The sun's exit heralds the beginning of the night, and with it the appearance of stars. Glowstone crystals light the paths across the many streets of Drossal, bathing the fortress city and its citizens in a solemn glow of clarity.

The night is young, but already the mourning is well underway. So many have lost their loved ones in the counter attack, so much I am beginning to feel numb to the losses on the reports. What are they but trivial numbers now?

Lanterns, each written with the name of a fallen warrior drifts through the air. Cries of anguish fill the homes of many new widows, and sad expressions no doubt linger on their children should they have them.

Tonight marks another start of the Ritual of Lamentation. Happening once every ten days, it is a remnant of an ancient tradition going back to the times when elves once lived on the continent, before that great purge. The passing of a soul should be met with acceptance, I believe it to be fallacious when battles are the cause for such a loss.

The walk through the city's market square is one of silence, the usual banter between merchants and buyers is lacking, much like the sun's gleam on a stormy day. No longer am I clad in a Lord General's armor, having decided on a more modest garb, one more aptly suited for the needs of a ponderous stroll.

The scene around me does only to stain my heart with unease. I long simply for a brief respite from my duties Lord General of the Fringe Eastern Army, only to face the rippling effects of a war no one could have desired.

I look up to calm my thoughts, facing a sky filled with mourning lanterns. It was all for naught, this trip. There is still conflict within my thoughts.

Those born with the rare gift of magic often suffer most in times of war, none can stand against the royal decree calling for the conscription of able-bodied mages. Talent is a dull blade at best should the wielder not have the resolve to sharpen the steel.

Here lies the pondering thoughts of a man who has seen much in his lifetime. The lanterns above float calmly, free to roam the cold air until their fires wane to nothingness. I envy their simple purpose.

It is time to make my way back to the royal palace. Things would not move forward should I choose to remain in the Trader's District. There is yet more to discuss with this lone human emmisary.

I move away from the clustering shop, trusting my steps to guide the way. The pervading scent of food fades from my senses as I reaffirm my resolve.

My mind matters not of the mild hunger plaguing my belly, but rather of the future. The hand of fate weaves in a constant, yet unpredictable manner. Queen Ayleth, in her reliable wisdom once spoke of time and change as being intimately tied to one another. Like two lovers bound for eternity.

Once the war is over, a new border will be drawn between Euralia and Yhunia, paid in advance with the blood of our soldiers. The true motive of the humans will soon be unveiled, I need only to wait for word to arrive from my scouts within the Fredgal Alps.

Things may remain static amongst the merchants in the district, but not time itself. It is only folly to believe otherwise.

======

Creeping into my senses, is a calm faded voice. It reeks of sadness and guilt, it is a powerful tone that does much to convey the woman's emotion. A singer this voice belongs to, one that I am familiar with.

Vibrant colours greet my eyes as I cast my sights along the hallways of this palace. I am close to the opera chamber, the voice resonates clearer with each step taken.

The entrance is protected by two steadfast guards of the royal garrison, their eyes regard my presence with respect and loyalty. Unflinching in stance and demeanor, their appearance is one befitting of their role amongst the Paledorian Royal Guards.

"Welcome back, Princess Luculia has already begun her performance, " the guard to the left mutters, tone devoid of emotions but rife with honor. "The Emissary and our Lerusean guests are still seated. The palace retainers have made sure of that."

"Very good, please continue your noble duties," I thank the two with a nod.

The guards respond in unison, "With great pride we shall." Loyal ever to the ends of our nation, I admire these good traits.

They uncross their spears, allowing me entry into the opera chamber. I continue my strides, armor glinting in the dim crystals of the chamber. The wide expanse of the room serves to radiate a subtle flair of majesty, with its clean seating arrangement, alluring curtains and whatnot.

The seats in particular capture my attention, they are held by the top commanders of our Lerusean war-allies. These men and women favor the strange title of War Officer, in spite of them serving much like Euralia's Generals and Captains. I suppose that difference stems from our cultures.

I pass by the Leruseans, receiving gentle salutes from the more novice of their war officers. My aim is not them, hence my unflinching strides to the other side of the chamber without so much as a response.

Arms folded, black clothing covering everything but his hands and head, is Cooper. The Emissary of Humanity, hailing from the world of always winter. He meets my eyes, with the only hint of surprise coming from a subtle raise of his eyebrows.

