Chapter Text
"could it think, the heart would stop beating" -- fernando pessoa
The sky glows the ominous colour of blood, angry and swirling with dark clouds. They frame the comet slicing across the heavens, so painfully bright that it reduces even the sun to a mere glimmer.
Its dazzling glory is a harbinger of victory or tragedy, depending on who was asked. A momentous day meant for the changing of worlds. The felling of tyrants, the birth of nations. The clash of fires, old and new, battling for dominance in the comet’s ebbing light.
Some blaze blue, thrashing with the screech of chains against metal in a ruined courtyard. They flicker golden and gentle, illuminating the corridors within expansive red halls.
While others burn more subtly, yet no more mercifully. Like hope, that most persistent flame of all. Catching and spreading like wildfire - and inflicting perhaps as much wreckage in its secret wake.
For homes could be rebuilt. Trees replanted. Cultures restored.
But scars lingered forever.