He saw it now in his mind's eye. Beyond the barren surrounding plains, he saw the blurry visage of approaching men, the only thing to be seen beside the barren waste and gray fog as far as it permitted him to see. Through the haze and disorder, he remembered what kept him up even in his current state on his knees.

It seemed both ages and instants ago when the invaders arrived. They came from the void without any warning or indication, unwarranted, unwanted, unexpected. He had sat in his chambers in the halls of the Palace of Irulin, the city that skirts the sky. It sat atop its own plateau overlooking the vast plains carpeted by clouds and infinite space beyond. The plains stretched on devoid of life but for the barren grasses and great beasts that none of they speak of.

The city teemed in vibrant vitality beside fruits growing profusely, fed by steady streams. The people of Cyphon Prime held water in abundance, some lived amphibious lives, for Ophilius had led them from the seas only an age ago, yet few speak of these days for the darkness they sought to flee in the depths are rarely disclosed, and rightfully so. He did not like to think of what the dark had brought upon his life or what it managed to deprive him of, for the loss was too great, the emptiness too wide.

The exodus and following diaspora led to the flourishing of their grand civilization, and the enlightenment of himself fed by the airs and their strange gas. He saw ways ahead, paths diverging from both past and present. He had foreseen the fortunes of their civilization and for that, they named him Maxus of the Trenarian deeps, the Fatum Princepes, Cyphon's seer, the only oracle recorded in their time. Some said he was Branith Orail reborn, he who needed neither air nor water who dwelt in the inexplicable realms of drifting time and sea. This was nothing more than a tale but it was their greatest mistake not to remember it. For this they suffered unimaginably, for he had never found the inexplicable place, he never saw beyond. He recalled a tale told in his most coveted tome, said to be that of Branith himself, retold and brought to mortals. A tale of leviathans descending from the heavens, who would rain their hideous offspring upon them and consume the world and its waters in all their abundance thus awakening an all-consuming evil; the face of destruction indefinite, a lord of all that is forbidding.

They called the fate the Erretrio Ildus, an end to all life, a fiery doom. It was an old tale, often discarded as religious rabble of Armageddon in this modern age. It never truly came, but what truly comes and what one foresees is never the same, the seer knew this better than anyone, for glimpses are all that is permitted. By whom, none shall ever know for sure. He came to know too late that the reality that now descended towards them would be far more complex, and perhaps more treacherous because of it.

He stepped away from his seat and reached for Branith's tome, high on a pedestal with others. But the sound thwarted him, he darted around, looking up along with all of his people. He heard them first, the great beasts belching the sound of a thousand immense fires spewed into oblivion, propelling them forward, larger and larger in his eye.

He saw them then, the leviathans, great beasts of steal brought through space and time to this very point, to the home place of the Cyphons, who were but a peaceful people, or as peaceful as people can be. While peace is the nature of few in the entropic realms of the universe.

They were a space-faring people, who ventured into the stars by ambition and a simple desire. The same desire within those who came to invade their world and despite the Cyphon's attempts for peace he saw an inevitable war in the future. Or did these aliens seek out war? Perhaps necessity drove them. He wondered if any war was truly necessary. They had known war, but not since they had fled the seas and adapted to the land.

The glimpses came, too many to decipher.

The alien ships did not gleam as theirs did. They spewed fire instead of gravitational waves. He had seen Ophilius' bright silver vessel slide through the horizon with the grace and majesty of the finest bird of prey many times. Above were simple titanium steel monoliths, holding a lack of artistry and beauty. Were these invaders capable of beauty? He wondered. He caught a glimpse of alien men working tirelessly to construct the vessels to flee. Would the invaders speak of what they had fled?

He made his way across his marble floors to the wide windows and, hoping against yet suspecting the end. Too many possibilities of the future came to his mind for any to be clear. It was all too soon, too sudden. His people had never received any indication of life outside of their system despite their wonder. And now here it came. In great beasts of steal, prepared to wreak havoc, for that was clear: their intentions. It was too real, too imminent. This was an age of peace, for years it was all they knew. Perhaps it had made them weak, softer, unprepared, yet perhaps their spirit remained. For so long they had only looked down with fear, to the deep dark of the sea from whence they came, to the dreaded presence they had fled. Yet it had remained in the depths. They looked only up and with uncontained wonderment. Until now. Every eye on the surface gazed to the star, eclipsed by the leviathans. Every eye, torn from its tranquil trance, held the terror of generations of peace lost in an instant.

He stepped out of his chambers and sped up the palace stairs with haste he had never known. Their leader, Ophilius Iderach kept him close. He trusted him. He held great faith in his abilities to see ahead. Maxus feared his disappointment. Perhaps it would prove a misfortune that he kept him close. For the invaders may seek their leader, but indeed Ophilius was called many things, Wrathon being among them. The enemies of the depths had been the ones who had truly felt this namesake before the exodus. Maxus feared it now, irrationally as fear usually seems to be in its aftermath. He now saw his fear was misplaced. They also called Ophilius, Schaffer, the Shepherd that had led them from the depths. So if anyone could lead them from this current darkness it would be he. He saw a glimpse of their leader standing in front of thousands of inspired Cyphons. Now, atop of the stairs, Ophilius stood, like a silent specter, his back to Maxus, gazing through the ceiling's windows to the invading forces.

"Is this how it ends Maxus?" Ophilius turned. He stood tall, his pale blue skin almost bright in the white sunlight. Beyond anything, he was a king, and he appeared so undoubtedly. He commanded the very air he stood within. "To arise from the depths only to find doom from above? What do you see?"

