Shades Of Forever

"The world ended on April 1st, in a year lost to us."

Great Grandpa Axe Memoriam starts the story the same way every time, but the children's faces are as rapt as always. They're not yet old enough for proper names, but in my head I've already decided who they'll be. Little Stone, busy sucking his thumb, brown eyes wide in excitement, he's a Builder. He's always the first to the snap-together-bricks, and once he figured out they weren't edible, all he wants to do is make miniature copies of everything he sees in the village.

"The greater lights obliterated the lesser lights, and a furious roar was heard from all parts of the world."

I mouth the words along with Great Grandpa. I memorized the Tale Of Beginnings almost before I could walk, but it never hurts to practice, especially with how old Great Grandpa is getting. Little Flower, peeking out over the hem of her dress, she's definitely a Breeder. Every day she gathers her doll family, making sure the other children know what each stuffed cloth figure did while they were away from the Memory Shrine, and she's already mastered the stitching lessons Missus Needle Crafter teaches the young ones.

"A violent red wind scorched the skies, followed by an inrushing of turbulent clouds. The stars hid their faces in sorrow, and bitter tears wrapped the earth in frost."

Speaking of Crafters, little Hammer is definitely a member of that clan. No surprise, considering both her parents bring their work home with them despite repeated injunctions from Great Grandpa about the dangers of obsession. To me, it seems more like a compulsion - the same way I can't help but devour everything related to the Old World, they can't help but take things apart so they can put them back together even better. Crafters and Builders tend to intermarry frequently, and I idly try to picture Hammer and Stone together as adults.

"Beneath the icy lament, we tended our trees, as we have always done. In return, the trees tended us, our bounty exchanged for theirs in the perpetual cycle. Though many were lost, on both sides, many more endured."

It's only through a supreme effort of will that I keep myself from giggling. Hammer and Stone together would be a disaster. I've had to break up their fights so often I've lost count, each time because Stone builds something, and then Hammer tears it apart trying to make it better. No, Hammer would be much better off with-

I scan the room, then stifle a sigh. Without breaking Great Grandpa's cadence, I quietly march over to where little Bottle is industriously picking his nose in the back row while reaching for one of the carving knives hanging from the wall. I smack his fingers away firmly, giving him a meaningful eye-shift towards Great Grandpa, and though his face scrunches up, he doesn't cry. He still keeps picking his nose.

Bottle is definitely an Idiot.

"After countless generations of toil and sacrifice, the heavens opened up to us once more and the stars resumed their kindly gaze. The soil warmed, the creatures returned, and the water ran pure. No longer did the choking breaths take our children. No longer did the lashing winds fell our groves."

I return quietly to my seat next to Great Grandpa Axe. Every generation is required to have one member join the Idiot clan, and Bottle is without a doubt the next inductee. He'll make a good Idiot, too, the way he always questions why things are the way they are. I thought the first time he placed his hands on a hot stove after repeated warnings would have been enough, or the day he decided to lick the electricity machine, but he's an Idiot through and through. Whenever I ask Great Grandpa why we need the Idiots, though, he always smiles and looks at me as if he's looking somewhere else.

"Yet despite our newfound prosperity, we would have perished many times over if not for the wisdom of Book Idiot, first of her clan, for more dangers than we knew filled the lands outside our own."

And there it is, the reason Great Grandpa always gives me when I ask why we need the Idiots. Tradition kept us alive, but it was the Idiots who let us thrive. For every Idiot who ate a melting rock (and then obviously  melted) another one found a way to use the melting rocks for endlessly boiling water, or rearranged the verses of Saint Penicillin or Saint Gunpowder to create an even more effective result, or did something equally stupid that somehow managed to work.

Great Grandpa says the Idiot clan is one of the most difficult jobs we have, which is why it's the only one beside Breeder that has a mandatory minimum for each generation, but to me it looks like a bunch of... well, fools.

I'd much rather not gather a series of scars touching stoves. Dying and being fed to the trees is something I've planned for far later in life.

"When we see a Glowbeast in the dark?" Great Grandpa Axe asks, beginning the call and response portion of the Tale Of Beginnings.

"It is already too late," the children chant back in harmony, "unless our bodies are covered with lead."

"When we draw our water from the river?"

"We take it to the cistern of Saint Curie, whose blessing purifies us all."

"When we harvest a tree, whether for fuel or for craft?"

