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Summary
All day permanent red. The glow emanating from what’s left of the sky razors itself into the minds of the war’s survivors—an afterimage in dried blood, fresh with every sunrise. They lost. Aether is dead, murdered by his pitiless sister during the war’s final confrontation. Lyney went mad, when he saw. Abyssal rifts tore across the land, tearing away mountains, spewing ash over the earth. Seas changed to swirling vortexes sucking in all life. Natlan is gone, a huge hole where it used to be. The Captain, unfailing candle against the encroaching night, winked out. The Tsaritsa, killed. The Fatui, decimated and scattered. Archons, with their unseen thrones of power, disappeared, withdrawn or departed—their Visions empty. What light’s left?
Now? There is no wind anymore. People cower in toothpick huts under the eerie red sky. They live underground, huddled in their caves to outlast the howling wave above. For four long years, a stasis cast in ruby glare with only the poked-thru pallor of a second moon to show itself from beyond. What light’s left. Can they—can he—see a way onward with red in his eyes?
Until the Abyss simply disappeared, and Lynette returned with the body and another boy in tow. What light’s left.