Hyperion Evergrowing

Hes’cilla awoke from her dream of a world of endless grass to the smell of smoke and of a red, ash filled sky filtering down onto her seated form through wide windows that lined the ceiling of her personal chambers. She knew that she was about to die, could taste the certainty like an animal sensed the moment before an arrow was loosed from the bow of a hunter.

There were things she needed to do before that could happen. Her death wouldn’t matter if she could fulfil her self imposed duty. Hes’cilla wove magic between her fingers, her spellcraft wordless after centuries of continuous practice. Her eyes, a deep amber, flickered as she worked, pulling on a thousand golden threads and weaving the magic to last for as long as possible.

The sound of steel on steel rang through the halls of her home, distracting her from her task. She tried to ignore the sensation of lives being lost, and tried to remain focused. But the walls of her chamber closed in around her, a cloud of ash and smoke drifting overhead to block out the evening sun.

Hes’cilla rose from her throne, aged green moss and languidly draped vines that encircled her arms and legs reacted to her will as she stood on shaky legs, the cool tiles of the vast chamber juxtaposed with the growing heat that suffused the air. A human body she may have, but it had been some months since she had last moved. She walked, the amber blood within her body awakening to slowly churn through her limbs, returning feeling to them like the prickling of a thousand needles.

There were no attendants in sight, but that was hardly a surprise, she had sent most of them away months prior. Only the most loyal, or the most desperate had remained. She wished they wouldn’t fight, wouldn’t lay down their lives for her, not when it was hopeless. Hes’cilla could sense the vague signatures of vitality flittering through the adjacent halls, a profound sense of loneliness overcame her. In her time within the world of grass she had been alone, none of her kind having so much as dropped in to say hello. Now, at the end, she would be alone in the physical as well. Companionship was not something she craved, in truth, she didn’t really understand it. But the connection to others, the relationship between mentor and student, that was something she did understand.

She stepped up to the far side of her chamber and brushed her hand through the white and gold fabric separating the room from the balcony that largely surrounded it. She heard distant screams, and the smell of smoke was joined with that of blood. Hes took a breath, the heat and ash parching her throat and settling uncomfortably in her lungs, then she stepped out and took in the end of her world.

A garden, more an untamed forest than pruned hedges and flowerbeds, stretched out below her. Small buildings were dotted through and around the garden, with a larger complex of buildings on the far side. She beheld it as it burned, small figures garbed in steel and furs laying waste to the trees within, the blades of their axes carving through bark with little effort. Golden sap oozed from a hundred wounds as Hes’cilla’s children were butchered.

She watched dispassionately as what could very well be the last of her kind were cut down, the juvenile amber trees being harvested for what little power their bodies contained. One of the trees had uprooted itself, its golden leaves shaking as it awkwardly fled from danger, only to run right into another party. The young monstrous tree made no sound as it died, made no attempt to call for help or defend itself beyond trying to flee.

Hes’cilla stood, emotionless, as a gust of smoke and ash tinged wind brushed through her dress and set the curtain fluttering. She reached out a hand, splaying her dark fingers as if to smother the column of flames rising from a distant section of half collapsed palace. She let her hand fall, there was nothing to be done. At least the inevitable passage time would wash away any evidence of this tragedy.