The Uplift Protocol: In the Beginning

Issue 1: Across the Desert

Many stories have a beginning. Mine was not as kind as most.—Ta’mathon

Within the Eternal Empire? You are born with the mark of slavery. Urraden came to Earth eons before. We did not have enough Demis to withstand them. Egypt became a beggar to a Greater Evil.—From the Notes of Ammuron.

Egypt

Eternal Empire Universe

The Desert of the Hidden Hand

Ta’mathon stepped lightly through the starry night.

The baying of the Krisiks followed. Lizards the sizes of horses. It was a sharp high pitched call that would freeze the blood of older men. For a teen such as himself? It made his heart jump with every step. He kept his movements off balance. For the Krisiks hunted in pairs. Detecting pray through blood or vibration. A marker on his HUD proclaimed, <>.

He shuddered.

The Higher Patheon of Egypt marked everyone within their mother’s wombs. Nanites burrowed into every aspect of their bodies. He was listed “of the Stepps.” One of Ta’rammon’s slaves. His mother had taken an inverse meaning. Where Ta’rammon’s name indicated blood and mayhem, his moniker meant “from the Earth.”

The teen stilled. His parents had helped him flee. He had Shard Blood. One that could commune with the Weave but more than that? He could command the very fire of the cosmos itself. Magic. A rarity among humanity of this plane. He saw other places. Time flowing across a multitude of Earths. Some were beacons of Hope. Others were cloaked in darkness similar to his own. The sight of the silver Pegasus drove his waking thoughts. Affixed across its back were golden wings. Three silver-white horns rested upon its brow. A glint of its aura drew Ta’mathon deeper within the black ash desert.

He knew this within his blood. The divine was guiding him.

Step.

Pause. Listen.

Do you see it, Slumberer?

The voice was clear. The black glass of the Forbidden rose before his tired bloodshot eyes. A rocky outcropping gave way to the crusted glass. This was a temple once. He ducked between two melted pillars. A third higher above them. Its hands raised towards the expanse of the night sky. Ta’mathon bowed his shaven head.

“Rulers above and below. Guide my blind steps.”

*****

Nola asked, “How did these nanites enslave people?”

Ta’mathon replied, “They are tiny machines that flowed through my blood. Organs. Everywhere. They monitored every action we took upon the surface of that cursed Earth.”

Whitehouse said, “Were the satellites or monitoring systems multilayered?”

Ta’mathon nodded, “They dwelled within the normal sliver of space. With secondary drives to propel them to Weave Space. Such as it is within that foul place.”

He didn’t need to sit. For his spirit was projected from Thomas Murphy’s bracers. His features were drawn. The memory laid bare.

Marius extinguished the cigar with a snap of his fingers. Eddie noted the burst of energy. The elder Tarvellian spoke slowly, “Cursed machines, flowing through life’s systems, yet why does the Terran Alliance use them?”

Whitehaven responded, “Our nanites are reinforced with the blessings of the Arcane Order. Light Shaman rites. From the Shard works of Eden.”

Marius highlighted the holo display, his grin widened, “You have an active protection against the evil. I note the veils of Force along this surface. Maybe not so reckless after all.”

The Hands of Ismuth, the holy vanguard of the Travellian people, circled the mostly Human contingent. Their arms crossed over their chests. Thomas Murphy’s face relaxed as the hymns flowed over them. It was a truly wondrous sound. Their purple arms were bare. Silver and gold armor covered the rest of their bodies. Each wore a purple sash with golden tracery.

Ta’mathon demeanor changed.

As if the song brought back more memory.

*****

His HUD updated, <>

The walls reached out. Ta’mathon sprang forward. A mighty crack echoed. Bones snapped. He glanced back. The twin heads of the Krisik rolled loosely. Purple blood poured from their open mouths. Black teeth pulled back. Their red eyes dulled. A small cube of white brilliance ripped along the stonework pathway. He took one cautious step forward. The cube relayed words behind his eyelids, <>

The forbidden words.

The mark of Creation.

Ta’mathon hurried forward.

