We fought a war in the stars, and we lost. And in the days of terror that followed, amidst looting and pillaging and ashes of our warriors falling from the sky, the old institutions burned down.
And then came the news of the attack, leaked from the last warriors fleeing home to die at least by the side of the ones they loved.
The ships were packed to breaking point, those hiding in cargo holds executed on, sight. But space on the evacuation vessels were limited, and family turned their backs on one another, loyalties dissolved into death, and fear reigned chief.
So it happened that the rich bought their survival, that family members turned and walked away from one another.
Two couples-- Phaedra and Lucian, Jace and Lena-- decided that in death, at least they would be together, and they clung to each other in the last, tiny hut, waiting for the bombs to fall.
But days later, it was not bombs that fell, but ashes.
Ashes of friends and family.
Ashes of the world.
And it was then they realized that the attack had never been planned for the weak and ragged leftovers of earth's once towering people.
It was meant for the rich and powerful, and it was meant as revenge as only the elanon could seek for the injustice and savagery of the war.
And so they watched, as ashes fell, as the great cities and elaborate technology and even the most basic sources of food were swallowed up by rubble from the sky and then decimated by the elanon.
And so it came that four young people with damaged bodies and ravaged hearts became the oldest survivors in a world gone mad. Four young people who vowed that never again would their world be plunged into days like these days of chaos.
