Kyle West - Extinction

In moments, the extinction of the human race would be decided.

When Perseus landed on top of the tower, the Wanderer pressed the exit button. The door slid open and we headed out into the night.

After we made it to the tarmac, the boarding ramp retracted and the ship lifted off. I looked around the helipad, finding it empty. The ship turned to the north, where several dragons circled and dove. Explosions lit the night to the east. The screams of both man and monster carried on the wind.

The Wanderer made his way to the corner of the helipad. He climbed down a set of stairs, and stood above the building’s precipice overlooking the southern and western portions of the city.

As the battle raged, I watched the dark ruins, the twisting highways, the distant hills to the west. It was hard to believe, standing there, that the Wanderer was about to give up his life. Before I could ask him if it was really true, he spoke.

“What I’m about to do will be my end, as we both know it. My spirit will return to the Elekai .”

“So that’s it?” I said. “You’re going to die?”

The Wanderer gave his trademark mysterious smile — small, and a little sad. But his white eyes were bright with joy.

“I have died a thousand times, Alex. In the end, death is just the final journey.”

“What do you mean?”

“Death is like waking up from a dream. Each time I die, I wake up on a new world, where the Elekai need me again.”

“Well,” I said, after a short pause, “that’s not really how it works for us. When we die, we’re gone. There’s no waking up for us.”

The Wanderer turned to me. In the distance, a dragon screamed and a few more took up its call. It reminded me of where I was, and that now was probably not the best time for a philosophical conversation. But the dragons were far, and I’d never see the Wanderer again. His eyes told me that what he was about to say was important.

“I think you will be surprised, when the time comes, as it must for all. Even the longest-lived Elekai must one day die. And when all goes silent, at the very end, we can be joyful that we had ever lived at all. Death isn’t the end. It is an end as much as a beginning.”

“What do you mean?”

“Some mysteries aren’t meant to be spoken,” the Wanderer said. “It ruins the magic.”

The Wanderer closed his eyes, as if preparing himself. I felt a sudden panic rise in my chest. It was all going to end, and I would not have anyone to guide me on my final mission.

Before I could say anything more, the Wanderer’s body stiffened. His white eyes glowed brightly, his arms outstretched, and a deep, resounding call emanated from his lungs, like a low, musical note that should have been impossible for his human vocal cords to produce. It made the very building beneath me shake.

Instantly, every dragon in the vicinity angled toward the tower. At first I counted ten, then twenty. As more materialized from the darkness, flapping their wings to fly toward the building, all the Blighters in the streets below quieted. A few gunshots sounded, but soon they, too, dimmed to nothing.

And still, the call went out. The Wanderer did not pause for breath. The dragons bore down on us, their white eyes fiery with violence. More rose from the streets below until at least fifty dragons were headed our way.

The forerunner of the dragons was only seconds away, coming at us full speed.

The Wanderer’s call ceased. The dragons hovered in midair, waiting for… something. The Wanderer’s form was completely still, as if he had turned to stone.

Then, in a multitude of screeches, the dragons turned away, diving once again for the Los Angeles streets.

I watched over the edge of the building as they swooped between buildings. High-pitched shrieks sounded as the dragons began ripping into the Blighters that advanced past the long wall. Both Perseus and Orion moved among the dragons, not firing on them, recognizing that the Wanderer had done his work and that the dragons were now on our side — at least for the moment.

The Wanderer fell to one knee. I grabbed him by the shoulders. His body was hunched and pained.

“Wanderer,” I said. I felt weird calling him that; it seemed as if I should know his proper name by now. For all I knew, Wanderer was his proper name.

He looked at me. His eyes were fading — their power had been drained.

“It is done,” he managed. “You know what you must do. There is strength inside that you do not even know…your own hidden power.”

He fell forward as I watched with horror. He didn’t move, and I couldn’t believe.

“No…”

As the dragons above the city continued to scream and attack Askala’s swarm, and as Perseus and Orion lent their aid from the air, I knew that the Wanderer was really gone. The entirety of his spirit had taken control of the dragons.

I reached for my radio.

“This is Alex,” I said. “It’s…done. The Wanderer’s dead.”

It was a moment before Ashton answered.

“Copy that. The dragons are turning on the horde right now. We’re coming to pick you up.”

“Got that. I’ll…I’ll be here.”

I stood there, the cold wind whipping at my face. I looked down at the Wanderer’s lifeless body. He stared upward, his eyes dark and no longer white. The only movement was the wind ruffling his worn, brown robe.

I was so drained of emotion that it was hard to feel anything. I knelt beside the Wanderer’s body, touching his shoulder. I gave him a slight shake, in the vain hope that he might still be alive.

But it wasn’t to be. It was then that the reality of the Wanderer’s death hit me in full force. My throat tightened as hopelessness welled up within. I hated this feeling; it reminded me too much of losing my father, losing Khloe. I didn’t know what I was going to do without the Wanderer. He was the only one who knew how to fight the war against the Radaskim.

Now, there was only me, and I definitely wasn’t cut out for this.

The Wanderer had told me that I was supposed to lead the Elekai, and that was too much for a sixteen-year-old kid who didn’t know what the hell he was doing. The Wanderer had the wisdom of the Elekai collected over eons, where I had only sixteen years, most of which was spent living a sheltered existence underground. If there was anyone who couldn’t do this, it was me.

The last thing he said was to go back to the Elekai. That meant returning to the Xenolith. I didn’t know what was going to happen there, but I wasn’t really looking forward to it.

I couldn’t be plain, boring Alex anymore. I thought of who the Wanderer was. He was a vast reservoir of knowledge with access to all the memories of an entire alien race. What would that do to me? Would I still be the same person?

Landing lights flashed above, but I lay sprawled on the rooftop right next to the Wanderer. He had saved the city, but the price was now clear: it was all on me, now. If I couldn’t do it, then no one could.

I probably looked as dead as the Wanderer by the time Perseus touched down. The building vibrated upon the ship’s landing. The engine gave out its deep hum, and the wind blew almost violently. The screams of dragons carried in the air.

The ship’s drive idled. I waited a moment longer, not ready to get up and face reality.

I felt a hand on my shoulder. “Alex!”

I turned and saw Anna’s face. I shielded my eyes because the landing lights were so bright and pointing right at me. She held me in her arms, pulling me into her embrace.