Falling Sun

You were too young to remember when the Sun lorded over the highest point of the sky. They say we were born from it, they called us the Children of the High Star. Separated by cruel fate and stranded in the cold dirt, we longed to return to the skies, to the star we called our Mother. We built our shelters and honed our blades, stoking the Eternal Flame, the only proof of our connection to the High Star. We struggled with the darkness every night, holding off the terrors that would douse our flame and leave us defenseless while our Mother slept. 

We played music, sang songs, and danced to keep the flow of life from stagnating. We followed the ebb and flow and let the Eternal Flame link us in reverie. Our Kingdom grew, and we prepared ourselves for the day we would reunite with the High Star. We built and built and built. Tirelessly we built, brick by brick, a tower to reach heaven. And just as we began to climb, the sun vanished. 

You were too young to remember when the sun disappeared from the sky, leaving us alone with the lucid silver of a rising Moon. We did not fear the darkness, for the Eternal Flames kept destruction and decay at the final edges of our vision. While others withered away, our cities prospered, warm and magnificent under the brilliant moonlight. They say without the Sun, the Moon climbed ever higher, clinging to newly granted self-importance. 

In those days, we sang more, danced more, celebrated more; we did anything to keep the darkness at bay. It seemed, even without our Mother, we flourished and bloomed in those cold days. You were still too young to remember when we realized we had stopped dying, stopped aging. A hundred Moons rose and fell before we could grasp it. It shocked us into frantic purpose. All the time we had was not enough.

We took up the blades we had since forgotten, sharpened them to razor’s edge, poised against that which would take our birthright from us. We could feel it, in those days, the creeping sense of dread that preceded it. In those times, we spun barrels and put our trust in hot steel, waiting for the day we would have to fight. 

When the Adversary came, we were prepared. 

And when the Moon shattered, we fell.