons glinting in the pale light. The air grew colder, the silence more oppressive. The group stood at the edge of the bridge, their path forward blocked, their retreat uncertain.

Orin’s grin turned feral. “Well, this just got interesting.”

The first Reaver raised a weapon—a makeshift spear tipped with sharpened metal. The tension snapped like a taut wire as the spear flew through the air, and chaos erupted.

 

-----------------

 

            The tension was a noose tightening around Aiden’s throat as the ragged figures emerged from the shadows. The bridge groaned beneath the weight of the confrontation about to unfold. Orin raised both hands in an exaggerated display of calm, stepping forward as though he had faced these kinds of encounters a thousand times before.

“Easy now, lads,” he drawled, his voice coated in the rough edge of bravado. “We’re just passing through. No need for this to get unpleasant.”

The leader of the strangers, a wiry figure cloaked in mismatched armor patched together with alien hides, cocked his head. His face was hidden behind a mask of cracked glass and tarnished steel, his voice distorted into a metallic growl. “Passing through costs. Always does.”

“Of course it does,” Orin replied smoothly, gesturing to his pack. “I’ve got some Starfire here—the good stuff. Enough to keep your lot merry for days. Or perhaps you’d prefer a few charges from this?” He tapped the sleek plasma pistol holstered at his side.

The leader’s head tilted again, considering. Behind him, his crew shifted restlessly, their weapons crude but wicked-looking—a mix of jagged blades, repurposed mining tools, and improvised energy rifles. The air was thick with the acrid scent of tension, mingling with the alien tang of the mists curling around the bridge.

Aiden’s pulse pounded in his ears as he tightened his grip on the metal staff Orin had insisted he carry. Beside him, Kael’s stance was rigid, her eyes darting between the figures, searching for weaknesses. Jeph and Garret flanked the group, their military precision a stark contrast to Orin’s casual swagger.

“That’s not enough,” the leader rasped. “You’ve got more. We’ll take everything.”

Orin’s grin faltered for just a moment, replaced by a flicker of something darker. “Everything’s a tall order. Can’t leave us with nothing now, can you? We’re all just trying to survive out here.”

The leader’s response was a guttural snarl, and in an instant, the fragile pretense of negotiation shattered. The first shot fired was from one of the scavengers, a haphazard burst of energy that scorched the air inches from Orin’s head. Chaos erupted like a thunderclap.

Jeph and Garret moved as one, their synchronized precision honed by years of military discipline. Jeph’s plasma rifle hummed as it discharged, a blinding bolt of energy catching one of the attackers square in the chest. Garret lunged forward, wielding a collapsible baton with brutal efficiency, taking down another who had tried to flank them.

Kael darted to the side, her movements fluid but fierce as she engaged two opponents at once. Her blade, forged from an iridescent alloy native to Theta-13, gleamed like a shard of starlight as she parried and struck with lethal precision.

Aiden stumbled back, overwhelmed by the maelstrom of violence. He swung his staff wildly at an approaching figure, the impact jarring his arms as it connected with a ribcage. The scavenger crumpled, but another took their place, a blade flashing toward Aiden’s neck. Before the strike could land, Orin’s plasma pistol barked, and the attacker fell lifeless at Aiden’s feet.

“Focus, rookie!” Orin barked, his voice cutting through the cacophony. “You’re no use to us dead.”

But it was Kael who drew Aiden’s eye. She fought with a ferocity that bordered on reckless, her movements a blur of determination. Then it happened—a crude spear, hurled from the shadows, found its mark. The weapon struck Kael’s side with sickening force, and she staggered, her blade faltering.

“Kael!” Aiden shouted, his voice raw with panic.

Jeph and Garret redoubled their efforts, driving the remaining attackers back with a barrage of coordinated strikes. Orin fired off one last shot, the searing energy reducing the leader to a smoking heap. The few scavengers still standing scattered into the mist, their retreat punctuated by the clatter of weapons dropped in desperation.

As the echoes of the skirmish faded, Aiden rushed to Kael’s side. She was slumped against the bridge’s rusted railing, her face pale but defiant. Blood seeped from the wound in her side, staining her clothes and pooling on the uneven metal beneath her.

“It’s fine,” she hissed through gritted teeth, though her voice wavered. “I’ve had worse.”

