Shattered Sun
The Sun is broken.
Many ages ago, the Sun has sustained life and prosperity on our world. Everything that happened in the world went by the clockwork motion of the Sun across the sky, never ending in its motion and the benefits which the world reaped from it. People in particular became comfortable with the world, mastered in the existence of the Sun and all of the gifts granted by its Light.
In due time though, the Sun would become much less constant, much less perpetual than people had come to understand it as. Starting with a surreal crack and ending with the most terrifying roar one could imagine, the Sun violently unraveled in the eyes of the people. Emerging from the explosion was the most brilliant creature ever gazed upon - the mighty Phoenix of countless legends. It awakened from what happened to be its egg, our Sun, sprawling forth its flaming wings with an indescribable splendor. But that magnificence would soon turn into despair as the Phoenix did not herald the rebirth of the world as in the tales of the people.
Instead, the Phoenix had abandoned it.
The shimmering Light faded soon after the Phoenix's departure beyond the sight of the people. In the blast's wake approached a cloud of golden daggers, thrown to the discarded world as an assassin would do to a victim without remorse. As the Shards struck the world beneath the former Sun, the worst calamity in the history of the world came to pass. Entire civilizations burned to mere ash. The environment was irreversibly ravaged by the fires. The world's climate mutated dramatically in an instant. Everything the people under the Cerulean Heavens once knew vanished in a torrent of flame and destruction.
In due time, the fires died to a smolder. The world was set not in the burning light of a crimson inferno, but in a speckled sky of lavender as the Shards which didn't strike the world or fly into the inky abyss floated in the skies above. Dots of the Sun's former Light drifted through the darkened sky in all directions, perhaps lighting the way for the next chapter of the people, of the world.
For the Phoenix, Birth gives way to Death, which then gives way to Rebirth. When will the world be Reborn?
Overview
Shattered Sun is a setting created by a number of folks at /tg/, all sparked by the premise of "What would happen if the sun shattered?" It would take too much time to detail the evolution of the setting from the initial idea, but the folks at sup/tg/ have archived the original thread.
Concepts
The Phoenix's Awakening
The sun hatched, and the shell was strewn about the heavens. While it was a cataclysm in all senses of the word, erasing all existing civilization, it left more than enough survivors. These survivors have built their own lives in a changed world, seeking riches, glory, or even the old world's Rebirth.
The Shards
These are the remnants of the Sun left behind in the Phoenix's wake. Many fell to the world in a fiery fury, destroying all that their flames touched, and expending themselves in that manner. Others flew deep into the world's skies, never to be seen again. But most of the Shards now drift within the skies, orbiting the world and providing a much sought after and scarce light in the post-Awakening world. They have also been known for either coming too close or becoming too bright at times, burning people and plants near them.
The Astronomers
With such an importance of the Shards in the world under the Shattered Sun, there is even more importance on those who can track them. Such skills are vital for the survival of the people. As such, it is no surprise that the Astronomers of the Cities are nigh exalted for their abilities to forecast the movement of the Shards. Their accurate charts help decide the fate of the Cities, lending them a powerful voice in the politics of the Cities as well.
The Alchemists
Despite the destruction the Shards which fell to the world caused, some survivors quickly realized that they could be a source of energy in the post-Awakening world. A blessing within a curse, some would say. Alongside the Astronomers who learned to track the Shards rose Alchemists, who work toward unlocking the secrets of the Shards' power. Their early efforts already bear fruit, especially in mechanical application as well as aiding the Astronomers to make even more accurate Shard Charts.
Sunscrapes
These are the events in which particularly large or potent Shards fall to the world, or even pass close by it in its orbit. Massive geological events follow such a strike or passing, creating the most dramatic craters and endless canyons in their wake. While a relatively rare occurrence, Sunscrapes change the lives of the region and its people for a long time to come.
Stardust
These are Shards which are more minute than a grain of sand. While individually, these Shards are of little power, they can be carefully measured by those who wish to harness its power, commonly known as Alchemists.
It can also be used as a potent drug when administered carefully. Ingestion and inhalation of a minuscule amount of Stardust leads to a brief hallucinatory state while larger doses can lead to a boiling of the user's insides. Even contact to skin causes similar visions and sensations. The peoples of the wilderness use it for a ritual in choosing the next generation of shamans.
Peoples and Places
The world under the Shattered Sun is mostly defined by the Shards that fly over it.
The Shardstreams
While few in number, the various Shardstreams of the world are the most stable areas for the emerging human civilization under the Shattered Sun. The coalesced bands of Shards provide constant Light and warmth for the Cities that spring up forth from these areas. Strobes colloquially call citizens of these lucky states tanners.
The Holy City
The Holy City is by far the largest and most populous City under the Shardstreams. It was founded soon after the Phoenix’s Awakening under the first Shardstream that stabilized. Its sky is now dominated by the Shard of Gargonel. The Holy City is the seat for the world's best Astronomers. It is also a hotbed of politics, many factions of people vying for attention and resources in the quickly growing City.
Government
When the Phoenix hatched, the world was plunged into disarray. But the old Kings still had power, and when news spread of a place where a fraction of the sun shown eternally, the Kings took their armies and their households and set out. The journey was long and hard, and they arrived in much diminished numbers. Gargonel arrived first, and he claimed the area. But others arrived, with their armies, and wanted a piece of the land. No King could hold against the other, so they warred very little before reaching a solution. They would form a Council of Kings, and would rule as a group. This plan was formed by Arzot, for the royal Houses had undergone much strife and death, and he was the only living King who yet had an heir, and thus he hoped that his son should rule all without resorting to conquest.