I take a seat within hearing distance of him, spending the next few moments basking in the voice of Luculia, watching as the young lady sings to her heart's content.

"Have you decided on an answer?" I ask, looking towards the Emissary.

Releasing a sigh, Cooper answers, "Yes, and the answer is a no. I'm terribly sorry but it's classified information, so I can't say."

I stifle a frown, "How unfortunate..." What I would do to have the answers to my questions. Their intentions, their cold world, and most pressing of all, this portal of theirs.

I briefly ponder about the dark astral arts of mind melding, it will give me the answers. The only thing stopping me from ordering such an action is the fact it will undoubtedly be against the emissary's will.

"I suppose you cannot entertain these particular questions then?"

"My directives won't allow it. We should discuss about other things not related to that, it will be more productive than what we're doing right now." The tone used by the human betrays a hint of annoyance, and his words carry a modicum of a warning.

It is useless to prod further...

My fingers interlock themselves as I listen to the lyrics of the song. It uses the ancient Euralian dialect, something Princess Luculia is well versed in.

If it is fate's will that my answers come not from the human emissary, then I suppose small talk would suffice to pass the time.

"What are your thoughts about this performance?" I question him.

"The song is strange, it's different from what I'm used to," Cooper admits, "... don't quote me on this but it's been awhile since I've seen an actual singer perform in the flesh."

I shift my attention to the emissary's expression, finding the latter half of the answer to be odd. The Seal of Understanding remains active on his necklace, the glowing pendant means those words ring true. There is not a mistake in the translation, how curious.

In the flesh, what an odd saying that is.

"What does the song mean actually, I feel there's a story behind it." the emissary questions, tinkering with that strange eye wear of his.

"The loss of a life, and the sad ripples it leaves behind. Many have lost people they knew, Luculia holds this knowledge in her heart. It is why she choose such a sorrowful song." Princess or not, this innocent girl prefers to express herself through music, happy and sad to everything in between.

"The war now consumes roughly a thousand men and woman each day, something of this sort is unprecedented in our entire history. It has greatly shaken the Princess, I can see it in her eyes... even now," I point a finger at the stage.

"You might be on something," Cooper nods, showing little if any empathy to my revelation.

He turns to face me , gaining my surprise. "I can tell you this, humanity is many things. We can be the greatest advocates for peace just as much as we're able to wage war."

He continues on, using the momentum to impart his next point. "What you do with this information is up to you. I'm aware that your soldiers are currently heading towards our base in the mountains, I need to inform you that if they are killed, it's because they fired first."

A storm gathers in my thoughts at the unexpected reveal, it appears not even the cover of the forest can hide the presence of my nimble scouts. To think his people were able to accomplish such a feat without the aid of life detecting magic.

They simply know through some unfathomable means, one that does not rely on even the most basic of incantations or spells.

No reason to feign ignorance then. "Rest assured they seek only to uncover the motives of your people, nothing more," I retort back, aware of the thickening tension.

"Hopefully this doesn't cause any misunderstandings," Cooper stands up. The man boldly leaves the theatre in the mist of the performance, an action normally considered to be ill-mannered.

I would correct him, had I not been busy pondering about the worth of his words. Deciding to remain in place, I recline my back against the fur covered seat as images of the possible future drift through the inner confines of my mind.

======

Collecting the remains of someone isn't how I would ideally spend my day. It's a nasty way to pass the time, no two ways about it.

For once I am thankful for the filtration system of my helmet. Stale, but clean air is definitely better than being exposed to the stench of rot.

Throughout the evening, my men did the deed, shifting through the remains and depositing it to the coffins. In the case of the electronics, they were placed inside transparent plastic containers.

The birds have either left or have gone to sleep, leaving the calls of insects to be the only constant aside from the odd tension I felt. All is quiet aside from these little critters, Myandra still was to the side of this affair, not once bothering to come within twenty feet of the... work, for the lack of an appropriate term.

The blue wisps that led us to our targets were long gone, that wasn't the case for my unease as the night strengthens its grip on the foliage. From the tiniest shift in the branches above to the apparent flickering of the shadows, my men were always on the lookout for any signs of movement, no matter how trivial.

