Читать книгу The Seven - Peter Newman, Peter Newman - Страница 8

The Empire of the Winged Eye holds power, undisputed. A great engine made of millions of people, machines and essence-fuelled weapons. Its purpose is simple: protect the world from infernal threat.

The Empire stands ready to do its duty. Spheres of metal orbit the globe watching for trouble, and the Lenses, the Empire’s watchers, have agents on land and sea, ever vigilant. Legions of knights train daily, keeping senses and swords sharp. Harmonized humans, their souls linked to better withstand infernal possession, train with them as living shields. Armies of soldiers march with essence guns and launchers, keeping constant patrols on the Breach.

There is but one problem.

The Breach has not yet opened.

Massassi, who alone was able to perceive the threat, created the Empire of the Winged Eye in answer to the coming invasion. But she was born too early, has readied humanity too soon.

While her loyal servants keep watch, other voices whisper dissent in the shadows. They question the reality of the threat and if the huge resources required to maintain the military could be better spent in other ways.

She knows that none will dare oppose her now, but after she is gone is another matter. And Massassi already feels her years of struggle, feels each weary pump of her scarred heart.

Despite her godlike power, she is getting old. She will be dead, the skin rotted from her bones, long before the infernals find their way into her reality.

But she is as much a mechanic as a deity. The Empire is simply a complex solution to a complex problem. She has already modified it many times as new data came to her. This is no different. As the problem evolves, so too must her creation. Only politicians and idiots ever think that things are finished or perfect. Massassi is neither.

Leaving the world in the hands of her commanders she returns to her workshop, one last project in mind.