However the other Kings appointed their greatest servants as their heirs. And indeed, those people appointed their own greatest servants as their heirs, even over their own children. And so it came to pass that the Holy City is ruled by a Council of Kings, and none of the Houses save the House of Arzot have hereditary succession.
Each King issues only one vote for each issue. In the case of a tie, the issue is brought before the Citizenry for an up-or-down vote. Despite the expected infighting amongst the Houses, the system works a lot more smoothly than the occasional cynic would think.
House of Gargonel
The oldest House of the lot is also the one with the most exclusive membership. Although the House no longer rules over the entirety of the Holy City as it did briefly upon its founding, its members' devotion to the sanctity of the Phoenix as well as their gratitude for the sparing of the Citizens' lives remains today. Now, the House presides over those who give thanks to the Phoenix for their survival and eventual salvation from these dark times.
House of Wass
This long-standing House is a group of Astronomers who have integrated their charting skilled with political savvy, able to influence the highest levels of the Holy City’s government. They stridently defend the right of the Astronomers' voice in the government, also advocating all Citizens' right to pursue knowledge of Astronomy. Many famous Astronomers of the Holy City hail from this House, leaving a storied heritage of experts of both Astronomy and policy.
House of Arzot
This House has its roots in the long history of the Holy City, the only one of its kind after the Awakening. More appropriately, its roots are in the preservation of said history. Despite their little voice in the government and perennial lack of funds, great respect is given to their care of the ancient Shard Charts which many up and coming Astronomers look to learn from, as well as well-established Astronomers look to gain new insight from. It is a staunchly traditionalist house, and is the only house to use hereditary succession.
House of Ulan
This relatively new House is a group of Astronomers who aim to use their skills for the direct benefit of the people, whether it’s in the aid of Alchemists’ research or determining the best trade routes for neighboring Strobes. The House's endeavors leave them well-off financially, encroaching into the political arena with their increasing wealth. While the lofty words of a Wass win attention, an Ulan's money is starting to win loyalty in its stead.
Other Influences
Other than the official ruling Houses of the Holy City's government, there are a number of organizations and institutions which hold a significant amount of sway in the City.
The Astronomers League
Founded by the four Houses as their first collaborative legislation, the Astronomers League was designed to operate separately from the official government as the City's primary Astronomy apparatus. This was intended to eliminate any political bias the League's work could incur if under the supervision of the Houses. However, the importance of the League to the Citizens slowly but surely helped it build political capital of its own, regularly conflicting with Astronomical policy set forth by the Houses.
It is headed by a High Astronomer, usually selected from within upon his predecessor's retirement or death by a council of experts within the League. From there, a simple bureaucracy of Astronomers is set up for different aspects of the League: Shard Charting, Policy Advisory, Alchemist Collaboration, Public Relations, so forth and so on.
The City of Terec
The City of Terec is unlike any other in the Shardstreams. Instead of the usual civic splendor and rigid structure of Cities such as the Holy City, Terec was founded completely on the innovation of highly skilled Alchemists. As such, the Alchemist Guild is easily the dominant power in Terac, and the High Master tolerates no questioning of his rule. Still, life in Terec is generally far more comfortable than in any other City known to man.
Government
Unlike the theoretically shared government of the Holy City, Terec is ruled by the de facto authority of the Alchemist Guild, who largely funded Terec's construction. While the Guild generally puts forth their policies for the betterment of their Citizens, voicing dissent is greatly discouraged. As the Guild's High Master once put it, "Running Terec is like keeping an old machine running: repair parts when you can, replace them when you cannot."
The High Master
The leader of the Guild and, incidentally, the entirety of Terec is called the High Master. While his underlings may craft policy for the City, it is ultimately up to the High Master to decide whether or not said policies go into effect. For the most part, the High Master is seen as wise in his decisions, building up the standard of living in Terec to the level it is considered among the rest of civilization. However, the High Master is also fond of maintaining policies which limit the public opinions of the Guild's critics.
The Masters
Beneath the High Masters are a selected cabal only known as the Masters. They officially represent the highest-ranked specialists in all of Alchemy, charged with the duty of selecting new members to the Guild as well as promoting those beneath them. They also unofficially serve as the High Master's advisory board. While they generally support the High Master's political agenda and craft policy in line with it, there is about as much infighting among the Masters as there are in the Holy City's Houses.
The Practitioners
The highest level of the Guild completely dedicated to actual Alchemy are the Practitioners. They are the ones who generally come up with the Guild's countless innovations and are the front which maintains the Guild's legitimacy in the eyes of the Citizens and the rest of the Shardstreams. However, they are closely monitored by the Masters and even the High Master in some cases. During their tenure as Practitioners, they are watched for not only their advances in Alchemy, but also for their political way of thinking as well as their loyalty toward the Guild. From this pool do the Masters choose their successors to further serve the High Master.
The Journeymen
These are the graduates of the Guild's apprenticeship program who are sent to travel the world in search of further knowledge. While the Guild generally keeps a tight ship in Terec, Journeymen are freely allowed to determine for themselves whether to return to Terec after their travels to set up shop as Practitioners or to seek their future elsewhere with no penalty. Depending on their observed behavior during their travels however, they may end up closely monitored by other Journeymen at the discretion of their Masters.