Black Viper drones roam the skies in a patrol orbit two thousand meters above as a precautionary measure, expanding our coverage to well over thirty square kilometers. Static battle formations can be seen on their thermal sensors, both factions settling into a stalemate for the night.

In my gut, I knew something was bound to happen. Blood rushes through my veins, a result of my heart's rapid pulsing. Their special forces analogs are still active, they are a huge threat in close quarters even with rail weapons.

"Continue keeping an eye on your flanks and rear. Beware of any sudden contacts in the AO, the midnight incident proves Faction Beta's soldiers can and will do it," I mutter over the channel, referencing the assault on Tartarus Base.

"Understood, we won't be caught off guard like last," Robert declares, aware of my concerns.

"Good." Things are almost done, the pilots have already begun pre-flight checks, powering up the engines and electrical systems. A brief look at my watch shows things are proceeding on schedule, two hours left till midnight.

"I'm done, someone get the other end," I call out, sealing the casket from the outside world.

"That's the second one done," Douglas voices, making his way to my area, "...alright, on three. You call the shot."

I nod, moving my hands into position, "Okay, three.... two... one up!" With the casket lifted on both ends, we carefully make our way towards the aircraft. Things went as planned, with me on the front, leading the way up the ramp and into the passenger bay.

"Settle it here...." I mutter a sigh of relief, resting the casket on the wide berth in the middle, right beside the first one.

"Nicely done, " Douglas whispers with a nudge to my arm.

"Likewise," I respond, sparing a glance at the currently unnamed casket beside my feet.

A short trip is taken to the back end of the passenger hold in order to retrieve a writing utensil. Coming back with a black marker, I inscribe the name of the researcher I knew only by dossier onto the casket's front side, David Westwood. This will ensure none of the others get mixed up.

With my work finally done, I look to my sullied gloves, moving the fingers to test my sense of touch. A grim expression takes hold, a result of feeling the dirt particles that stubbornly refuse to leave.

It feels as though I did something I regret, which isn't actually all that wrong. The treatment of multiple gunshot wounds I can handle, but this, I wasn't specifically trained for this.

I would have continued running through this train of thought, if I didn't pick up on the subtle shift in Robert's demeanor. His hand is holding onto communications with a rigidness that could only mean urgency.

I immediately make my way to his position at the cockpit, noting the presence of both pilots. "What is it." The tone of my voice left no room for anything other than a direct answer.

"There's an emergency broadcast from Tartarus Command. Your radio should be able to pick it up, it's open frequency. Message is directed to all personnel operating outside of the base," one of the pilots reply, disbelief heavily coating his tone.

I take hold of my comms, intending to set the damned thing to pick up on more than just encrypted military transmissions.

"You need to hear this right now, I still can't believe it. Anders get the message onto the speaker, full volume." Robert signals the other pilot.

"Got it, give me a sec." Said pilot begins to fiddle with the instrument panel as I stop the adjustments on my radio. Apprehension floods my system as I stare at the speaker overhead, knowing it is about to drop the bomb.

Several seconds pass before my ears pick up the string of words. I zone out the surroundings, directing all focus to understanding the broadcast and its intended message.

That small pool of dread in my gut grows exponentially with each subsequent word. Meanwhile, the hairs on my skin stood at attention as a strong chill rushes up my spine.

"...espond immediately. Tartarus command to all research teams currently on exploration missions. You are to report back to base immediately, Jupiter contingency is in effect, I repeat Jupiter contingency is in effect." Cold sweat breaks through my skin at the haunting announcement.

"First half of the transmission says it's been on repeat since 2130 hours," Robert comments, a slight quiver in his voice, "...something happened to the Rift approximately thirty minutes ago."

This can't be happening, why is this happening?

Jupiter contingency, all forms of contact with Earth has been severed.

"When the hell did you notice the broadcast?" I ask, directing the question to both pilots.

"During pre-flight checks several minutes ago," the co-pilot answers, breaking through the tension.

"Ok." That is the only word I could think of, my mind being too overwhelmed to structure a more complex response. I rack my head for a more appropriate response, only to come up empty handed.

Despite the announcement, our objectives remain untouched. With that in mind, I unceremoniously exit the aircraft without further comments. Weapon safely in hand and armed with a reserve of determination, I begin to fan my eyes out onto the wilderness.

