Cloud-Fire : The Sentinel Project

A Dread Beneath Angels

Forrests of white pines littered the land. From the still, mirror like shores of the North to the mountains in the South.  The snow of a seemingly endless winter descended from a dark sky, shrouding every leaf of every tree in its blanket. Splintering gales ripped through the ice fields, tearing at the surface of the crystallized lakes that puddled at the feet of The Grey Lords. This was the name given to a treacherous range of mountains with peaks that broke the heavens. And between these unforgiving Lords and the cemetery that was the Ice Fields, sat the capital of a world fallen apart and sewn back together from the pieces left behind. A fractured piece of something that once resembled a better path. Still, we were alive. Huddled tightly against the Grey Lords and the shores of the Ice Fields was the capital, Angel City.

It's buildings, shadows in the night, shot up like javelines, piercing the clouds. Surrounding these hundred pointed towers loomed dozens upon dozens of skyships and zeplines. Ranging in size from the small to the large, each one became a sillohouette as it passed infront of the moon, hanging low and full, mysterious behind the clouded night sky.  

Up here they were free. Floating where the air was calm. A still world. Peaceful.   
On the ground, at the backmost part of the city, a palace, the White Halls. They held a widowered king, wise and aging and his son, a young man himself now, softened by a life without hardship. Through the halls, the Reign Foundation stationed their finest soldiers. They had earnt the nick name, 'Capes,' among the people. Rumors frequented circles, claiming that the armor they wore was hollow. That there was no one inside. It was chilling to see them. Their singular, red shining eye piece. How their armored plate curled over the left side of their helmet like some kind of horn. They were haunting to behold. None the less, they had worked silently beside the royals, since the city was built. It was thanks to them that the world was still here after all. After the days of Cloud-Fire. We were in need of a miracle. And it was them. The ones who refused to die, who refused to allow humanity to fade away. The Reign Foundation. The world was wary of them, but knew that they were what was best for all of us.

It was no dream, this life, yet it was a life even so.

However, far below the White Halls and the melancholy streets of Angel City, a team's search for a new mineral was cut short. It was here that a discovery was made. One that would alter the course of history and change the world once more, to never be the same.

Deep in the crypts beneath Angel City, coarse walled tunnels twisted like a labrynth. Though the pipes did their best to keep ventilation, the air remained heavy and felt filthy against ones skin because of its humidity. A cocophany of deafening, mechanical whines was accompanied by a sonorous rumble, like that of an unending thunder roar. The tunnels shook and blinding light erupted into a bleak cavern for the first time in centuries. The rumbling loudenned as the wall of earth crumbled away like an avalanche.  A hurricane of dust bellowed through the passage and into the cave. Nonsensical howls were heard from the workers as a high tech Tunnel Boar rolled through the opening and slowed to a stop. Along with it, so too did it's mechanical whining cease and as the final pebbles scattered against the ground, the room became deathly silent once more.

Clouds of dust settled onto the ground and the room became vaguely visible. It was enormous and the spot lights beaming from the Tunnel Boar did little to expose anything other than directly where they faced. Infront of the convoy, a lake spread itself far into the distance, glittering silver for as long as the light could touch and then fading off into nothingness. Stalagmites rose like titans teeth from the floor of the cavern, but through them, a wide path was left barren that stretched out to the shore of the lake. 

"Ugh." An young man grunted as he landed heavily from dropping himself off the Tunnel Boar. He brushed his fingers through the dirt and watched carefully as it spread like powdered coal between his thumb and index finger.  Standing up straight, the man looked out at the lake and began to walk forwards. There was an unignorable dominance to his stride. Shoulders back. Chin held high.
Commotion resurfaced, breaking the silence as about a dozen men and women scuffled to the front of the machine, hurrying down the ladder and into the room. They wore the same clothes as the man at the front. Neat, black, long sleeved collars with jeans and boots to match. They appeared to be Millitary and a badge on the chest of the man at the head seconded this idea.