The Apprentices
By the Guild's principles of promoting Alchemical knowledge, anyone with a basic understanding of reading, writing, and arithmetic is allowed to apply for the Guild by enrolling into an education program as Apprentices. They learn the basics of Alchemy under Practitioners who specialize in educating others. After the five years of the program, the Masters evaluate the Apprentices' progress and choose those who will advance into the Journeyman phase, and thus officially into the Guild itself.
Daedalus Workshops
An Alchemy firm in the City of Terec widely known for the mechanical applications of the Shards’ power. While their innovations are generally in the realm of domestic appliances and limited motorized transportation, some folks say that Daedalus recently acquired of a large fallen Shard from the very boundaries of the Strobelands' reach. Some of the crazier folks in the taverns say that Daedalus may have plans for flying machines, but those are likely no more than lies told to impressionable tourists. After all, who ever heard of a machine that could fly?
The City of Eternal Shardlight
A legendary City that was rapidly growing in size and power, claiming an ever growing region and attaining ever greater feats of engineering and science. It had lasted intact for hundreds of years when a stray Shard, unnoticed by even the City’s finest Astronomers, crashed into its Stream, sending down a rain of Shards unto it. It burns in the resulting inferno even today.
The Wandering States
Unlike the shardstreams, these smaller towns, sometimes cities are located at temporarily safe havens of light. Founded on astrological prediction of a safe-spot for the next couple of years, maybe decades, enterprising souls trying to exploit previously inaccessible resources. During their brief existence, the States can amass enviable fortunes, raise strong troops or recover relics. The promise of change, of striking out and making a better life, is palpable in the States, many of which are formed from groups of men, be they Strobers or Twilightmen or Baskers, who are doing just that.
However the light waits on no one, eventually the city has to move on. With their the new found power and wealth, wanderers often hire astrologists and pay massive fortunes for research of the next site in the hope of attaining further fortunes, further power. Some Wandering States have existed long enough to make the Move, the Journey or Exodus into a ritual of their own, a massed, regulated effort instead the haphazard exploration of their elders.
Power games, intrigue abound as the time of Move approaches, and the astrology is therefore highly politicized. Fortunes are lost, dynasties fall with the careful shifting of a Exodus by a year. All too often the city's elite has tried to play the game too fine, and entire States go up in flames, or are ransacked in orgies of violence by Vampires, (or, if they survive, dispersing into new tribes of strobers). The light waits on no one.
The Twilight
The lands just around the Shardstreams are dotted along the edges of the Light's reach. The denizens of the Twilight use this moderate Light to prosper in agriculture, feeding the Cities as well as themselves. While they are subject to the occasional raid by the more thieving folk beyond the Light's reach, the Twilighters prove to be a hardy and persistent lot. They also happen to maintain a spirit of independence from the others around them. Some of the Cities may believe the rural Twilighters are under their dominion as a Kingdom would its Serfs, but they are quick to rout out any formal City rule from their lands.
The Strobelands
The Strobelands make up most of the world, and hold most of its people. The shards over the Strobelands are erratic, and its people are nomadic as a result. No area remains habitable for longer than a few months, and settlements must frequently uproot to find new homes. The Strobes send out adventurers all the time, guided only by their knowledge of Astronomy and protected only by their own strength, to find new places to settle, and clear the dark lands of potential threats.
Trading
As the Strobes are always on the move, they are the ones most likely to chart new territory and discover the ruins of the old world. It is no surprise that the Strobes then make for excellent traders, even in their constant pursuit for the next Shard. Mostly, their trades are between their tribes. Once in a while however, solitary Strobes venture to the Shardstreams to trade with the Citizens. In exchange for rare treasures, the Strobes gain goods from the Cities and Astronomical knowledge to bring back to their tribes. Or to keep for themselves.
Tribes
Strobes are a nomadic people, grouped not by settlements or families, but by tribes. While there are some basic unifying features of the Strobes, each tribe has its own cultural and functional differences from each other.
A listing of them will come with time and further work.
Tribe of the Shardwatch
This is the tribe of Strobes in which the Citizens of the Holy City are most familiar with. They are the traders who fill the bazaars. They are the swordsmen who assist the guards. They are the mystics who tell their stories. In return, the Citizens offer their money, their goods, and their knowledge unto these Strobes.
While they clearly value the knowledge of Astronomy from the Cities beneath the Shardstreams, their culture has developed a sense of mysticism in their pursuits.
Many of the Shardwatch believe that certain pictograms and patterns have both physical and spiritual meaning. These are generally tattooed on the skin through what many scholars in the City call "Brandery." Certain patterns denote rank among tribesfolk. They are also used to provide a visual history of their exploits during the members' lives.
The pinnacle of Shardwatch Brandery is the Rite of Phoenix's Blood. Candidates are selected based on a combination of his or her Astronomical knowledge, the rank in the tribe, and just plain how much he or she has survived danger. A Brandisher tattoos special marks upon each candidate's skin using a mix of ink and especially concentrated Stardust, making a permanent link between candidate and Shard. Few survive the procedure altogether. Even fewer come out of it without permanent damage within and without. Fewer still succeed the Rite and ascend to the highest echelons of Shardwatch society.
The Darklands
Beyond the Strobelands lie relatively scant parts of the world where there is extremely little or no Light at all. These lands are rarely explored by Citizens and Strobes alike, and for good reason. If it isn't the unforgiving cold that bites through any and all clothing you may be wearing, the truly horrifying creatures who somehow survive here will do you in before you get too far.
