GLOW

We saw you glow when you were born, your mother then glowed too. And when you breathed your first breath swirled up in a haze, then dissipated, little specks of sunlight in the air, unseen but still there. The midwives and doctors, at your sight their eyes lit up and at your cry their ears shined and the smallest part of their minds was set aflame forever. You put little iridescent hand prints into the cloth around you and slept against your mother, the two of you a shimmering bundle of light.

You don’t know how many people you made shine, even then; eyes, ears, hands, faces of smiling family, strangers and friends, all a little lighter in your presence.

The luminous nappies needed changing, the shining babygrows grew too small, the radiant toys got lost, now there’s a thousand flickers in the landfill, like embers in ash.

Your first steps are burned into the living room carpet, now outshone by every other footprint you made; a mat of light across your first home’s floors, still there long after you’ve moved on. The glowing steps burst from the house and trace winding paths through your home town, desire lines like filament. There’s nowhere brighter than here.

But there are pockets of sunshine further out; your school, university, that first job you didn’t like, the first place that you made home, everywhere you’ve touched is bright. There’s light too on the far side of the planet, where you once rested your head against the street corner wall and watched a little of the world pass by.

You wouldn’t remember every mark you’ve made and many think they don’t remember you, but then a stranger passes by, a little faded flame at their temple. In others, the light burns brighter, some glow from head to toe and those people, the people that you made, their touch now glows too.

They all came back to say goodbye. The room shone brighter than the sun.

The grass now glows above you; the trees nearby have a touch more sun. And across the world, no matter where you go is every breath you ever made.

Tilt your head. The air sparkles.

ANAX

EVERGEN

The sub-sentient organeral evergen (also known as origen rock or black stone) is the common name for a group of antimodulous materials with a transpacial connection to the anax.

A solid, smooth surface and opaque black hue give evergen a superficial resemblance to obsidian, hence nicknames such as cosmidian and mind glass. The common name, evergen, however, derives from the city-state of Evernia where its multitudinous properties were first studied and the stone was originally hunted and mined before more copious deposits were discovered in other regions of Oros.

Evergen is the primary structural material in the cosmoponic towers found across the lattice and although the substance is not limited to these locations it is often identified in its highest concentrations proximal to these towers. Evergen is thus found contained in floating stones (a vital component in early flight craft and eventually interplanetary travel), the “webber” sentinels of some regions and in the limbs of sytons.

Given its innumerable properties, evergen has a number of practical uses. The earliest known usage of evergen is in the weapons of the warrior sages. Evergen will often crystalise into long, needle-like fibres that, after careful extraction, can be fashioned into the hidden inner blade of a truthseeker’s quarterstaff. Even unsharpened, the blade is painful to the touch and displays a metallic rigidity, strength and lightness that make it ideal for sword construction.

Evergen has been observed to alter its state, size, density and even gravitational influence. The causes of these changes have yet to be identified. Although the substance may vary its properties of its own volition, warrior sages, through years of training, can appear to align their will with that of the stone much as a rider trains a horse or a hunter trains a hound. Once mastered, sages can then make use of evergen’s most complex and unusual of properties, ‘phasing’.

Under certain conditions, black stone can alter the space within the material itself. When this occurs, the substance takes on an ethereal quality, seemingly disappearing, passing through any object it is in contact with and then reforming in a solid state on the other side. A master sage in full control of their weapon can make use of this quality in sword combat. Thus, when highly skilled opponents duel, their swords can appear to briefly flick in and out of existence. A solid blade, swung towards its enemy, may dematerialise, pass through the sword braced to stop it, through cloth, skin and flesh only to reform once deep within the opponent's heart. For this reason, the sages’ quarterstaff contains two blades, since dual-sword combat is essential; every blocking stroke requires another blade behind it, should the enemy’s sword pass through the first.

Ingestion of evergen can prove fatal, however--

ANAX

BEYOND

And at the unending desert’s heart there stood a lone, oasis city with a tower at its centre. This dark spire provided the city with everything the people needed and their lives were content. But there were some who liked to stand atop the tower or at the city’s edge where the soft grass became coarse sand and stare out to the simmering horizon and ask, “Is this all there is?”

There were no plants or animals but for those inside the city. There were no other settlements but their little ring of green. As far back as anyone knew, they had always been alone.

So the curious started making plans to venture out beyond their home. They learned to survive on the sands, developed systems for cataloguing the flora and fauna they might find and practiced how to speak with the strange new people they might meet.

Generations passed with tireless work until at last the expedition was prepared. The final provision: a stone from their home tower. Then set off eastward into the wastes, a little village of explorers, scientists, cooks, hunters, bards, linguists, artisans and camel herders. The city cheered them farewell and watched the line of dust specks drift into the mirage.

The celebrations continued long after they had left and when the days ended, the people dreamt of what the travellers might find beyond the dunes. Day came again and they shared their dreams with one another, wondering when their pioneers might return. As the years passed these dreams turned into stories in which the explorers became adventurers fighting monsters, scaling mountains and sailing seas all on their long voyage home. The stories turned to myths until there were but a few still living who had witnessed the champions’ departure. Yet still, the people lived in hope that one day the travellers would return and at last tell them what lay beyond.

And so, the city waited, until one day a little boy spied from the tower top a distant westward dot approaching. Word travelled fast, excitement grew and celebrations commenced as the whole city gathered at the desert edge to see their heroes’ return. As the dot drew nearer, however, it became clear that this was not a band, but a single man.

The drums were stopped, the pan pipes faltered and the old man collapsed down to the sand. The people were too shocked to help and simply watched him drag his way toward them. As he came close, they could now make out his reddened, blistered skin beneath long, matted hair and ragged clothes. An older matriarch, pushed her way through the crowds, kneeling down to offer water. Though he was too weak to drink, she saw in his weary face the young boy she had watched leave so long ago, as a hand to tend the camels.

She leant in close and wide-eyed she asked, “What did you find? What lies beyond our little city?”

Fading, the old man exhaled his final breath and in it, a single-word reply... “Nothing.”

ANAX