The second sunrise was ringed by a red haze that morning, as all second sunrises were. The first sunrise, always a moonspan before the second, cast electric blue light streaks across the verdant surface of Lago, fading to salmon pink shortly before its sister sunrise. We called the two suns Ameega and Maya, after the goddesses of joy and wonder.
Minstral was fluttering above the purple branches of the forest watching the second sunrise that morning. She was used to seeing the red haze, but noticed an unusual second ring, a barely visible emerald strand like the roots of a baby’s hair, and remarked on it to Virsal.
“The sign of the third coming,” Virsal said.
“The third coming?”
“Yes, the third coming of the mothership. An auspicious day.”
Minstral was born after the second coming and had only heard of the mothership through stories handed down by the eldresses sung at birth parties and high holidays.
“Shouldn’t we tell someone?” she asked.
“Oh, the eldresses will have seen the sign by now. But we’ll need to be at the grand steps by the fifth moonspan. It’s required of all winged and hoofed citizens.”
And so began a new phase for the inhabitants of Lago, our quiet world disrupted by something as simple as an emerald ring at second sunrise.
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I think you said yesterday that you don't like science fiction. This is surprising, because your writing suggests that you're totally comfortable doing it. The references about the eldresses and the requirement to "be at the grand steps by the fifth moonspan" are great in their specificity.
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