The People of the Soulshard
White, short, and stocky in stature, the People of the Soulshard (or as the rest of society calls them... Them and They) live in a great underground cavern, lit by a single fallen Shard They found soon after the Phoenix's Awakening. While They were primarily an underground people before the Awakening, They required to grow crops and hunt game on the surface in order to survive. But with the Dark fast encroaching Their lands and the flora and fauna around Them dying as a result, They brought the Shard underground with Them to rebuild Their civilization there. The Soulshard, as They had come to call it, would allow Them to continue Their lives uninterrupted by the Dark for many ages.
In due time however, even the life-giving Light of the Soulshard dimmed to but a flicker. In the time of desperation, a religious cult seized power upon Their fear of extinction and introduced a barbaric policy of blood sacrifice. Even though the policy seemed far-fetched and far more radical than most of Them would prefer to follow, it bore fruit at first. The Soulshard miraculously reignited when regularly fed with blood, giving Them the hope they so desperately needed. But the Light of the Soulshard eventually took on a strange, silvery glow instead of it's usual golden glory. The Light began to do strange things to Them. Over generations of inbreeding and exposure to the Ghostlight, Their culture mutated into a hive of diminutive albinoid creatures, only just recognisable as people any more.
Very rarely will They come forth to the surface. Even rarer do They interact with the other peoples, who only see Them as utter monsters. Maybe it's Their emaciated appearance. Maybe Their chalk white skin. Maybe Their ferocious battle prowess. But They are a people to be feared in the eyes of those under the Shattered Sun.
The Vampires
Even with the nourishing Ghostlight of the Soulshard, They still require some form of physical sustenance to survive Their harsh environs. As such, They had to resort to hunting the terrifying creatures which came to exist in the Dark of the surface. However, the creatures of the Dark can be just as fickle as those of the former world under the Cerulean Heavens.
They migrate. They are quick. They are cunning.
Sometimes Their hunters are unable to catch a meal for their kin underground. Long enough of such failure and They become desperate. They sometimes scrape up strange vegetation and fungi from beneath the permafrost. But there is the occasional case of the extremely desperate hunter who spots a stray Strobe or Tanner venturing into the Darklands. Almost assuredly, the hunter is able to capture the stray and bring him or her back to the caves underground to feed the rest of Them.
Despite Their culture of blood sacrifice, They usually use the blood of Their own and frown upon the killing of and especially the consumption of people who have absorbed the Light of the Shards. But sometimes the pangs of hunger overrule Their cultural tenet. They who end up eating the flesh and drinking the blood of such outsiders initially feel far more invigorated than Those who primarily rely on animal food and the nourishment of the Ghostlight. However, a truly horrifying madness sets in over time. The rest of Them have no choice but to exile one of Their own gone mad by such means to the Dark of the surface.
There are as many theories as to the cause of this madness, the Vampirism, as there are scholars and thinkers. But everyone knows the signs of one of Them who has gone Vampire. Her eyes glow a paralyzing shade of crimson as she stalks about her icy environs in little more than a loincloth. Once she springs into action, her speed is truly frightening. And once she strikes, her strength is enough to snuff out the Light from her most unlucky target. Her destruction knows no bounds, seemingly on the hunt for any and all life. Her hunt will only seemingly stop once the world is devoid of any life other than herself.
Reaction to the Light
While the Vampires are clearly an exiled lot from the remainder of Their culture, They as a whole suffer from a terrible stigma in the eyes of Citizen and Strobe alike. There's of course the issue of the Vampires running around the frigid landscape of the Darklands. And there's the brutal way of fighting They learned through Their hunting of the awesome creatures that roam the surface. But there's also a natural aversion to the Light of the rest of the world under the Shards.
For generations, They basked in the glow of the Ghostlight, which mutated Them somehow into the pale and lithe creatures They are now. The Ghostlight also seems to be of a lesser intensity than that of the Light which the Citizens and Strobes seek refuge under, making for far more sensitive eyes. Finally, despite the Ghostlight illuminating the caverns and nourishing Them in a yet unexplained way, it gives off very little warmth, leaving the caverns almost as cold as the surface above.
When introduced to the Light of the Shards, They show the signs of an extreme allergy to such energy. First, Their eyes become blinded and throb in pain from the sheer intensity of the Light. Over a short period of time, Their skin will show growing fields of blisters where the Light touches the most, giving the illusion of Their skin boiling to an observer. As exposure continues, Their internal temperature will rise to dangerous levels, making Them suffer not unlike an overdose of Stardust to a Citizen or Strobe. In the final stages, They will suffer similarly to that of a stroke, all while dehydrating to fatal levels.
The Lurkers
Despite the fact that most of society under the Shards see Them are mere monsters and nothing more, some of Them do grow an enormous sense of curiosity about the world of the surface, especially the world beyond the Darklands. Most end up perishing the thought, either through the needs of Their society, the danger of the creatures above, or the greater danger of the exiled Vampires. But there is occasionally one of Them who ventures out, never to return to the caves of the Soulshard.
They soon become nomadic and follow the Shards above, much like a tribe of Strobes. However, They travel in the Dark between the Light of the fleeting Shards, lurking just outside the Light's reach of a tribe at times. They are always at the peril of being noticed by a traveling tribe of Strobes, given their enmity toward the Their kind. Instead, They would try to meet a scout from the tribe if at all necessary. Most of the time, such a meeting is ill-fated, always ending up in a fight to the death. However, there has been a few recorded instances of a more peaceful meeting.
