Chapter Text
Child of light, kin of the stars.
An inky black sky, its vastness equally comforting yet lonely.
Protected by the sun, guided by the moon.
A single star, unblinking, gazing across the emptiness.
Wished upon by the lost, defied by the fallen.
It’s regret, its fear, its anger and its sorrow blinding it. Hiding it.
Adored and admired by the blind.
Wishing it had done something. Anything. Anything at all.
Shunted and ignored by the deaf.
Anything besides standing at the sides, too afraid, too stubborn to help them. To save them.
Hunted and devoured by the mute.
Now it’s powerless to guide them. It can’t move, it can’t speak, it can’t see anything past the nothingness.
Are you hungry, child?
It sobs, but nothing comes out. It weeps, but nothing comes out. It wails, but nothing comes out. It screams, but nothing comes out. It is silent again, because nothing will come out anyway. Nothing matters here.
Do you wish to devour? Devour like the highest mountains, like the fastest rivers, like the raging red storm?
It’s tired. So, so, tired. But it can’t sleep. That’d be too rewarding. To be earned rest and to heal from these wounds. It is exhausted, it is in pain. Constantly. Forever and always.
Will you fall child?
It wishes it could sleep. It wishes it could forget.
Like the one before you?
It wishes it could die.
-
Something Happens.
It’s miniscule, unimportant, barely more noticeable than a grain of sand out of place in a vast desert. But after an eternity of nothing, it stands out like a shining beacon of light.
The Something grows bigger. No, it’s coming closer. Closer to the star. And slowly, but within moments all the same, the Something becomes a Thing.
A bright flame. Burning, scorching, too bright to be seen, too hot to be touched, too loud to be heard. The star sees it, the star touches it, the star hears it, and the star weeps once again. But not out of anguish, but out of hope.
Please, it would say if it could. Give me another chance.
Its words come out as nothing, but the star knows the flame understands.
I will do anything. To save them. To guide them like I once did. The flame seems to be hesitant, but it’s not immediately rejecting the star's idea, so it presses on.
My light. It is many. I can spare some. It can help them. Like the prophecy said it would.
The flame seems amused. The prophecy never mattered. Fate doesn’t rule this universe, the flame does. But it considers the star's idea.
It will hurt. It’s not the stars thought, but what everything inside and outside him tells him. It’s voice hurts more than anything before. Almost as much as dying.
I am willing, it says without hesitation. Anything.
The star’s fate won’t change, the flame reminds it. It will remain here.
I know.
The flame smiles then. Gentle, yet full of a twisted delight. Very well.
It happens without a warning. The star gasps, and then is engulfed in flames. They burn, they tear the star apart without mercy. Everything it's made of is torn apart, taken away, and the scraps are reconstructed haphazardly. It’s screaming, it's laughing, it's crying and it's screaming again. The flame watches.
After an eternity, but after just a moment as well, it stops. The burning fades away, and the star remains. It’s more exhausted and pained than ever before.
It looks at the flame with what little consciousness it has left.
It has been done, the flame announces. The night sky around the star is brighter, somehow. A light purple where there had once been black nothingness. It’s the first color the star has seen other than the sick red of the flame in ages, and it’s the most beautiful thing it has ever seen. It savors the color, knowing it will soon vanish.
The flame eyes the star. Your light will find its way and save those who could not be saved. It will succeed in the task you failed in. If it won’t, I will disperse of it.
The star would nod if it were able to. Before the flame can announce its departure, the star speaks.
Please. One last mercy. It says it without thinking. The flame had given it enough mercy already.
The flame seems to share this sentiment, it’s indifference turning to agitation. It has given the star enough mercy, why would it grant another boon?
Please. The sky. The color. Let it remain.
The flame considers. Then agrees. The star has learned well, sacrificing what little remains of it. Its last wish shall be granted.
The star weeps, tries to thank the flame, but it is already gone, like it never was here in the first place. All that is left is the beautiful sky, and the flame’s last words ringing through the stars' mind.
Well met, Prince of Light.
-
Child of light,
sent by the star above,
granted light by the flame of all,
it is your command,
given by eternity itself,
to save what remains,
to guide who failed before you,
to bring them to the stars.
Know this, child.
You will never live,
you will never die,
you will only succeed,
or fail.
Will you fail,
you will be cast aside.
Forgotten.
Turned to stone.
Never to see the light again.
Will you succeed,
you will stay here forever
forever and always
to fix the mistakes your highest kin made.
Child of Light,
casted down by the Flame itself,
travel to the eye of the storm,
herd the lost ones to the stars,
do not fall to the Mountain King,
and make this empty, rotten shell
your home.
-
The wind lazily floats above the water, making shallow waves as it goes, swirling sand around in circles in its boredom. One of the swirls becomes bigger, and bigger, until it branches off on its own.
The tiny whirlwind is free to go as it wants, sledding across the beach in joy, over bumps and dodging rocks. It’s laughter is heard all around. The whirlwind is too small, too juvenile, to experience boredom like the ever present wind. All it cares for is to exist, and to enjoy.
It’s swirling, its dodging and its excitement comes to a grinding halt when it bumps into a large object, and falls apart.
The large object shifts, rolls around on its side and settles back down to continue it’s nice nap. It stirs again shortly after stilling, then opens its eyes in disorientated confusion.
The child, for that’s what it is, rolls onto its back, and heaves itself up. It wobbles, once or twice, before finding itself standing more steadily. The child blinks, rubs its eyes, then seems even more confused when its hands meet a clay mask instead.
It looks down, to its brown feet planted in the purplish sand, it looks forward, to the neverending body of water past the sand, then looks up, to the purple hues of the sky. it frowns. Something is missing from the sky. It racks its brain trying to remember what. It doesn’t remember its name, where it is or anything about the current situation, but it knows the sky is never empty.
After a few moments of thinking, it raises his head again. The sun. There’s supposed to be a sun.
It looks around the sky some more, but it cannot find the sun. No shining yellow orb of light anywhere in sight.
It turns around, finally, and finds itself in front of a large hill, made out of a dark grey stone and pale sand, colouring purple due to the reflection of the sky.
Behind the hill, something big and bright peeks its rays over the top, almost teasingly. It’s warmth familiar and comforting. It must be the sun, the child decides.
It observes the hill, trying to find a ledge or perhaps a shallower part to climb up the hill. On the right side of the hill, easily missed, the child spots a gaping hole, with worn stairs leading up to it. The hole is too dark to see anything inside of it.
the child hesitates. Perhaps the hole will lead to the sun, but what if it doesn't? What if it goes the opposite direction? Even worse, what if it leads underground? If the child enters, it may never find its way back to the surface!
The child shivers, but stays determined. No. The child is brave, and is not afraid of the dark, especially not when it's such a small tunnel like this. If it doesn’t lead to the sun, the child will simply turn around and find its way over the hill some other way.
The child huffs, puffs up its chest, and marches over to the hole. It’s going to find the light, no matter how scary the hole is. The child is brave, and afraid of nothing. It will stand against the dark and drive it away, and go to the beautiful, warm sun.
Go on, child.
Climb the mountain,
defeat the king.
Save this world.
Sky: Children of the Light