In A Name

Abby Ebon

Disclaimer: Own I do not. Most especially not "Harry Potter", or "Chronicles of Riddick"…or anything in-between…

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"Silver Eyes Do Alight"

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Dame Vaako stood at the balcony, staring down at the doomed world below. In this 'verse, worlds were built and made as often as they were needed for the masses and migration of humanity.

It was unnatural, to use the 'verse this way – so the Purifiers said. To watch a world be destroyed was the ultimate test of being a Necromonger. Few could claim to see worlds built, but every Necro' witnessed the death throes of worlds, the ruin of those who rejected the Necromonger way, scattered like dust over the 'verse.

Beneath her feet, the hull trembled; they were withdrawing from this world – but – it was too early. Dame Vaako's smile turned to a worried frown and she went in search of answers – and her protégé Kyra. There was no one better then she at breaking and making a Necro'; it was a skill she could be proud of, which no one could deny.

Silver eyes met Dame Vaako's sending a chill down her spine.

It was unexpected, for she had found herself unprepared for the sight. She remembered, vaguely, the shape – one among hundreds and thousands of Necromonger warriors. A host of them yet still moved around and beyond her, it was as useless to look for those eerie silver eyes as to look for a star in the open sky; lost, no where to be found.

Much like the Necromongers themselves, but now the Lord Marshal held the key, and it was the green eyed Harry. Dame Vaako goes quickly for Vaako, where the wizard is – and Aereon wind-witch from Quintessa.

She does not like being within that room, there is too much within it, can not say what sets her on edge; if it is magic, or life, or something supernatural and not the science that is the Necromonger way, or something else altogether, the chill of threat of answers to questions that will to spill over if heeded.

It is almost too much to tolerate – and if she were alone she would not dare, but she slips into that room, the chamber which is supposed to be the Lord Marshal's prison, but is now so much more; simply because of who (and what) resides within there. Dame Vaako does not dare lift her eyes from the floor, for she fears she is being watched.

"He is here." By memory alone, she reaches her goal: Vaako's arm, she looks up fleetingly, and gleaming green eyes catch her dark ones. She is so still she might as well be frozen; she wonders if this is what it feels like to be prey, to be caught.

"Is he now? Most interesting – would you not agree, Aereon?" Harry drawls softly, looking to her husband for all that he addresses the wind-witch. He smiles, pleased, at whatever expression Vaako shows, her Vaako, who has always been far too expressive.

It was that face, which had attracted her - rather then any lack of skill that had held him back so long– but the Dame does not dare to glimpse or look away from the abyss that is within those green eyes. If she does, she feels as if she'll be devoured.

"Indeed." Aereon all but purrs the word, as if she's never looked forward to something more. Dame Vaako thinks that however bad the wind-witch thinks the Necromongers are whatever madness Harry is to her, Aereon is in good company – just as mad as anyone here – at least.

"You will take me to Zhylaw, and I will end this." It's a promise the way Harry says it, as if he's had enough and can't be bothered to play anymore – but this isn't a game.

It's her life – or death.

She feels the look Vaako gives her, lingering and full of the old sorrow; as if she's betrayed him somehow – yet he still feels for her. Weaker men might claim the feeling for love, but both Vaako and his Dame know better.

"Follow me." Vaako says, and she is not surprised.

Harry obeys this request, but he is silent and Dame Vaako dares not tempt her fate – which lies in the hands of this wizard – by moving away. To do so would be foolish. Chains rattle and slide against the floor, and Aereon follows all.

No one comes to halt them as they make their way though the halls, from prison chambers to the inner throne, it's as if Vaako and the Dame are all the Necromongers that remain within. Its magic, Dame Vaako realizes her gaze sliding to Harry's feet, wizard magic. Magic that is lost to the Necromongers, yet now –maddeningly - within their reach.

Harry slips between the Necromongers gathered in the throne chamber, as if he does not have a noble prisoner in hand, and Vaako is merely another warrior – Aereon though, lingers at the fringes as if she does not quite trust Harry so much, or does not dare.

She looks about herself, at her people, and she finds she is both astonished and agonized - it's as if no one sees, truly, why they move out of Harry's way – allowing him mindlessly to pass - without truly knowing that he's there at all. If questioned, could they tell who had passed them? She wonders, and fears that frantic question and answer – this is as eerie as a ghost, and more, it's magic – now that she knows what to look for.