These Lurkers, as They have come to be called seem to be the only way the scholars and thinkers of the civilized world under the Shattered Sky learn anything about Them and Their culture. Monsters though They may be.
The Old Dineh Lands
Legend has it that there was once a civilization in the far north of the world who was luckier than most during the Awakening. While its people, only known as the Dineh, suffered much in the Shards' fiery wrath, their City was left relatively intact. They were somehow able to retrieve a Shard that landed nearby and brought it into their City. For ages since, they have prospered as the lands around them succumbed to the oppressive Dark. Weary from the tortured cries of the ravaged souls beyond the City's bounds, the Dineh erected a mighty wall of alabaster around the City. In due time, the Light from the Shard died off and the City began its downfall within the impenetrable wall.
From there, the legend seems to intersect with that of the People of the Soulshard. Desperate times called for desperate measures and blood was spilled to prolong the life of the Shard, with similarly sinister consequences. Perhaps They are descended from the Dineh, who seem to have disappeared altogether from their former City. Regardless of the truth, not even the bravest of adventurous Strobes dare approach the Dineh's former realm. It is said that the souls of their dead, as well as the souls of those they ignored seek the souls of the living to finally free themselves from the Dark's irresistible thrall.
The Castle on the Shard
There are also legends of a truly massive Shard which obliterated an entire Kingdom by itself upon the Phoenix's Awakening. Even the hallowed historians of the House of Arzot touched upon the disaster in their annals, despite their diligence to omit rumors and legends from their texts. In the current day, the crater caused by the impact filled with water now deep in the Darklands.
But why water rather than ice in the impossible cold of the Dark?
Perhaps the answer lies in another question: Why is there a castle in the middle of this lake? It is rumored that the castle has something to do with the Shard. Either that it's built upon the Shard which caused the crater lake or, more astonishingly, the castle IS the Shard. Given the power that such a Shard had to have in order to wipe the former Kingdom off of the map, it would make little sense that the Shard lost enough of it for normal people, even the People of the Soulshard, to excavate by themselves. Whatever power carved into the fallen Shard has to be absolutely terrifying to most.
But alluring to others...
Tales of the Shattered Sun
The Awakening
I was just a boy when the Great Pheonix awoke from his slumber. When after thousands of years, he had regrown and regenerated from his great crusade against the swarms of the void. When he began to flex within his crystal shell, the normally yellow light slowly pulsing through the spectrum, from red to ultraviolet, changing every several days. Wizards and alchemists pondered the meaning, gazing at the sun in wonder, debating in their towers. Until The Cracking.
The slow changes between colors began to speed up. Faster and faster they came. Everyone in my village went out to look at the sun, captivated by its power. Staring up as colors spun like a child's kaleidoscope. I could not, for I was bedridden with fever. But I could see the lights playing with the shadow beyond the doorway of our hut.
Suddenly, a flare. Screams from outside as the onlookers were struck blind by the Phoenix's power, by the incredible influx of light. I stumbled from my fever bed and looked up at the sky. I and those others who had looked away or were busy indoors saw something not seen before or since. A great bird unfurling its wings across the sky, crystal slivers exploding outwards with incredible force in all directions, its feathers changing colors before our eyes. Women fainted, men wept, most soiled themselves. I could only look up in awe, mouth agape, as the great bird flapped its wings and flew off into the void, searching for its prey.
Weeks later the Shards began to fall. Daggers flying towards us, flung from an uncaring god. Forests burned, seas turned to steam, cities destroyed. Civilization died along with most of humanity.
But we persevered. Some shards dance across the sky now, smaller suns for smaller men. Others are stabbed deep into the earth, pillars of flaming stone burning evermore that no man may go near. All are intensely magical, creating new life and imbuing the mundane with the extraordinary. Wizards prize even the smallest of pieces. Some say there are great feathers within the Shards that can bring back the dead and give life everlasting.
One must get past the death cults. Exotic beasts driven mad by magic. Twilight cannibals that feast upon sun-fed flesh. Not to mention the mountains of fire themselves.
I've seen every Shard from here to the Scalding Sea. Join my crew and you shall as well. A life of fortune and fame is offered to you, my boys. The only question is, are you man enough to take it?
Al Adin
"Allow me to get this correct: A lowly savage such as yourself, a mere wanderer of the Strobelands, seeks an audience with His Luminance to warn him of a Shardfall in three weeks' time upon His glorious City? You dare disturb him with the very idea of an occurence deemed completely and utterly impossible by our Astronomers, the most expert and insightful in all of the land!?"
"E-exactly... I don't mean t'intrude, b-but..."
"SILENCE! There is reason His Luminance has dubbed His City the City of Eternal Shardlight. Not only do we lie under a stable Shardstream, but our storied Astronomers foresee a long and prosperous life for the City. I can understand if others such as yourself look upon the City with envy and desire, but I will not dare allow the hollow words of a Strober bring a most unnecessary panic upon the City! Guards!"
"I ain't tryin' to cause anything! I'm tryin' t'warn y'all b'fore-"
As the guard struck the young man in his dusty robes on the back of the head with the pommel of his blade, the advisor watched the youth collapse to the floor with a strained grunt. A lazy gesture wordlessly commanded the guards to take the unconscious youth to the dungeon for what amounted to treasonous conspiracy in the advisor's eyes. For too long has he worked to earn the trust of His Luminance and His Astronomers to get where he was today. He would not allow the hazardous words of a Strober urchin to set forth the demise of his standing and reputation.
