Prologue: The Sun No More

The warmth of mid-April began its quiet march, chasing away winter's stubborn grip. Wisps of snow, still clutching the edges of sidewalks and curbs, grew sparser with each step we took. The sunlight lingered, wrapping my face in its tender embrace—a fleeting moment of peace in a world that hadn’t yet unravelled. It was like any ordinary weekend spent wandering through the neighborhood markets with Mom and Lumina.

“Delia, sweetheart, don’t forget to hold your sister’s hand,” Mom’s voice reached me, carried by the gentle hum of life among the open-air stalls. I turned toward her, bright pink hair catching the afternoon light as she leaned over to admire a bouquet of fresh lilies. Her smile—radiant, vibrant, and utterly alive—struck me with an unspoken yearning. If only I’d known how fleeting that moment would be. I would have captured it, bottled it, treasured it forever. That smile would soon dissolve into memory’s fragile glass—the last remnant of the three of us, together.

“Sissy... hand,” Lumina’s voice piped up beside me, soft but insistent.

“Seriously? Do I have to?” I grumbled, the protest slipping out before I could stop it. I turned, catching her defiant pout. My little sister was barely eight, yet she had mastered a kind of childish authority that grated on me. The ten-year gap between us felt less like a simple age difference and more like an unbridgeable chasm. Strangers would often mistake me for her mother, the stark discrepancy in our heights fuelling their assumptions. And, as if that wasn’t frustrating enough, playground moms couldn’t resist their judgmental glances, their whispers painting stories of teen motherhood—a narrative I couldn’t seem to escape.

“Lumina! Delia! Look at this!” Mom’s excited call broke my train of thought. She waved us over with what could only be described as... hamster onesie pajamas. “Matching PJs for all of us! Even Dad!”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I groaned, stifling a laugh as Lumina’s eyes lit up.

“This is perfect for family sleepovers,” she quipped cheekily. “Isn’t that right, Nutmeg?”

“Wait... Nutmeg?” My gaze followed hers downward, locking onto a subtle rustling in the pocket of her sunflower-accented overalls. Nestled snugly inside was her beloved hamster, Nutmeg. He peeked his tiny head out, whiskers twitching with the kind of innocent curiosity that only small creatures possess.

“Lumina!” I hissed, incredulous. “Why in the world did you bring Nutmeg outside?”

“Because Mommy said all of us were going shopping today,” Lumina replied with maddening simplicity, cradling her furry companion as though the logic was flawless. Her smile, wide and beaming, was a testament to stubborn innocence. “And Nutmeg’s family too.”

As if on cue, Nutmeg scurried out of her pocket and proudly displayed a sunflower seed clenched in his tiny paws—a declaration of victory. I pinched the bridge of my nose, teetering somewhere between frustration and reluctant amusement, as Mom returned with shopping bags in hand.

“Honey, I know you adore Nutmeg, but there’s a reason he needs to stay home,” Mom’s tone was steady, her firm words softened by the love in her gaze. She knelt slightly, meeting Lumina’s eyes with a patience only mothers seemed to master.

“I’m sorry, Mommy,” Lumina murmured, her head dipping as remorse crept into her small frame.

“For now, you’ll need to keep a very careful eye on Nutmeg, okay?” Mom’s smile bloomed, warm and reassuring, as she gently combed her fingers through Lumina’s pink locks. The gesture mirrored the gentle caress of the spring breeze that swirled around us. “Oh, I have an idea—how about a stop at Millie’s for something special?”

The suggestion was all it took to brighten Lumina’s spirit. The crepe shop, a snug little gem affectionately named ‘Millie,’ exuded cozy charm. The scent of crepe batter sizzling on the griddle wrapped around us like a comforting blanket, tantalizing and impossible to resist. Lumina and Nutmeg, synchronized in their mutual curiosity, tilted their heads, inspecting the array of fillings on display with an intensity that belonged to seasoned food critics.

