Halo Spotlight: Faithless

As the Great Schism rages, Bero’a Ly’ghee leads her forces across space to kill the Prophet of Justice and his Jiralhanae Warlords in the hopes of disabling the civil war’s leadership. But for some the price is too high...

The noises of the battlefield faded, but Jarikus remained frozen. Kneeling close, he clutched Samorulan’s claw in his own, unable to process the blood and gore around him. ''How...? Why...?'' he wondered.

Samorulan’s eyes were glazed and rolled up, staring into the indifferent sky. Part of his jaw was missing, the remainder fallen slack against his throat, and multiple other puncture wounds showed across his body. At this point, it seemed the warrior was more tungsten and steel than flesh and blood.

Jarikus howled into the night, a painful cry of remorse. Samorulan had been his closest companion since youth. We always dreamed of glorious death in battle, Jarikus reflected, ''But not like this... not alone...''

The warrior’s fall had been valiant, no doubt, and swift, but that did not ease Jarikus’ rage. Bero’a’s Cohort had been in hot pursuit of the Prophet of Justice, having assaulted his stronghold on Impartial Perdition and pushed through the defenses like a molten river. Pinned down by multiple foes, Samorulan had charged ahead of the Cohort to defend them, fatally shooting Jiralhanae and Kig-yar with one weapon while skewering others with his blade.

But a brave, foolish target was an easy one for snipers. Caught in battle against two Jiralhanae Captains, several snipers had picked him apart, before the captains themselves finished Samorulan off. Jarikus had watched in horror, unable to reach him in time to stop the massacre: what happened afterwards was a whirlwind of black and red in his memories, but the others had filled in that gap for him.

“You fought like a righteous beast,” Bero’a had told him. “You tore the limbs off your foes and crushed all others remaining.”

Tears welled up in his eyes, but Jarikus bit them back. Samorulan was avenged, and their foe’s leaders were soon to be vanquished, or so he presumed. At this point, Jarikus cared for nothing but the cold figure lying in his arms. A single minute more was all he wished for, but he knew it was too much to ask. And now, after years of fighting, he began to question his place in the universe.

Jarikus looked deep into his friend’s paled eyes. “Is there any meaning?” he asked to no one but himself. “We were brothers, Samorulan, and our lives revolved around winning glory together. Now… have I lived a lie? I care not for the Covenant or their gods. I’ve merely longed for glory all my days.”

Jarikus paused. Clutching Samorulan’s body in his arms, he slowly, painfully stood and started walking to the edge of the platform he stood on. “No…” he whispered to himself, feeling his grip tighten, “I refuse to be a pawn any longer. I have fulfilled my oath to the Cohort… It’s time I avenged you, brother.”

Looking down over the edge of the platform, Jarikus saw chaos reign throughout the facility. Fires raged, explosions and smoke covered the area as various soldiers ran throughout. The entire fortress was engulfed in battle, growing worse like fire spreading through kindling. Spying one neglected spot at the edge of the conflict, the warrior noticed a Lich gunship, hidden away: his ticket out.

His lips parted into a determined snarl. “I will avenge you, I swear,” Jarikus said, marching towards the ship on the horizon, “Damn all gods and alliances, I will avenge you and cut a bloody path through the stars in your honor, or join you in Hell…”