Ex Tenebrae 1

Istik looked up at a sky dyed black with emptiness. Here and there, a point of light shone in the dark. Sometimes, he wondered if he weren’t the only one who looked; after all, there wasn’t much to see.
He did, though, peering up into the black, wondering what those few pinpricks in the night might be. The Elders told him those were the lanterns hung by their ancestors to guide the souls of the dead to the afterlife. 
The teacher told him those were stars, like the sun during the day, only far away, farther than anyone could ever walk. He didn’t know about any of that, but something had always compelled him to look up. To count the dozen points of light up in that inky tapestry.
He had done so more times than he could remember, which is why he had been shocked when, only a few weeks ago, a new star had appeared in the sky. He had tried telling the teacher and the Elders, but no one believed him. They insisted he was imagining things, or he’d miscounted. He’d tried showing them his old pictures of the night sky and its meager features, but still, they didn’t believe him.
But he knew he was right! And what’s more, it seemed to be getting brighter. With each passing day, this rogue star grew more brilliant, and its position in the sky varied too. All stars did, of course, but this was different, too fast.
He was out again that night, looking up through the device he’d invented. Using lenses to allow him to see at greater distances.
He gazed up at the star, which stubbornly remained a blurry smear of light. He sighed, stepping away from the spyglass and scrubbing grey fingers through his long, silver hair. 
Maybe he was looking at nothing. 
Discouraged, he began to disassemble his telescope. His father told him he was wasting his time, that it was time he put his childish fascinations aside and focus on his studies, learning to manage the family’s estate. Maybe he was right; maybe tomorrow, Istik wouldn’t come out.
He threw the legs of his telescope, perhaps harder than he’d intended, into his bag. He lifted the tube and considered throwing it, too, squeezing it in a tight, white-knuckled grip. At last, he sighed, shaking his head and gently setting his device down.

After all, it wasn’t the telescope’s fault that there was nothing to see. He glanced over his shoulder and could hardly believe the sight.

The star was moving, visibly flying across the sky. It streaked over his head, a brilliant tail of fire chasing dutifully after.

As he watched in wide-eyed fascination, the star slowed, coming to a gradual halt, hanging, as it did, motionless in the air; he saw it not as a single bright point but a constellation of many-colored lights set against the darkness.

Then, it began to sink to the ground, coming to rest in, or perhaps beyond, what he knew to be a corpus of trees. If the star, presuming that was what it was, had indeed landed among the trees, then it wasn’t at all far. 

Istik looked down at his bag, full up with his equipment, and without a second thought, abandoned it. 

He sprinted down the hill, into the valley, toward the dark silhouette of the wood, running until his lungs burned and pushing on even beyond that until he feared his legs would no longer hold him.

Finally, as he came to the edge of the wood, he slowed, forcing his way in amongst the brush. The wind shifted, bringing with it a faint smell of smoke, and he wondered if the falling star hadn’t started a fire.

He hesitated but shook the trepidation away. It was a risk, but one worth the taking. He pushed on blindly through the underbrush. Istik had chosen a moonless night to benefit his voidgazing, but now the lack of light slowed his progress. Had he known he would need to blaze a path rather than follow the well-worn tail, he would have brought a lantern.

Regardless, he pushed on, forcing a stubborn branch out of the way, only for it to snap back and lash his face. He felt blood, hot and blue, trickle down his cheek, and still, he pushed on.

Soon, his eyes were met by a faint glow leaking through the gaps in the trees, easing his way forward. Carefully, he picked his way through the bush, coming to the edge of a clearing.

Or perhaps clearing was the wrong word. The trees looked as though they had been trodden upon by a rampaging giant, uprooted and laid flat by an unfathomable force; in their middle, the star- wasn’t as he’d expected.

Istik, of course, didn’t know what stars were meant to look like. He’d never seen one up close before. What it did look like was a metallic sphere, or perhaps it was more egg-like, with protrusions spouting from its bottom and top.

The light he had seen seemed to radiate from the star, which only made sense; of course, stars were meant to be bright.

He looked around and saw that some of the nearby grass and brush were, in fact, smoldering, but he didn’t think it would be any problem for the moment. Besides, had the star been engulfed in a conflagration of proportions as celestial, of perhaps infernal, as itself, he still might have risked the travail.

As he made to break from the cover of the trees, however, the star… hatched. He knew no other way to describe it. Its smooth shell opened, and a cold light of such brilliance that it dazzled him even from his spot perhaps a hundred paces distant. 

He shielded his eyes and, through the cracks between his fingers, saw a shadow fill that brilliant doorway, for he now realized that was what it must have been.

As his eyes adjusted to the light, he watched the shadow, a silhouette of decidedly personlike appearance, descend from the star to the ground, looking all around themselves.

He needed to know more and so steeled himself, stepping out of the brush. The person, who he could, now that his eyes were more used to the light, see was a woman, a short one, with a strange, pinkish complexion, rounded ears, and golden hair, froze immediately, starring at him through eyes the color of sapphires.

He held up his hands to show they were empty and slowly approached her. “Don’t be scared; I won’t hurt you.” A gentleman would never raise his hand to a lady, of course, but how could she know his station?

In response, the woman- barked at him. He tilted his head and shook it. “You came here in that star- I mean, where are you from? What’s your name?”

She reached down to her waist producing- something. A little grey box. She held it to her lips and barked at it, then held it out to him, and it spoke.

“Didn’t expect locals.”

The language was a little crude, but- he stared, and she just stood there, arm hanging in the air, the little box still pointing it at him. She shook it, waving it in his direction, and hesitantly, he stepped forward and spoke into it. “The box speaks my language?”

The device barked at her, and she excitedly barked back. “Yes! It translates.” The box reported.

She held it up to him again, clearly expecting a response. He glanced between the woman and the box and swallowed, he had so many questions, and there was no telling how long she would humor him. What to ask, what was most pressing?

“Are- are you- a spirit, guided by the star?”

She frowned, and her response came as a single word. “What?”

Istik cursed himself, recalling how crude the box’s language had been. There was no telling how complex the ideas it could convey were, but still- he had to try. This could change everything.

“The elders- the- old ones,” perhaps if he simplified his language. “They say the- dead follow the stars to- to their rest, and the teachers say the stars are far away suns. Are you- an- a-” how to put it? “Angel?” He lapsed into silence as the box barked; he could only hope that was simple enough. He wasn’t sure he had the imagination to employ yet more rudimentary language.

Her face flushed, and she was silent for a long time, and just as he despaired that his message had been conveyed, she proceeded to bark out her message.

“I’m an examiner; I came to see this planet’s suitability.”

Some sort of- surveyor? “Suitability for what?”

“Settlement,” the box conveyed.

He wasn’t sure exactly what she meant by that. Were there more coming? There were no other rogue stars; he would have seen them. “You want to live here?”

She considered him and barked into the box, pointing up into the sky as it reported her meaning. “Around the star.”

Istik looked up into the sky at the handful of stars shining their meager light out into the void. If they lived around stars, then- “You have so few places to go.”

The box relayed his message, and she frowned, looking up into the sky, and gasped. She held up her hands and ran back into the star, returning presently clutching- something in her hand. 

She slipped around behind him, her hands coming to rest on his shoulders. He tried to pull away, but she held him with surprising strength until he stilled.

She placed the something over his head, pulling it over his eyes, and for a moment, he was blind. When his vision returned, he saw the world as smears of reds and blues and greens. He stumbled back, disoriented, and the woman, or her shape, appeared in front of him again, pointing up toward the sky.

He followed the direction of her finger, looking up, and fell to his knees, tears filling his eyes.

The sky, it was full of light.