Despite himself however, the worrisome man couldn't help but to wring his hands together once the guards were out of view. Even someone confident in the City's longevity as he remembers well the stories of the Phoenix's Awakening told by his elders. This most tragic tale resonates with every Citizen, high and low, as it does everyone else under the Shattered Heavens.
Those in the world before the Awakening were far more sophisticated than they, but they became too comfortable in the perceived permanence of their existence. They became the first to perish upon the Awakening, their magnificent realms but mere ruins in the Strobelands and the Twilight now. Perhaps the youth foresaw something the Astronomers cannot: the end of his people's Eternal Shardlight.
While the advisor's fears were stirred by the youth's drawled proclamation, his ambition drowned the fears. He kept the entire matter to himself, never spoke a word of it to his Liege or to the Astronomers...
Three weeks later, the youth's fears came to pass. An especially bright and vivid Shard streaked across the lavendar sky that day toward the Shardstream above the City. It crashed into one of the Shards in the Stream, bringing forth the more brilliant flash of light since the Awakening, and the most terrifying roar since then as well. From a distance, it looked like shining needles rained down upon the City and its proximity over the next few days, sparking a most relentless inferno upon its populace. The compassionate youth and the ambitious advisor paid the ultimate price.
If you seek the Eternal Shardlight, it remains upon the City's ruins, still burning everstrong until all of the Citizens' ambition and excess wither away.
The Runner
Running.
Seconds stretch into minutes. Minutes into hours. Hours into days. It feels like I've been running for so long, yet I know that there's no way that I could run for that long without my heart bursting first. At first I was looking behind me every so often to make sure that I was well ahead of my pursuers. Over time though, I gave up on looking back, only looking forward as I kept on running. I knew that if I did anything to stop myself from running as fast as I could, they would catch me.
In my incessant stride, I felt the heat of exertion ravage my frame, even as I slowly, but surely evaded the heat of the Shardstream. I slipped into the wilderness of the Strobelands, feeling the cold of the intermittent dusk lick greedily at my bronzed skin, envious of the Light I once soaked in. But even as the temperatures lowered around me, I felt more and more heat building up within me than I ever felt back in the City.
I had to escape the Light.
Everyone was young once, myself included. And when you were young, there was a nigh irresistible propensity to do things that the elders told you not to do. Don't stray from your studies. Don't drink too much of the vintage. Don't bed her just for her looks. I was generally good with resisting such base temptations (with the exception of that one girl who I just couldn't pass up...). I couldn't waste years of training under the High Astronomer Merlophon himself just to live out a needless childhood. I had a lifetime of prestige and power ahead of me in its stead.
But I wasn't quite up to snuff with the High Astronomer's expectations. I would draw out countless Shard Charts to prove my worth. I would take on more difficult assignments than my peers, in hopes to become his protege. But the slightest flaw, the tiniest error would provoke His anger. His rage would burn a thousand times brighter than even the Shard of Gargonel as he would destroy my carefully crafted Charts with his crushing grip. He would then analogize my repeated failures with the utter and complete destruction of the City were I to be in the employ of His Luminance.
There was just something that I was missing from the hopelessly complex equations, something that made the paths in my Charts zig rather than zag. I needed an edge, something that would vault me above the work of my peers. It was then as I learned of one of the High Astronomer's dirtiest secrets.
While most of the populace knows the Astronomers as stodgy old men forever swathed in the most suffocating robes one could imagine under the never-setting Light of the Shardstream, it doesn't take much common sense to know that even said stodgy old men need to change clothes and bathe once in a while. With the rare exception of the High Astronomer, of course. Perhaps it was a perk of His lofty position, but He never used any of the communal facilities the rest of the Astronomers and their Students are provided by His Luminance.
But once, I saw a glint of light from the corner of my eye from outside my dormitory window - it takes a lot to notice something like that when your surroundings are bathed in a seemingly eternal Light. I took a closer look for just a moment and saw the High Astronomer without his robes upon His being. It wasn't the discovery that He was above using the communal baths which His underlings had to use. That was to be expected of someone of His station. But it was the starkness of the shimmering golden lines and glyphs which ran across the High Astronomer's umbral body. It was as if I had set eyes upon a progeny of the Phoenix itself.
By now I have passed a traveling tribe of Strobes, panting raggedly as I forsaken the welcoming Light of the passing Shard under their constant vigil, leaving it for their taking. I'm sure that they were perplexed with my passing, but my plight is far more serious than their pursuit of the Light. The urge to keep running has far more importance than the fleeting warmth which will always evade the forever wandering Strobes.
By now, I have lost the footfalls of the tribe, the clamor of my pursuers, everything. The only sound now was the hostile winds of the approaching Twilight muffling out my weary grunts, my muted cries, the stomps of my calloused feet against the dead earth. What was it that I was running from was entirely beyond me now. All I knew was that I had to keep running away from where it all began. In a world obsessed with seeking the vestiges of cerulean heavens long since shattered by the Phoenix's Awakening, I must have been the only one who was straying away from the Light, trying to dim it within and without.
The Light had to die.
There was only one person whom I could trust my discovery with, my best friend Alair. While Students of the Astronomers generally don't make contact outside of their cloisters, we do get visits from our colleagues, the Alchemists. While the Astronomers discover the power of the Shards, the Alchemists craft the power of the Shards into the City's blessings. Alair was one of the brightest Students of Alchemy who I often worked with when crafting my Shard Charts. He also seated a bit of a dislike for the Astronomers in general, given their political pandering, but he seemed to trust me well enough.