I assess the state of the recovery operation, two of the four caskets are onboard. With the third being almost done, that left only just one, and even that won't take long given further observation.

"James, Douglas hustle up! Jupiter contingency has been called!" I bark out, drawing the attention of my two comrades from their activity, and to a lesser extent Myandra from her distant position.

Their lack of a verbal response prompts me to continue in an effort to fill the silence, "I'm dead serious, Jupiter's been called by Tartarus..."

"For real?"

I retort in a deadpan voice, "You know I'm the last one to crack a joke about things like this..."

"W-well... shit, " James curses under his breath, getting back to work with a despondent aura.

Earth, images of the blue planet flash through my mind. The United States, Boston. Home, our apartment, will I ever see Catherine and Mom again?

All of these thoughts, brought on by a combination of two unlikely words, Jupiter Contingency.

Within the jumbled mess of my head, the notion of being trapped in New Eden echoes like a repeating siren, threatening to bring down the mental walls of my focus with its intensity.

I shake my head to easily rid myself of the disturbance, exhaling my breath at the same time. One thing at a time, I cannot allow myself to be affected by this.

My next course of action brings me to Myandra. Armed with those weird glowing eyes, she inquires, "You seem to be in distress over the calling of your Jupiter."

I brush off the Seeker's words, "That's not it, I'm here to tell you to get your Broadwing ready. My men are almost done, Jupiter doesn't concern you or us right now."

She affirms her suspicions with the tone of her voice, "Very well, though I suspect there is more within your mind." There is, but I have no reason to tell.

Ignoring her remark, I shift my attention to an alert from the drone feed. The Seeker is no longer within my visual as I acknowledge the readout, focus spent on the fast moving dots on the edge of the screen.

They are coming in from the north west, unfortunately the use of thermals meant identification of those contacts is impossible.

I crouch, picking out the nearest reliable source of cover, immediately heading there for refuge.

"Astel shall be here shortly, I have told her through our shared mind link." Myandra looks to my stance, getting the hint of danger.

"The stealth shroud that I placed will no longe-"

I cut her off, pointing north west, "Use your abilities on that direction, we've got incoming and I want to know who they are."

"Jerome!"

I spare a glance to the aircraft, the source of the call, "What?"

"The last coffin's onboard, we're good to go!" James declares, giving a brief nod shortly after.

I receive a tap on the shoulder, courtesy of the only female present, "They side with us. Black Hand warriors."

"Are they aware of our none hostile intentions?"

Myandra shakes her head, "I am afraid I do not know the answer to that."

"Alright," I sigh, getting to work on the radio, "please stay with us at all times, that includes your dragon."

"I-I hear you," she responds. There is a hint of nervousness in that voice of hers, I'll have to pay attention to the woman in the event things heat up.

Time to set the pace. "This is Desert Zero One, everyone in pairs now. "

"Desert Zero one. Zero Four wilco, I'm coming up to your left," Robert replies, going along with the callsigns for identification. I track my partner's route all the way to my position.

"Zero Two acknowledged, successful link up with Zero Three achie.... hold up, get down!" A collumn of air violently shakes up the leaves, causing many to fall off their respective branches.

I go prone, allowing the foliage to mask my silhouette. Appearing a fair distance away in the midst of the darkness is that massive Broadwing, shimmering into existence in the middle of the air. A pre-emptive shot would have left my weapon if I wasn't aware of what a stealth shroud does.

"....false alarm, I repeat successful link-up with Zero Three achieved, we're in overwatch position along the western flank over."

The Broadwing settles in beside its owner, managing to fold its wings in the constraints of the forest. It rears its head against Myandra's, with the latter's unmasked expression eventually morphing into one of fear.

"Astel has picked up the scent of Spearheads from the eastern winds, they are coming!"

I send a doubtful look to the dragon's fist sized eye, "Are you sure?"

"I place my service on the line, Astel does not lie," Myandra answers on behalf of the creature.

There is nothing from the drones regarding aerial contacts, and the night is silent. But still, I have not forgotten for a moment that we're operating in the Red Zone. It only takes a second to dismantle even the most structured of plans, I know this better than most.

The risks, however small have to be taken into consideration. And if possible, neutralize.

