The Emerald Wraith

The Emerald Wraith is a short story written by Ahpolki Inika.

Story
'Several years after The Shattering of Spherus Magna'

Moriv glanced around the chamber, noting the number of Glatorain and Agori around him. Most of them were from the Jungle Tribe, much he himself. The rest were preventives from the other tribes. He could make out Ackar, Malum, Raanu, Metus, Tarix, Gresh,and Vastus among the crowd. Funny how he fought most of them during the Core War. Well, technically, his “brothers in arms” were the ones that did the fighting, not him. Oh no, he wasn’t about to dirty himself in the mess of war. He was too precious for that sort of work.

So what if he tried to rig an arena fight? So what if he blackmailed and extorted from the Agori they hired him to protect? He was far more valuable than the rest of the Jungle Tribe combined. So what if he attempted to murder a fellow Glatorain and blame Vastus for it? The fool was losing his mind over that incident with the avalanche from the Core War. He didn’t even know why the old man cared so much for a bunch of dead Ice Agori.

The elder of the Jungle was the judge, and he scolded the young Glatorian alongside everyone else. He didn’t even know why Gresh joined up with these aging idiots. He was always too serious, even if he was younger than Moriv. He really should learn to laugh it up a bit. They all should.

“Moriv, you are here in this court for your crimes against society,” said the elder.

Moriv nearly laughed at the old man’s words. Crimes against society?

“You have attempted to sabotage an arena fight, extorted and stolen supplies from your own tribe, and conspired to murder a fellow Glatorain and frame another. What is your defense?”

Moriv laughed. “Defense? Buddy, I’m just too good for any of this. I’m just too good to fight for you morons. I’m just tired of watching yawl bow before these wimps. I just don’t see why a nutcase like Vastus could feel guilt for killing some retards like yawl!”

Nobody spoke out, with or against him. Bummer. If there’s one thing he hated, it was being ignored. He always craved attention, to be the center of everyone’s lives. And here they are, denying him of that attention.

“For your crimes, I hereby exile you from the Jungle Tribe and the rest of society. Attempt to return, and we will kill you on sight,” The village elder said.

It nearly took all his willpower not to grin. ''Kill on sight? Now that’s more like it.''

When they took him out into the desert, they gave him nothing. Usually, they give you a weapon and some food. But not him in this case. They were ignoring him again. So they’re treating him like this just for trying to get attention? What a bunch of losers. He didn’t need them, any of them. He’ll just sneak back in and stole all of their stuff. Yeah, make them feel like the idiots they really are.

Unfortunately, he couldn’t figure out how. No big deal, not for a genius like him. It’ll come to him in due time. For right now, though, he better find some shelter. He soon found it, a cavern not far from Tesara. Perfect, he could spy on the village and they wouldn’t notice him. He felt a bit of burn at the last part. They wouldn’t notice him.

He slept through the night, and moved on to another area. He found himself at the hot springs. He smiled. They were never really that bright. As he climbed down, he couldn’t but notice some graves nearby. While they all had names, he hardly paid attention to them. After all, they were dead, and not worthy of any attention. Not like him, anyways. One tombstone did catch his eye however.

Defaal

Moriv’s blood boiled. He knew that name all too well. He was his commanding office during the Core War. Always about honor and the whole “brothers in arms” concept. He didn’t care for any of his fellow “soldiers”. He was far more valuable than any of them combined. He didn’t need to fight in some fool’s mind games. The Element Lord of their village understood that.

His anger grew just think of the fallen chieftain. He pretended to feel for him, to understand him. But no, he used him. He promised him power in exchange for removing Defaal. Moriv and another friend of his abducted the commander from his office and shoved a dagger into his heart. Did The Element Lord reward them? No. No, he didn’t. He used their promise as blackmail, threating to arrest and expose them if they spoke out against him, just as their commander did.

He remembered remarking that he’d expose the chieftain too, for his role in the assassination. He remembered how the Element Lord impaled a thorny vine into his collage, asking the Agori present how murdered him. They all witnessed the horrible crime, yet not dared to speak out against their leader. They were cowards.

Much like himself, actually. He never had the guts to fight in the battlefield, often abandoning his “friends” to the enemy. Defaal, though, did. He fought for his people, whereas Moriv fought for his pleasures and own hide. He hated how everybody admired Defaal. Maybe the Element Lord felt the same way.

He dug the grave out with his bare hands. When he finally reached the decaying corpse, he tossed it into the springs’ water. He let out a sharp laugh, almost like that of a madman. He laughed into the midnight sky, for all of Tesara to hear. He was so absorbed by his narcissism that he didn’t noticed an oddly shaped cloud of steam taking form behind him. And when he did, his blood ran cold.

Before him was the mangled shape of what appeared to be a Glatorian. The neck was bent in an awkward position, the head dangling like a broken twig. Some of his armor was missing, exposing the decaying flesh and rusted implants beneath. He wielded a fang-shaped blade, dripping with a light-blue matter or energy. He lack legs, though, as his entire lower half was nothing but mist. The thing that stood out most, however, was the rusty dagger imbedded into his aged armor. He instantly recognized the being, though he refused to believe what he was seeing.

“Defaal…?” Moriv whispered, whimpering like the coward he truly was.

The head of the aspiration snarled at the sight of him. “Moriv…” He hissed in ethereal venom. “''Never thought I’d see you again… not after your treachery…''”

“Ah come on, I was blackmailed!” Moriv shouted back. “I didn’t have much of a choice!”

The ghost’s mood didn’t change. “Oh? Is that so? Tell me: whose idea was it? Your’s or his?”

“His!” He replied.

