“What can we know about the Light?”
“The Light has its own name in the tales we tell our children, that in darkest of places a light will always gleam from somewhere off.” Two masculine hands, rough bone and bulging knuckle, softly clasp a floating light from the ceiling that twinkled to resemble the night sky, which now burned a foreboding warning to the aliens under it: their own light source was dimming and the universe looked like it was shouting.
“I’ve—I’ve been fortunate as the elders say to have lived a lifetime of exploring galaxies myself.” Between the fingers, the light twinkles and twinkles, lighting the tan, tan palms. “Though, I have been called naïve for never witnessing total darkness, have you seen it? The parts of the universe that are dominated by complete emptiness, the myths that haunt us, the supposed graveyards of the galaxy. Can you imagine how horrid the sight?
“I walk in our dying world and cannot help but to remember those myths: the stars, like ours, that have dimmed, the people who have suffered, the universe gone unstable, and the worlds that have become nothing. Clearly, even during our daytime, even with the three lights in our sky burning at my sides, I can see how dark our world can become.
“So I ask, can Light inspire us? It has manifested itself as hope.”
“You are speaking too romantically, Galfore.”
“Can you tell me that when we find ourselves wading through total darkness, will we be able to remember what Light was like?
“This invasion—it’s our avenging the people who thwarted us from preventing this.”
“My hurting heart, a lot of people—they will be killed.”
“Has the Grand Ruler spoken?”
“Tonight he shall send an attack force to Earth.”