I wake to the sounds of the early-morning Citadel, left aglow by the streams of warm golden-yellow lights emerging from every window. 5:29 AM, says my left palm. I close it into a fist warily and wait for the first panel to turn.
Light conquers darkness. That is all we know, all we need to know. Above me the False Sky looms, dark and foreboding, creaking, rusted with age, yet still standing. Still standing. And here in the Citadel that is all that matters.
Slowly, as to not disturb Amy, I reach for the journal lying by my bedside. Lit by the soft lights of my hand, I find where I had left off and mark today's date. My fingers shake, trembling from the cold, the frosty dawn bitterness that bites at anyone who wakes this early. I don't blame the Brotherhood for turning the heat off; the False Sky sucks up enough power as is. But eventually it gets to the point when waking to wintry ice is almost as worse as living in total darkness.
"Why watch those panels?" Amy had asked me many a times. "Screw you, Aryn. They're just pretty lights, nothing more."
I look at her now, her lithe body wrapped in blankets, an almost peaceful expression lingering on her face. Her natural expression, calm and serene, very much unlike the volcanic girl I know her to be. Screw you too, I think, and smile. There are many things me and my twin sister share. Most things, actually. But the False Sky was never one of them.
I hear a distant creaking sound, a sound I had become accustomed to over the past year. I flick my left hand at the wall almost lazily, and it instantly turns transparent, exposing the vastness of the Citadel to my room. My gaze drifts upwards, towards the one speck of light in the distance, illuminating the entire world.
"West," I murmur to myself, holding my left hand up to the sky. DR9, says my palm. I scribble the coordinates down and toss the journal asides.
Well. Time to get this show
Light conquers darkness. That is all we know, all we need to know. Above me the False Sky looms, dark and foreboding, creaking, rusted with age, yet still standing. Still standing. And here in the Citadel that is all that matters.
Slowly, as to not disturb Amy, I reach for the journal lying by my bedside. Lit by the soft lights of my hand, I find where I had left off and mark today's date. My fingers shake, trembling from the cold, the frosty dawn bitterness that bites at anyone who wakes this early. I don't blame the Brotherhood for turning the heat off; the False Sky sucks up enough power as is. But eventually it gets to the point when waking to wintry ice is almost as worse as living in total darkness.
"Why watch those panels?" Amy had asked me many a times. "Screw you, Aryn. They're just pretty lights, nothing more."
I look at her now, her lithe body wrapped in blankets, an almost peaceful expression lingering on her face. Her natural expression, calm and serene, very much unlike the volcanic girl I know her to be. Screw you too, I think, and smile. There are many things me and my twin sister share. Most things, actually. But the False Sky was never one of them.
I hear a distant creaking sound, a sound I had become accustomed to over the past year. I flick my left hand at the wall almost lazily, and it instantly turns transparent, exposing the vastness of the Citadel to my room. My gaze drifts upwards, towards the one speck of light in the distance, illuminating the entire world.
"West," I murmur to myself, holding my left hand up to the sky. DR9, says my palm. I scribble the coordinates down and toss the journal asides.
Well. Time to get this show
