《Ke'sari & Night-Everlasting》 Lightless The sun swept past Richter City¡¯s golden terraces for one last time. The harvest will never come¨Dheralded by a struck down sun, and the seven-hued star bursting from its stomach. Meager light could never banish this world¡¯s night. Sneering at the survivors was a ghostly being¨Dit wielded no body; torn black rags or a terrible cloak made up its silhouette, and a jawless skull was its face. The Seven-Faced star could only shine one light at the time, and with red¨D ¡¾?????¡¿ ¨Dthe being spoke innumerably. It must have lacked any sort of identity. It brandished the very end of its sharp nerves jutting out from the tail of its spine, jamming it at the corpse¡¯s throat n?e?x?t? ?t?o? ?h?e?r?. ¡°This is your fault.¡± It took h???i???s??? voice. ¡°With the everlasting night, no deity will answer your pleas for help.¡± Rot and decay scratched at her throat as the skull-faced t?h?i?n?g? draws closer. ¡°The next one will be worse than an earthquake. Pray little Rabbit, pray that this will never happen again. Pray that you won¡¯t hear my whispers one last time.¡± She dropped to the ground, her body shutting down¨Das if any longer and she¡¯d truly go insane, and there would be no chance left for revenge. The next time she¡¯d open her eyes would be the aftermath, and the dead beside her. ¡÷¨‹¡÷ Francis knelt before some rubble at his burning home, his fingers singed raw whilst his arms protests at further exertion¨Done more rock to pull away¨Done more piece of their home. ¡°Emeline!¡± He hoped against hope that she would answer, make his search for her much faster, and sooner take her into safety. But her water broke the moment the earthquake happened¡­ ¡°Spirits¡­ Spirits answer me!¡± The ring on his index focused his talents, calling for whatever spirit that might aid him in rescuing his wife, such was a Blythe¡¯s prerogative¨Dtheir authority over the lands¨Dyet none answered. None have been answering since the sun died. ¡°Triam¨C Can . . . Sol¨C damn it even Pix! One of you please answer!¡± Francis calls for his older sister¡¯s personal spirits, but once again, he was just shouting at the air. All the while his fingers dug against the rubble, pulling away at all blockages and pulling away at his skin¨Dno longer did he feel for his fingers. That didn¡¯t matter to him. In his heart he begged for anyone who could have been listening for help, and only then did someone answer. ¡°Close your eyes¨D¡± said a voice from his back, he turned around and saw the manifestation of a fox through the flames. ¡°¨DAnd you will find her, Child of Blythe.¡± The honest man threw all his personal reservations and listened to the apparition, he closed his eyes¨Dand he saw the world anew¨Dbeneath his eyelids was the world, it was several times darker and lacked any semblance of color¨D ¨DThat is until he turned to a pile of rubble where their closet used to be, it had broken beyond recognition, and beneath all of that burning wood. ¡°Em¡­ Em!!¡± He scampered towards it, tripping and stumbling before the place. He grasped at the pieces of their roof and burnt his hand¨Dit fried his palms. Francis¡¯ skin sizzled against the immense heat, every bit of rubble he moved¨Devery bit of force he mustered regardless to push that part of the rooftop away¡­ All this, it inflicted more hurt to him than he deserved. Through every burning signal in his brain urging him to stop, this is his big reward¡­ ¡°Em¡­ Oh god, Em¡­ no, no please!¡± He cleared the way, broke down his fingers and tore at his own legs just to pull hot debris away from her¨Dand beneath all that is his wife, her body marred with this grotesque red mixed with spots of black dead skin. They¡­ bought this house for cheap, they layered the wallpaper, made the furniture, and befriended all the neighbors . . . this was their big break, and the rooftop they made was killing her. And their child¡­ ¡°No, I¡¯m going to get you out of here!