Science Fiction | Rough Draft: Dying Sun

The dying sun hung on the horizon, trapped in the perpetual twilight of this wasting planet. Over many lifetimes it would eventually set, and these lands would be cast into a millennium long night. The perpetual shadows of our battlements never moved—at least as the human eye was concerned—and as I made my way to my watch, I stepped through the light and shadows, light and shadows, like day and night passing over me every second.

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