"Vulture do not take off, airspace might not be secure over." I harshly whisper into the radio, only partially convinced by my own choice to delay the take-off.

"Vulture Copies your last out," a pilot acknowledges. The aircraft powers down, everything from engines to internal lighting is switched off.

"Maintain position," I whisper, trying to figure out the next course of action while keeping constant watch on the drone feed. Internally, I was sweating bullets as more contacts appear on screen, those on the ground are marked with squares, and the aerial units a simple triangle.

Left to right, these shapes are converging onto the top half of the screen, the movements techniques being used were not what someone would call conventional. It is unlike anything from modern examples, but the military side of me is able to see the logic behind most of these formations.

It didn't take much to pick out the flashes of conflict through the green lit lenses of my NVG. The culprits aren't the regular units of either factions, they move too fast to be labeled otherwise.

Those guys haven't picked up our presence, which is a silver lining.

Aware of the respite against any possible hostile action, I begin to establish contact with the refuge that is Humanity's fledgling stronghold.

"Tartarus Command, this is Desert Zero One. I send checkpoint Delta over," I announce, mentally piling the seconds until a response is made.

Fortunately, the count didn't go far up. "Standby... roger, copy Delta."

"We have P.I.D on all missing personnel, Vulture is able to dust off but might be pinned down by engaging forces in the process, advise tasking friendly helos to cover the transport's ass over."

"Understood, two Jaguars are being prepped for escort duty, ETA to your AO is forty five mikes. Also please note Jupiter Contingency is in effect."

"Already aware command, we'll hang tight until the birds arrive," I sign off, unaware of the looks I am receiving from the dragon and rider pair.

"You guys hold on out there, we're coming, Tartarus out.." The transmission cuts, allowing the awkward silence to take over.

"We've got some fast movers dangerously close to our position," Douglas radios out, "they're Faction beta. Two klicks out, seems to be platoon strength, they're currently engaging Euralian forces."

As of this moment, time slows to a crawl, giving my head precious time to piece out an appropriate plan. If my men get involved in this, by default it will be a three way fight, if this was an unavoidable eventuality it will be in our best interests to capitalize on our advantages in range and tactical awareness.

With a hefty sigh to release any lingering doubts, I reply, "Alright..."

A surge of warmth courses through my veins as I beckon my comrades to follow, still maintaining the two man formations fifty meters apart.

"Follow, be quiet," I beckon Myandra to my six, she complies without delay, going prone with the rest of my men. Although I was no longer part of the 75th Ranger Regiment, a small portion of my heart still remains anchored to that unit.

Rangers lead the way, the motto flashes through my vision, a beacon amongst the rest of my thoughts. I never stopped being a Ranger.

Creeping closer to the conflict like a wraith, I lead the way into the battlefield with deadly confidence. Like hunters out on a purposeful hunt, my team singles out our targets with predatory efficiency.

Faction Beta, forty three contacts based on visor threat assessment. Conjured shields angled roughly 45 degrees to our position. The relevant details were all I needed to push my body forward.

Using stealth maneuvers that are just as effective as this world's invisibility, my fireteam weaves into position amongst the thickest of the vegetation without so much as a sound.

Silence reigns as I place my finger over the trigger, eyes furrowed in utmost concentration. The darkness works to our advantage in all situations, this is no exception.

I give out my orders, "Only target the shields, do not go for body shots. Let's give the Euralians a hand." Hopefully the plan will succeed in shifting the ground battle away from their position, and by extension us. Vulture needs an exfil window and we will make it.

"Roger, on your order," James acknowledges.

The fires continue to rage, its intensity not dulled in the slightest by the distance, delivering an ambience that could only mean escalation of the skirmish. I steady my arm, pushing my finger against the trigger with a deep breath, preparing to open fire.

With a rush of adreneline, I let loose the first string of projectiles, unofficially joining the nocturnal fight between these two warring factions under the witness of a starlit sky.

As the ferromagnetic bullets streak through the darkness, my thoughts go into lockdown. All I can think of at this point, is bringing down those shields.

Nothing else matters...

===End===

A true leader has the confidence to stand alone, the courage to make tough decisions, and the compassion to listen to the needs of others. He does not set out to be a leader, but becomes one through his actions and intent.