It's a new day.

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Come to the Palace and face me. Let our swords cross one final time and give light to this blackened world.

The words woke him from his deep slumber, catching him suspended in midair, hovering above the waters of the Hollow. It was a wide expanse of deep, opaque water, flanked by arches of stone, coming together like the ribcage of an incomprehensibly gigantic beast. Beyond, a dark sun in perpetual eclipse bathed the world of Idris in a pale blue. Slowly, he righted himself upward and looked around, his eyes caught by the sight of a white line piercing the heavens from the horizon. He knew its source. With a surprising burst of speed, he pushed off and flew forward, the surface of the water exploding behind him.

His pitch-black fingers fell into the water, skimming through the first couple of inches as he sailed parallel to its surface. He could remember the sensation of cold he felt so long ago, before she came to claim Idris as her own. At the thought, his fingers hooked out of the water and curled into a fist, picking up speed with another explosion of water as he approached the miles-high cliff of Wayfarer's Pass.

He suddenly stopped on a dime right at its narrow entrance, sending a sharp gust of wind careening through its thin passages and small wave from behind rolling up from the surface, only for it to level out soon after. His ivory eyes scanned the pathway, remembering what was once a bevy of colors - brown, red, green, gold, brilliant purple.

Wayfarer's Pass was known as the litmus test for an explorer. It spanned across the entire planet, with walls so high it dared to push the world's atmosphere away from it. It separated the two halves of Idris from each other and was the only way through to the other side. If one wanted to make the journey, they would have to put themselves through the vice of the Pass' grip, a suffocating sojourn through the tightest corridors. If the claustrophobia didn't get you, if getting stuck didn't get you, the sudden shift of the Pass might, the two halves coming together like a sadistic puzzle piece and plastering you across its walls.

But he had flight. Why did she give it to him?

It was a question - one of many - that didn't leave his mind. He mulled it over as the water beneath him buckled and caved from the pressure of his takeoff. His body skirted the vertical surface of the stone walls, feeling the warmth they absorbed from the dark sun.

The sun was one of the last things to change. When she touched down on Idris, the planet was alive and full of vigor. Its people were happy, healthy, and welcoming. Now, they were just gone, a void. She tore everything from this place, everything except him.

Beyond the Wayfarer's Pass was a solitary building, built upon an island plateau. When Idris was alive, the building didn't exist. He came to call it the Palace of the Fell, because it was there where the planet fell into darkness and ruin. In the moments before the Blackening, it was a temple devoted to her. The people of Idris called her a goddess because her first words were "I can save you."

His eyes narrowed. Salvation was a nebulous lie.

As he picked up speed, torpedoing straight towards the palace, he outstretched his hand, conjuring a sword from the pale blue light of the dark sun. He found a firm grip on its handle as he landed with a slam on the black and gold floor of the Palace courtyard, sending blasts of wind out in all directions to violently sway the leafless shrubbery. He wasted no time, breaking into a full-steam sprint towards the arched entrance of the Palace, of which was flanked on both sides by two differing statues - one of her, and one that looked strangely like himself.

It caught him off-guard, forcing him to stumble, but he pushed the thought from his mind and continued forward, crossing the threshold and entering into the massive, cavernous chamber.

There, stood in the pinhole of light, was she, her dress flowing in the wind. Resting on her should was a large, thick blade of light, her hand firmly grasping the handle. She watched the light above, her head turning at an awkward angle to acknowledge him with her gaze as he entered the room.

He responded by closing the gap between them almost instantaneously, raising his sword above his head. The light of the dark sun glinted across his blade, reflecting a sliver of light across her eyes and, for the first time, he saw the true colors behind them.

His grip faltered. She was familiar.

The massive blade swung through the air.