A chill, pervasive in its intensity, hung across the stagnant air of the dark chasm, a still cold that hung wearily over dark stone. Untouched for millenia, it maintained its homeostasis with the darkness without, settled carefully in its forgotten presence, waiting- each moment, each eternity in the shattered remnant of what had been.
Time passed like the creep of ice, an entropic dance of sublimation and deposition played out across the cavern until the whole of it was covered in a thin layer of frost- a frozen reminder to a monument, a tribute to the madness of eternity. A looking glass into the depths of the cold laws of physics, undeniable without the souls of ascension to deny possibility.
Seconds bled, and years sighed in the shifting of earth.
Millenia rose and fell, reminding themselves of their name until they forgot everything else, remembering everything else in desperation until they forgot their name. They… they were? Forgotten.
As the depths of earth-
A flicker of flame, a breath of fresh air, the click of stone on something else. “And so it was written:
In the most ancient of days the Sun shone down upon us in her serene grace, illuminating the endless green and providing nourishment to all the creatures of the world. She was our guide and our savior, shield eternal against all who would deny us life.
…that’s the start of it, whatever it is. It’s a very old tongue- some sort of abstract logographic script, seen here written into some sort of immense mural.” A taloned hand held up a mote of electric brilliance, illuminating but a portion of an intricately carved story, an image inscribed across the entirety of the cave. “I can continue, if you would like me to?”
The other lizard-thing beside him nodded, eyes tracing over the precise artworks and abstract swirls so very distinct to anything either of them recognized from early civilizations. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like this… go on, please.”
The first of them nodded solemnly. “And so it was recorded:
On the first day of the third month of the harvest, the dark of light came upon the skies, a scourge in orange annihilation. The sun was stricken with dread and smote from the sky, while the entirety of the firmament bled orange tears of terrible fire. For three days and three nights all existence held itself in mortal terror as she battled the dark of light, the whole of creation watching on.
On the fourth day of the third month of the harvest, henceforth known as the first day of the first month of the black-
The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
…that symbol’s familiar. Really familiar.” The storyteller paused, tracing a claw across the two intersecting rhombi. “I’m not sure where I’ve seen it before-”
“Religious texts.” There was a faint undertone to the second lizard’s voice. “Nearly all religious texts use that symbol for the world after their respective creation stories. It’s one reason-”
“Why linguists think most languages had common ancestors. Yes, I remember- I’m one of them.” They both chuckled softly, a scratchy, inhuman sound. “Sorry, we got sidetracked there.” The logograms were combining, spilling artistically onto one another in a blend of shadows and etching, shifting in the harsh mechanical light. “Anyways- and, so it was written:
The start of the dark was the beginning of the end. The death of the sun, though she saved the cosmos in her dying breaths, left a desolate and wretched people behind, turning upon one another in their hate. Without her guiding light, we saw the last of us perish, mere remnants.” The characters were immense, faintly visible as gouges cut in circular swirls from a point so high above. “Let it here be recorded: ARCHANGEL GREEN, first and last of the genetic AI, writes for her eulogy the eulogy of mankind. Let this cavern stand as a monument to the calamity of solar fire. Let all peoples remember the light.” He paused, frowning. “Wow… that’s…”
“Depressing? Existentially terrifying?”
“...yeah.” They stood in the center of the cavern, seeing faint shadows of a grand pattern written out across the entirety of the cave. Deep channels swirled out from around where they stood, symbols of fire etched in their glistening, viscous depths. The first of them widened his eyes, while the second carefully started setting up camera equipment to record the last part of their investigation.
A minute passed, mere nothing to the eternities spent waiting in the silence of still air, nothing to the unknown reaches of endless blur beyond the borders of their reality, and then they stood together in the centrality of their discovery. They glanced at each other, then- a flick of a switch, and their light extinguished.
A spark, dancing on the tip of his talon. To the heavens raised, to the earth beneath, an almost religious scene- like something out of the benediction of the dead, the benediction of the dawn.
It touched the oil.
The entire cavern lit in spirals of roaring flame, orange-white casting the cave in divine radiance. The swirls came into clarity, a burst of lines radiating out, running, looping and crackling like demented fire-
An image frozen in time, of orange flames burning, tearing apart a golden circle hanging over a horizon, a dream long lost. The two of them stared, enraptured, as for a single moment, a brief remembrance, the past came alive around them.
And so it was written, in the journal of the explorer- they discovered the past, and the past discovered them. They remembered, together, the light.