¡± Something in his head clicks, so he ignores it. Anymore and he will die. For the sake of self-preservation he ignores it and picks her up. Her body burnt his arms, but so what?! She was breathing! He turned around, walking towards the door when¨D ¨DThe flames had spread through-out the door, and the same visage of that fox had seemingly stood in his way. Francis wanted to be grateful, but he¡¯s a Blythe damn it! If a spirit was going to get in the way then he''d make it move. ¡°Get out of my way, I need to get her to safety!¡± Yet as flames do, shouting at it won¡¯t make it fade. If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. ¡°...Heh, I pity you, Francis Rodericht-Blythe. No matter how you run, how fast you go, there is no longer any saving your wife.¡± The flames around the room grew in intensity, and yet¨D ¡°Set your wife down, and leave it to me.¡± ¨Dthe inferno it produced didn¡¯t hurt at all. He was no Everett-Blythe, it was not his calling to harness the might of spirits and through them the world, but even in his lack of expertise he just knew . . . that he was going to see a miracle¨Dand the inferno hungered only for the injuries that plagued her, rejuvenating her. ¡°. . . Thank you, thank you- thank you!¡± He felt relief, at last something good going his way. ¡°Don¡¯t mention it, I¡¯m not a magnanimous woman. It¡¯s just¡­ when the time comes, and you¡¯ll know¨DI hope you can forgive us.¡± As the flames disappeared, so did the voice. Their house were now just rubble, no inferno to get in the way, his wounds had healed, as for his wife¨D ¨DHer skin¡¯s as warm as a white beach¡¯s sand, her breath¡¯s returned to that calming tempo, and the luster of that hair she cared for had returned. There wasn¡¯t a burn, nor a scar, or any injury of the sort. Emeline¡¯s alive¡­ ¡°Oh¡­ oh thank¡­¡± She shows no signs of waking up, but at the very least she lives . . . ¡÷¨‹¡÷ No deity answered her prayer, whilst the shadowed figure impaled her father¡¯s throat. No fortune to blow her way, and certainly no almighty figure to make yesterday¡¯s nightmares just that, mere nightmares. She opened her eyes and stood from the rubble, her body sore from sleeping on rocks, but for the most part she¡¯s unharmed. ¡°Ghh¡­¡± Raseyla wanted to cry, but she couldn¡¯t, something stopping her. Perhaps it¡¯s all the c?????o???????r??????p???????s???????e????s???¨D¨D¨D¨D¨Dthings laying right next to her. Were they rummaging through dad¡¯s tools? She thought, as they oddly enough smelled like her dad¡¯s rusted equipment, but they could only access them if they raided her¨D ¨DAh, the rubble she slept on was her home. Right, even home is¡­ ¡°. . .¡± She couldn¡¯t cry about it even then. Letting out a frustrated sigh, the girl stood and left¨Dwherever she headed, she had no real idea. ¡÷¨‹¡÷ The doctor remained steadfast as he walked along a sea of corpses¨Dit made him seem like a monster. Kazhel¡¯s a tall man with a broad build, the baritone of his voice paired with how he dressed¨Dcompletely covered with no sign of skin¨Dmade him look non-human. A monster even, though even without the mask and these rags, that¡¯s their preferred nickname for him¨D ¡°Lord Adrecht, please!¡± ¡°Please save us¡­¡± ¡°My son, he hasn¡¯t woken up!¡± ¨DRight beside his home, there was a crowd pleading before a manor, though it¡¯s generous to call it that, as it¡¯s effectively four townhouses merged into one structure. They were rioters once, the day after they brought torches¨Dthen an hour after the city bells and they¡¯re reduced to beggars. Sunken cheeks, pallid tones, parched voices that¡¯d forgotten the sweet allure of water¨C Ah . . . right, there¡¯s also less of them. Just a few days ago him and his son were planning for a festival, and now he¡¯s writing off the dead like it doesn¡¯t really matter. As a healer, perhaps he should take better care of his oath, save these people by bringing them to his home turned hospital, preserve his very pride¨D ¨DBut then again, what use is pride during the end times? Whatever the answer, it¡¯s been clear to him that those people hadn¡¯t thought about it at all. They are the proud people of Richter city, born to a bloodline of heroes and knights who had once served in great wars¨D ¡°It¡¯s that guy again¡­¡± ¡°Tch, quit creeping around!