No moon shone that night. No light danced on the still ocean. Not a flame of mankind's spark shone in the cities. The earth and sky were still. The world was dead.
A pile of driftwood lay cold and dry in the dirt, center of a small gathering of wet and ragged people. One was clutching his knees, shivering and crying. Another lay still, sleeping in a pile of rags. A third clung tightly to the remains of her clothes, keeping her eyes shut and trying to fall asleep. The last, a child, lay on his back, his eyes drawn to the distant stars above.
He was entranced by their light. No matter how dark the night, the stars shone brightly. They drew him from the cold, wet earth to a better world. In his hand, the boy clutched a small crystal orb, as dark as the earth below. When he found the light of that world, he would carry it within that crystal.
When he reached that world, he would bring back the light.
The sun had risen over the horizon. The young man noticed this as he opened his eyes once again, still unable to sleep. The light shining on him was immediately more refreshing than the night spent trying in vain to sleep. It gave him hope, as it illuminated the city that had been invisible in the darkness.
He rose, slowly, shivering, to his feet and stretched his arms. He was dimly aware of the dampness of his shirt and drawers and of the smell of seawater that permeated him and his companions. They were beginning to rise as well. Two girls, a young boy, and him, only a boy himself: they were the only survivors. The sage who was to lead the expedition was gone, and with her, their knowledge of the guiding prophecy.
Tears welled up in his eyes, as they had so many times in the night. It was all too much. He had left his lifelong home on the king's orders, to accompany the Light Warriors as a guard. Along the way, he had lost not only those he was to protect, but all his armaments as well. All he had managed to save was a small box of trinkets from the ship. To return home in such a state as this would be an unthinkable disgrace.
He opened up the box and took out a small, polished orb. It was black as night, devoid of luminescence, but somehow, holding it calmed him. A tear dropped from his face onto the orb, and shone in the morning sunlight.
From within the scarecrow rags of her outfit, the sage's apprentice peered out at the other survivors. It was just the four of them, as she had thought during the night. The sage was dead, along with most of her guards.
She looked over at her little brother. He held his head high, returning her gaze without a word. He was too young to be so tough. He was surely as tired and distraught as the rest of them, but he refused to show it. She felt her resolve come back, seeing his bravery. Standing up straight, she clapped her hands together a few times to gather the others' attention.
Her hands clasped nervously in front of her, she attempted to summarize what they had to do immediately. They needed to reach that town in the distance. They could rest there, and that was what they needed most right now. If they kept an even pace, they should be able to reach the city before midday. She didn't say anything about what they should do after that, or about the events of the night before. This wasn't the time to be worrying about such things.
One of the guards, a boy around her age who had been sobbing through the night, now dried his eyes and spoke up. He knew where they were. That town in the distance was Cornelia, where he hailed from. The king there could help them.
As they started walking toward the town, the girl grasped the clouded crystal which hung on a string around her neck. An old family heirloom, it helped to remind her that, even in the darkest times, there was always hope. That was what they needed most right now.
The fourth of the group followed behind. Though the others had avoided talking about it, the night before still hung heavily over all of them. She and the other surviving guard had each been part of a unit guarding the sage. She was still in training, and now her teacher and the older students were gone. The boy's unit was gone too, along with the master of the two mages. She was unable to comprehend such massive loss.
She had only begun her training. She didn't know how to control her emotions, or how to push her body to its limits. She could barely fight, even with a weapon. Why did it have to be her, of all of them, who survived?
Images of the night came flooding back like waves. The fellow student swallowed up by the water flooding through the ship's hull. The panicked soldiers of Cornelia fighting for the stairs as water rose faster than they could climb, filling their armour and pulling them to their deaths. The deck warping and then snapping in two. Her master, trapped by a fallen mast, holding out his hand to her...
She stared at the ball of black cloth in her hand. He had dropped it in her hand as he died. As she stared at it, she realized the cloth was loose on one side. She pulled tentatively at it, and the cloth came up in a long strip. Beneath it lay a perfectly round gem.
She knew what this was. The Earth Orb. The most sacred treasure of her people. She had seen it in the temple, filled with life-giving light. Now, she was holding it in her hands, and it was dark. Looking at it like this filled her with fear, and she looked away. In her other hand, the black cloth hung limp. She now realized it was her master's belt. The black belt, symbol of mastery of the martial arts. She wrapped it around the orb again and held it out of sight.
She would not give up. Her master was depending on her.