The sky burned with a sickly hue, a bruise of violet and ash that smothered the stars. Kaela stood at the edge of the village, her boots sinking into the damp earth as she watched the final ember of Aetheris flicker above. The air reeked of sulfur and decay, a stench that clung to her skin like a second layer. She had always hated the smell of dying light.
“It won’t last much longer,” said Jarek, his voice low, almost reverent. He leaned against the wooden fence, his hands calloused from years of tending the fields. His eyes mirrored the sky—hollow, waiting. “They say the council will bring the new flame. But I don’t believe in miracles anymore.”
Kaela didn’t answer. She couldn’t. The weight of the words pressed against her ribs, a leaden thing she couldn’t name. The village had always whispered about the council, their veiled meetings and secret rituals. But this—this was different. The light was fading, and no one seemed to care.
That night, she dreamt of fire. Not the warm, golden kind that danced in hearths, but a cold, blue flame that licked at the edges of her mind. She woke with her hands blistered, the scent of scorched wood lingering in her nostrils. The next morning, she found the first crack in the sky—a jagged tear that bled darkness into the world.
“You shouldn’t have gone there,” Jarek warned, his brow furrowed as he studied the damage. The villagers had gathered, their faces pale under the dimming light. “The council will hear about this.”
“Let them,” Kaela said, though her voice trembled. She didn’t know why she felt this way, why the wound in the sky called to her like a lost song. But she couldn’t look away. The air around it hummed, a sound she could feel in her bones, and for a moment, she thought she saw something within—the glint of metal, the flicker of movement.
That night, she slipped out again, her cloak drawn tight against the chill. The village was silent, its people huddled in their homes like frightened animals. The crack in the sky had widened, and something pulsed within it, a rhythm that matched the beating of her heart. She reached out, her fingers brushing the edge of the void—and the world shifted.
The ground beneath her feet vanished. She was falling, not down, but *through*, as if the sky itself had opened its mouth and swallowed her whole. Light exploded around her, not from the stars, but from the darkness itself. It was alive, writhing and hungry, and she could hear it—whispers, voices tangled in a language she didn’t understand but somehow *knew*. They were calling her name.
When she opened her eyes, she was standing in a place that shouldn’t exist. The air shimmered like heat rising from stone, and the ground was paved with black crystal that reflected her face back at her—except it wasn’t her. The eyes were too sharp, the mouth too wide, and the voice that spoke from it was not her own.
“You are not meant to be here,” the thing said, its words dripping like oil. “But you have come. That is all that matters.”
Kaela stumbled back, her breath ragged. The creature—was it a person? A shadow?—tilted its head, studying her. “The light is dying,” it said. “And the world will follow. But there is a choice. A path. You must decide which end you will walk.”
Before she could respond, the world snapped back into place. She was back in the village, the sky a dull gray, the crack sealed as if it had never been there. Jarek was shouting her name, his hands gripping her shoulders. “What happened? What did you see?”
She didn’t answer. Her mind was still tangled in the echoes of that other place, the weight of the choice pressing against her chest. The council would never tell her the truth. They never had. But if there was a path, a way to save Aetheris, she would find it—even if it led her back into the darkness.
The next day, Kaela left the village. She didn’t say goodbye. The road ahead was uncertain, but the pull of the unknown was stronger than fear. The light was fading, and she would not let it die without a fight.
