The Citadel

It was the worst experience in my years serving our great Collective.

At first, it felt simple. They were animals, for goodness' sake, how could this be a complex operation? I had served on distant worlds, fighting tyrants and warlords, shedding the blood of other sapient beings in the name of the Collective. This should be nothing.

The swamp was the easiest part. Cutting a path was bothersome; bramble and dense foliage blocked almost entry except for clandestine paths carved into the landscape by the Somnolent. The shadow of the Citadel loomed high above us, and not a moment went by where I could not feel its gaze at my back, even when we were completely hidden below the willows.

As we fought through small ambushes of Somnolent, we began to feel relatively secure. The Maws, as they are called, were quite durable, but that proved insufficient to withstand our volume of fire. Auto-targeting systems allowed us to dispatch with the Shadows easily. So far, my suspicions proved correct. This wouldn't be so hard.

However, the first wave came, and a key realization set in. The horde of Somnolent weaving deftly between the trees and bursting from the ground proved to us that the previous attacks were mere probes. The first attack was enough to pare five of our eighteen soldiers away. Though we drove them back with withering fire, the damage was done and we were dazed.

We pressed on, however, better prepared for the next attack. The swamp grew more dense. We happened across a smoldering wreck of a Vigil warship, teeming with Somnolent life. The Citadel seemed unaware of our position, and so we traipsed by the wreckage, cautious to avoid their wrath.

It began to feel as if our equipment had grown heavier as we made it to the deepest reaches of the swamp. Had we not been in such heavy gear, though, I suspect the humidity would have been utterly strangling. The air was dense and hot here, unnatural for Kasunn's cold, boreal forests. The wildlife stopped appearing almost entirely. We encountered wave after wave, pushing us back with greater, more desperate force.

One by one, they cut our numbers down. By the time we marched into the city, we were but six. We were so dreadfully weary, and the presence of the Citadel had begun to bear down onto our bodies as though we were being buried alive. We could not contact the Collective, but were told that we could not abandon our mission. Our greatest motivation... or, at least, my greatest motivation, was to see something that no other living person ever had. By then, all six of us were resigned to our fate.

The city was dismal. Horrors of greater variety cropped up, surely experiments of the Citadel's. Some were beautifully sculpted creatures of destruction, distinguished by their dense, large scales and billowing, overflowing psionic energy, dwarfing their more featureless counterparts. Others, perhaps more concerning, were merely shambling animal corpses crudely jury-rigged with new psionic abilities, perhaps an attempt at something easier to mass produce.

Corpses were strung over buildings, hanging haphazardly out of windows and from street signs. The city was eerily quiet, and often we checked that we had not gone deaf when not under direct assault. Despite its age, it was so incredibly well preserved. Vehicles laid dormant in the streets and many buildings still had power. It seemed like quite a cozy place to live, were it not so that umbral beasts lurked in every crevice.

As we grew closer to the center, the anomalies grew worse. The gravity shifted, suddenly, in a way which I will admit was quite relieving at first. We could see loose debris drifting up towards the Citadel. Some signs had been slowly pried away, hanging loosely to their posts. Ourselves, and the vehicles, were too heavy to be completely lifted. This proved negative; it became quickly disorienting, and the Somnolent were perfectly accustomed to it, using the weak gravity to their advantage, leaping down from great heights, pouring in droves from the upper reaches of the city.

Four more fell; it was simply me, and our other heavy, Kas. Kas was stronger than I; I was terrified, It felt as if my lungs were collapsing, yet she encouraged me to press on. We had come too far.

We reached what I will call the Altar. It was a large platform, slathered in countless layers of dried blood, made of the same black bone that many of the swamp's towering Shards were said to be. Clusters of similar spikes surrounded the platform, offering access from four directions. A fleshy bulb jutted from the center, bathed in a pillar of white light.

I was too scared to step on at first. I surmised the Citadel would simply crush me to death. Kas stepped on first, demonstrating for me that it was safe. It lifted us gently into the air, up toward the single point of entry to the Citadel. It was a remarkable vista; we could see the sprawling swamp, and our altitude climbed above even the highest towers of the ancient Lyxaris city. Were I not so consumed with terror, I would have appreciated it more, but I find it quite pleasing to look at in my recordings.

Then... it dragged us into its entry chamber. Enormous piles of corpses filled this room. We could hear a deep, hostile, wild thrum as we gawked at the mounds of preserved animal bodies. The room was pitch dark, the walls comprised of coal-black bone like many such structures, but our powerful helmet lamps gave us quite the clear picture... perhaps more clear than we appreciated at the time.

I will freely admit; I cowered, while Kas pressed on. She instructed me to take deep, slow breaths, and reminded me in as calm a tone as she could muster that this was our destination; we were in uncharted territory. The pleasure of discovery was rather  drowned by mortal terror, however. I think I might even have been crying...

Nonetheless, with her support, I soldiered on. We could feel its baleful gaze upon us more than ever, but it almost seemed like it was holding back. I suspect that if by that point it truly wanted us dead, we would have been. It wanted us to bear witness to its power, its glorious collection, so that there would be no uncertainty. I tell you this with confidence: To us, it was a god, and we were mere mortals cowering in its shadow, and it felt much the same about us.

It was obsessed, almost, with decorating its surroundings with corpses, to warn away those who could do it harm, as if such a thing existed in this world any longer. I believe that this was another way of warning. It knew we would return and tell stories, in wavering voices and wracked with trauma, about the power it had amassed and exerted over us. Its hordes thinned when we were all that remained, and I believe that is because it knew it had done enough to prepare us to deliver that message.

We trudged through, resolved to discover something beyond corpses. We ascended another gravity well; though we tried to step off on the next floor, it rocketed us up to the top of the Citadel, catching mere glimpses of many rooms. It took us several minutes to reach the top.

It wanted us to see this. It showed us ... monitors. A stem of steel and plastic, dark purple in color, in stark contrast with the organic workings of the citadel, gave way to thousands of hard light monitors. It showed us different views from all around the Citadel, showing us all it could see and process at once. It thrust two particular monitors at our awestruck faces. One such monitor showed to us a shifting mass, wildly overflowing with inconceivable psionic energy. The other showed us, quivering mortals flooded with conflicting emotions and dissonance about what we were experiencing.

It withdrew the monitors, apparently content with what we had seen, and we were forced back down the gravity lift. We landed at the base of the Citadel, and a deep tremor shook the ground beneath our already unsteady feet. We hurried to the exit, also content with what we had seen. The Altar began to draw us safely back to the ground.

Our exit from beneath the Citadel's influence was hasty, but not particularly dangerous. The Somnolent clearly watched us like ravenous animals, yet they seemed to bide, letting us escape with the message the Citadel had bored firmly into our souls. We collapsed at the extraction point, hoping the Collective would be watching. We awoke in the company of concerned compatriots and eager officers, keen to hear the message the Citadel had burdened us with.

Sure, I've likely fallen directly into its trap, but that is not without reason. I would not wish that place on my worst enemy, and I would heed its warning were I part of the Enclave. I resigned immediately after that, as did Kas. I could have gone for another decade trying to stem the tide of dictators and warmongers, but that alone was enough to exhaust my resolve for violence.

So, like. Fuck that place.