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Description

Rain crackled as it hit the ground, scattering sparks in every direction. It was a nostalgic kind of rain, with a warm electric glow and steam that curled upwards as the falling water smashed into the pavement.

  It was a beautiful sight, but a dangerous one.

  A familiar voice startled him from behind. “You actually came.”

    Cathias turned from the window to see the soft glow of Matiah’s eyes blinking from the doorway. Blue eyes, the color of a sparkmoth in flight. “Of course.”

    “Come then. We need you to see this.”

   “The worms.” Cathias said, keeping pace with her. “You said it was urgent.”

  She sighed as the door slid open.

    Cathias winced as he stepped into a room. Research lights were painfully bright, reflecting off the angular metal walls, and revealing far too much about the world. Like how tired Matiah actually was.

    She pushed him towards a wall of cases stacked up to the ceiling. “This. This is wrong. Fix it Cathias, I know you can.”

    Each worm was about as long as his forearm, organs still wriggling and pulsing beneath translucent skin. But they were shot through with dark purple veins that marbled through the worm like the lightning that never left the sky.

    And they were still hooked up to those blasted generators.

    “Well?” Matiah had far too much hope in her voice.

    “They’re not dead yet.”

     “If that’s all we needed to know, we wouldn’t have called in an entomologist. You’re the expert, how do we fix it?”

    Cathias eyed the metal hands that barbed into the worm and threaded through the wall, powering the brilliant lights above them. And the trains, and the heat in their homes.

    He put a hand on one of the worms, feeling for the pores that should have pockmarked the surface. But the skin was as smooth as a smokefly wing. “You clip-bred them all, didn’t you?”

    Matiah didn’t reply.

    Cathias closed his eyes. “I warned you.”

    “Yes, you did.” Matiah had bitterness in her voice. “And I was so proud of myself for ignoring you. I harvested energy faster than ever before, and I was wrong. But I’m repenting. Fix it, Cathias. I know you can.”

    “I’m sorry.” Cathias stepped away from the worms, reading the shock on his former friend’s face. “I’d hook myself up to the generator if I could.”

    Matiah smiled grimly, displaying a row of pointed teeth. “I’m lighting the city on dying worms, Cathias. I’d like that more than anything.”

  She led him out of the raw light, back to where he could see the coursing rain, scattering dim light across the tile.

  There was so much energy all around them, sparking in the rain and flashing in the sky, but unharnessed, untamable as wind.

  The glow in Matiah’s eyes dimmed as she watched the water fall. “What do I tell my researchers? Blast it, what do I tell the Premier?”

  "Tell her to prepare. To tell everyone to prepare.”

  The world was going to become very dark.

Description

Rain crackled as it hit the ground, scattering sparks in every direction. It was a nostalgic kind of rain, with a warm electric glow and steam that curled upwards as the falling water smashed into the pavement.

  It was a beautiful sight, but a dangerous one.

  A familiar voice startled him from behind. “You actually came.”

    Cathias turned from the window to see the soft glow of Matiah’s eyes blinking from the doorway. Blue eyes, the color of a sparkmoth in flight. “Of course.”

    “Come then. We need you to see this.”

   “The worms.” Cathias said, keeping pace with her. “You said it was urgent.”

  She sighed as the door slid open.

    Cathias winced as he stepped into a room. Research lights were painfully bright, reflecting off the angular metal walls, and revealing far too much about the world. Like how tired Matiah actually was.

    She pushed him towards a wall of cases stacked up to the ceiling. “This. This is wrong. Fix it Cathias, I know you can.”

    Each worm was about as long as his forearm, organs still wriggling and pulsing beneath translucent skin. But they were shot through with dark purple veins that marbled through the worm like the lightning that never left the sky.

    And they were still hooked up to those blasted generators.

    “Well?” Matiah had far too much hope in her voice.

    “They’re not dead yet.”

     “If that’s all we needed to know, we wouldn’t have called in an entomologist. You’re the expert, how do we fix it?”

    Cathias eyed the metal hands that barbed into the worm and threaded through the wall, powering the brilliant lights above them. And the trains, and the heat in their homes.

    He put a hand on one of the worms, feeling for the pores that should have pockmarked the surface. But the skin was as smooth as a smokefly wing. “You clip-bred them all, didn’t you?”

    Matiah didn’t reply.

    Cathias closed his eyes. “I warned you.”

    “Yes, you did.” Matiah had bitterness in her voice. “And I was so proud of myself for ignoring you. I harvested energy faster than ever before, and I was wrong. But I’m repenting. Fix it, Cathias. I know you can.”

    “I’m sorry.” Cathias stepped away from the worms, reading the shock on his former friend’s face. “I’d hook myself up to the generator if I could.”

    Matiah smiled grimly, displaying a row of pointed teeth. “I’m lighting the city on dying worms, Cathias. I’d like that more than anything.”

  She led him out of the raw light, back to where he could see the coursing rain, scattering dim light across the tile.

  There was so much energy all around them, sparking in the rain and flashing in the sky, but unharnessed, untamable as wind.

  The glow in Matiah’s eyes dimmed as she watched the water fall. “What do I tell my researchers? Blast it, what do I tell the Premier?”

  "Tell her to prepare. To tell everyone to prepare.”

  The world was going to become very dark.