It was never right when the one who should lead, the one who should hold the answers, asked the questions. "I had not foreseen this. From here I see many possible paths, few of them promising. Yet if we desire to seize the promise, we must survive. You must live on. Our future depends upon it and that is all."

"Our people are more than us." Pods began to shoot from the invading ships, plummeting towards them. "Did Orail not speak of this? A doom from above."

"Yes. Great leviathans, unleashing their spawn upon us from the heavens. Followed by the death of Cypnon and the awakening of unequivocal destruction and evil." Solemnly, he nodded. "I thought it but a legend." Maxus looked back down.

"Do not so quickly discount legends." he held up his trident. "Fate may depend upon them"

"Sir, they are coming. Quicker than I would like to admit." He closed his eyes and saw the invading force, speeding towards them, he saw only one thing else. A crashing gate. "They will come to this very spot, our defenses will not hold them."

"Our gates are sealed, we shall see." he flipped his weapon with unparalleled grace and certainty. "They will not take us easily."

"I hope... " the guards moved into position below before the palace's great gate. They waited for some time, over a score of the King's best men. They held their spears aloft, stone still, unwavering for interminable stretches of time as the invaders moved through the city storming towards them. Their weapons thundered, their feet stampeded forth.

"And if we do not make it through this?" Ophilius asked. "What then?"

"Then the invaders will rule, I foresee no other Cyphon who will command as you do."

"You see this ability amongst the invaders?"

"I see clearly one among them who has led them through the dark, through the heavens and the stars to invade our home. And she is a great ruler amongst these beings, and terrible."

"She? Indeed we shall see." they awaited in silence, beside the sounds of fighting, and death. How many of theirs had fallen already? Not even he could predict how many more would follow into the dark depths of death, or who would be among them. It was a strange, clouded thing.

It was some time before they heard the banging on the palace gate. It prolonged for several minutes, yet the gate held and silence prevailed. The quiet brought with it the longest moments of Maxus' life.

"Do you fear the end?" Ophilius pondered.

"I fear only what I cannot foresee." Maxus thought for a second. "So I suppose I do. I fear what Branith foretold. That, I fear more than any death."

"Do not fear the future, create it." Maxus tried but then feared an inability to do so, whilst his heart thumped ever faster below his chest.

Suddenly, the greatest, most deafening sound he had ever heard uttered was awakened and the great door flew off its hinges in a cloud of fire and smoke. It hurtled towards the Cyphon guards waiting below it, crushing several of them. The invaders came forth. There were hundreds of them, dressed in black. They wore no helmets or masks. Clearly, the planet was favorable for them. They must have sought colonization. He marveled at the great lengths a people would go to survive.

Their skin was pink and brown, often almost white, and it was smooth, without usual fins or breathing structures. They had hair, noticeable only upon their heads, strange indeed. They were not so different from the agile dwellers of the forests he had observed once previously, yet they were far beyond these creatures. They had the upright, bipedal, four-limbed structure of a developed race. They held strange, black weapons without point or dagger, but with barrels that exploded while the Cyphons fell or flinched fractions of a second later. His people flung their spears and tridents and held their shields before them while charging forward, yet the enemies did not cease to flood through the doors, firing their weapons as the Cyphons fell. They sped up the stairs towards Maxus and Ophilius who stood, bracing himself.

Ophilius showed no fear. Surrounded, he fought greater than Maxus had ever seen. He jumped towards the invaders, bearing his trident, he impaled two at a time. Turning he swung and the menacing points connected with the chests of three men, revealing beating hearts. He stood for far longer than any mere man should have, clearly they did not wish to kill him or not yet at least. What did they intend for him?

The invaders brandished batons, coming towards the leader, he knocked these from their hands, the back of his trident connected with the heads of the men. Yet there were simply too many. They swung their hideous weapons. Ophilius was brought to his knees. The crowd grew until he could not see within, he heard only the clanging of what must have been the great trident, forged in the deep sea, hitting the ground with a final clang.

Maxus had already made his way to the back of the hall, and stood behind a great column, remaining unseen whilst they kept their attention on his leader.

It seemed only seconds later when Ophilius stood under the grasp of the invading men, restraining him, holding his wrists, as more humans ascended the stairs. For that is the word they used to refer to themselves in their strange dialect, human.

Sights flooded his vision as he sucked in a long, silent breath. They came from lightyears away, their home left desolate by war and time, they looked to the stars, and seemed to believe anything they came upon to be theirs for the taking. He wondered if they had always been this way, or if hardship and desperation had been what led them to such deeds, if they had been driven to their dark conquests or if they came by nature. He supposed he would never know.

Movement caught his eye through the windows forming the ceilings.

He saw it now; upon his knees, a bird flew; a great beast of prey with wingspan far greater than the height even Ophilius stood. A rush swept over him and sight did not cease, in that nearly impeccable instant he saw light indefinite along paths ahead.

The man holding Ophilius noticed the flying majesty, and a soldier behind followed the eyes. This man seemed to be reminded of something, for he strode forth, and spoke into the ear of the soldier holding Ophilius, just as he reached for handcuffs. With his captor distracted, Ophilius, smashed his elbow into the man behind him and freed his hands. In the heat of the defining moment, he sprinted for the door, came over the trident on his way, and grasped it. At the rear of the hall, he busted through the door, disappearing with the sweep of his cape. Maxus followed quickly, silently, and fates were sealed.

The dumbfounded guards had barely time to react, most only turned at the boom of the slamming door. Yet they pursued as birds do fish.

The humans entered the adjoining room. Their admiral led the company, gripped by grave disappointment and wonder. The room led nowhere, no doors were present, the windows remained closed, and it was utterly empty besides only shelves and furniture. Even in the narrow passages, Maxus could hear the shouts and a single shot fired, and explosions shortly after.