Just how long had he been standing there? An hour? A day? Longer? After so many millennia, the passage of time seemed as such a meaningless thing, as inconsequential as the life of an insect, yet at times this realization came with great frustration as Kranath lost track of it.
He stared, a single burning red eye in the dimly lit room, past his reflection and past the sea of stars beyond, his gaze settling on that which was the Earth, now naught more than a rotting ball of desperation and decay - and at the heart of it all, he could see that festering wound of neon and distraction, like a handful of shining marbles dropped onto the carcass of some creature far too near its own death.
Aedolis.
That country, that place, was nothing more than the last ditch effort at the continuation of a dying, malformed species that had the gall, the audacity, to still call themselves Dragons. They themselves were now less than a shade of their former splendor, a collection of genetically inferior misfits riding on a power trip longer than even Kranath thought possible.
That place was also a testament to his own failures, his own mistakes. His own sins, those of following a mistress whom made promises into lies, and his reward was to be death, or worse.
But, what was could not be changed. Among all of Kranaths technological advances, voluntary time travel was not among them, though that did not mean he hadn't tried. Oh, how easy it would be, to simply step into the past and stop himself before he committed to that most horrible of sins. Even if it were to mean his own erasing from the fabric of existence, he would take it.
But no. The past was the past, and he had to work with what he could. And so, sin by sin, he would work to restore what was again to glory, bring back his people, bring back the world. He had already started, yet he had such a long way to go.
One man, one of his own kin, could be called a failure - not that Kranath had failed in gifting him with rebirth, but failure due to the past he and his brother had shared. And so, Kranath had been forced to seal Marak away, somewhere that he could not hurt anyone, or himself.
And there was another, one that was coming to fruition, one that would soon emerge into this life, this future. He could only hope that she would react better to her situation than Marak had.
Kranath turned toward the only source of light in the room, to a large machine built into the far wall. Beyond a door of thick steel and tempered glass was the chamber that would bring his sister back. He'd shared the room with it for nearly three days now, keeping an eye on its progress, eager to see her again, hopeful for some small, tiny speck of redemption, of forgiveness. If it would come from anyone, it would come from her.
He could only hope.
He stepped away from the viewing window, taking measured steps to that machine across the room, the echoing clicks of his shoes upon white tile the only noise he could hear. He could see there, on the screen built into the machine, the progress thus far.
Priority Subject: Keinara
Progress: 94%
It would be soon, very soon. A few days, maybe. A week, perhaps, but hopefully no later. He had so much to tell her.
So much.
