Song of the Void

Selendil cried tears of blood as another group of voices were silenced. Not for the first time, and unfortunately not for the last either. Their race was dying, and the Great Song was coming to an end. Soon she would be the only one left of her once proud people and there was nothing that could be done about it. The unfortunate reality was that she would be the last of her kind.

Less than ten years ago the Dhar race had been at its prime. Their dominion spanned countless galaxies, their great ships traveled the great void with impunity and their numbers were counted in the trillions. A Dhar could step from one edge of the empire to the other within seconds, and there was nothing that could threaten his safety within the empire besides maybe a freak accident or his own stupidity. Neither was seen very often.

Their strength was without equal. Thousands of races were allowed to prosper under the impervious shelter of their protection, while hundreds of once primitive races were uplifted by the hands of their Dhar masters. Countless races that stood against them were ground to dust and faced extinction. The Dhar were a warrior people and all the intelligent lifeforms that came into contact with them knew that resistance against the Eternal Empire was futile. The legends of their undefeated armadas traveled from world to world, galaxy to galaxy, and the mere sight of their ships was enough to bring out fervor in those that served, and terror in those that futilely tried to resist.

Their crowning achievement was the joining of the minds of all the Dhar with the shared consciousness of the universe. Thoughts of every Dhar could be shared with all those willing to listen. Every question could be answered by the brightest or the most creative in the collective. All their knowledge and culture was safely stored and freely shared. Every technical hurdle was tackled by the combined intellect of the most brilliant engineers and phase-smiths, every philosophical problem solved by the deepest thinkers and the most inspired individuals.

The most important part of their race was the Great Song. The soul of every Dhar sung in joy at the joining with both their kind and the universe. These combined voices joined together to form the Great Song that had originally given birth to the very existence itself. Every new voice added to the Song, bringing it closer to perfection. There was no greater joy than to immerse your soul within the Song, and some of those most enthralled had been lost in the Song for years without counting. Many believed, that once the Song was perfected and complete, that the Dhar would transcend to a higher level of existence, and their beliefs had merit. Already the Song had brought their evolution to a new level and their race to greatness.

Now the Great Song was on its last notes, with the last voices slowly going silent with a dying gasp. The once clear and magnificent melody had been twisted and had lost most of its glory. Within the span of ten years, almost the entire population of the supposedly Eternal Empire was dead. The once great cities had turned into ghost towns and cemeteries, as the dying people simply wanted to spend their last moments with their loved ones and the dying notes of the Song. Everything that could be done to stave off the coming end had been done, and none of it had worked. Their mastery of technology and the energies of the mind and body had not been enough. Now all that remained was the slow decline to silence and obscurity.

The emotions in the collective had gone in waves. Pride and exhilaration at their majesty at its peak had soon been replaced with fear and disbelief once the plague had started spreading. Their once cherished ability to move anywhere within the empire in the blink of an eye had become their undoing. Even the once proud and invincible arkships that the Dhar used to extend the borders of their empire into the great beyond had become funeral barges as the desperate crews traveled back to their homeworlds to be with the members of their families that had already been infected. These crew members in turn unknowingly carried the same plague back to their ships before anyone realized what had happened. By the time the extent that the disease had infected everyone had been fully realized, it had been too late to try and contain it. The aggressive plague spread from group to group, world to world, and from ship to ship until everyone was infected.

Determination had filled the collective as their race put all their might and intellect into coming up with a cure. They had solved every problem that had faced them before. Surely this one would be no exception. Determination had been replaced with frustration as all their attempts failed. Frustration had been replaced with horror and despair as they realized nothing could be done. There was no doubt. Even the most hopeful realized this was the end once entire galaxies were emptied of their presence. Their great empire was brought to its knees, waiting for the deathblow.

Anger and rage had followed. Many Dhar dreamed of a glorious death on the battlefield or furthering the frontier, pushing the borders of the unknown further back. Their race had waged countless wars. At first, the wars were fought against other Dhar, before the joining of the minds, and the wars had found new targets in the uncountable other races after the joining. All had fallen under their might. Now they ruled over adoring and sometimes bitter client races that could barely function without their help, thanks to being dependent on Dhar technology. Despite their nigh-immortality and matchless martial might, the Dhar did not fear death in battle. Death on the battlefield or for a great cause was an honor, even a privilege. This disease, on the other hand, brought nothing but a meaningless death without glory. Anger was only natural. They had also searched for somebody to blame but had not found anyone. So their rage had been impotent and stymied. Near the end, their proud race would have bargained and begged for salvation, but none was offered.

