The Secret of Eleven

Chapter 13

I look around this place. I don't know how I can. I don't have a head, or a neck, or a body, but it's like I can see everything around me all at once. There are two white moons hanging in the sky, which is a strange, deep purple. They are illuminating the surroundings, a beach. I can sense others coming to this realization, other consciousnesses here with me. But I don't know who. 

This is Lorien, my home planet. I feel shivers going through my spine. This is my home, this is how beautiful it was before the Mogs came. This is the place we're trying to avenge. this is the place that we need to fight for. 

It's almost as if we're in a part. Everyone around me are people, but not humans, these are the Loric, my people, having fun on this special day, a holiday. they're laughing together, eating together, and I can finally see what I was deprived of when the Mogs came. I can finally see why Cara always had that far-away look when thinking about Lorien, the hint of a smile on her face. There is music playing, and my ears yearn for more, yearn to hear nothing but that music, with no equivalence on Earth. A girl is dancing, beautiful, even by Loric standards. She throws her hands up above her head and smiles, closing her eyes and moving her body to the beat. 

I look down, and see two young men, sitting in the beach. One looks glum, tall with sort of a military haircut for his dark head. The other is muscular, an untamed blonde animal on his head. I realize they're talking and focus my hearing, hoping to get a glimpse into the past of my world, into the world I love and always will more than anything.

The taller one is shaking his head, finally stopping staring at the girl. "She's not like us. Our worlds are too different."

"She doesn't seem to mind not being Garde. She's having fun anyway," the blonde one responds, smiling. 

I don't hear the next couple of words, but I see the blonde one hold up his palm, a ball of fire slowly shaping itself into the dancing girl. He laughs, and the tall one finally smiles. Suddenly the fire is extinguished, and the tall one apologizes. He punches his friend in the shoulder, finally laughing again and taking part in the festivities. 

Suddenly their forms contort. The blonde one becomes even handsomer, smiling, his eyes playful. He's fit, handsome. He kind of reminds me of John Smith.

Next to him, however, is the taller one. He looks Mogadorian, large in a muscular sort of way, while still pale as the moons above. There is a ghastly purple scar wrapping itself around his neck. His eyes are full of fire, of hate, his fists clenched.

Setrákus Ra.

I will myself closer to the Mogadorian leader, destroyer of my peoples, before he can cause harm, even though I don't have ab ody, can't move, and this is a scene from years ago. This man killed everyone I loved, and he will most certainly will continue. 

The vision changes, our surroundings different. We're in a large room, notable only because of the millions of people stuffed into it. In the center is a table, made of wood. It looks like they carved it from a tree as it grew. There is a strange symbol carved into the center of the table, a Loric symbol.

There are ten seats at the Loric. Most are filled with old Loric, although I can sense an aura of power around all of them. The Elders. Except, not quite. There are two seats empty, one at each head of the table. The most important ones. 

One of the Elders stands up, and the whole crowd hushes, the barely audible murmur among them extinguished. 

He speaks, "Our latest attempt to improve diplomatic relationships with the Mogadorians was rebuffed. Violently. In the ensuing battle, our Garde managed to cripple their interstellar capabilities. All contact with Mogadore is forbidden until further notice."