While they deliberated endlessly—Nutmeg’s tiny nose twitching as though it were part of the decision-making—I stepped forward to place my order. A masterpiece: zesty low fat garlic and herb cream cheese, carefully spread over a golden crepe canvas, crowned with smoked salmon and delicate capers. Every detail radiated elegance.

“Sissy, why didn’t you pick something sweet? Crepes are desserts, you know!” Lumina’s accusation hit me with full force, her tone equal parts incredulous and affronted.

I smirked, amused by her culinary naivety. “You just don’t get it, pipsqueak. As a refined, mature woman, I can appreciate that savory crepes are the pinnacle of sophistication. Besides,” I added slyly, “since Mom’s footing the bill, I might as well go for the most luxurious option.”

The first bite was nothing short of divine—each flavor unfolding like a symphony on my tongue. I closed my eyes, savouring the moment. Meanwhile, Lumina and her furry accomplice exchanged an almost conspiratorial glance, their hushed whispers punctuated by Nutmeg’s tiny squeaks. It was as though they were judging my taste, deliberating whether I could still be redeemed. Then, in perfect synchrony, they shook their heads—a united front of playful disapproval.

The sight irked me just enough to make my fingers twitch with the urge to flick their ears. But before I could act, they’d already redirected their enthusiasm to a shared conquest: a decadent chocolate banana crepe crowned with rainbow sprinkles. Cradling it like treasure, Lumina tore off a small piece and offered it to Nutmeg with a smile so pure it could soften even my resolve.

“Delia, while the two of you enjoy your crepes, I need to grab something for your dad,” Mom said, passing her shopping bags into my hands before disappearing into the crowd. The bustling market seemed to swallow her whole, leaving Lumina and me waiting amidst the hum of life.

Left to our own devices, Lumina and Nutmeg seized the chance to explore. Their gaze landed on the nearby park, where children’s laughter floated on the spring air, beckoning them with the promise of carefree joy. I, however, was far less inclined to play babysitter. The temptation to post my crepe pics to social media tugged at me—but an icy pang of frustration quickly followed.

“Ugh. Great. No signal,” I muttered under my breath, glaring at my phone like it was the source of all evil.

But just as annoyance began to settle, a subtle shift in the world around me registered—a tremor, faint and fleeting, that rippled through the air like the whisper of something far greater. My chest tightened, though I couldn’t pinpoint why.

“Sissy… look over there,” Lumina’s voice broke my spiral of thought, small yet trembling. Her fingers curled into the fabric of my skirt, her tone tinged with unease.

Before I could respond, my attention was drawn to the crowd. People had stopped in their tracks, their heads tilted upward, their faces frozen in a shared expression of dread. Slowly, hesitantly, my gaze followed theirs.

The sky had changed.

Its tranquil blue hue was giving way to something far more sinister—darkness seeping outward like ink spilled across parchment. Veins of crimson snaked across the heavens, their glow alien and threatening. At the center of this unsettling metamorphosis loomed the sun, fractured and distorted, pulsating with a strange light that felt alive in its malice.

Rooted in place, we watched, trapped between primal fear and a grim fascination. In the silence, waves of invisible energy swept through the air, buzzing and crackling, raising the hair on my arms. Birds fluttered overhead in chaotic patterns, their paths erratic, directionless. Across the horizon, the mechanical hum of electrical grids faltered, punctuated by the desperate roar of airplanes descending for emergency landings—a prelude to the unravelling of everything.

“Lumina! Delia!” Mom’s voice pierced the cacophony, sharp and urgent. I spun, my heart racing, searching for her through the chaos. But the crowd moved like a restless tide, obscuring her from view. Panic surged in my veins, my voice breaking as I screamed her name, over and over, lost amidst the roars and cries of fear around me.

And then, reality itself cracked.

The crowd’s panic surged, a wildfire of terror, as faces turned upward to confront the inevitable. A truth too terrible to comprehend unfolded in the heavens, carving its horror into the fabric of existence.

In a single blinding flash, brighter than anything the world had ever seen—the sun erupted.