The cube stopped at a junction. A small fountain with a thin trickle of water splashed within the semi-darkness. He drank greedily. The liquid was pristine. He felt life return to his weary limbs. The cuts along his back healed. Pressure built up in his nose. He turned to the side and sneezed. Black ichor dribbled from his nostrils. A new screen lit up behind his eyes.

//Welcome to the Arcane Network. Purging system of Unity contamination. Please stand by. //

The nanites of the Eternal Empire were dead!

A strange sense of terror washed over him.

His world had always included the ever-present eye of Ta’rammon. Those microscopic machines. The Urraden invaders. The mental terrors inflicted by the House Typherians had been unspeakable. All in the effort to claim the power of Humanity’s magical abilities. It was why the she-devil had wrapped her fingers around Ta’rammon. Those crimson eyes still gave him nightmares. He didn’t know any Typherian that was on the side of light. Was it even possible?

//State your full name for ID recognition.//

<>

A vibration shook the temple.

//Follow the cube to the transportation room. The icon will meet you there.//

He dashed down the corridor. The fountain behind him sunk into the wall.

*****

Jennifer pointed at the memory displayed through the orb, “How is Alliance tech in such a place?”

Whitehouse responded, “Wait for it.” He grinned sharply.

“This is where the fun starts.”

*****

Ta’mathon gawked at the woman standing within the cone of light. Her armor was a mix of silver, white, and gold. The cape was unfamiliar to him. A mix of whites reds and one blue stripe. Her silver helm covered the upper portion of her face. While a silver-white sash floated around her waist. A giant wolf bounded over to him. Pulling him towards the woman. <>

A simple white robe flowed over her legs.

The silver helm bowed toward him. She was rather tall. Over 7 feet.

Ta’mathon reached out. Her hand was warm. The golden bracers lined with a magical resonance that spoke to the shard within his blood. She smiled, “Be at peace Ta’mathon. This place was not meant for you.”

His sense of self expanded. Bathed in the cone of light everything else paled in comparison.

*****

J’anu snarled, “Where did the slave go?!”

She hated speaking audibly. It was low class. It couldn’t be helped. At least Ta’rammon had their Union rings. One of the guards screamed as a piercing radiance lit up the night sky. J’anu dived into the dune s below. The power scorched down her back.

She screamed as the divine light took its payment.

The remains of the Temple of the Three were gone. So was the slave. Along with his parents. She howled into the expanding darkness, “I deny you!”

*****

Jennifer stared at the shimmering image of Ta’mathon. “Eliza helped you make…”

He responded, “Yes. It has always been her. She is the herald. The one who can exist in many places. As long as the Highest is with her. Through the trials of convergence. She slumbers yet so many also sleep along the ages.”

Whitehouse added, “It's to protect her mind. We cannot conceive of all reality simultaneously. Only God can do such a thing. But Eliza, through Throne Sight, can operate on a level beyond Weave Speakers.”

Thomas shared a look with Eddie. He messaged the young man, //Did you see the other element. The beast that looked like my wife?//

Eddie replied, //Sure did boss. Want me to look into it?//

Thomas sent a cipher over, //Take this to the gates of the Golden City within the Dreaming. Find that which is hidden. Whitehouse will give you level 1 Arcane Access. We have to protect Eliza. Along with my wife.//

This was only the beginning.

Nola stared into the orb.

“There is more!” She pressed a hand to her mouth, “Tarvellains!”

Ta’mathon nodded.

“Your people have been with Earth from the start of the Golden Age.”

They watched as Eliza brought Ta’mathon to the sands of Eden Eygpt. She motioned with her spear, “I will arrive to help you. Not as I am now but as a middle reflection along the seas of time.”

Jennifer rested her face in her hands, “I hate time travel.”

A voice echoed that refrain, “It is a pickle isn’t it?”

An image of a one-armed Eliza sat on the bench towards the tail end of the table. Jennifer noted with growing horror that her daughter was clothed in Typherian burial robes. The white-sleeved shirt and black slacks. She ran her remaining hand over the holo display, “Arcane Order node 22-9 alpha.”

The title popped up. “The Reality of the Ur Stone.”

She glanced at her mother, “You may want to get a drink for this one.”