¡± They threw rocks his way. ¨DNone of them will ask an immigrant Kerus for medical aid. There¡¯s no point in forcing them either, you can¡¯t save people who don¡¯t see that they need saving. He¡¯ll instead protect the people that he can, especially those who are important to him. Today at this time Kazhel would have been recording all of Richter City¡¯s losses, the second day¨Dtoday¨Dwas all it took for him to relent against the odds. So instead, he went outside and beyond the nobility¡¯s area¨D ¨DPassed the opulent manors, across the once intricately sculpted roads in this part of the city, and towards the final resting place. At the center of a park was a large clearing, and at the center an even larger obelisk with names etched along the material. There was his boy¨DCain¨Dmaking his weekly visits to his mother despite the end of times. He walked closer, ¡°You¡¯re reckless.¡± Kazhel said. ¡°Dad¡­ sorry, it just feels like I need her more than ever.¡± ¡°No use apologizing, I¡¯m sure you can use all the help.¡± It¡¯s reckless that he went out all on his own, this endless night has made them even more xenophobic, it¡¯s not just his Kerusian descent¨DCain has Alda blood, a part of him isn¡¯t even of this world! Kazhel can¡¯t imagine what he would do if this city¡¯s hatred swallowed him up and left him as just bones . . . . . . He can¡¯t even scold him right now, between all the death¡­ as long as his boy is alive, he can keep going. Cain sucked in his breath, gathering himself with a sigh. ¡°Mom knew this would happen¡­ said she knew that things would go wrong somehow, that everything will be turned over its head and . . . change for the worse.¡± He knew what his son wanted to say, he hid it well while his shoulders pushed down, repressing the urge to cry. ¡°If she were alive¡­ she¡¯d know what¨C¡± ¡°No, she won¡¯t.¡± Kazhel sighed, ¡°It¡¯s just a pattern she found among worlds, things will eventually go wrong for reasons nobody understands. It¡¯s the nature of the world, and you¡¯ve heard her stories.¡± ¡°...Her world is nothing like ours.¡± Eve once wanted to go home, apparently our world is just that much scarier, but she eventually settled with him, she decided to stay¨Donly for her to grow uncontrollably sicker, but rather than die on bed . . . those people threw stones at her, all while pleading their son to convince his father to not hate any single one of them. But that was just too tall an order, if only he sent her home¡­ ¡°Haahh¡­¡± Kazhel sighed, ¡°What I¡¯d give so I can hear her tell those stories for one more time.¡± Neither the man nor the boy would cry, they¡¯ll only do so once they¡¯re home and cannot be seen by anyone else. It felt¡­ strange, expressing the whole of his thoughts to his kid¨Dbut if he dies tomorrow, at least he was able to have one last heart-to-heart talk with him. They spoke a bit more, said their personal prayers and words to their loving departed¨Dand when that was done they headed home. Unlike the noble¡¯s district, they¡¯d have to cross the massive road going in and out of the palace¨D ¨DAnd that¡¯s when Kazhel stopped in his tracks, and saw them. They were escorted by a detachment of Blythe knights, not as prisoners, but as guests of the city¨Dpeople of Alabaster-white hair, strangely colored eyes and youthful appearances. One of them, a woman who seemed far more like an ethereal dream, was sat on her knees in the street¨Dspeaking to a small child . . . an Alda Child. ¡°Back away from her¨D¡± Kazhel held his knife towards the two, ¡°¨DI know what you are, and I will not let you harm her!¡± ¡°Dad¡­¡± ¡°Haa¡­ run for our house, get everyone out and into our backup place. You don¡¯t have to tell me, I¡¯ll run after you once I can.¡± Cain wanted to say more¡­ but he covered everything, so he just turned and ran into the alleys. Meanwhile Kazhel kept his eyes on them. Already doubting his chance for survival, after all¨D ¡°What on earth are you Solgaards doing here?!¡± ¨DSolgaards, a most vaunted blood ancestry among vampire-kind. If that''s what they truly are then there is no such way he can escape from their palms. Not in this everlasting night.