The skies bled scarlet fire, ruddy beauty atop a hill, atop Port Conquest. Looking out from their vantage they could see all the tile-roofed houses, cobbled streets, evening beauty that defied the very acts of definition. White sails billowed, painted orange by their presence, a city of color…
They watched the sun rise over the port, and despite their eagerness, were for a moment, calm. Orange fire piercing dark skies, a single blazing orb setting beyond the waves that sparkled… Sunset. “It’s beautiful… different, new. A replication of something older.” Iri looked out over the waves, eyes dimmed in respect to the natural sunlight. “It wasn’t always like this.”
“If we find Polarity Light, it should remain the same.” He didn’t really know enough about the conflict to say that for certain, but if he didn’t… there were darker things on his mind than a sunset. Silvery brightnesses, dark- over entire lands. He thought of God… “Why do we find it? Other than to coerce god themselves, why are we searching for Polarity Light?”
“To prevent war. To execute the Eternity Falling’s will. To help humanity… to make sure you aren’t just left alone…” In those words Siqxhe could sense Iri’s own loneliness. How it must have felt, trapped beneath the earth for so long, braving the ravages of the Eternity Falling…
Siqxhe stood, turning his back on the sunset and faced the gate in front of them. It was a beautiful construction, wrought steel decorated with neatly bent scrap made to reflect the sunlight and scatter it around the garden, diffusing it but also making it somehow more. From a gentle hilltop it was transformed into a wonderland by the work of the artist. In their hands they held so much-
Perhaps Polarity Light itself, buried beneath the graves.
They slipped into the graveyard while the shadows were still long, making sure to check for visitors. There wasn’t anyone there, though- the graves were worn and old and the headstones streaked with rain. Weeds grew rampant, poking up from beneath the flagstones and announcing their presence with little pink flowers, dainty things… vines crept over every surface and the trees were massive, giving the whole place a distinctly ancient feel. It reminded him of some of the old temples in Nolabo, those things that had been lost to time for so many years and only rediscovered a hundred-odd years ago when the forests had been cleared for farmland.
Beautiful places, just like this. It was similar- even if the styles were different. The animals and plants represented in the tombstones were distinct, as were the styles themselves- they were the distinctive floral flourishes of the native peoples in the area. The early rulers of Port Conquest had taken great inspiration from them, it seemed- or at the very least sought to legitimize their rule through the customs of the conquered…
He brushed a finger over the cold stone, remembering- the quiet of the stars and the orange-bright eyes of God, watching him- the dark sky, a forest of rot and shadows… he imagined God over these islands, destroying… everything. Beautiful sunsets, no more…
Wondering… he thought about the most fundamental tenets of the faith. God was god. That was the truth that everything else was built off of, but God was not God. Got was the Eternity Falling, something older than history. Something older than even their concept of god and all its nuances. God was fickle, but the Eternity Falling was not fickle. Rather than moving about randomly, it had a purpose, a distinct goal that it strove toward for the entirety of everything, a focus and a deep mind that defied understanding…
He let such thoughts bleed out of his head as he grabbed a shovel, old and rusted from its time spent out in the elements, and set to digging. Some of the graves were above the ground- those Iri pried loose, leveraging her strength against the stone and causing it to slide aside against all its many resistances. Several times they were forced to break the stone entirely, an arduous process that must have drawn attention… but they couldn't’ do otherwise.
Trees grew wild, and the vines wilder- it was difficult, but eventually, eventually they managed to start getting into the graves.
Polarity Light wasn’t there.
Grave after grave, all they found were bones and silvery metal, scraps intertwined in skulls and rib-cages and white pearlescent femurs- all sorts of things, in various states of decay. Some still had skin- others were dust. It was horrifying, the death made apparent. Despite all the effects they’d been buried with, there was still that pallor of death-
“Is Polarity Light… I don’t think it’s here.” He grimaced as they pulled off the lid of another casket, revealing just another corpse, just a little more steel. Beautiful steel, sure, every time Iri came over to check there was nothing. No polarity light. “We’re not finding what we’re searching for… and these…” People, left to decay in peace, exposed once more to the sunlight.
“It’s important. Polarity Light needs…” Iri looked in one of the graves they’d opened before quickly moving onto the next. “If we find Polarity Light, then the Eternity Falling must help. It must stop the inanity, it needs to… it is my task, it is my responsibility.”
“It’s probably not as important as you think it is. After all, you’ve lived for thousands of years without Polarity Light. It doesn't need to be found immediately.” They opened up another grave and in it he saw a skull and its dark sockets, staring into him. Looking deep within him and pronouncing him a man without convictions. A coward- he steeled himself, slowly letting Iri’s conviction bleed into him and opening another grave.