Upon my description of the High Astronomer's glowing body, it only took Alair a couple moments before he came up with an explanation.
Stardust.
Any Astronomer or Alchemist, even a plain Citizen knows about Stardust. It's common knowledge that there are varying sizes of Shards, from those that can eclipse the size of the City in the case of the Shard of Gargonel, to those finer than a grain of sand but equally as potent when collected together. In small amounts however, the strength of the golden powder is only enough to where it will cause brief hallucinations when ingested. It isn't much of a vice though, as too much will cause the body to boil from the inside out from the concentrated heat and Light - a gruesome fate for those desperate for a slightly longer round of visions and sensations.
As our skin is resistant to the Light for prolonged periods of time, it is also resistant to small amounts of Stardust. As Alair explained, the resistance is usually enough to take in larger amounts of the powder before the high is reached. However, contact with the skin has a potentially beneficial side effect: a stronger understanding of the nature of the Shards, as if the user felt the movement of the Shards themselves. But that also wears off once the Stardust passes off of the skin. Unless it was put into the skin itself with no where to pass off to.
This is where things get especially difficult. And illegal. Brandishers, while commonly called upon to imbue symbols of reputation and significance upon their clients, are also heavily regulated. There is strong regulation of Brandery, especially when it comes to the use of Stardust in their inks. Extremely tiny amounts were allowed to make the inks brighter. Moderate amounts led to scarring burns where the inks are applied. Larger amounts led to irreversible damage of the skin. And woe be to the client who bled too much when the ink was laid upon the skin.
There are stories of Strobes who take into their skin a great deal of Phoenix's Blood - a mixture of ink with unfathomably high concentrations of Stardust - as a rite of passage. Survivors eventually become the Shamans of their tribes, able to predict the movement of the Shards without the sophisticated tools of the Astronomers, while those who die in the process are merely chalked up as unfit to be in the tribe in the first place.
Given all that Alair expounded upon me, it was evident that the High Astronomer had more than just a passing curiosity of Stardust and Phoenix's Blood. He partook the trial Himself and survived to become more than just an Astronomer - He became a veritable God among men. There was only one way I was ever going to meet or exceed His expectations, and I might not live long enough to get there.
But I was young once, and I had a nigh irresistible propensity to go through with this.
The traces of the faintest violet in the sky soon disappeared behind me, leaving me to the inky darkness of the Void ahead of me. I embraced the black as it did myself. As the world around me got colder still, I felt far more vigorous than I ever did under the Light. The combination of my sun-soaked heritage and the persistant urge to run was too much to resist, instinctively charting my own way through a myriad of otherwise unintelligible geography. My eyes eventually learned to adjust to the abject nothingness around me, devoid of others, devoid of life, devoid of Light.
The Light was no more.
For as much help as Alair was with his information, and his sheer knowledge of Alchemy, he wouldn't dare commit his abilities to my ambitions. He was just as focused on his studies and his own hopeful rise to prominence as I was, perhaps even more so at this point. I had eschewed the nourishing hope to rise to greater heights. I have replaced it with a relentless guarantee to get there in its stead. I would set forth the fall of the Golden God among Astronomers and replace his existence with my own. I would undergo the Rite of Phoenix's Blood and become one with the Shards. His Luminance would seek no further expert on the matter than myself.
It took me the greater part of the year, working a steadily growing network of connections whilst maintaining my duties as a Student under the High Astronomer. But I eventually got a meeting with a passing Strobe merchant who also happened to be a renowned Master Brandisher. At first, he wouldn't budge to my demands, claiming that the Rite was only exclusive to his tribe. He wouldn't dare defile the sacred art of the Rite for a Basker's whims.
However, I had come prepared for this.
I had worked with other Alchemists during the year, Alchemists less scrupulous than Alair. While Stardust is natural in the world, a skilled Alchemist can purify the golden powder into a concoction far more appropriate for Phoenix's Blood than anything a Strobe can rustle up in the wild. Little by little, I would come into possession of enough of the stuff to make for a convincing trade with a passing Strobe. Especially one who knows how to use it.
Half of it would be used for the Rite. The other half would go with the Strobe.
The deal was made. There was no going back now. I was soon in the wagon that the Master doubled as a Brandery parlor. I endured the most indescribable pain that no one should ever go through. It was as if a weaponsmith worked white-hot needles of steel through every inch of my quivering body, coursing through my mind, body, and soul all at once. As prepared as I was to make the trade, there was absolutely no way I could have prepared for this experience.
Seconds stretched into minutes. Minutes into hours. Hours into days. Even as the deed was done and I laid recovering in my dormitory (I still have no idea how I got up there,) the pain continued to work its way ever deeper into my being. I was surely not going to make it through the Rite in one piece. On the third day, the pain seemed to suddenly disappear, only to become replaced with a rush of information into my mind. The rush was painful, but it was more... enlightening than anything else. A brand new exhilaration filled my being, a new feeling which overcame any and all discouragement the High Astronomer could ever dish out at me. Soon enough, I felt the warmth of the Shard of Gargonel radiate from my breast. I could even swear that my heartbeat became that of the Phoenix itself.
There was no more Light for miles around me. I had finally slowed down to a stop to take in the awe of the Twilight's splendor. The sheer silence enveloping me would be deafening to a disoriented Citizen's ears, threatening to those of an alert Strobe.
