The Archon's Judgment by Viper07

Within the world of Feronoss, war had been the way of life for countless generations among its inhabitants. Thousands of years of bloodshed, sparked by reasons even the oldest souls could not recall, made peace a concept long lost to history, regarded only as a foolish luxury when victory could be seized over one's enemies.

The breaking of bones with the crudest of weapons.

The advancement of technology solely for the sake of slaughter.

It was a perversion of the concept of ‘free will’, exercised in the worst possible ways.

Once, the denizens of Feronoss might have been kind and just people, somewhere in their past.

Once, they might have even understood the bonds that brought kin and kindred spirits together, strengthened by trying, difficult times.

Once… all things… once. Now, though, war was their nature. Violence and bloodshed called to them.

Across fifteen different systems and a hundred different worlds, none were more versed in warfare than those who hungered for it upon Feronoss.

Their armies were mighty, resources nearly infinite. Yet they had ravaged and razed their planet long enough.

Thus was the reason the ‘Golden One’ had arrived…

Why she had descended from the very Heavens to bring an end to the fighting.

The day arrived like any other, where silence was but a foreign idea amid battlefields echoing with gunfire and falling bodies. By the minute, hundreds died. By the hour, cities were leveled. None batted an eye, however, as this had long been the way of life.

What did bring an end to the ceaseless engagements, however, was a bright light that enveloped the side of the planet. Sudden and all-encompassing, in one of the few moments that would be remembered in the scattered history of the population, a silence fell over the world—the kind that had not been heard in an eternity.

From the light, a woman appeared—her golden hair and dual-colored eyes of amber and diamond descending—wingless but ethereal. Humane yet divine.

Adorned in robes of the finest silk, the shining, brilliant goddess descended upon one of the many battlefields scattered across Feronoss’s landscape. To those present that day, they recall vividly what they saw and heard, even now, as time has passed and memories have been pushed back by the first spark of war thereafter.

How the Transient Beauty stood upon the field of war, unburdened by dirt and ash, remaining pristine in the very center of hell itself.

“Souls of Feronoss, lost to war,” many recounted, even now, breathlessly. “Long and hard have you all fought—for reasons none among your kind can even remember. Your history burned away, your kindness forgotten or abolished. Where peace could have been attained, instead you sought cruelty.”

The Goddess’s tone, as whispered words recall, was disapproving. Disappointed in the centuries wasted on needless bloodshed, bereft of grace and mercy.

Condemnation against vile actions. Silent anger for never having chosen a different path.

“For too long has your kind been at odds! For too long have you not known peace! So I tell you this: dare not persist in your conflict!”

The order was simple. The order was clear.

However, the order was far less heeded than some might hope, when only one woman spoke of it.

“On this day, towards the coming years, I will return to your world! Hopeful, expecting change! Should I behold peace on the horizon, you will know my mercy! A place among my gardens, and in Heaven beside me! However, should you continue on your wrathful path-”

The Goddess’s command was great; her voice like thunder. Echoing from one corner of the world to the next, all beyond the battlefield and across the planet could hear her words with a clear, terrible clarity.

“You will know Destruction’s Judgment!”

And just as quickly as she had arrived, the great golden Goddess departed. In as blinding a display as when she came, she left the world of Feronoss so that it may ponder her words and warning, digesting them in hopes of bettering themselves, should her threat prove true.

And for a time… it did. Among many, as it were. Those who were tired of the endless battles. 

Though the golden Goddess’s time was short, the impact she made was evident. In her arrival, divinity was shown and believed, and in her absence, the desire for peace was fostered; if only through the fear of destruction.

Alas… as is the truth of all mortal kind, no grace fostered, even among the faithful, is destined to last forever through absent hands.

Before long, war returned once more to the fields of Feronoss. More furious than before, those who favored bloodshed turned their weapons first against those who embraced faith. Branded as heretics, deniers of their world’s truth, they were hunted down and brutally punished. Hanged, humiliated, executed, and abolished, the words of faith were quickly erased, and in time, even forgotten.

Few remained who remembered the warning words, yet far was it from those who hoped, prayed, that their efforts would be enough to change the tides of their home’s destiny.

In time, even they were hunted down and forgotten.

So it was that nothing changed upon the world ravaged by war. They were lost to it once more, the call of violence.

Only now was the siren call so strong that none, not a single living soul beyond the fanatical, heeded the arrival and return of their Golden Goddess: her warnings ignored.

Her wrath incited. 

****

The people of Feronoss were shown mercy. 

They had been given time. More than most worlds often receive. 

And though that was more than should have been allowed, in the years that had followed Allura’s initial arrival, the planet quickly fell back into its older, baser habits of mutually assured destruction. 