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Dark wounds in the ground, these empty spaces where there wasn’t anything but silence- silence and the glimmering of metal in the faint moonlight, gleaming with the stars. Two moons rose over the horizon, gleaming off Iri’s frenetic movement as they searched one after the other, footsteps on paved stones and gravel and leaves that’d fallen years before…
They weren’t walking on the gravel, though… Siqxhe frowned, then quickly ducked behind one of the overgrown trees. He could hear a variety of speech in the Sakaxhy tongue and others, boisterous laughing… then, a quiet. A woman spoke up, her voice too far away for him to make out the words, but it sounded… confused. There was something going on here, and he couldn’t quite get it. Things were happening, and they needed to get out. He motioned to Iri- Iri! He looked out in horror as she just stood there, staring into one of the caskets with some unreadable expression-
Something grabbed him from behind and he tried to shout, struggling, doing everything he could possibly do to get away, but whoever had gotten ahold of him was strong. Out of the corner of his eyes he saw Iri getting tackled, saw those bright eyes and darkness. Something over his head, memories of orange lights, wondering what he’d done to deserve this fate. Why…
He remembered, beneath the earth, the dying and the dead as he was roughly dragged over to somewhere, feet bouncing off paved stones and scarlet… blood. He could taste it in his mouth where he’d bit his lip, and he hoped beyond hope they wouldn’t injure him further. He couldn’t do surgery on himself.
Siqxhe fell to the ground roughly, and a second later, a rough hand ripped off whatever cloth they’d tied over his head. He found himself looking into the narrowed eyes of a Paqboōf native, looking for all the world as if he’d stepped in her favorite garden. “Who are you?” It was delivered with a slight accent, born from a language he’d never heard before. “-and, more importantly, how did you find this place? With the mess you’ve made, there’s going to be hell to pay.”
Something was thrown down beside him- or more accurately, wrestled down. Iri hadn’t tired at all since they’d first grabbed her, but a few of the Sakaxhy were still holding her in place. The Paqaboōfan woman turned her attention to Iri, eyes gleaming with both a greed and the reflection of Iri’s incandescence. “What do we have here? I’ve never seen its like… but surely it’ll fetch a high price in Tasadir. Take them to the ship…” They threw the cloth back over his head, and that was the last he saw of Iri and her bright, sad eyes…
………
Darkness.
It was a rather peculiar type, born almost entirely from the piece of cloth they’d tied around him. They’d stopped in the lee of a small building as the night grew long, arguing about whether or not they were going to make him walk down the pier with the blindfold on. One person argued that they hadn’t even needed the blindfold in the first place, another person argued that they should keep it on if they were going to keep it on, and a third person argued that he was as good as dead, and they should just tie him up and throw him into the harbor.
He didn’t want a blindfold, but he was fine without sight for a bit if it meant he wasn’t going to the waves… lucky, after a bit of tense debate, the marauders agreed to take off his blindfold so long as they made their way quickly to the ship.
Brightness.
It was still bright even this late at night, the twin moons only serving to augment the lamplight spaced at even intervals all throughout the piers. It was low tide, and the ships rested a good few feet below the pier at the moment. Even this late at night fishermen and traders made their way around the docks, loaded up with nets or merchandise-
Or in their case, three large cases of scrap and two prisoners.
They fastened the black cloth around his mouth as a gag, preventing him from calling out… not that he would have. The very armed nature of the marauders behind him made him hesitate to do anything at all…
They marched him along the docks, moving past some of the more well lit piers and to a… seedier area. Where the waves crashed against the shore and the rocks were larger it wasn’t as easy to position prime ships, but the people of Port Conquest always needed more docks. And so there were these- unfavorable positions that had only gotten increasingly more unfavorable after the construction of some docks on the beaches a few thousand feet south.
At last, after a walk that had felt like forever tripping and stumbling through the city and its unfortunately uneven streets, they came to a ship. It wasn’t so great, but it stood out as a three masted galleon amidst a fleet of small fishing ships and island-bound single-masted vessels that would never sail the open ocean. The gangplank was down, and a few more people looked suspiciously out towards them from atop the deck. Crewmembers, he supposed-
Slowly, almost delicately he walked up the gangplank, wary of the long drop and the seething water below-
Clamor.
He couldn’t help but glance behind him as he heard the commotion, shouts and exclamations and profanity of the thoroughly Sakaxhy type. Wondering what could possibly cause such a… Iri. He saw it, and was filled with equal parts joy and deep fear- Iri was getting away. She’d broken out of the grip of one of the sailors and was sprinting down the dock, silently dashing away from a fate in Tasadir… a fate he didn’t know. Nobody knew, but he didn’t suspect it was good- melted down for the material-
She slammed into a passerby, grasping onto him and falling to the ground, all in complete silence. A sailor caught up, hauling the dazed Iri to her feet and dragging her back- away from freedom. Away from hope and the city with all its night-time lights and remnants of mist…
Siqxhe felt… happy. He couldn't place the feeling and knew that he probably shouldn’t be feeling it, but he just couldn’t avoid it… he was happy not to be left alone as they were led onto the ship with its silver trims and dark decks, pushed down a hatch and thrown in a cell-
Together… Iri looked up, eyes glowing brightly but with what emotion he could not tell, and he looked away, not willing to face that piercing gaze-
A hand, touching his, and a whisper- “Now we wait…”