Moonlight enhanced the blue hue of the galaxy coloring the Altyrian night sky. Scholars of Creyos, Capitol of the Immortal land, Fresia, debated whether the deep shade resulted from the world's atmospheric layers, the two suns or the superior function of the Immortal eye versus the Human eye. None of that mattered to Nico. It was beautiful either way.
A single star, shimmering light-years away and situated beside the large, looming moon, anchored Nico to consciousness. Buried beneath the fallen lumber of his shop, he blurred out the smoldering peripheral images, focusing on the diamond shape through an opening in the charred debris. His shallow breathing slowed, his limbs numbed. The attack on his village left his back broken in at least two places. Internal injuries filled his lungs with blood. Death would come for him, but as an Immortal, full regeneration should take less than a day.
Dense smoke clogged his nostrils and burned his lungs. In slow motion, his mind replayed the sudden onslaught resulting in the pillage and destruction of his home, East Lake Village, and all town folk but himself, it seemed, taken prisoner. A dark-skinned male entered the village before the attack began. Despite the stranger's intimidating size, he appeared unassuming. As the second sun set, most businesses closed up shop for the day, but the man sought only food and shelter, seeming no different than the average traveler passing through. Nico watched the man as he strutted into the saloon twenty minutes before mayhem struck. The strut was actually the first red flag, Nico thought. Strutting exuded overconfidence, and overconfidence became arrogance rather quickly. Arrogance always started trouble. Today, it brought the worst Nico had ever witnessed.
Crashes and screams preceded several drunks sailing head-first out of the saloon, splintering wood and shattering windows as they tumbled lifeless into the street. While this was far from abnormal, the few hundred nomadic raiders storming the village in tandem was not. Nico, standing on the front porch of his general goods storefront, gripped his ax and confronted the invaders, beheading them with the unbridled strength of his massive arms. At 6'5" and 280 lbs, few who tussled with Nico made it out with all of their body parts attached.
Nico zeroed in on the dark-skinned man exiting the saloon. The inferno blazing behind the traitor's muscular form provided a fitting backdrop for what happened next. A villainous grin framed the mysterious male's set of gleaming, white teeth as he belted a chilling screech and changed into something not of this world. It grew bigger, taller, and the head transformed into an elongated skull with piercing eyes. Such a creature did not exist in Altyria, did it?
That was the last thing Nico remembered. He would recall more after his body healed, and then he would set out to find the alien, where it came from, what it wanted and where the raiders took the people of his village. Of course, he could not fight them all on his own, but he would devise a plan. He always did.
Nico closed his eyes to drift into a comatose state when the weight of the support beams pinning him lifted from his chest. Warmth flooded his arms and legs, soothing and healing him. With renewed strength, he pushed himself from the ground and opened his eyes to find a stunning, beautiful woman floating before him. Her near onyx complexion radiated warmth, and her almond-shaped, bright green eyes entranced him. Her waist-length tresses flowed, and her ankle-length attire sparkled like the emeralds in her gaze. Never before had he seen a female like her. She was exquisite. Fascinating. Humbling.
The Goddess spoke, and he wondered if he should have paid more attention to the teachings of Altyrian literature. "Rise, Nico, Immortal warrior of East Lake."
Clearing his throat, Nico shifted onto his knees and crawled from the wreckage to kneel before her and bow his head. "What may I call you, Goddess?"
The woman smiled as she stepped onto the snow from an invisible perch and held out her hand. Nico stared at the smooth palm and sculpted nails reaching toward him and questioned his lucidity before allowing her to help him to his feet. "I am Altyria," she said. "And I have a task for you. My future, and yours, depends on it."
