Light

"Get away from there, with your light and your moronic preach! We're a serious, honest household, we don't welcome your kind!"

— Words too often heard by a pilgrim of the Light

Centuries ago, Light disappeared from the surface of the planet. The whole world was suddenly plunged in darkness, from the sun, to the stars, to the fire, nothing gave out light anymore save for the ever so faint ambient light, too faint to even be called that.

People were in dismay at first, seeking new sources, praying to gods, mixing chemicals and immolating themselves. Alas, the gods were extinguished all the same, chemicals only produced a dark flame that hid the burning people from the gaze of others. Generations passed, people survived, adapted. They now have forgotten the light, taken as nothing but a past blur, doubting it was even a real thing.

Pilgrims

But light still has its believers. Once a year, pilgrims from all over the continent of Briss, as far as the Outlands, gather to the capital city of Isstril. They stay for several days, until the ritual rise of hope, a steep climb to the last temple of the former light god. Before the doors, they pray for three days and a night, wishing for the doors to open and the light to bathe the world again.

In centuries, it has never happened once. The temple is desert, unattended and hermetically closed. With each generation, fewer and fewer pilgrims meet up each year, until only a few hundreds show up. They still have this peculiar glimmer in their eye, that makes them look different from the others. They pretend only the believers can see it, and its intensity represents the strength of the faith.

To them, others are dull and lifeless from their absence of belief and their resignation to darkness

To others, they are deluded fools believing in the arrival of something that never even existed in the first place

In a sinister hiss, darkness surged back. It is the most beautiful thing that I ever laid my eyes on. Patterns intertwine to give birth to ephemeral stories which vanish before existing. Finally, I admire it for the first time as my gaze boils and my eyes become cinder.
The Gleam.