Nerith stood at the cliff's edge, the cold wind cutting through his cloak as the sun hung unnervingly low in the sky. It had been weakening for days now, its warmth fading into something pale and brittle. But it wasn’t the light’s dimming that had his heart racing.
It flickered again.
Just for a moment—so brief anyone else would have missed it. A blink of darkness, a pulse in the world that left his breath caught in his throat. He glanced around, but as always, no one else seemed to notice. Below him, Ashen City bustled with life, preparing for the festival in honor of the very sun that had just faltered.
The streets were full, alive with laughter, shouting, and the steady hum of magic-infused machinery. The festival lanterns hung from every rooftop, casting warm orange light across the cobblestones. The citizens of Ashen City loved their festivals, using them as excuses to forget the daily grind of life within the city walls. But how could they ignore this?
A voice pulled him out of his thoughts. “You’re seeing it too, aren’t you?”
Nerith turned to see Alya, one of his few confidantes, standing a few paces away. Her usual sharp gaze softened by an edge of concern.
“Yeah,” Nerith admitted, eyes darting back to the horizon where the sun hovered just above the city’s skyline. “It flickered again.”
Alya stepped closer, her eyes narrowing at the sky as if trying to catch the moment she had missed. “No one’s talking about it,” she said, frustration in her voice. “It’s like they’re deliberately ignoring it.”
“That or they haven’t noticed.” Nerith shook his head. “Or they’re afraid to.”
Alya’s lips thinned into a line, and for a moment, neither of them spoke. They stood together, watching as the last of the day’s light bled into the coming night, the flicker still fresh in Nerith’s mind.
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The festival preparations were in full swing as Nerith and Alya walked through the streets later that evening. The smell of roasting meats and sweet spiced wine filled the air, and children ran through the crowded alleyways with their faces painted in bright colors. The energy of the city was infectious, but it did little to shake the weight Nerith felt pressing against his chest.
“Do you think the Academy knows what’s happening?” Nerith asked as they passed a group of performers juggling fire to the crowd’s delight.
Alya gave a noncommittal shrug, but her expression darkened. “The Academy knows more than they let on. Always have.”
Nerith nodded. He had suspected the same. The Solarium Academy controlled most aspects of life in Ashen City—the sun’s energy, the magic that kept the city running, the education of the next generation of scholars and mages. They were trusted to keep the city safe, but more and more, Nerith had started to question whether their secrecy was hiding something deeper.
“They’ve always been tight-lipped about anything unusual with the sun,” Alya continued. “I tried to ask one of the Academy’s scholars about it last week. All I got were vague reassurances.”
“Do you think they know the sun’s failing?” Nerith asked.
Alya stopped walking, turning to face him. “The sun can’t fail, Nerith. That’s what we’ve been taught. Its energy powers everything in this city.”
“But it’s flickering,” Nerith insisted. “Something’s not right. We can’t just ignore it.”
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“We’re not,” Alya said, her voice calm but firm. “That’s why we’re going to find out what’s really happening.”
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The council hall was a grand structure, all towering columns and stained glass windows that depicted the city’s history—mages pulling energy from the sun, crops growing under its warmth, the people thriving in its light. Nerith had always found the images hollow, more like propaganda than reality. The real city, the one he walked through every day, was far less perfect.
Nerith slipped into the back of the hall, his eyes scanning the room. The council was already gathered at the front, their fine robes of deep red and royal blue standing out against the stone walls. The room was filled with nobles and scholars, all waiting for the Councilmaster to begin his address.
At the front of the hall, his mother and brother sat among the city’s elite. His brother, Faren, wore the robes of the Solarium Academy with pride, his face a mask of calm confidence. Unlike Nerith, Faren fit perfectly into the world of Ashen City’s upper echelons. But despite his brother’s presence, Nerith couldn’t shake the feeling of isolation. Not from his family, but from the truth.
“The festival is upon us,” the Councilmaster’s voice rang out, cutting through the low murmur of the crowd. He was a tall, imposing man with sharp features and a voice that carried the weight of authority. “A time to celebrate the sun’s eternal light, the force that gives life to our city, that sustains our magic and our way of life.”
Nerith’s thoughts drifted as the Councilmaster continued his speech. The flicker replayed in his mind. How could the sun be failing? The city was built on its power. The Academy’s magic, the machines in the streets—all of it depended on the sun’s light.
A flicker, though brief, meant more than a momentary lapse in brightness. It meant that everything they relied on was fragile.
His gaze drifted to the stained glass windows that lined the hall. Each panel was a testament to the sun’s supposed perfection, its unending light. But today, even the stained glass felt dimmer, the colors less vibrant.
Then, out of the corner of his eye, Nerith saw him.
At the back of the hall, barely visible in the dim light, stood a man hunched beneath a cloak. His face was hidden in shadow, but one eye gleamed—a piercing, unnatural gold.
“You see it, don’t you?” The man’s voice was a raspy whisper, but it cut through the noise of the hall like a knife.
Nerith tensed, unsure if the man was speaking to him or someone else. He glanced around, but no one else seemed to notice the cloaked figure.
“The flicker,” the man continued, his golden eye fixed on Nerith. “The light is failing. They won’t tell you, but it is.”
Nerith’s heart began to race. “What do you mean?”
The man took a step closer, his presence unsettling. “Nothing lasts forever, boy. Not even the sun.”
Nerith’s skin prickled. “The sun can’t fail,” he said, echoing Alya’s earlier words.
The man’s lips twisted into a thin smile. “You think that, do you? You think they’ll let you believe anything else?”
Nerith opened his mouth to respond, but before he could speak, the man’s hand shot out and grabbed his wrist. A surge of cold energy rushed through him, and for a moment, the world around them seemed to blur.
“When the time comes,” the man whispered, his voice like wind through dead leaves, “you’ll have to choose. And you’ll have to choose wisely.”
Nerith’s breath caught in his throat. “Choose what?”
But before the man could answer, he released Nerith’s wrist and melted back into the crowd. Nerith stood frozen, his pulse pounding in his ears, his mind racing with questions. What had just happened?
He glanced around, but the man was gone, as if he had never been there at all.
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That night, Nerith lay awake in his bed, staring up at the ceiling as the sounds of the festival drifted through his window. The city was alive with celebration, but Nerith felt only dread.
The old man’s words echoed in his mind, looping over and over.
The light is failing. Nothing lasts forever. You’ll have to choose.
He had always questioned the world around him, always suspected that there was more going on than what the Academy or the council let on. But now, with the flicker and the man’s cryptic warning, his suspicions had taken root.
Nerith turned onto his side, trying to calm his racing thoughts. He didn’t know what choice the man had been talking about, but he had a feeling it wouldn’t be long before he found out.
The festival outside continued late into the night, but for Nerith, there was no comfort in the revelry. The flicker had been real, and now, the man’s warning hung over him like a shadow.
The sun was failing.
And when the time came, Nerith would have to decide which path to follow.
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To be continued...