Lightning struck the earth, drawing singed black marks into the rocky cliffs. Boulders tumbled down the cliffside, splashing into the dark blue and purple oceans below. The night was black, and the clouds seemed to grow larger overhead, taking up the length of the sky. In the distance, several planets clung to the darkness amongst the stars showing their brilliance. Each planet harbored its own perfect brushstrokes and swirls of colors. A heavy downpour flooded onto the war raging beneath the stars on the terrene, more orchestras of thunderstorms and electric skies quick to follow.

Clans of men and women fought with silver swords against their colossal enemy, consumed with fear and blinded by courage. Each man and woman’s skin had a divine glow to it. Each luminous strand of long, golden hair was blood-soaked. Once pristine silver armor was now thick with mud and gore as they sliced their way through hordes of dark green creatures, their skin like snakes.

With each flash from the sky, their scaly skin grew even darker, and yet their bright red eyes pierced into the cosmos. Sounds of flesh tearing, shrill screams, and the deafening yells of defeat echoed into the night as each golden-haired being fell to their knees and perished. Slashes from razor-sharp fingertips ripped through throats and bellies, spilling guts and blood into the soaking wet earth. The sharp teeth sparkled in the bright moonlight, and the hollow snake eyes that sought only blood were gleaming with rage and murder. This wasn’t the first or last planet they would destroy, and they would be most thrilled doing it.

Each flash of lightning lit up the dark façade of the Palace not far from the war. Not a single window lit the towers of stone, but few shadows hurried between the spaces where the moon illuminated the structure. The battle raging was distraction enough to help the shadows escape a worse fate.

Atlas rushed into the bedroom where his wife stood frozen, holding their child of a few months old. Looking out the window at the darkness and terror with paralyzed eyes, the cool breeze from the night brushed her skin, and the shrieks of death weren’t as soothing. The child let out a cheery coo, her cloudy eyes trying to focus on the human light holding her. She was oblivious to the massacre happening a steep drop from the window. In the daylight, this room had high ceilings and oversized windows that let the moon pour in. Heavy purple and blue drapes hung on either side of the windows, and when lit, the room expanded. The wind caught the thick drapes, moving them slightly, barely moving her from her place beside the window. Now, that room shrunk into the darkness, making it smaller and more silent than ever.

“We have to go,” she said with no hint of calm, yet she stood still as if she was trying to be.

“There isn’t enough time,” Atlas boomed. “She must descend now.” Pleione looked down at her child, who seemed unperturbed by the horror outside the palace walls. Instead, she greedily sucked her thumb and stared up at her mother with her hazy eyes. Pleione, looking into her, felt removed from the sounds of clashing metal and death, the moving winds, the incessantly bright moon and stars, her husband’s impatient breaths. Lost in the small child’s innocence, she gripped the tiny finger, and for a moment, Pleione forgot her own existence.

Time stopped.

Her baby girl was a bright star in these pitch-black cosmos; a star anyone would rush to at lightspeed. Thoughts of her life flashed before Pleione’s eyes. All at once, fierce love and profound dread overcame her. Pleione made a list of all the things she would never see her do and tucked them deep into her mind.

“Pleione!” Atlas shouted, startling her into reality. Without saying a word, she nodded and moved toward him.

“What if we never see her again?”

“We can’t worry about that right now,” Atlas said, moving to the window. He anxiously looked out at the battle, hearing the screams bellow through the night. Another crash of lighting pierced the earth, followed by another roll of thunder.

“This way,” he said. Atlas placed his monstrous hands forcefully on the small of Pleione’s back, leading her from the bed chambers into the walkways toward the Great Hall. Pleione’s silver hair fell to brush his fingertips. The ceilings towered even higher than the bed chambers, smooth stone pillars holding them up like Gods would hold up the sky. A dim glow from the planets and moons spilled onto the floors illuminating their hurried steps between pillars. She quickened her pace through the narrow walkways with a sort of grace and patience despite the fear consuming her. She wanted to walk slower, savor these last few moments with her daughter, but Atlas pushed her forward. She looked up at him, his silvery beard long and hair even longer against his bright skin. His stoic face carried worry and sadness as he focused on the dark path ahead of them.

They entered the Great Hall and gathered in the middle of the empty space. The massive gathering room recurred into infinite darkness, and their steps echoed into the even darker corners. This was once a place of grand parties, celebrations, and laughter. People vowed their love to each other at the center of these halls. Some honored the life and death of those who had passed. Each new life brought into this world was welcomed here. Now the grand space was empty, lifeless, and dark.

They placed the baby girl on the floor. Above was an open skylight cutting a perfect circle in the sky. Looking out, there were only glittering stars overpowering the thick moonglow. It was the only place where the clouds didn’t seem to cover the shimmering stars.

Pleione and Atlas stared into each other, feeling the connection vibrate between them, their slow chanting in Saren growing to a roaring song. The girl wiggled between them, still madly sucking her thumb. With each repeated chant, the room grew brighter as if restoring a million lights all at once; restoring the hall’s mass to its original grandness.

Their child’s vessel transformed from a dim shimmer to an intense glow. A loud hum filled the hall threatening to burst it open at the seams. A deafening sound that would cause any mortal to spiral into madness. A sound only Gods could bear.

Atlas and Pleione’s chants grew in volume; tears showering their cheeks. Pleione felt an emptiness creep into her body, a mass void that would threaten her soul for years to come. A knowingness that this desolation would tear her apart.

The humming grew more deafening as the light grew brighter. With unbelievable force, a beam of light hammered down from the night sky into the baby’s tiny center. The ground rumbled beneath them. Pleione looked down on her darling girl fearing the power of the light might shatter her little vessel. After just seconds, the beam disappeared back up into the sky. The small vessel lay lifeless and empty on the cold floor between Pleione and Atlas.

The Great Hall returned to a black silence.

The child’s thumb fell limp from her lips and onto the floor beside her. The shouting, the slams of thunder, and the stings of lightning all disappeared around them.

Another crash of lightning.

Another roll of thunder.

Another shake of the earth.

Each passed by them to which they paid no attention.

She was gone.

Pleione picked up the delicate little body like she would the broken pieces of a once treasured vase. Atlas stared at his wife, wet with tears and a face already aging with grief. He yearned to reach for Pleione, to comfort her, to love her, to stitch up the void he could already see growing in her. They would never recover from this, and Atlas knew it.

Pleione clutched the child to her chest, desperate to feel her heartbeat or a single last breath.

Nothing.

She wailed up into the stars, penetrating the tumultuous tolls of lightning and thunder, piercing through the songs of death that would inevitably strike down their stone doors. Another roll of thunder woke Atlas from his stares. The Great Hall rumbled above and started crashing down around them.

“MOVE!” Atlas shouted.

Pleione sat still, holding her dead child.