Legends of Amacia Return of the Beowulf

At approximately 10 pm, Hannibal returned to his quarters in the Red Tower feeling a bit on edge without know exactly why. Earlier in the evening while taking a short nap, he dreamed of Washington DC vanishing in a nuclear blast without warning. The blast centered on the Capitol building. In the background, he heard the voice of the President laughing as Hannibal saw the shockwave vaporizing and roasting people in the streets as it spread. Initially, Hannibal witnessed the blast from high above. However, as the dream progressed, he found himself on the ground in the path of the blast. A wall of fire came towards him as he stood on the roof of the Pentagon. An enormous grimacing skull of fire appeared in the wall of flame, roaring at him. At the same time, Hannibal sensed a dark, malevolent force associated with the flaming skull. Before he could identify who or what the dark force was, the dream ended abruptly as the firewall hit him, the flaming skull swallowing him. A cry of terror escaped his lips as he woke, looking around wildly while checking to see if he were burned. Only a few moments passed before he realized it was another nightmare. However, the dark force he’d felt in the dream continued to trouble him, as did the dream itself.

Hannibal started roaming the Red Tower’s corridors, trying to calm himself and make sense of the dream and the dark force that continued to prick his consciousness. He quickly ruled out the Black Prince and Emperor as the source. Neither was it the FATE computer complex, nor was it the dark ominous Grimm, who remained a shadow in the far off darkness. The force felt compellingly familiar as an enemy, yet he could not remember who or what it was. It moved subtly in the background, a shadow that refused to let itself be seen. Hannibal’s inability to identity the new, yet familiar dark force irritated him. Stopping at the door to his quarters at 10:00pm, Hannibal rubbed the side of his face, muttering, “What’s going on? Why did I dream of Washington burning in a nuclear blast, and why do I sense another dark power moving at a distance that’s somehow connected to that blast? Why does that power feel so alien, yet so familiar? Ugh...maybe it’s my imagination running wild again. I don’t need another enemy right now. I have enough enemies with the Emperor and FATE.” A sullen sigh escaped his lips as he silently entered his quarters, closing the door softly behind him.

Scanning his quarters in the dim light, he saw an extra small bed sitting next to the wall near the bathroom entrance. It was vacant. Over in the main bed, he then noticed Selina asleep with Rachel beside her. Selina wore her silver nightgown. Rachel wore the nightgown Hanna had given her the first night she came to stay with them. Selina had her arm around Rachel in a motherly fashion, protecting her while she slept. Hannibal could hear Selina’s purr as he moved like a ghost over to the main bed. Just seeing Selina and Rachel asleep drove away the anxiety caused by the new dark signature he felt. Smiling warmly at Selina and Rachel asleep together with the blankets pulled up to their shoulders, he kissed Selina on the cheek, whispering, “I love you, princess.” Selina stirred slightly with a moan, but remained asleep. Straightening up, Hannibal went to his dresser and got a t-shirt and a pair of sweat pants before going to the bathroom to change. Minutes later, he laid down on the spare bed, not willing to wake either Selina or Rachel by getting into bed with them. After situating himself, he drifted off to a fitful sleep.

Later that night, Hannibal dreamed ominous surreal dreams. Hannibal found himself far from his bed in his t-shirt and sweat pants, standing on the self-same fortress the Emperor had tried to kill him and Selina on when they first arrived in the caverns of Amacia. This time, he was not on the wall, but standing atop of the keep looking out over the wastelands. He saw the toppled stone giants out a half mile from the fortress, forming a strange perimeter. An arid wind blew in from the featureless wilderness.

Looked around, he found he was alone on the top of the fortress, not a living soul anywhere. “Why am I here again?” he asked to no one. He searched the keep for a way off, and didn’t find any. Walking to the edge and siting down on the battlements of the keep, Hannibal scanned the arid wastes. A feeling of utter desolation began to creep into his heart as he gazed into the desert. The wind picked up and off in the distance, he saw a tiny cloud of a sandstorm rising on the horizon to the southeast. As he watched the cloud, an unearthly shriek from above filled his ears, rattling him to the bone. Hannibal looked up and saw a chimera soaring over his head, circling. His heart suddenly leapt into his throat as he recognized the chimera as the bear/griffin hybrid Prince of the North he saw in the vision given to him at Harry’s house several months before he came to the Amacian underground. He jumped to his feet, searching for weapons and discovered that he was defenseless with no weapons to be found anywhere, not even a rock he could throw at his enemy. The chimera circled menacingly, eyeing Hannibal with predatory interest. Just then, a roar from the east drew his attention and his heart sank as he saw a cloud in the shape of Tiamat rising ominously. It was moving with great speed directly on his position. The chimera noticed the cloud and went out to meet it. As the chimera approached the black cloud of Tiamat with her thirteen heads, the chimera totally disappeared into the cloud. In seconds, the cloud changed shape, becoming the very image of Dezarcus. His eyes burned like coals in the darkness of the cloud. Then out of Dezarcus emerged the Prince of the North, rising to Dezarcus’ stature. They glared at Hannibal as he stood on the fortress.