"We plant another, with a body to last."

"And when we gaze at the sky, crystal and pure?"

Great Grandpa Axe delivers the final line with his customary smile, what few teeth he has remaining poking up from his spotted gums. The children, as always, shout their response, and I shout it with them.

"We thank all the stars for gracing our world!"

Laughing and chattering, the children scamper out of the main meeting hall of the Memory Shrine, their afternoon lessons finished. Great Grandpa Axe watches them go wistfully, then turns his attention to me, shifting slightly amidst the many blankets draping his cushioned chair.

"Ahh, Sky, I still remember when you looked like them. So young, all of you still so young."

He shivers, and I walk over to the heating key, turning it another revolution. Warm air gusts through the small vents lining the walls of the meeting hall, courtesy of whichever Idiot figured out the melting rock trick, and though the broad room is almost stiflingly hot, Great Grandpa still clutches his blankets tighter.

"Thank you, Sky. I swear," he chuckles ruefully, "it's like I'm living in the Beginning. Can't seem to get warm, no matter how many layers I put on."

He notices the bead of sweat trickling down my forehead, and one of his liver-spotted hands emerges from the downy cocoon.

"And now I'm making you uncomfortable." He shoos me towards the exit in a weakly flapping gesture. "Go on, enjoy what's left of the afternoon. We can go over your Memoriam lessons later tonight, or maybe tomorrow."

"Are you sure, Great Grandpa?"

"Absolutely," he replies. "You're only young once, after all."

I leave the meeting hall,  but not without several backwards glances. In each of them, Great Grandpa is huddled in on himself, nodding encouragingly when he notices my attention, his frail form so different from the giant of a man I remember from my earliest years. There had to be a point where he changed, but rack my thoughts as I may, I cannot recollect when it happened.

Growing old sucks.

My ruminations on the ephemerality of life are cut short when I exit the Memory Shrine and hear Rifle Baker's cheerful voice from across the central village square. She's standing with a group of other teenagers in front of the communal dining shelter.

"Sky! We thought you'd never leave that stuffy old place. We're all going to the Watching Hill for sunset! You're coming, right?"

"Of course I am, Rifle," I call back, picking up my pace. "Just let me grab some food, first."

"Already taken care of," a sandy-haired boy next to her smiles, holding up a wax-paper-wrapped oblong. "One of Rifle's dad's best sandwiches. They roasted the Glowbeast meat this morning!"

"You two are the best, Door." I grab the sandwich from him in eager anticipation and hold it to my nose. "Mmmm, yup, fresh roast Glowbeast is amazing."

"That's what best friends do," Rifle chirps, motioning us to join the small crowd moving up the dirt street towards a distant slope. Door falls in alongside her, his hand clasping hers, my own fingers busy tearing away the still-warm sandwich's covering. "They make sure each other gets fed, even when some of them," she rolls her eyes theatrically at me, "spend all day buried in dusty books and boring lectures."

"They're not- mmmph- boring lectures," I shoot back around a mouthful of roast Glowbeast, pickled sweet peppers, and freshly baked bread. "And I clean the books every day. Doesn't it make you curious about how the world used to be? Before everything ended?"

"I've got enough to worry about memorizing all these baking instructions," Rifle replies, turning a circle as she walks, twirling Door's hand over her head. "If I mess up a batch of loaves, we don't eat that day. That's more than enough to keep me busy."

I take another bite, then turn my head.

"What about you, Door?"

He shrugs, our steps taking us higher along the well-trod path.

"Rifle's right, Sky. Going through the purification steps is almost too much for me as it is, and I've barely scratched the surface of being a Water. I guess that's what makes you a natural Memoriam, though. You like remembering the past."

"I don't see why anyone wouldn't," I mutter, then turn my attention back to the sandwich. It would be a shame not to appreciate one of Oven Baker's creations. No one roasts a Glowbeast like Rifle's dad.

Several bites later and I'm done, stomach quite satisfied. I carefully fold the wax paper and place it in one of my pockets. There's still at least a week's worth of use left on it with careful washing.

The rest of our trek up Watching Hill passes quickly, Rifle and Door quizzing me about my day, me doing the same back at them, all three of us laughing over silly jokes and the latest gossip. All around us, other groups of chattering teenagers do the same, most holding hands with each other, some, like me, just along for the company.

