The air was crisp and silent. There was no wind. There were no clouds. Only shadows of the forgotten. Echoes of the past. And there were the crunching sounds where boots met solid ground. Siol trudged through the wilderness, the planet retaking this once-mighty city. It was now stripped down to ruins. Skyscrapers once made from gleaming metals were warped and twisted beyond recognition. Public works were shattered and defaced. Crevices and ravines wound through what were once roads. A statue gleamed beyond a dry lakebed.

Siol's hands clenched into fists at his sides as he stared through the horizon. And then he heard a rustling behind him. Siol's ears immediately perked up, every cybernetic bone in his body tensing, preparing for attack. Siol turned, gripping his cylindrical arm as it shifted through the clicks and clacks of clockwork into a compact cannon. Plasma and light vyed for attention across its frame, rearing for a target. Yet Siol held his tongue, lowering his arm, when he saw the figure before him.

He was a shambling creature with worn metallurgical crutches, stalking towards Siol sans a leg. There was some kind of pack wrapped around his chest. Siol's eyes widened. The being looked so familiar. The ears, the fur, the wide, sweeping tail... He was face-to-face with one of his own kind. But how? As far as Siol knew, the only settlement was a mountain range away. "Uh," said Siol as a grand entrance. "Who are you, eh, exactly." The figure kept walking. He was grinning. Grinning and crying. Siol's arm wavered, the light of his gun softly flickering off as it shifted back to an arm. He sighed, relenting.

The old creature walked right up to Siol, his entire body shaking as he smiled. With what seemed like intense effort, he reached into his pack, worn and stained with dried liquid, pulling out a hideous object. Siol recoiled at the stench pouring from his bag. It was rotten and wrong, as if something had been left to decay. The object that was taken, however, seemed to be a mere crown. One that was rusted and dulled beyond belief. Even as the old man held it in trembling hands, it flaked and chaffed. The being twisted its mouth, shaking. Fresh tears poured from his eyes, as though he was in pain. "Doctor," he squeaked. "Heal this crown, doctor."

Siol took a step back, looking around, wide-eyed. "I'm... not a doctor. I'm one of you! I'm of your kind! A Carolinesis! I'm... I..." The figure took several steps forwards. His arms were outstretched, trembling, threatening to knock the crown to the ground with his carelessness. "P-please," he begged. "Heal. Heal this crown." A shadow crossed Siol's eyes, now. Instead of retreating, he took a step forward. "I have nothing to do with him! I, I'm not some puppetmaster of death and destruction! I'm the good guy! I'm the HERO! And you're obviously just a..." Siol faltered. Was he really about to insult one of his own kind? Plagued with indecisiveness, he crossed his arms and looked away. "I... I'm not who you're looking for. Now please, leave me alone."

Siol started to walk away, but he made it not three steps before he heard the old fool's raspy voice. "Doctor, heal. Heal the king. Heal the crown." Siol's hands clenched, electricity arcing across his body. He spun around in a frenzy. "For the last time, I'm NOT--" And then he stopped, and looked. The old man was not looking at Siol, but at something hovering over where he once stood. A shadow cloaked in black, that blotted out the sun and replaced it with a swirling void.

Siol's heart turned to ash. The shadow looked at him with piercing red eyes, and the sixth fell into a metal rain.