The red star hung low in the Lightward sky, its crimson glow bathing the Sowanan settlement in a warm, blood-hued light that shimmered on the ashen skin of the tribe.

  Horvaan stood on an uneven rock at the Darkward edge of the settlement. He had just awoken from sleep. As he always had for as far as he could remember, he turned his face to the ever-present red light and closed his double-lidded eyes, starting his awakening ritual. His head tendrils stretched and curled, absorbing every sound around him.

  The settlement nestled in a shallow valley. To the Lightward side, the red star lingered as it always had, unmoving. Leftward and Rightward stretched along the edge of survival. Behind Horvaan, the Darkward wastes swallowed all warmth. A distant mountain range marked the Lightward horizon, stretching from Leftward to Rightward. Below it, an unbroken expanse of dawnspire trees, their canopies alive with bioluminescent glow, extended endlessly in both directions.

  Darkward, a jagged line of luminous hills rose beneath a sky dotted with distant, flickering stars. The hills' contours shimmered with patches of phosphorescent growth, casting faint ghostly reflections on the settlement below.

  A steady Lightward breeze swept through the valley, tempered by the mountains’ embrace. Here, in the delicate balance between burning daylight and endless night, the wind carried whispers of both warmth and cold—a reminder of the extremes just beyond the horizon.

  The Sowanans were a curious species with large, double-lidded eyes adapted for the red star’s dim glow, dilating wide to drink in every flicker of light or narrowing to slits against sudden brightness. Tendrils crowned their heads, moving with a will of their own to convey a range of feelings—both deliberate and instinctive—despite the limited expressions of their opaque gazes. Beyond expression, these tendrils also served as sharp auditory organs, detecting the faintest vibrations in the air. The Sowanans breathed through two vertical, slanted slits above their tight, slender mouths, their faces otherwise still and unreadable

  Standing an average of three feet tall, they moved with a reptilian grace—balanced and fluid, their long tails swaying behind them. Though they often walked upright, a sudden need for speed could see them dropping to all fours in an instant, their prehensile tails whipping for balance as they sprinted in bursts of surprising agility - often to evade the lurking predators that prowled the glowing wilderness.

  Horvaan opened his eyes, scanning the tribe as they moved through their daily tasks, their movements fluid and purposeful. The cool breeze carried the sweet scent of halsaa flowers, a gentle undercurrent to the sounds of chittering infants and sowee - the children - playing near the settlement’s center, their laughter mingling with the rhythmic calls of sowanos and sowanas at work.

  His tendrils quivered in quiet satisfaction. They had continued to grow, their numbers swelling with each rain cycle, the land yielding ever more abundance. Horvaan thanked his ancestors and the Lightward radiance, tendrils curving in reverence, before stepping deeper into the settlement.

  Near the lightroot pool, its surface shimmering with the crimson glow of the sky - though a muted radiance pulsed from within - an imposing sowano trained a group of Sowanan children - their small tails lashing with nervous energy. The air was filled with the faint scent of damp earth and the distant hum of glowing insects.

  "If you move like that, even a blind, three-legged azdah will catch you!" Merdaar barked, his voice sharp but not unkind. His dark purple eyes glinted with satisfaction as a young sowa dodged and leapt high, her tendrils flaring wildly. She twisted midair, somersaulting before landing on all fours without a sound, the hard dirt barely disturbed beneath her.

  "Everybody stop! Vaana, show them how you do it!" Merdaar ordered the young sowa, his gaze sweeping the sowee. The group fell silent, their wide eyes fixed on Vaana. The sowa's tendrils quivered with pride as she repeated the move, her body a blur of motion. The other sowee watched in silent awe, their gazes flicking nervously to Merdaar. The sowano stood tall, his tail swaying slightly.

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  Noticing Horvaan’s approach, Merdaar turned to the children. "Go home, and be here after the next meal! Light keep you all!" The sowee scattered, their laughter and chittering filling the air as they rushed off. Merdaar had been shouting for a while, and he realized his voice had turned raspy when he addressed Horvaan. "My chief. Light keep you." He pressed his arms to his sides, his tendrils curving in respect.