“She needs medical attention,” Jeph said, kneeling beside her to assess the injury. His tone was clipped, professional, but his furrowed brow betrayed his concern.

“Then we’d better move,” Orin said grimly, holstering his pistol. “This bridge isn’t safe anymore, and if we linger, their friends might come back.”

Aiden nodded, his hands trembling as he helped lift Kael to her feet. Her weight pressed heavily against him, and for the first time since this nightmare began, Aiden felt a pang of something he couldn’t quite name. Responsibility? Fear? Maybe both.

“Come on,” Orin urged, leading the way. “The Abyssal Crown waits for no one.”

 

-------------

 

The journey to the Abyssal Crown turned from a harrowing trek into a desperate race against time. Kael’s breath rasped with each step, her usual commanding presence replaced by a frailty that sent a chill through Aiden. The wound on her side, hastily bandaged, bled through the makeshift dressing, staining her pale tunic a deep crimson. She’d refused to stop, insisting they press on, but every faltering step she took made Aiden question her resolve—and their chances of survival.

The landscape around them grew increasingly hostile. The jagged spires of alien rock now jutted like teeth, their dark surfaces glistening with a bioluminescent sheen that pulsed in rhythm with the pervasive mists. Fungal growths the size of buildings loomed over them, exuding a faint, sour-smelling vapor that burned Aiden’s throat. Occasionally, strange creatures—all sinew and glinting eyes—flitted in the periphery, their movements too quick and erratic to identify.

Orin led the way with a grim determination, his usual bravado subdued as he muttered curses under his breath. “The Crown ain’t forgiving,” he growled, his voice low as though afraid the environment itself might overhear. “She’s testing us.”

Jeph and Garret, the twins, flanked Kael protectively. Jeph carried her for most of the journey, his powerful frame a sharp contrast to her weakening one. Garret constantly scanned their surroundings, his weapon at the ready, his face a mask of grim focus.

Aiden trudged behind them, his legs aching and lungs burning. He’d never felt so out of place. Just days ago, he’d been working the drills, counting the days until his contract was up, fantasizing about the simple joy of being with his wife and son again. Now, he was out here in an alien wilderness, carrying nothing but fear and guilt.

I’m not a soldier. I’m a damn miner. The thought circled endlessly in his mind, each repetition louder than the last. He glanced at Kael, her head lolling against Jeph’s shoulder. She’d saved him, dragged him into this madness, and now she was dying. It was his fault. It all felt like his fault.

“Keep moving,” Orin barked, snapping Aiden out of his thoughts. “Mist’s thicker here. That means we’re close. Real close.”

The mists indeed thickened until they were nearly choking, swirling around them like a living thing. Visibility was reduced to mere meters, and every sound—from the crunch of their boots to the distant cries of unseen creatures—seemed amplified. The atmosphere pressed down on them, oppressive and suffocating.

“How’s she holding up?” Garret asked, his voice tense.

“Barely,” Jeph grunted. “We need to stop and tend to her.”

“No time,” Orin snapped. “We stop now, and we’re as good as dead. The Crown’ll eat us alive if we linger.”

Aiden clenched his fists, his frustration boiling over. “She’s not going to make it if we don’t do something.”

Orin turned, his face shadowed but his eyes blazing. “And if we stop, none of us make it. You want her sacrifice to mean nothing?”

The words hit Aiden like a punch to the gut. He fell silent, swallowing the lump in his throat.

Finally, after what felt like hours, the terrain began to change. The jagged spires gave way to an expansive plateau, the ground beneath them unnaturally smooth and glassy. The air grew colder, and the mist’s glow intensified, casting an eerie light on the alien ground.

Orin came to an abrupt halt and gestured ahead. “There she is,” he said, his voice a mix of awe and dread.

Through the mist, the outline of the Abyssal Crown loomed. Aiden could barely make out its details, but even its silhouette was enough to fill him with a sense of unease. Towering arches of alien architecture twisted skyward, their surfaces shimmering with an unearthly light. The structure pulsed faintly, almost like it was alive, and a low, resonant hum vibrated through the ground beneath their feet.

“We’re here,” Orin said, turning to the group. “Get ready. Whatever’s waiting for us inside… it’s not gonna be kind.”