Finally, we reach the summit, a carefully leveled field big enough to hold almost the entire settlement, all four hundred of us. Scattered trees with broad, spreading branches shade wooden tables in the early evening light, and the first group to arrive moves forward to light the firepit. It only takes them a moment with flint and steel from their outdoor packs, and soon the crackle and hiss of starter tinder fills the air. Solemnly, our isolated groups merge into a collective mass, and we all gather in a line to add our own contribution to the burgeoning blaze.

I take a second after I toss in the fallen branch I'd collected earlier that day to offer a quick remembrance for my parents. Wherever and whatever they might be now, hopefully they're still able to see my own efforts at keeping the light of humanity alive. My outdoor pack feels heavy on my back. Great Grandpa says it belonged to them, and it was the only thing he was able to recover.

Hungry Glowbeasts don't leave much behind.

After I finish my brief devotion, I make room for the next person in line, a lanky, raven-haired boy with thin, pale scars dotting the right side of his light brown face. He nods at me.

"Sky."

"Wires," I respond curtly. "May your ancestors witness your light."

"And you, yours," he responds formally, tossing his own stick on the growing fire. I turn my back on him and leave him to his remembrances, looking around to rejoin my friends. While I don't actively dislike Wires, I also don't feel like getting caught up in any of the nonsense that tends to trail his way. It's not his fault he's an Idiot, but he's complicated, and I don't like Idiot level complications now that I'm a mature and responsible Memoriam.

Sometimes it feels too much like I understand why they do it.

However, as I search the gloaming shadows of the hilltop, I can't help but notice my "best friends" have abandoned me for the relative solitude of the tree-shrouded tables. They've been doing that more frequently as of late, finding ways to be together while forgetting to include me, and while I don't begrudge them their happiness, it kind of sucks being the odd one out.

"Got ditched?" a quiet voice next to me asks. I look over at Wires, then run a hand through my hair.

"...yeah. They're around here somewhere, but, well. You know."

"I do," Wires responds drily, a hint of humor entering his tone. "When you're an Idiot, everyone can't wait to be someone you used to know."

I wince at the words, even though he doesn't deliver them harshly. We did use to hang out together back when we were little ones - not quite inseparable, but definitely more than like-minded. Maybe that's why I'm reluctant to be around him these days. He reminds me of how close I was to being picked as the Idiot, and not a Memoriam.

"You know, my uncle always thought you were going to end up chosen as the Idiot," he says, as if reading my mind. I ignore him, walking over to an empty patch of grass so I can watch the stars come out, but I don't tell him to leave. Emboldened, he follows and sits down next to me, shrugging off his own outdoor pack. "Especially after that time you snuck into Saint Gunpowder's workshop. It took so long for your eyebrows to grow back."

"Yeah, but I would've never had the idea if someone," I give him a look, "hadn't taken apart that Glowbeast trap."

He laughs, long and easy, arms looped around his shins.

"I wanted to see how it worked. I was planning on being a Crafter, remember?"

"Crafters respect warning labels."

"And Memoriams respect hazard signs."

"I was trying to see if something I learned from the Memory Shrine was actually true," I mutter. "How was I supposed to know there was another part I hadn't read yet?"

"At least your eyebrows grew back," Wires replies genially, raising a hand to rub his scar-dappled cheek. The gesture looks automatic, like he doesn't even think about doing it, but then my attention is drawn to the night sky overhead. I point, suddenly excited. This is why I let Door and Rifle drag me along to their nightly trysts.

"Look! A starfly!"

He follows the line of my finger towards a specific twinkling dot amidst all the other star glitter, and regards it critically.

"...are you sure it's a starfly? It's not doing anything."

"I'm sure," I reply confidently. "There isn't supposed to be another star in that part of the sky. Watch, it'll start moving any second now."

Sure enough, the mote of light begins to dart through the velvet blackness. It's easy to pick out from the other stars, since they remain static, just like they always do.

"Oh! There's another one!"

This time it's Wires who spots the starfly first, and we lean back on our packs to watch in silence as the two distant gleams flit back and forth, like they're dancing with each other. Their light pulses and fades as they move, tracing a filigree tapestry through the sky. Smaller pinpoint glows appear and disappear around the initial starfly, bracketing its movements, and behind it all, the unmoving stars hold their places like solemn spectators.

"Why do they do that?" Wires asks quietly.