In the end, came the final emotion of acceptance. This was what fate had decreed. All they could do now was to spend their final moments as they saw fit. As the end came, their voices were silenced forever. Selendil cried at their loss. She cried at the death of her race and the death of the Great Song. Soon, her shaky voice was the last one left to tearfully keep the Song alive, and the near silence was deafening. Where once trillions of voices had sung together, now her voice sang alone, the final tones of the dying fading away.

Selendil was a Keeper. Her unmatched psionic potential allowed her to store the knowledge and culture of her race like a living library. When a prominent member of their race died, their knowledge and skills were passed on to a Keeper, so that their unique contributions and viewpoints would not be lost. The Keepers could be thought as living repositories of all the knowledge, culture, innovations, and skills of their race. Selendil was not the only one of her kind, but she was the last. And as the other Keepers also passed their knowledge to her, she now carried the entirety of her race’s accumulated knowledge. Some of the old memories she was keeping stretched to the dark ages of civil war before the joining. The last survivors of that age were also the first ones to have their knowledge and skills stored by a Keeper. Once she passed, that history would also disappear with her.

The only reason she had not died already was due to her solitary nature, combined with her role as a Keeper. The Keepers often lived in isolation, partially because their minds had to touch those that were dying at the moment of their death. They saw and felt more death and dark emotions than anyone should. Despite all their training and mental strength, this made them a little different. They dealt with death better than anyone but some of the repeated and heightened emotions at the moment of death eventually rubbed off on the Keepers. As a result, the Keepers were often solemn, melancholic, and sometimes even prone to bouts of anger. When you touch the sadness, regret, rage, and loss of so many, your own mind can’t help but be affected, though not all of the effects were negative. There was also gratitude, pride, and love. The Keepers were honored and even revered as the wisest of their race, but also avoided because they reminded every Dhar of their mortality. And for such a proud and long-lived race, reminders like that were not pleasant.

There was also the link between a being’s knowledge and their power as a psion. The Keepers already had to have the strongest of minds of their powerful race to deal with their burden, but the added knowledge of the dead also made them the most powerful members of their race. A power they rarely had to wield in battle, something that had only happened twice in all their history, but the fact remained. And every death added to that power. No one resented the Keepers for gaining in power while their loved ones perished. They knew better than that, as the role of a Keeper was sacred and regarded with solemnity and sacrifice. Everyone knew the Keepers didn’t do what they did for power, but there were always rumors and looks directed their way. Not judgement or suspicion exactly, just no warmth either. That made them seek solitude even more.

So it was, that Selendil had been isolated on her ship once the news had broken about the plague. She had also avoided catching the plague earlier, due to having stayed away from others of her kind for so long. She was particularly withdrawn, because she was the one who had been charged with carrying the most important souls. Most of those she collected died in battle, and she had long since learned to do her duty from the other side of the empire if necessary. Thus she was rarely called to perform her duties in person and had not been called between the outbreak of the plague and the discovery of it. Her family had passed away long ago, so she didn’t visit them like other Keepers. Her race often sought the wisdom of the minds she kept, but that too could be done through their collective minds. Once the news of the plague did break, she was forced against her will to stay away to avoid catching the plague. Now she was the last. Not a fate she desired for herself. She’d rather have died with her people, but her fate had been decided by the collective and she had to abide by the decision no matter how much it went against her nature. It was also her duty as the last of the Keepers, though for what reason she kept the information was still a mystery.

She was meant to enter a deep stasis with her ship drifting in the folds between the normal space and phase space. The stasis was supposed to last for a long, long time, in the hopes of the last vestiges of the plague dying out. Maybe the universe would be different by then. Maybe there would be another race, another Great Song and another empire. Selendil might be able to contribute and make sure that the voice of the Dhar would not be gone forever and entirely forgotten. Maybe their achievements would help someone else to complete the Great Song. Maybe she would be able to do so herself in the far future, allowing at least one of their race to see their great task to completion.

The stasis had been programmed to end once the ship’s AI detected signs of advanced enough life during one of the periodic jumps into normal space or if a credible threat to the ship materialized. An impossibility considering she was equipped with the best their race could offer. Selendil entered the stasis in a state of grief and shock, barely able to function long enough to give the command, and finally her voice quieted as well. The Great Song had gone silent. The shared consciousness was empty. The long period of darkness and quiet that would engulf the universe for an eon had begun.