Chrono Continuum Epilogue
By Cain
On the planet of Terrenus VII, in the middle of the night, an unconscious woman was suddenly lying on the street. Besides a flash of yellow light, there was nothing to show how she’d gotten there. She was missing half of an arm, and she had only one eye, but other than that, she seemed healthy enough. Most people who passed her by in the street assumed she’d been robbed or was a druggie or something, and just left her alone. The man who had appeared a moment later, though, a man in black a black robe, took her to a nearby hospital. When she awoke, she was in a state of panic; it seemed she could not remember her name. She could remember “Chris” or “Crys,” but nothing else. So, they gave her a common name on Terrenus VII, “Crystal.” The amnesia ward had used up all of the surnames already, except for one: McKenna.
Crystal McKenna. The name would go down in the history of the Mystician Empire.
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On a planet that was basically one big forest, a young man with blond hair awoke. He was alone, here, utterly alone. He could remember his name, but other things were patchy, such as how he’d gotten here. Of course, since there was nobody around, it didn’t matter what his name was, and that eventually became muddled and confused as the years wore on.
It was seventy-six years before any intelligent being set foot on that planet but him.
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On a planet that nobody had lived on for centuries, two figures wandered. It had been abandoned because the planet was going through a nuclear winter, but that wasn’t enough to stop them. One was a young woman in a dress that was no help in this weather, and the other was a small child with strange hair and stranger eyes. After weeks of aimless wandering, the two immortals found the remains of a crashed space craft. They quickly learned how the thing had once worked, and set to work.
What they created would be destined to be a thorn in the sides of Lavoids everywhere.
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It was about to rain on the planet of Tempestas, and that meant trouble. Colonists frantically rushed into their stone bunkers, the only protection they had against the deadly acid rain this planet called precipitation. One mother was crying, shouting for her baby, but nobody knew where the child was. They were too busy dealing with their own families. The woman finally went inside, weeping all the time, knowing her child was somewhere out in the rain, where she couldn’t reach it.
The baby itself screamed from where it was lying on the ground as a single raindrop hit its forehead, leaving a discolored burn. A moment later, the rain poured down in a torrent, but the baby remained dry and healthy, sitting beside a black sword that had appeared from nowhere. The rain couldn’t come close, as if there were an invisible shield above the child, and it slept, knowing it was safe.
The sword would become a rallying point for armies in the decades to come.
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On a world where bloodshed was a part of daily life, a small figure appeared in the middle of a battlefield. At first he stood aside, trying to stay uninvolved, but he soon saw the horrible odds against one side, and joined the fight, unable to let the battle go on so unfairly. He led the charge, shouting “Be like the wind!” and helped break the enemy lines. He then led the retreat with minimal casualties, and began to plan with his new allies.
He would one day be known as the greatest tactical mind in history.
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Another small white-clad figure appeared in the middle of a fire-fight. He was “saved” by a thin young man with dark hair, but in fact ended up saving the day himself. They went on to help raise rebellion all across the planet. Until they were captured.
More than a century later, they would pull off the most unlikely theft in history.
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A pale man landed on his feet in a nice apartment with a lot of gadgets and magazines lying around. He looked around at the decorations, confused, and turned to leave. He stopped, though, as he noticed the apartment’s resident was aiming a gun at him. They talked, and were amazed to discover they could tolerate each other.
They would be fast friends and enemies in a war neither of them wanted to be in.
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A dozen or so men and women (and a lizard-man) stood in the middle of a bustling city, smiling. This world would be theirs, one day. It was only a matter of time. In the meantime, they kept their heads down and slowly built in power. The day they took over, they changed the name of the planet. No rulers were more feared or hated than they were, and their power spread from planet to planet.
They would sow pain and discontent on a hundred worlds, and never regret it.
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A ball of spikes floated through space. Its siblings had already flown off to planets of their own, trying to hide from the Lavoids of the Hive. They all knew that they were different, somehow, than other Lavoids, and that they would be destroyed if found. It knew it had to become powerful soon, or it and its siblings would be destroyed. It found an empty area of space, and jumped back through time. In the present, a new planet floated through space as if it had always been there.
This planet’s creation would alter the history of an entire galaxy.
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Three people stepped out of the gate in Truce Canyon. It was night in 1020 A.D. But there was light. Awful, orange light. The light of fire. The rulers of Guardia had been gone for far too long. For the first time in four-hundred years, Guardia was at war.
One child born in this war would play an integral part in the survival of humanity. Or in its destruction.
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One planet, Elosia, floated along silently through space, unaware of the chaos it would cause throughout the universe. Because of one mistake, however, something would come from this planet more horrible than anything seen since the creation of the Lavoid Hive. Because of one mistake, Elosia and a thousand other planets would burn away in the night, unless the future could be changed.
This innocent-looking planet had given birth to heroes, but it would now create unimaginable horrors unless stopped.
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All because a red-headed boy bumped into a princess at a fair.
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“Lord, what fools these mortals be.”
-Puck, from A Midsummer Night’s Dream
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