"I think it's a mating dance, but I'm not sure," I breathe back, entranced by the view. "Everything I've learned from the Memory Shrine says nothing lives out in space, but the Old World never talked about Glowbeasts either, so maybe there were things they didn't know."

"Why do you think it's a mating ritual?"

I blush.

"I've watched the starflies a lot, and they only move like that when it's two or three of them. They're a lot more restrained when they're moving as a herd, or on their own, and starflies have to come from somewhere, right?"

Wires scratches his head.

"Huh. Yeah, I guess that makes sense."

One of the starflies suddenly pulses intensely bright, drawing oohs and ahhs from the other people surrounding us on the hilltop who hadn't yet realized the starflies were dancing overhead. When the glow fades away, the starflies are gone, and I let out a sigh.

"That's probably it for the night. I've seen them do that before, and usually no more appear for another night or two. Maybe they have to rest somewhere or something."

"That's a shame," Wires says thoughtfully. "It was beautiful. Thank you for letting me watch it with you."

"It was nothing special," I blurt out, suddenly aware of how close we're lying next to each other. "It's just starflies."

"It was special to me," he responds earnestly. "Sometimes it's tough being an Idiot. Everyone thinks we're dangerous, so they stay away. This was the most normal conversation I've had in-"

He pauses, as if suddenly aware of what he's saying. I think he blushes, but it's dark and it's hard to tell without looking at him directly. He clears his throat, and silence fills the gap between us. I hear him shifting , as if readying himself to get up and leave.

"Well, Sky, I just wanted to say thank-"

"Wait," I interrupt abruptly, my eyes locked on the stars. "There's another starfly, but it's doing something strange."

I command his gaze with my finger once more, to a spot where a fluttering light pulses raggedly. It doesn't move the way starflies normally do, a constant stream of twinkling illumination. Instead, it seems to be drifting, its light erratic, appearing and disappearing in strobing spurts.

"I've never seen one do that before," I say in wonder. "Is it... hurt, or something?"

Wires doesn't reply, but I hear his breathing quicken. Seconds later, my own does as well.

"It's getting bigger."

Sure enough, the blinking starfly is growing from a tiny mote into a grain of sand.

"How is it growing-"

A flaming corona suddenly engulfs the starfly, cutting me off and drawing gasps and shouts from the hilltop. The fireball overhead continues swelling, now big enough that I can't cover it with the palm of my hand.

"Sky?"

The fireball expands even more, a billowing furnace painting the night with unexpected shades of orange and red. A distant roar accompanies its passage, drowning out our voices beneath its rumbling groan.

"..."

Wires is mouthing something next to me, but I can't pull my eyes away from the oncoming conflagration. His words are buried in vibrations that thrum my entire body. There is something terrifyingly magnificent about the unexpected cataclysm. Is this how it felt when the world ended? Am I witnessing the same apocalypse my ancestors did?

"..."

It's almost too loud to think, now, too bright to see. Wind whips all around us, momentary twisters spitting dust and leaves into the air. The cheery blaze in the firepit is snuffed out, almost as if ashamed to be seen next to the splendor smashing the air overhead. It's close enough now that I can make out a shape within the billows of smoke and flame, a sort of curved triangle shedding smaller pieces of itself. It feels like it's so close I could reach out and grasp it, shadowing the entire top of Watching Hill with its radiance.

"..."

In a flash, it disappears from sight, dipping behind one of the smaller hills that mark the outer edges of our valley. The world goes white for a second, and the ground jumps and shudders like a freshly caught fish, bouncing me and Wires in the air and then back to the matted grass. It's only after I notice the ringing in my ears that I realize a sound beyond all sound I'd ever imagined existed accompanied the titanic impact. Stunned, I slowly crawl to my feet, trying to stop the shaking in my knees. Next to me, Wires does the same. His eyes are wide, much like how I imagine my own must be.

"...ky!"

The words coming from his mouth sound like he's shouting them underwater, muffled and distorted. Grimacing, I rub at my ears again. They don't get much better, but it's enough to make out what he's saying.

"Sky! Are you okay?"

I pat myself down, but aside from a couple bruises where I landed on my pack, I'm unharmed.

"...yeah. Yeah! I'm fine. What about you?"

"...what?"

He rubs at his ears in frustration, mimicking my earlier gesture, and I try to yell louder. I can feel my voice cracking in the heated air surrounding us.

"Are you okay?"