It surrounds Harry, no – it is Harry. As if the two are one, and neither can be real without the other; Harry is magic, and magic is Harry. Harry stops abruptly, and the Dame looks about but can not tell why.

Then she sees him, Zhylaw – the Lord Marshal.

You keep what you kill, the rule – the law. She closes her eyes, pained, for she can not look and see all her work fall to nothing; even as her own words mock her into silence, Zhylaw is mortal – but Harry, Harry is not.

She hears the clang of Necromonger steel against the stone floor, her eyes flinch open.

Zhylaw is looking straight at them, but it's clear he does not see them – his focus is upon another, lean limbed and shaved bald, the silver eyed man has his back to them. A Necromonger helmet lies at his feet, as if he's already defeated them and they don't know it yet. Riddick can't know that Harry stands at his back.

"Riddick..." The Lord Marshal is pleased – and surprised.

"You've made a mistake." Riddick growls so low his voice rumbles like a purr.

"I've a gift for you, if you can forgive my mistake." With a gesture the Lord Marshal summons forward someone bedecked in a black hooded robe. Riddick turns and tenses, he's noticed that this figure comes in-between them; a challenge that he can't read any other way as being in the favor of the Lord Marshal. Riddick probably isn't aware that he mouths the word "Harry" as if in prayer.

It isn't Harry, Dame Vaako knows, her hands twisted into knots as she wonders what reaction Harry – or Riddick – will have to what is about to happen. Neither is predictable, yet upon their reaction hinges survival.

"Kyra. Are you with me? " Riddick says softly, as if it isn't a surprise, as if he expected her all along and didn't hope for another. Kyra smiles and they way she does, Riddick's attention narrows to her.

"There is another way, Riddick." Her voice is soft and soothing, reasoning, as if her words aren't madness.

"Kyra – are you with me…? Where is Harry?" Riddick takes a step back, as if struck by words alone; and Kyra moves to stand between Riddick and the Lord Marshal.

"Harry this, Harry that – don't you see Riddick?" Kyra's hand waves to encompass the whole of the crowd, unknown to Riddick she had answered his question – for a brief moment her eyes met Harry's – and then she looked back to Riddick.

"He's let the universe rot, all humanity has ever worked for, he sees it going down the drain – just like you – and he does nothing. He will never do anything. We must take action; we must save those we can – while we can." Kyra moves to look over the Nercomongers, gathered around them, but held back by the gesture and words of their Lord Marshal.

"The Nercomonger Way, Riddick – join us, and you will see the glory of Underverse. I would convert you, and we both know that if you and Kyra were mine, Harry would follow you." The Lord Marshal says, and Kyra comes to stand beside Zhylaw; her loyalty seemingly chosen, as if it is a physical thing. Where others would shudder, Riddick is so very still in his fury. He tears his gaze away from Kyra, and painfully closes them – when his eyes open they gleam silver in the light.

"You'll see the Underverse," Riddick promises, grinning or grimacing at the lot of them in disgust, "I won't."

"So be it." Saddened, as if by the thought of losing Riddick as a puppet, but also eager -he can't imagine anyone able to best him, he's been in power too long, and when this fight is over one way or another he won't fear the Furyans for Riddick is the last of his people.

"Nox." Harry whispers softly, as if to begin a lullaby. The lights go out, all the lights – it is so dark within that it seems every star has becomes dark and cold – and maybe it is so.

Riddick's eyes still shine silver in the dark.

"Thanks, Harry." Riddick's voice is the only one that speaks, all the rest are hushed and waiting.

Harry can't see either, Dame Vaako realizes, he's eyes are closed – but he is listening, so she learns from him, following his example she closes he eyes – and sees.

You keep what you kill; the law rings in her ears.

Riddick is going after the Lord Marshal, striking out with no intention of holding back – it's as if he's a man who's lost so much he can't imagine not surviving this. Dame Vaako wonders what he's seen, what he's lived though, that could be so much worse then this.

Riddick yells out, and she can imagine – or see – she doesn't know which is which anymore – not with Harry standing there beside her. Riddick is going for the kill, striking down at the Lord Marshal, and then one word is hissed from Nercomonger lips.

"Lumos!"

Light blooms in front of Riddick's face like a flower, all at once exploding – it's a trick, light being used as a weapon, Riddick cries out, jerking away in pain. His eyes shut tight, and blood falls down his cheeks like tears.