The spirit grabbed him by the throat, feeling the world around him melting away. He couldn’t believe his eyes. He was seeing the past, his past. He could see himself spying on The Element Lord of Jungle, over hearing his fears regarding Defaal. He feared that Defaal might cause some kind of usurping or rebellion within the tribe, turn it against him.

He saw himself emerge out of his hiding spot, offering to remove the popular warrior from the army. Of course, he expected a reward for this. He recalled how the chieftain promised to place him among the generals, and he saw how he shook his hands. He saw himself and his friend dragging a sleeping commander out in the middle of the night. And he saw them commit the crime.

“Really? Then why do I see you suggesting the idea to him instead?” Defaal growled.

The seen shifted. He saw himself holding a blade against an Agori’s throat, demanding his payment. He saw himself breaking into the tribe’s ration storage, stealing supplies for his attempts to create a lavish lifestyle for himself. He saw himself sneak steal Vastus’ weapon, and how he attempted to use it to murder a fellow Glatorian. An Agori came in and alerted the target, however, and Moriv turned to silence him. He was tackled into the ground before he could do so.

“Face it, Moriv,” Said the wraith. “''You’ve always been a Desert Leech, sucking out the life out of those around you. You stole from you’re comrades and betrayed them, all to indulge yourself in the delusions of your Narcissism''.”

The fallen warrior raised his weapon. “For that, we sentence you to death.”

Moriv blinked. We?

Something flashed into his eyes, and he felt a sharp pain in his chest. He returned to reality to notice the spear imbedded into his torso. In fact, it was right inside of his own heart. Before he blacked out, he noticed various members of his tribe surrounding him, all with disappointed faces. And so, he died like the parasite he was.

Meanwhile, in a place outside of Time…

The place was a land of the dead, both figuratively and literally. The place was deserted, filled with ruins of nameless things long since forgotten. Aspirations wandered the plains, each from a different world and people. Some were imprisoned within dungeons of varying designs and size, troublemakers in their past lives. Some were given the chance to atone for their crimes if they behaved. Course, very few actually have the desire to make amends. Most of those that attempted to take advantage of the chance quickly find themselves behind bars again.

The judge, jury, and ruler of this domain was a colossal entity, several feet (or meters, depending on one’s method of measurement) tall. His armor was an arrestment of greys, with the occasional bit of ebony and silver. He bore piercing emerald eyes and dead, ash-grey organic tissue beneath the armor. Wing-like structures were wielded onto his back, they could detach and become weapons if he so willed. His large claws were digging into his stone throne, focusing his energy on two new inmates.

One was a cowardly Glatorian from Bara Magna, guilty of numerous acts of treason. The other though, was far more difficult to contain. The other was from almost a hundred millennia from the first one’s future, guilty of treachery as well. His level of it, however, was greater than the coward’s by tenfold.

He had overthrown the one he served, whipped out his kinsmen, and conspired to commit galactic conquest. He conspired to disrupt the natural order of things. And so, the warrior-schemer was sentenced to eternal damnation. He couldn’t risk letting that madman run free, not after the chaos he caused in life.

The old one might’ve been one of the most powerful beings in life, but he lost his power when he died on that planet. His mind might’ve been a web of plots and backup plans, but webs are so easy to tear down. Webs also form patterns, and patterns can be read. And patterns can make one as predictable as the wind.

That was what Makuta Teridax was like right now. Once, he commanded the shadows around him, making them do his bidding. He was one himself, living among his fellow shades. It was fitting to place him beside Moriv, considering that they were egomaniacs. He had to admit, Defaal had done a phenomenal job of bringing souls to his domain.

One of his stewards, a metallic skeleton, approached him.

“Milord, we have a visitor,” He said, kneeling before his lord.

The master of the domain, Nayatamakh, nearly scuffed at the news.

'“If it is some Necromancer, tell him that I’m not interested in adding him in his pitiful play for power,”' Said the ruler.

“And if it isn’t?” replied the steward, hinting at an unseen grin. This implication caught his master’s interest.

“Continue,” Commanded Nayatamakh.

“Milord, she is a mere researcher, one from the world of Nehkron,” He said.

The overlord placed a clawed hand on his chin. Nehkron… he has heard of that world before. It was a world that bridge the universes of the living and the dead. Its people were acute to the ethereal energies of both sides, and knew how to manipulate it. They don’t seek knowledge for their own gain. Really, they were just a bunch of curious minds.

“Bring her to me,” He commands. '“And I’ll decide if she is worthy of my time.”'

The servant bowed, and left the chambers. As he did so, Nayatamakh could hear Teridax and Moriv screeching in their cells.

“Oh do be quiet,” Snarled the grey one, telepathically. '“You lost your power when you died. This is what the afterlife is like. Get used to it.”'

He sent a message to the Glatorian. “You, however, never had power to begin with.”

Characters

 * The Jungle Tribe
 * Moriv, a narcissistic Glatorian criminal
 * Gresh
 * Vastus
 * The elder of Tesara
 * The Fire Tribe
 * Raanu
 * Ackar
 * Malum
 * The Water Tribe
 * Tarix
 * The Ice Tribe
 * Metus
 * Defaal
 * Nayatamakh
 * Teridax (as a spirit)

Trivia

 * This short story was written for Halloween 2014.
 * The steward mentions that the visitor a female entity from a place called "Nehkron". This implies that The Headless Mistress is that visitor, harking back to a rumor that she communicates with Nayatamakh.
 * Moriv seems to have a case of narcissistic personality disorder. This further implied by his lack of empathy towards Vastus and his guilt, his jealousy towards Defaal, his desire of a luxurious life, and obsessive need for attention.