"...yeah! What was that?"

I think back through everything I've learned in the Memory Shrine, all the records we have from our ancestors.

"I... don't know."

Two more figures stagger up beside us - Rifle and Door. Rifle's sporting a long scratch on her arm, but it doesn't look serious. More concerning is how Door is favoring his right ankle, arm draped over Rifle's shoulders, and it's clear she's supporting a lot of his weight.

"Sky!"

"Rifle! Door!" I gather them into a hug, a sudden wave of exhaustion coursing through my already shaky body. I'd forgotten about everyone else here, and the thought I might have lost them threatens to send me into tears. "I'm so glad to see you. Are you okay?"

Rifle breaks the embrace, her focus returning to keeping Door upright.

"I'm fine, but it looks like Door probably broke his ankle."

"I came down on it weird when the ground shook," Door adds, his voice tight. "Felt something pop, and I can't put any pressure on it."

"Lay him down," Wires directs confidently, stepping up and taking Door's other arm. Together, he and Rifle gently lower the sandy-haired boy to the ground, Door trying not wince at the occasional jostle. As soon as Door is on his back, Wires dives into his pack, searching for something. He emerges with a roll of fabric and two thin yet sturdy looking metal rods. "We need to stabilize the joint. Rifle, you hold his foot straight. Sky, keep the splinting rods in place on either side. I'll wrap it."

"You know medical techniques?" Rifle asks in disbelief, and Wires grins wryly at her as he wraps the roll of fabric around Door's ankle, keeping it tight and neat.

"I'm an Idiot. Of course I know medical techniques; it's one of the first things they taught me." He smirks, tying a finishing knot. "We're usually expected to have to use them on ourselves, though." Wires tests the brace, then motions for Rifle to help him get Door back upright. "There, this should hold until you get back to the village. Try not to put weight on it if you can, though, there's only so much a makeshift splint like this can do. I wish we had a crutch, but it's not life-threatening so I can't use one of the trees without permission."

"I'll help him get back down," Rifle promises, letting a pale-faced Door lean on her. "Won't be any worse than carrying sacks of flour."

"What about the others?" I blurt out, scanning the hill top. A red glow rising from where the starfly went down provides a sort of half-illumination, enough to see shadowy figures stumbling around. "We need to make sure everyone is accounted for, and if there are any other injuries."

"Good idea," Wires agrees, and we spend the next several minutes rounding everyone up. Thankfully, no one is missing, and though there are more than a few cuts and scratches, Door's ankle looks to be the only significant injury. Everyone wants to know what happened, though, and before the murmurs of confusion can rise and become a panic, Wires claps his hands sharply.

"Listen up, everyone. We need to get you all back to the village." He turns to me. "Sky, can you take charge of seeing them home safely?"

I step closer to him, my eyes narrowing.

"Why me? You've been doing a good job handling everything so far."

He smiles sadly.

"I'm not going back just yet." Wires tilts his head towards the distant glow. "Someone needs to go take a closer look at whatever that was, and, well, there's only one qualified Idiot here. It's my job."

I suck in a breath, thinking of the indescribable sensations the starfly's descent had flooded me with.

"You think I'm going to go back to the village and not investigate an actual starfly? Forget it, Wires. I'm coming with you."

He opens his mouth to protest and I override him, putting my fingers in my mouth to create a piercing whistle.

"Listen up, everyone! Rifle and Door are going to lead you back home - since Door's hurt, you'll have to move at his pace anyways. Make sure you stick together, and verify your targets before you shoot." I say the last part while eyeballing a couple twitchy Saint Gunpowder acolytes who already have their pistols out from their packs. "The village is probably going to be searching for us, and there's no reason to get anyone killed because you got scared and forgot your teachings. Remember, the valley is safe. Whatever that was, it landed outside."

That seems to settle them down a bit, and I nod in satisfaction before turning back to Wires.

"And as for you, well, your uncle thought I was going to be chosen as the Idiot, right? Looks like I'm more qualified."

He shakes his head in bemusement, but I can already tell that he's not going to make a fuss. Even Idiots aren't stupid, and having an extra pair of eyes can mean the difference between life and death outside of the valley. I pull my own pistol gear from my pack, check the safety, then place the weapon in its holster and strap it to my leg.

"C'mon, Wires." I can't help the excitement that leaks into my voice. "Let's go see a starfly."