“… WZE-0855 Draknel hung in the sky, a globular nightmare staring down at him hiding beneath a lonely shadow.”
Little more than passing neighbors in the void, Kyn’hnul and Nyn’vel become entwined in each other’s gravity. An event no one thought possible. The passing celestial does just enough to make the two planets inseparable.
Nyn’vel, with its closer orbit, quits rotating. One side faces the warm of its star. The other side begins to wither in shadow. Weather systems adapt quickly, while the population clamors for warmth.
Kyn’hnul’s fate is far worse. The outer planet is fully eclipsed by its partner. Its spin slows until the planet, too, locks its sight — either at the dark circle of its neighbor and the thin glowing ring of starlight that bends through its distant atmosphere… or out into the void. Once covered with countries and beautiful cities, eruptions choke the far side of the planet. Quakes topple buildings and split the ground. Anyone unable to see the great eye is lost to the darkness and quickly freezes.
Sickness follows. Survival is measured by the number of oily layers one can wrap themselves in while sleeping. Food production all but halts. Those left make do with scavenging, fermented brine, and stories told in the glow of wood stoves stoked with broken furniture, rags, and children’s clothing. There will never be another generation. There’s barely enough for the scavs to keep picking.
And then Nyn’vel arrives. They offer everyone work. Pick for them, and they’ll make sure you have food. Pick for them, and you might earn a way off the dying planet. You might even feel warmth again. Work for them and survive. Everyone else can die with Kyn’hnul.
I prayed for you, atragori.
