4338.207 · July 26, 2018 AD
Starless
Night falls without moon or stars, and the campfire becomes the only thing standing between six people and absolute darkness. Whiskey gets passed around. A dead man takes his first steps. Luke asks for forgiveness and gets told exactly where to put it. And somewhere between a doctor reaching for the bottle and an argument that sends someone fleeing through the Portal, Kain realises no one's going to tell him whether they're safe — because no one actually knows.
Night falls on Clivilius without moon or stars, and the campfire becomes the only thing standing between six people and absolute darkness.
Whiskey gets passed around. Luke asks for forgiveness and learns exactly where he can put it. Then Joel takes his first stumbling steps out of the tent — grey-skinned, puppet-stringed, nose dripping blood that shouldn't exist in veins that were empty hours ago. Glenda calls it a medical anomaly and reaches for the bottle herself.
An argument erupts behind canvas walls. Luke storms out and disappears through the Portal, colours flaring in the distance, gone back to a world Kain can't reach. The questions that follow find no answers. If Luke didn't bring Joel here, who did? Is there something else out there, beyond the firelight?
No one knows. Or no one's saying.
Later, Glenda introduces her nightly ritual — gratitude, shared around dying embers. When Kain's attempt draws a chuckle, wounded pride sends him stumbling into absolute darkness. The fall is terrifying. The climb back, clawing toward the only visible light, teaches him something about small mercies.
A sleeping bag. Borrowed warmth. Embers fading to ash.
In a place without stars, you learn to be grateful for whatever light you can find.
