Planet Ignis | Ch. 0 - Prologue

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Golden yellow flames lit up the night. That had been the last yellow burst left in him. Mercury-thick sweat dripped from his forehead onto the ground. Now that he had depleted so much time, only despair fueled what would be his last stand. Sadly, time always trumps despair... and time was no longer his ally. Just despair would have to do.

Aag had lived up to the honor and responsibilities of his tribe. Not that any of his clan had been left conscious to see it. They were as good as gone now. All just colorless ash in a hearth. He was the last incandescent ember in a dying fire that sooner or later – in his case, sooner rather than later – blackens and crumples into that ash. They had burned together; they would be ash together.

Now that Aag’s longevity reserves were running so low, there was only enough for three, no..., maybe four bursts. But what could crimson ones do even if golden bursts hadn’t slowed that monster? He turned, limping away from the scorched scar that he had violently painted on the ground. As he turned, he ignited his mutation sparingly. Better to burst once true than twice blindly. In seconds, hours of his life unnaturally burned in the cells of his body and were converted into light and fire.

Silence. There was nothing on the spectrum. His body glowed with a feverish faint red light casting some light on the dark tunnels he walked through—still nothing. After a few patient seconds, Aag flashed into a red ball of fire. It was so bright that, from afar, it could easily be mistaken for a dying red dwarf star. He finally found the void absorbed by the shroud of the monster. The hole in the light outlined its inhuman ghoulish form, with its long-needled spikes and predatory gait. It was closing in at 9 o’clock. Aag at once channeled his burst’s energy into his body’s muscles. They instantly bulged, and feeling the added strength in his legs, he sprinted in the opposite direction at great speed.

Time, shadow, and claws fastened their relentless siege even as he dashed inhumanely fast. Although Aag had been deprived of how long he would live, he could still decide how he would die. He would do so in a blaze. He left the tunnels of the Harrows and kept running until he reached the tribe’s Lighthouse. He opened the heavy metal doors with his huge muscles and shut them. He then engaged the magnetic locks behind him. As soon as he had sealed what would become his tomb, his muscles deflated, and he breathed heavily with tiredness. The Lighthouse shook. Successive dents deformed the gates. It would hold long enough, Aag thought. But only if he didn’t dally, he realized, as the hinges started giving with each successive blow to the door.

He ran as fast as he could to the top of the tower until he reached the Beacon. It was a transparent globe big enough to fit a man. It had two parallel bars crossing it from top to bottom. He entered it, and as he did so, a distant explosion again rattled the tower. It was coming. He grasped the bars, one in each hand, and, closing his eyes, he burst for the last time in his life.

His hands heated up and lit brightly. Then the bars. For brief moments, the top of the Lighthouse erupted into light, and in a last burning statement, Aag, the Yellow, sent his brothers and sisters his last words. The energy spreading from his arms into the bars pulsed and flickered, coding the urgent message. The Beacon reverberated and amplified the signal echoing his thoughts: “The raptor comes. Grows stronger. Anaximanders smoked. Gather...”

The Lighthouse was silent.

The Beacon shone and transmitted the signal to the orbit of Ignis. Hitting repeater after repeater, it broadcasted the promise of doom.

Ch. 1