Suddenly, the cloud forms of Dezarcus and the Prince of the North surged forward, closing the distance between them and the fortress with great speed. Another roar rose from the northwest. Hannibal wheeled around seeing the six-armed cloud giant form from the vision sweeping in out of the northwest, heading out to meet the two incoming cloud forms. Instinctively, Hannibal knew the giant was the demon Prince of the West. The giant was wroth and completely ignored Hannibal on the fortress, moving with vengeance in its eyes as it met the forms of the Prince of the North and Dezarcus on the plain before him. It struck with all its weapons at the two, but only succeeded in further enraging Dezarcus because he had come between him and Hannibal: Dezarcus’ intended victim. Dezarcus’ form swallowed the giant in inky blackness and his stature grew to prodigious size. The giant was gone without a fight. Instantly, Dezarcus’ cloud form grew six arms with weapons and he raised them to heaven in defiance. He pointed one of the blades at Hannibal, roaring in fury, “The Prince of the West is mine. You are next, Beowulf!”

As he and the Prince of the North moved on the fortress, fear rose in Hannibal. Then unfathomable occurred. The Stone Giants that surrounded the fortress rose to their feet, and attacked Dezarcus and the Prince of the North, driving them back. The Stone Giants grew to the size of their foes and lashed them furiously with weapons of blazing light: great swords, axes, bows, and spears all made of shining light. The weapons penetrated the darkness of the demons and drove them back in a pitched battle that raged on the plain before Hannibal, shaking the ground as they fought. Abruptly, the little sandstorm cloud Hannibal had first seen suddenly grew one hundred fold, rising up out of nowhere like a cobra with equivalent speed, enveloped the combatants, obscuring Hannibal’s view of the battle. His pulse raced as his heart pounded in his chest like a jackhammer, brought on by the fear of what he was seeing. The sandstorm raced forward toward the fortress like a wall of sand. Hannibal backed away, knowing that escape was his only option. To be caught in a sandstorm of that magnitude out in the open was certain death. But there was no place to go. As he turned to run, he saw the Black Prince’s face appear in the approaching storm. A hideous grin appeared on its face as the wall of sand approached the walls of the fortress at nearly the speed of sound. Hannibal dove behind one of the battlements, taking shelter in its shadow as the sandstorm hit the fortress. He heard the Emperor’s mocking laughter as the sand blew by him at hurricane force. He covered his eyes with his hands and pressed as close as he could to the solid stone of the battlements. The sand ripped and shredded at him, but the battlements gave him enough shelter to survive it. In seconds, Hannibal lay buried in sand.

Hannibal prayed and struggled against the sands. The Black Prince’s mocking laughter was loud for a few moments, and then faded away. Hannibal realized he was buried alive and incapable of moving or even escaping the lethal sands that had entombed him. As he was about to suffocate, a strong arm pulled him from his sandy tomb, literally dragging him out. He coughed and gagged, spitting sand out of his mouth. He felt water poured in his eyes, clearing them. He looked around to see his savior. Squatting down next to him was a cloaked figure. At first, the figure’s features were in shadow. Hannibal looked at the figure and saw that its left hand was mechanical and its right hand was reptilian. Then the figure’s face came into focus. It was Muriel. He abruptly became aware of yet another person there, the one that was actually holding him.

“I told you not to mess with the Black Prince without me,” the one holding him scolded. Hannibal looked. It was Selina. She was dressed in a cloak like Muriel. She also had a strange mark on her cheek, like a tattoo.

Hannibal coughed and spit as Muriel asked, “Are you all right, milord?”

“I think so,” Hannibal replied as Selina and Muriel helped him to his feet. He wrapped his arms around Selina and hugged her like there was no tomorrow. “Thank you. Did either of you see what happened?” he asked.

