The Audient Void
The hole left in society by the loss of Anthem's song, a longing which persists even to those who never heard it in the first place.
All but one of the crimson suns had set, and even the remainder struggled to keep it's torpid, crimson eye above the distant rolling seas of sand and dessicated coral. As the light of day waned, freezing air swept down from distant peaks and brought a shroud of mist with it. We had parked our ship on a plateau to watch the sunset and enjoy a meal outside of the cramped quarters of our vessel. Giandar sat by the fire, stoking it back to life with logs we'd gathered hundreds of kilometers from here. He was still picking the meat from the bones of his meal. Slow eater. The call of Ishara, my daughter, drew my attention away from the red eye peering through the mist. "Sahi! Sing me Annem's song!" "Annem?" Giandar asked. "Anthem," I said. "She's asking about how—" Giandar grunted and looked away. That was all he needed to know. He was not a fan of the tale, believed that it was holding onto a hopeful past that would never and could never come to fruition. "Annem!" Ishara said, tugging on the cuff of my shirt. "Annem! Annem! Annem!" Her cries were growing more shrill with each, piercing through the fog and echoing back I placed my hand on her face to hush her, she shot a contagious smile through the cage of my fingers. "Anthem is..." I began.