There were no words to express her anger. No sounds she could make that’d articulate her disgust. 

The Archon of Annihilation was exhausted. 

After a decade of watching a world meant for more tear itself asunder, the Golden Goddess of destruction was simply… tired. 

Rubbing her heterochromic eyes, the Goddess of the Highest Order looked upon the burning world of Feronoss from her golden throne–her leading ship and helm–having observed it for what felt like an eternity. As it were, she had done just that, watching as events unfolded throughout the planet’s history, viewed with silent contempt as its population spiraled downward towards self-imposed devastation.

Even before she had made her presence known, Allura had been privy to much of what occurred on Feronoss. Either by way of her own great power, or through the resources she had at her disposal. 

As such, this was a deep, personal wound suffered. 

In her time of observation, a desire for change had nestled and grown. To enough of a size that, eventually, she had been prompted to action. Against the judgment of her closest advisors. 

So many rules had been broken in her descent onto the mortal world, and for Allura's efforts… further savagery. 

Barbarism that only brought with it pain, instead of the desired prosperity. 

Gritting her teeth, the Golden Goddess flicked the nail of her index finger across her thumb, drawing the ever most miniscule droplet of golden blood. Yet even that minute amount was enough to give a sense of the frustration she felt. 

“Fools…” Allura grumbled, the only other sound accompanying her disapproving tone being the clicking and clicking of her heels against gilded steel, as a plethora of faithful servants so terribly small tended to them. “Why must you waste such an opportunity and force my hand?” 

The Archon had such high hopes for Feronoss. 

She had hoped its people would make for a fine addition to her collection of garden worlds–Sanctuaries hidden away from the horrors of the cosmos. 

Instead, the population was quite content with ensuring their self-made horrors persisted. 

To the Golden Goddess’s side, an armored figure stood. Clad in shining, bronze metals, they stood silently, observing, much like their master, the burning world before the ship's helm. 

In as much a disappointing tone as their goddess, the knightly figure sighed. “I told you we should have been more forceful.” They explained rather disheartedly. “Arrived with an iron fist rather than a warning.” 

At times, mortal-kind only ever responded to force. They would heed no other display of power, if already their world was steeped in destruction. 

Another figure, to Allura’s right, stepped forward. As gilded as their comrade, yet bearing intricate, armored robes over knightly armaments. Atop their head, a halo shined brightly, adorned to their helmet, which itself bore an ever-present expression of quiet contempt. 

“And deny these lost, misguided souls their chance at salvation?” the robed figure responded. “Unthinkable, to believe that our Lady of Destruction is not capable of such mercy.”

The bronze-clad knight raised a hand to their chest, beating a fist against it. “Mercy is only deserving of those who wish to be saved. The people of Feronoss have squandered their chance.”

“And yet many among them had wished for change,” the robed acolyte argued. “Were more time to be given-”

An insurmountable pressure assailed the two comrades, and in the next instant did they both fall to their knees in reverence. 

Between them, a soft, golden hue enveloped their Archon’s body. Her hair, long and curled, floated ever so gracefully off of her shoulders; the deity’s power manifesting in response to her advisors’ rising argument. 

Between everything she was forced to witness, Allura did not wish to deal with their bickering. 

“Oddovis.. Baylin…” the Archon muttered, her voice barely a whisper. Still, it carried the weight of whole realities, all within the Lady of Destruction’s power to decimate. 

“Be. Silent.” 

The two advisors did as instructed, knowing better than to go against their Goddess’s commands. 

Looking at the burning world of Feronoss, Allura quietly contemplated what it was that should be done with this waste of a planet and its population. 

As the Archon of Annihilation, it was her duty, her directive, to bring about balance in a wild, orderless cosmos. Silence to worlds that upended the natural order, and in so doing, the hope that prosperity might take root in lifeless fields.

Often, Allura would only scour a planet’s surface. Reduce it to glass so that new life might spring, in time.

But the corruption of Feronoss was crust deep, seeping down into the planet’s core. 

Were nothing to be done now, the Archon still fully suspected that the planet, as well as all of its inhabitants, would perish along with their home in a few centuries, if not less.

It was always disheartening to see a world capable of so much more… simply not meet the standards of what it could have been. Allura had seen a thousand like it before, all failing to meet such beautiful heights, and as time progressed, she held no doubt that she would see a thousand more. 

But that was for the future. 

Now was the present. 

And as the moments passed by in silent contemplation, it wasn’t long until the Archon had arrived at her destructive conclusion. 

The golden aura surrounding her body fading, Allura turned to the right, towards her most loyal of priests. 

