There had been people blessed with sunshine as blood, sky as bones and tiny embers of flame scattered across their features like freckles. Beautiful and blessed. Shinning and consuming, the otkazat'sya had called them saints. Sanktas. Their power was gracious and angelic, so exquisitely luminous as they shone upon the people. Their generous rays brightened the darkest of days.
Once upon a time, Sun Summoners lived in peace and harmony with the world. Until Master.
All had been well until a man filled with uncontrollable greed found the Summoners. The innocent saints barely had time to truly understand the danger they were in until a being of pure red had stepped out from the shadows and with a mere raise of her palms called to the blood in their bodies.
Stories told of how gruesome of a sight it was, wisps of an ugly scarlet choking the Sun Summoners and stealing their light from their straining breaths.
All but one, had perished that day.
The last Sun Summoner fled the evil chasing her for decades. And a life on the run, as the hunted, had forced secrecy and clandestinity upon the pure soul. Years upon years of hiding the gifts of sunshine began to cloud the Summoner's health ever so gradually. Until the day a being so magnetic had collapsed into the arms of death.
And now staring at the endless wall of shadow cursing them, Lucretia longed for the myth of shinning creatures. The cold breeze nipped at her cheeks causing her to wrap her fingers tightly around her cloak as she remained by his side to overwatch the new Ultralight Skiffs enter the Fold.
She could only wish for success.
The couple watched intently as the Squallers guided the Skiff into the darkness, until their eyes could no longer spot them. "Perhaps we should get back. You seem cold." The General spoke, focusing his eyes on the woman beside him.
Lucretia hummed and wordlessly interlaced her fingers with his outstretched ones, allowing him to walk both of them back to their tent. Anxiously awaiting the return of the Skiff.