  A stone’s throw away, beneath the settlement’s central dawnspire tree, a group of sowanas sat in a wide circle, skinning dusk hares. Their hands worked with practiced ease, their lively chatter filling the air. Around them, several young sowee crawled on all fours, tugging at their mothers’ tendrils with playful insistence. As Horvaan’s gaze swept over the gathering, his eyes flicked from face to face. He realized a prominent, experienced sowana was absent from the circle.

  "How is your mate, Merdaar?" Horvaan asked suddenly.

  "She is well, my chief." Merdaar replied, consciously trying to still his tendrils.

  Horvaan had seen too many rain cycles and heard too many words. He knew when someone was lying to him. Merdaar’s mate, after giving birth to her sowa, had fallen victim to a rare disease. In the span of two hands’ worth of meals, her tendrils had withered and fallen. Her spoken words became the only method of communication left to her.

  Beyond losing the ability to proudly carry her infant in her long tendrils, the disease had made her grotesque. Unnatural. Another sowano would have taken a second mate. But not Merdaar. Yet, there had been no shortage of young sowanas who would have willingly joined him, even as a second mate.

  Horvaan turned his face Lightward, the red star hidden behind a cluster of trees, its glow filtering through the leaves in shifting patterns. He closed his eyes in silent prayer for Merdaar and his mate. When he opened them, Merdaar still stood quietly, his tendrils twitching slightly in sadness.

  Not for the first time, Horvaan considered Merdaar as his successor. The hunter was strong and resourceful, but his devotion ran deep. Too deep. Every idle moment was spent at his mate’s side, and it had kept him from gaining the wisdom needed to claim the status of chieftain.

  He could understand Merdaar's devotion. Horvaan had spent a long, blissful life with his own mate, although she had borne him just a single sowo. His thoughts wandered to his son. Though grown, Hanaan remained wayward, strange in his habits. He spent his days alone in the caves where their ancestors slept, tracing Lightward clouds and other odd patterns upon the stone.

  Seclusion was not the way of the Sowanans, a tribe that thrived together, every hand with its purpose. If Horvaan did nothing, his son would face a lifetime of ridicule. But he did not know what to do.

  He lifted his gaze Lightward, searching for guidance..

  A streak of fire tore across the crimson sky.

  A blazing star brighter than any Horvaan had ever seen. It screamed Rightward, trailing smoke and light, its roar echoing like the crack of a thousand thunderstrikes. The air itself seemed to shudder with its passing. The ground trembled beneath his feet, a deep rumble that sent ripples through the lightroot pool and scattered the glowing insects into a frenzied swarm, their hums rising to a panicked buzz.

  The sowanas beneath the dawnspire tree froze, dusk hares forgotten in their hands. The sowee cried out, clinging to their mothers’ tails, small tendrils quivering with fear. Merdaar’s tendrils snapped taut, his raspy voice cutting through the chaos as he called the younglings close.

  Shouts and shrieks rose from the settlement. Horvaan’s heart pounded, his tendrils stinging with a cold, bitter scent—wrong, unnatural. For a moment, he was no longer standing beneath the sky of his home, but within the stories of his ancestors, those who had spoken of fiery stars appearing in the Darkward sky.

  But this was no tale. This was real. And it was in the Lightward sky.

  Though his eyes remained skyward, Horvaan could feel his tribe gathering around him, their silent expectation pressing against his back. They wanted answers. Guidance.

  The streaking star carved a path through the sky, trailing wisps of dark clouds in its wake. Beside him, Merdaar stood motionless, his gaze locked onto the celestial intruder.

  Horvaan forced his tendrils to still. The tribe must not see his unease.

  His voice was blunt, controlled. "Climb up. See where it lands."

  Merdaar obeyed without a word. In a single motion, he leapt onto the tree and vanished into its highest branches.

  Horvaan looked around. A sea of frightened faces stared back, their tendrils a flurry of restless motion. He raised his voice, steady and sure. "Do not fear, my kin. It has passed. The tribe still stands." His tendrils vibrated with unshaken resolve.

  Then his gaze found her—Jaaim, her beauty stark against the fear around them.

  His words were commanding, urgent. "Go. Find Hanaan."