The Wound In the Sky

When darkness fell and the sun was slain, the Moon fled from its place in the sky with such haste that it tore apart the heaven. The wound is still there, bleeding the last light of glittering stars.

The Wound in the Sky, or the Chasm, is the hole torn in the night sky by the flight of the Moon. It is unfathomably vast to people on the ground, visible from any mortal land that yet remains, in the shape of a ragged cut with an indistinct, hazy void beyond. In good times, when the shattered corpse of the sun shines bright, the wound glows angry red as if freshly injured, and the void behind it become more visible - a swirling vortex of subtle currents, an endless dance by shades of color beyond description.

by Midjourney by Q

Most of the time, the Chasm is a constant presence in the sky. On occasion, it will contract or expand - growing so large that it seem the heavens might fracture and come apart. Other times, things emerge from the wound, vomited up from whatever's on the other side and crashing to the world. People speak of strange metals, the corpse of gods, dreams turned to stone, and alien creatures. In times of darkness, when the sunshards grow feeble and their lights dim, the wound becomes the only light in the sky, pulsating with like skyfire. In time, it may be the only light left in the world, a reminder of divine betrayal as much as the only remaining salvation.

For its part, the Hungry Dark seem either unwilling or unable to reach for the Wound, content to submerge the world it inhabits like a murky swamp. The light of the wound isn't strong enough to repel the dark from advancing, only weaken it. In time, maybe that will change, too. The skies darken with clouds released from the Abyss, living swarms of fungi and buzzing, unliving things that plunge the world ever deeper into darkness.