A pale comparison to what it was before the Starfall.
Still, it’s better than the darkness of day, when the moon disappears, and all natural light leaves the world.
Yet another sign that the end is upon us and coming sooner than expected.
As if they hadn’t already faced insurmountable tragedy and barely lived through it. As if cataclysmic events preceding this weren’t enough to bring this world to its knees. Now, we must enact Judgment, and humanity has even less time to prove where their rightful place in the hereafter will be.
And this… this entity—he, she, whoever it is—is just one more thing I must contend with.
Or at least, that’s what I tell myself, so that optimism and resolve do not give way to despair.
Eridessa and I will make it through this.
I reach outward again.
Careful at first, then with more intent, letting what remains of my power brush against the presence deep in the forest, seeking it out… testing its nearness.
It answers.
Not with force.
With resistance.
A presence that does not yield or recoil. It meets mine as if it knows what I am—or what I have become.
I latch onto the possibility that one of the old gods survived the fall. That it is he or she approaching, perhaps drawn here by the power I wielded to remake this place.
There’s no way to know. Only that whatever it is unsettles the forest, its presence so foreboding, the world around me seems to hold its breath.
Which is why I stand vigilantly outside Eridessa’s home.
She is in no shape to face any threat, and I won’t allow anything to endanger her fragile state further.
Except…
My power has been largely expended, and what little has returned to me I’ve used to heal or comfort Eridessa. I can draw from the magic here if I must, but I would rather not unless there is no other option.
Even now, power hums beneath the ground. The forest is alive in a way it never has been. Magic glints in every limb, branch, and trunk, coating the reborn growth pushing up from the forest floor.
And that… may be exactly what the entity has come for.
I believe with more time, I’ll fully recover. I feel myself growing stronger as the hours stretch forward. But as it stands, that won’t come soon enough to do me much good.
Then—
A sound from the house.
A broken cry that turns into a whimper.
Eridessa.
Relief hits me first, sharp and dizzying. Any sound from her is better than the stillness that came before. But it twists immediately into alarm as she shouts, and her voice is fractured with pain.
“Orán!”
She calls out to me, more breath than word. It rips through me all the same, sending fear spiraling cold and fast down my spine.
I’m moving before thought catches up.
