Member-only story
At the entrance to a cave far above the valley floor a man squatted, fingers curled around a stone. The wind tugged at his matted thick hair, his bare arms impervious to the chill. Below, the silver band of the river stretched into the dimming light, and beyond that, the sea gleamed, red and gold, caressed by the setting sun.
The sun had drifted overhead, crawling from one side of the sky to the other. He had watched it move, though not with thought – only with knowing. It was as it always was. It began low, climbed high, then sank. It made the world warm, and stirred his world from sleep.
And now, as it always did, it was going.
He shifted, gripping his stone tighter. Shadows stretched, birds swarmed the rocks to roost. The sky bled colors, then thinned to grey. The world was changing, slipping toward something colder, emptier.
Then the sun was gone.
His breath came slow and deep. He had seen this before, every day of his life, but something in him still tensed. The land no longer belonged to the sun. It belonged to something else.
The sky darkened. The world did not end – but it felt as if it might.
Then – small lights.
One, then another. Then more.
