Post by emmawoods on Jul 28, 2019 14:57:05 GMT -5
More sneaky sneak peeks, this time for Girl of Steel #10!!
Kara Zor-El may have survived the crucible of The Mountain, but her trial by fire is far from over, not as the 'Eradication Mandate' begins...
**********
The Amazon…
The fortress was far larger than they had even dared to speculate.
The monolith that thrust up from the earth was merely the tip of what lay beneath the soil, a labyrinthian structure that spiralled outwards from its core. Lena Luthor, Director of the DEO, stood in what they believed to be the centre of the ancient structure, and even this single chamber made a mockery of what was considered possible with human engineering.
Its walls, obsidian black, curved at an impossibly slight angle until they met at the summit of an arch so high above, it was difficult to be sure that it existed at all. Like a starless night, the ceiling cast its gaze down upon them, and regardless of the best efforts of her people, no-one could discern the source of the room’s illumination, her surroundings as bright as day despite the lack of a light source.
There were engravings all around them, delicately etched into every surface, a maddening pattern of swirls and other symbols that both overlapped and flowed into one another. Some of it was language, of that they were certain, if only because it bore similarities with the Kryptonian alphabet that they had become familiar with, the inscriptions reminiscent of that dead world that had sent to them their sole, remaining son.
Director Luthor was pacing the chamber without a great deal of hurry, the structure, by their best estimate, predated humanity by several thousand years, it wasn’t about to up and leave them now. She could spend a lifetime in here, and still make little sense of the dead language etched into every surface, but she was certain there must be a means of shortening that timescale that remained just out of reach.
Even if it meant calling her brother, a measure she was loathe to do.
And then, of course, there was the statue.
Her pacing brought her back to it time and again, the faceless king, as she had come to think of him, sat upon his unadorned throne. Its dimensions were unmistakable, the arms, the legs, the torso and head, the symmetry reflecting the dominant species of this earth, and yet he was almost entirely smooth. Carved from the same, obsidian black material as the walls, his face was featureless, a mirror that reflected nothing.
The only adornment for the Faceless King was carved upon his chest, a crest that dominated the torso that was recognisable by every man, woman and child that walked the Earth. The curvature of the ‘S’ reminiscent of the Last Son of Krypton, and she had pondered if even he was aware of just how far back into the past that their two worlds were intertwined.
She had to know its meaning.
Distractedly, Director Luthor plucked the glove from her right hand before she held her fingers out, brushing the tips of them across the crest. To her surprise, it felt warm, comforting to the touch, and yet…
Lena pulled her fingers away as she took a sharp step backwards, convinced that she had felt a tingle, a tremor, a flash of recognition from the Faceless King sat upon his unadorned throne, a sensation so fleeting it could have been imagined...
Only it wasn’t, Director Luthor knew it wasn’t, not as the floor began to tremble and the walls began to hum, not as the statue turned to face her, and her world began to become undone.
Kara Zor-El may have survived the crucible of The Mountain, but her trial by fire is far from over, not as the 'Eradication Mandate' begins...
**********
The Amazon…
The fortress was far larger than they had even dared to speculate.
The monolith that thrust up from the earth was merely the tip of what lay beneath the soil, a labyrinthian structure that spiralled outwards from its core. Lena Luthor, Director of the DEO, stood in what they believed to be the centre of the ancient structure, and even this single chamber made a mockery of what was considered possible with human engineering.
Its walls, obsidian black, curved at an impossibly slight angle until they met at the summit of an arch so high above, it was difficult to be sure that it existed at all. Like a starless night, the ceiling cast its gaze down upon them, and regardless of the best efforts of her people, no-one could discern the source of the room’s illumination, her surroundings as bright as day despite the lack of a light source.
There were engravings all around them, delicately etched into every surface, a maddening pattern of swirls and other symbols that both overlapped and flowed into one another. Some of it was language, of that they were certain, if only because it bore similarities with the Kryptonian alphabet that they had become familiar with, the inscriptions reminiscent of that dead world that had sent to them their sole, remaining son.
Director Luthor was pacing the chamber without a great deal of hurry, the structure, by their best estimate, predated humanity by several thousand years, it wasn’t about to up and leave them now. She could spend a lifetime in here, and still make little sense of the dead language etched into every surface, but she was certain there must be a means of shortening that timescale that remained just out of reach.
Even if it meant calling her brother, a measure she was loathe to do.
And then, of course, there was the statue.
Her pacing brought her back to it time and again, the faceless king, as she had come to think of him, sat upon his unadorned throne. Its dimensions were unmistakable, the arms, the legs, the torso and head, the symmetry reflecting the dominant species of this earth, and yet he was almost entirely smooth. Carved from the same, obsidian black material as the walls, his face was featureless, a mirror that reflected nothing.
The only adornment for the Faceless King was carved upon his chest, a crest that dominated the torso that was recognisable by every man, woman and child that walked the Earth. The curvature of the ‘S’ reminiscent of the Last Son of Krypton, and she had pondered if even he was aware of just how far back into the past that their two worlds were intertwined.
She had to know its meaning.
Distractedly, Director Luthor plucked the glove from her right hand before she held her fingers out, brushing the tips of them across the crest. To her surprise, it felt warm, comforting to the touch, and yet…
Lena pulled her fingers away as she took a sharp step backwards, convinced that she had felt a tingle, a tremor, a flash of recognition from the Faceless King sat upon his unadorned throne, a sensation so fleeting it could have been imagined...
Only it wasn’t, Director Luthor knew it wasn’t, not as the floor began to tremble and the walls began to hum, not as the statue turned to face her, and her world began to become undone.