Blue light enclosed them as the chaos in the corridors ebbed and flowed around them like currents.

"I'll take care of you." As though in the presence of a frightened child, he smiled and took her hand as he'd done so many times in their childhood.

He knows his duty better than I do, Semylyn thought. As the son of Sitnalta's First Defender, the man second in authority only to the High Guardian himself, Troyak would soon inherit his father's position. His powerful protecting instinct clothed him like a second skin.

Semylyn drew in a deep breath and steadied herself. She was the High Guardian's daughter. She could not allow a sudden crisis to make her fearful.

"Lead the way." With a toss of her head, she tucked a hand in the crook of one of his muscular arms and walked into the corridor.

People from all different orders stood talking in small, anxious groups. Most of the silver-garbed Scientists stood before power panels, gesturing as they heatedly discussed various theories.

Engineer crews rushed past them, instruments, and power maps under their arms.

The Habitat representatives charged with the well-being of Sitnalta's inhabitants, their golden insignias muted by the darkness, went from person to person offering assistance.

The Archivist Order members were easily identifiable, even though in the darkness, their white insignias were barely distinguishable from those of the scientists. Instead of discussing theories, examining hardware, or offering help...they simply watched. There were few enough of them anyway, the individuals educated and charged with the keeping of Sitnaltian history.

People paused in their conversations to acknowledge her and Troyak as they negotiated the corridor. Taking the opportunity, she offered some reassuring words along the way.

They turned a corner and entered the Habitation ring's fourth-level plaza area. An Engineering crew stood peering at a dark column of seawater rising through the city's seven levels—the Channel.

"Oh," Semylyn murmured. It was all dark here, too. Even the Channel's rippling light was gone.

"Come on," Troyak urged her, his eyes scanning the wide emptiness of the plaza, "We'll have to take the ramp." His hand tightened around her fingers as he hurried her forward.

Thoughts raced through her mind, keeping pace with her heart's rapid rhythm. In all of Sitnalta's centuries, there had never been a blackout. Power from The Prime was unceasing; something must be very wrong.

She wiggled her fingers to relieve the crushing pressure of his grasp as they descended the ramp that ran along the dome's inner perimeter. Down they went, through the dark, echoing levels: level three's habitation ring, level two's empty laboratories, until they arrived at level one's landing.

Here a few individuals sat or stood outside the Council Chamber awaiting news, their anxious eyes followed her and Troyak as they made their way toward the Chamber.

The great doors stood ajar and inside Semylyn could just make out a few forms seated around the large council table. Several strategically placed hand lamps were all that broke the shadows, but Semylyn didn't need to see the Council members' faces to sense their tension. Her father gestured toward her designated position next to him.

Troyak led her to her seat and waited as she took it. Then, after pressing a warm hand briefly on her shoulder, he set the hand lamp down and found his way to his seat at the far end of the table's semi-circle.

"What is happening?" Semylyn leaned towards her father.

Omree Vock, High Guardian of Sitnalta, turned towards his daughter and shook his head. "Something I had hoped would never happen."

The Council doors slammed shut with a fierce jar. Semylyn focused on the hulking figure striding towards her father.

"What is the meaning of this? Is there a threat?" Xerell, the First Defender and Troyak's father, stopped at the table's edge, impatience deepening his frown.

"Not an immediate one, no," Omree answered. "Please, take your seat and we'll begin."

With a grunt, Xerell ran a hand across the rigid muscles at the back of his neck and glanced around the chamber once more.

As First Defender of Sitnalta and Head of the Order of Combat Aptitude, Semylyn knew Xerell wanted answers faster than most. Her tension inched up as he spun on his heel and strode toward the empty chair next to Troyak's.

Though she knew him as the kindest of men, his aggressiveness frightened her a little. More disturbing was observing that same assertiveness increasing in Troyak. Even now, his hard, combative expression matched that of his father. A twinge of uncertainty squeezed her heart. She wanted to grab him and shake him, commanding that he never lose his crooked, boyish grin, or teasing smile.

"My friends," Omree squared his powerful shoulders, his calm cadence reflecting a mediator's patience. "We face a grave and unprecedented situation." He paused.

The room's murky illumination lent a sinister weight to the silence that hung in the air like a death toll. Semylyn shifted in her seat. The dread of the unfamiliar was a nemesis she fought hard to conceal. She waited, as did the others, not even the sound of a breath broke the stillness until her father's voice shattered the silence.

"The Prime has been penetrated..."

To be continued...

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1.  What are your thoughts on the opening scene of this story?
2.  Make a prediction about what will happen next and why.