“Tell me, Baylin. What have your spies learned of those who had heeded my warning and worshipped my arrival? What remains of their population?” 

With a bow, the gilded priest rose to his feet, hand over his heart. “As you are aware, my Archon, much of their numbers had been wiped out by Feronoss’s war-obsessed regime. Branded heretics, many were hunted down, along with their lineages.”

For a moment, Allura was silent. For any other Archon, that alone would have served as enough of a sentence to condemn a world to death. 

Yet she was not like her peers. 

“Many?” the Archon recanted. “Not all…?”

“No, my Archon,” Baylin confirmed. “Not all. To my knowledge, sects of silent worshippers remain. Hidden in the mountains. In caves and forests. In villages away from their wrathful kin.”

“Their population?” Allura further asked. 

Baylin’s head hung, ashamed. “With regret, my Archon, my spies were capable only of espying a few hundred. Far from the number of the days of your initial arrival…”

Once more, Allura contemplated the information bestowed. For a moment, she even considered the number of worshippers alive to be a paltry amount when compared to what could have been. But, when given more thought… it was in truth a generous estimate. 

Especially when one considered how fiercely previous sects of worship had been hunted down and dealt with. 

These people were survivors, if nothing else. 

Not necessarily worthy of the garden worlds within the Archon’s collection, but at the very least, they could be granted a new life beside her. As servants. 

Turning to her bronze knight, her captain, Allura bid them to rise. 

“Oddovis, take your troops and gather what remains of the faithful. Ensure they are rounded and safe before my arrival. When all is said and done, they will need new quarters for themselves and their families.”

The knight bowed, their instructions clear. “It will be done, my Archon.” 

That, of course, left only the planet to deal with, however. 

Baylin was the first to speak up, regarding what should be done with the world. 

“Shall I inform the ship’s Techeuns to prepare their weapons, my Lady?” the Priest asked. Though his master was undeniably the Archon of Annihilation, Baylin himself commanded legions millions strong. Among them, Witches versed in technology so advanced they seemed kindred to magicians–liberated from a world that, much like Feronoss, had been hounded and dogged by war. 

It would have been easy to allow for the eradication of the planet. The Techeuns were well-versed in total, utter destruction, given their history; their machinery quite fierce. 

But such resources need not be expended. 

No more time needs to be wasted on a world that shunned grace. 

“No,” the Archon said, simply. “I will deal with Feronoss myself.” 

****

In all of Feronoss’ history that could be remembered, only once had silence wracked the planet so completely, that not a single weapon dared be fired. 

When the “Golden One” had descended from the Heavens, issuing a warning of change, lest the population feel her wrath. 

Few had taken the threat seriously at the time. Those who heeded such words were dealt with. Driven back into this world’s furthest corners, where they might die out themselves while the rest of the planet resumed what it was they believed mattered most. 

Warfare. 

Bloodshed. 

The desire to stand over one’s enemy, their body broken, their fist raised in triumph. 

To those Feronoss, that was all that mattered in life. For as long as could be remembered, it was all that they could desire. 

Now, though, as their smog colored clouds parted to reveal the firmament beyond, a new dream had nestled into each and every one of their trillions of hearts. 

One of wishful thinking, and deep-rooted delusions.

Of what they could have done to change. Of what may have been, had they heeded their Shining Visitor’s words. 

What if… as great, continent-spanning towers of ivory and flesh extended across the horizon, gripping the corners of the globe… what if?

The destruction came quickly, in quantities far exceeding anything that had ever been experienced on Feronoss or in each of its individual cities. Hells below, some of those very cities were quick to flatten beneath the weight of this unseen power; centuries of warfare coming to an abrupt end in the most casual passing of minutes. 

Beyond the great ivory pillars, even more magnificent globes of diamond and emerald shone, enveloping the planet in rays of beautiful iridescence. Waves of colors so brilliant, they would have inspired even the most hardened of souls to song and dance. 

Yet, such radiance did little to soothe the spirits of the warriors of Feronoss. 

Instead, all they could do… was scream. 

Scream and fall to their knees in blind, apologetic waves of guilt-ridden hysteria. 

They had been given their warning and squandered it. 

They had been given a chance and squandered it. 

Still, the people of Feronoss asked for more in the hopes that, this time, they would get things right. 

Surely they would, now that they knew divinity existed. Truly, actually, existed, and cared enough to intervene in their lives. 

But beyond the rays of iridescent colors and many miles of ivory pillars, no mercy could be seen in those globes that hung over the sky and blocked out the sun itself. 

No grace to be delivered to those who were not deserving of it. 

No more chances to give for the wicked. 