Selina pushed him back saying, “No. What’s going on here? I suddenly found myself helping Muriel drag you out of the sand.”

Hannibal looked at Muriel, who said, “Same here. I was somewhere else and suddenly found myself here just like Selina. What is going on?”

“I don’t rightly know myself,” Hannibal replied in a perplexed way as he looked over the top of the keep and saw that it covered with six feet of sand. The battlements were nearly buried. Hannibal looked over the edge and saw that the Dune Sea was now at his feet. An endless sea of dunes stretched off into the distance. He staggered to the left, looking into the fortress and saw that it was buried with sand. The walls were almost buried and the courtyard was filled with sand. He turned back and Selina and Muriel, finding them gone, vanished. He looked out over the dunes to the southeast and the Black Fortress suddenly appeared. Mt. Ragnarok belched lava, smoke, and ash behind it. He saw the Rakshasar gliding around the towers and out of the main gates were pouring countless numbers of minions: an army the likes of which the Earth had never seen before. There were Zarukars, Xenians, evil men, beasts, machines, both cybernetic and totally mechanical. Again, Hannibal heard the laughter of the Emperor and saw the Black Prince’s image rise menacingly behind the towers of the Black Fortress. As he rose, a cloud of fiery red drakens rose, dozens of them. They were unlike any draken Hannibal had ever seen before. He gawked as he wiped the sand from his face.

The Black Prince looked directly at him and hissed, “There is no escape this time. You are mine, Beowulf!” His arm shot out to grasp Hannibal. As it was about to grasp Hannibal, Hannibal was pulled back out of reach. The vision of the Black Fortress disappeared, leaving Hannibal on the top of the fortress, lying on his back and Caverias looking him in the face.

“You have got to be more careful, Hannibal,” Caverias scolded. “The Emperor is unleashing all of his power now.”

Caverias helped him up as Hannibal cried out, “What is going on here, Caverias? Where have you been?”

Caverias smiled, saying cryptically, “It’s not my place to say. But be sure of this: the Emperor will find you out. The Cylinders will tell all. Find the master control. Unlock Muriel’s identity and find Leila before it’s too late. Time is very short. The Rising approaches as your ancient enemy moves in the dark. Don’t let your guard down for an instant.” As he was about to ask Caverias what he meant, the dream ended abruptly and he bolted upright in the bed, panting and sweating profusely. He looked around wildly, almost in a panic, trembling. His heart thundered in his chest. He saw Selina still asleep in the main bed with Rachel in the dim light. He covered his eyes with his left hand as he tried to calm himself to no avail. Trembling, he began to sob softly because of the terrors of the dream.

Suddenly, Hannibal became aware of sandy grit filling his mouth. “Oh, no,” he moaned as he immediately went to the bathroom. He looked in the mirror and opened his mouth. He didn’t see anything out of the ordinary but he could feel the grit between his teeth. Therefore, he rinsed his mouth out, spitting the water into the sink. To his dismay, a fine white, sandy grit appeared in the sink with the water he spat. He thoroughly rinsed his mouth out, and then decided to shower. Fine powdery sand fell from his t-shirt as he pulled it off. “What the hell?” he murmured, shaking the shirt, seeing a fine sandy dust floating in the air. He rubbed his scarred chest and felt the grit. “I’m covered in sand. How’s this possible?” he whispered. “Was that really a dream or did it really happen?” Stripping nude, Hannibal jumped into the shower and began washing off the sand. It covered every part of him, from his hair to between his toes. A half hour later, he got out of the tub after making sure all the sand had been washed down the drain. He dried off and wrapped the towel around his waist, going into the bedroom to get a change of clothes. Putting on fresh underwear, sweat pants, and a t-shirt, he returned to the spare bed with a hairbrush. Sitting down, he combed his long hair while looking over at Selina and Rachel, who remained asleep in the main bed. “Oh, Lord; what does it mean?” he muttered while combing his hair. “Why was I covered in sand when I woke up? It was just a dream, wasn’t it?” The Almighty remained silent as Hannibal finished combing his hair. Setting the brush aside, he laid down on the bed and pondered the dream. After forty minutes, he got up, disgusted with the fact that he was not able to go back to sleep or understand the dream. Donning a hooded cloak, a pair of sandals, and Grimm’s Bane, Hannibal went for a walk.