It was then as the darkness surrounding me was broken by a pair of crimson eyes, seemingly piercing through the Void to peer into my spirit. It was undoubtedly the eyes of one of Them, a being who was human once before being taken by the thrall of the Light and transformed into a monster of pure hunger. Imbued with so much of the Light throughout its existence, the monster's eyes emanated with a unholy light all of its own. As more of the eyes appeared in the darkness, their collective Ghostlight illuminated my now being, worn to a mere sack of skin and bones from my running, paled to the milkiest white from my escape from the Light.
I had become one with the Twilight.
I opened my eyes in horror as the bliss began to subside. Great pillars of flame emerged from the ancestral marks placed upon me by the Master Brandisher. My dormitory was ablaze from the inferno, a cacophony of terrified voices washing with the ebb and flow of the wind whipped up by the intense fire. For some reason, the flames didn't affect me in the least, my movements seemingly increasing the danger of the blaze exponentially. I tried to make my way through the labyrinthine halls of the complex, incidentally setting more of the place on fire. For just a moment I basked in a perverted satisfaction with bringing down what I saw as a hypocritical institution, tasked with the survival of the City, but in truth seeking to further their own ambitions.
That was until I saw the contorted face of Alair before one of my flares devoured him whole, leaving only a charred husk of his former self mere seconds afterwards. I must have stood there in the hall, looking blankly into a self-aware abyss, my fires raging without my knowledge for hours before the instinct kicked in, the true, metaphysical heat of the Light driving me away from it. I bursted forth from the wall in a smoldering fireball, ravaging my way through the City until I broke free from the main gate.
The urge to run became stronger than any of the Phoenix's Blood that coursed through me. I had to run until the Light died. Until it became no more. I couldn't return until I became one with the Twilight. By then, I knew that my fate would be consigned to They who would see me as the ultimate sacrifice to prolong their Ghostlight.
But inside, my Light resurfaced. I had indeed become one with the Phoenix.
The Other Egg
I can’t think of a time I didn’t dread Blackrise at least a little. Even now that I’m older, it gives me little tingles down my fingers to see it crest the horizon. Every time it comes around, blighting our skies the same time each year, the same doomsayers wheel out the same tirades from the same street corners. The Holy City chokes with smoke as people light fires on their rooftops in the hopes of driving the Black Moon away.
When I was seven or eight, I would spend a lot of time in my father’s workshop. He was a sculptor and used a lot of different materials. I’d poke around and ask him what all the different rocks and metals he was using were. One day, he was fashioning something out of obsidian, this little figurine of an Astronomer at his astrolabe. That memory always rushes back when I look at the Black Moon, hanging behind Gargonel. A sphere of obsidian huger than I could possibly fathom.
Walk down any street in the city during Blackrise and you’ll come away with a dozen theories about what the Black Moon is and how it’ll invariably kill us all. Everyone has a theory, especially the people who don’t know what they’re talking about. There are two really popular ones, though. The first is that the Black Moon is another Egg, like the Sun had been, and this Black Egg will eventually hatch. When that happens, the world ends. The other school of thought agrees that the Black Moon is an egg, but believes that the creature inside is dead and that’s why it’s black; if it were another Phoenix, the egg would shine.
I’m just out for supplies, but I have to leave extra time. Everything goes into overdrive during Blackrise. The preachers flood the streets and the wine merchants do their best business all year as people try to find one escape or another. We take a lot of comfort in the scale of Gargonel, the Shard that keeps up safe and warm. It’s supposed to be the single biggest Shard known to exist, big as whole continents. But when the Blackrise comes, the sky is filled with a looming black shape that reminds us that even great Gargonel is but a Shard.
I pass by a wild-eyed man on a street corner. He’s standing on an overturned fruit crate and his lips are flecked with crazed spittle. He’s shouting that this is the year that the Second Hatching will occur, that the Black Egg will split wide open and some malevolent evil will come out. I’m glad when the crowd drowns him out.
When I’m at the market, where the Twilight traders and the Strobers peddle their wares from rented stalls just inside the city gates, the crowds are even thicker. Everyone’s pointedly not looking up, but still talking about what’s up there. It’s strange. Blackrise is about the only time of year that it’s considered acceptable to talk about The Other Egg. It’s as if we’re afraid we might draw its attention.
I find the stall I’m after, a quiet little stand literally right against the wall. Karos is a Strober who sometimes brings me knick-knacks from out in the night. His tribe sometimes chance over old ruins, cities from before the Hatching. Some of them are mass graveyards, but even the ones where the population managed to escape to safety are filled with discarded goods. Him and I have an arrangement – I pay him for any old bits of art he can find. Karos shakes my hand when I approach him. He vanishes around the back to get what he’s found for me.
While he’s away, I take a moment and look upwards. It’s a clear day, and bright, but the sky is menacing. Because there It is, hanging silently behind the Shard. Perfectly round, shimmering in Gargonel’s reflecting glory. As I look at it, I can almost feel a pull on my chest. I hear astronomers talk about how when things get as big as Shards, sometimes their hugeness can pull other things. Looking at the Other Egg, I can believe it.
It’s surface shimmers hypnotically. For a moment, I almost believe that its shell is translucent thin, and I see something moving under the surface, writhing.
Then Karos comes with his gewgaws and snaps me out of it. I toss him some coin and head home. I try to eat, but find my appetite is gone.
That night, all I can find in me to sculpt is black spheres.
I hate Blackrise.