A great wave of pleasantry washed over the world of Feronoss, one final time, wiping clean the slate that was their violence-obsessed ways; population and all. 

The great pillars that clung to the lifeless world became tight, cracking away at its crust, and boiling its sea to near nothingness. A golden light washed over the world, but already none remained to witness it. 

It would not matter.

It wouldn’t have changed a thing. 

Judgment had been decided, and few would be spared an Archon’s wrath. 

****

As a sigh washed over Feronoss, wiping its population away in one fell, accidental swoop, Allura could not help but still lament over the passing of what could have been. Even more so now, as she held the ruined world in the palm of her hand, plucked clean from its position within its star system without ever having to rise from her seat. 

As instructed, Oddovis had ferried away those who remained faithful to the Archon of Annihilation, few though they may be. Even as their world fell to swift ruin, the bronze captain and his legion were precise in their actions, missing not a single soul in their rescue. 

Yet this did little to inspire confidence in Allura. 

She held no delusion that she would be held in reverence by those she wished saved, instead likely to be viewed as some great horror who took as she pleased. The very same ilk as those beings the Archon has stood against for as long as she's sat upon her mighty throne. 

It’s happened thousands of times prior, and before long it would pass many times more. This was both expected and accepted. 

For this destruction was needed. A necessity, if the cosmos was to remain orderly. 

With only a passing glance of recognition, the Archon closed her hand completely into a fist, decimating what remained of Feronoss; its troubled history of endless wars at long last ended. Dusting her hand clean of its debris upon her silken garbs, Allura sank deeply into her throne, still as exhausted as she had been before the world's destruction. 

Below her, boulder-sized chunks fell at her feet, and her servants were quick to move out of the way of the coming hail. Having served their Lady of Destruction for a long while now, their own planets likely having been purged ages ago, they had grown accustomed to such harrowing sights. 

For many, their Archon’s sentiments were even shared. At times, worlds simply could not be saved, regardless of how much one wished that they could. While the passing of one was a harrowing, disheartening event, it was often found to be inevitable. 

With a grunt, Allura moved her heeled feet back, away from her faithful servants. “Please, be rid of that sorrowful sight,” she urged them, gently. “I do not wish to look upon such ruins longer than necessary. 

By her side, Baylin had remained, watchful, judgmental, of his Archon’s course of actions. Like his Majesty, the priest was mindful of those at her heels, yet he was not beyond casting them in his shadow as he leaned to her ear. 

“You ended them too quickly, my Archon,” Baylin reasoned. “You should have prolonged their extinction, if only so that they might muse on their misdeeds…”

With nary a heart to give, Allura chuckled coldly. “Do I look like our dear, bloodied Seraphim, O’ Priest mine? Should you wish for unnecessary cruelty, then do recommend, next, that we keep dear Liel by our side. Otherwise, do be silent on these matters I deem necessary.” 

With nary a word to argue, the Priest bowed, heeding his Archon’s words. He would not go against them, nor would he even think to humor the thought of conversing with the Lady of Destruction’s closest aid–the Heavens’ most notorious Seraph. 

No, Baylin was ever faithful. He would follow his Majesty’s words to the letter, if that was what she wished. 

And though her actions doubtlessly weighed heavy on her heart, none were more fit to carry them out than the Archon of Annihilation. Allura. A sovereign seat of the Golden City’s Highest Echelons. 

Taking in as deep a breath as could be mustered, the Archon leaned forward in her seat, having seen enough. 

With another sigh, she waved off Baylin, bidding them to return to their previous duties. 

She had seen enough. 

Done enough. 

More than what was often allowed, for those who shared her level of authority and power. 

The Archon held no doubt that she would suffer a berating from her peers of equal standing once she returned home, but such consequences had already been considered and ignored. 

“Set a return course for the Heavens’ capital city,” Allura requested as her loyal priest walked off. “Nothing more remains for us here.”

During the trip back home, Allura would have to join Oddovis in acclimating the new influx of servants to their new lives. On top of that, she would have to watch over Baylin, as he brought about the inspirations of a new faith to the survivors of Feronoss. 

And all that pales in comparison to the earful the Archon was to receive from Liel, her faithful haindmaiden, and the knowledge they’d receive in learning that they missed a planet’s extermination–an event the angel often desired to carry out herself. 

It was just work, work, work. 

But such was the case when dealing with the futures of entire worlds. 

Nay, the continued existence of whole realities. 

For in Allura’s eyes, all things were to be judged. Justly, appropriately, regardless of ill intentions. Balance was to be maintained at any cost, and hers was the hand to deliver both salvation… 

Or rightful punishment.