Dame Vaako opens her eyes, and the light hurts. It's as if the ache is an echo of Riddick's own pain, shared among them – and she wonders how much worse it is, for Riddick.

"Come out!" Zhylaw screams, looking into the crowd of Nercomonger faces, who are impassive as he searches them, circling and pacing the arena they in turn encircle. Riddick groans and moves away from him whenever he moves, he can hear, even if he does not see.

"I know you are here – I know your tricks!" Zhylaw motions for one of the Necromonger warriors to strike Riddick down like a rabid dog, useless – and soon to be dead. It's a ploy, but Kyra can not see that, she rushes toward the attacker intent on doing damage with a little blade.

Zhylaw strikes out at her with thin air – it slices visibly into her clothes and sends her flying into a pillar of sharp spines. Dame Vaako is not unfeeling, for a bond between a Necromonger and a newly converted Necromonger is one of their most sacred – she gasps softly, pained as she fears to see the life of the girl - one of her own – a Necromonger, so swiftly ended.

Kyra is bait.

Harry takes it. It defies logic when Kyra hovers over the wickedly tipped spine, as if cradled within a hand. Harry steps forward, his hand is outstretched toward Kyra, reaching – as if he can not see any but her, his focus so narrowed to saving her life.

The Lord Marshals grin is a horror to behold, sickening triumphant.

Harry lifts his hand, and Kyra moves away from the spire, slowly and deliberately, she is moving toward the upper balcony; out of harms way. A fall from that height won't kill her, but it will cripple.

"Harry!" Dame Vaako hears Kyra's cry of warning – and Riddick's head jerks up, forcing his eyes open.

It's in time to see Zhylaw strike.

Dame Vaako smiles past the killing blow, the sword jerks out of her body with the Lord Marshals shock. Her hands shake as she keeps the weapon in her as long as she can, she is aware of Vaako's cry of outrage, of his sword swinging in a killing blow.

Zhylaw flickers in her sight, and she does not think it is merely that she is dying that she sees – or perhaps it is because she is dying that she does, and understands – he is escaping. He lets go of the weapon buried within her, spilling her guts and blood upon the stone plated floor.

She is not alone in seeing Zhylaw flee, she realizes only when she hears a shiv buried in the Lord Marshal's skull. Vaako looks up at her, kneeling on the floor - his sword having fallen beside him in the strike. Dame Vaako falls into his arms, and there is no where else she would rather be. Maybe, just maybe, it is love between them. She is sorry it is too late to tell him.

"You will not die yet." Harry promises her, his green eyes like life giving flame, forcing her to awareness – it is painful, but he must be told. With every breath feeling like the last, she warns.

"Y-you keep what you kill." At the corner of her eye she sees, around her Nercomongers are falling to their knees like the sea tide withdrawing from the shore. They bow their heads to the one still standing, as Riddick stumbles onto the throne, seeking the high ground on instinct. Riddick looks to Kyra when she laughs, and then to Harry when he speaks; he looks at peace.

"So be it." Harry heals her, and Dame Vaako knows he will heal them all.

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End

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Note; of course, it had to end like this.

Actually no, I had no idea what would happen until I started typing after having a rather vivid dream of Kyra's death being replayed, almost, then cradled in the air as if a hand were protecting her.

Harry then proceeded to talk to me (I think). Necromongers are wizards that set out to seed the worlds in our ancient past; Quintessa, the world of the Elementals is a world of logical people gifted with powers they don't understand; and Furya was a world that embraced the primitive magic within them – when Earth ventured to explore, Furya and Quintessa stood closest to Earth, at the very doorstep of the Milky Way, and Earth and it's people chose to ally with Furya – it was a very brief alliance, for afterward Quintessa allied with the Nercomongers who they found scatted at the very dark corners of the galaxy, trying to make their way to 'Underverse' (as they reckoned space travel they had gone 'up' from Earth, so had to go 'under') Aereon gave a certain prophesy, and the Nercomongers started destroying the worlds they had seeded in search for Furyans, incidentally most of wizard kind were among those on Furya.

Harry survived because he wasn't where he was supposed to be; and as for Riddick, when Zhylaw strangled him as an infant, he was left for dead in a bin – where Harry found him, and then stole him and fled. They were separated in transport; and Harry spent a good fifteen years tracking Riddick down.