The End.
The end is slow in coming. Our eyes have adjusted to the murky red light after
two millennium on this planet, but even that cannot help us now. There has been
a shift.
I can barely see my hands in front of my face. Or Ritgur at my side. I
feel his arm around my waist. I feel his warmth. The rest of the world is cold.
Dark and cold.
What will become of us?
Ritgur tells me it'll be alright, we will find a way. He is sweet, but we
both know it's a lie. There is little hope for us now.
It has not always been so dark. The Historias speak of a time when the
sky was filled with a plethora of twinkling lights. Lights that shone in many
different colours; blue, white, orange. The first star, where we began, was described
as yellow. That was so many worlds ago, no one really knows if it's true. These
words – orange, white, blue, yellow – mean nothing to me. Only red and black.
Soon only black.
Ritgur pulls me closer as another solar flare flickers across the sky. It
dies out quickly and the sky dims. A mummer ripples through the crowd. They've
come to watch the end. There is a collective feeling of uncertainty. All I feel
is terror.
Surveyors have been sent to find a new light, but there is little hope that
they will succeed. There are no lights left. The one that hovers above us is
the last.
The dim, red disk in the sky drops another degree. In the ancient Earethian
time that would have taken an hour. This world spins much faster. At least that
is what I've been told. Too fast perhaps.
I lean into Ritgur, resting my head on his chest as we begin out descent
into darkness. Together, we stare up at the sky and watch the sun set. Possibly
for the last time.
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