Utopia T.009 (Kalon 1800)

[Vanrouge]

Ừ̵̘̳̦̾̆̌͘ţ̶̝̲̣̓ơ̵̧̹̲̺̭͛̓̽p̴̖͇̹̟̳̉͊͂͊̏̂ĩ̷̡̝̤̫̝͂̑̚͝͝a̷̫̯̚̚ ̵̧̡̼̯͔̻̒̉͊T̷̩͎̤̳̣͆̌̓̓.̴̠̔͒̂̅̚͜0̵̤̈̄͐̎͘͜0̵͔̽9̴̪̺͎̖̀̄͘

Theirs was a world of pure beauty. A planet of bright flowers that bloomed with a vibrant youth even through the harshest of winters, with stars that shimmered in an array of soft pastel colours; pink blending to purple, then gradually turning blue and green, until they trailed off into the darker shroud of the night sky. Trees grew in abundance, and when in full bloom, the blossoms that sprung forth from the twisting, turning branches were enough to make a sinner drop to their knees and pray. Crystalline lakes covered the planet's surface, filled with all sorts of uniquely coloured wildlife, each species living in perfect harmony with the next. And if one were to sip from said water, they would be rewarded with the soft, sweet flavour of the candy-coated rocks that grew from the ground below. Their planet was always presented as a pure Utopia, where sherbert-coated mountaintops brushed cotton candy clouds, and the sunsets... Oh, the sunsets... They were a sight to behold; the coming of dusk was celebrated and beloved by all who managed to catch a glimpse. The way that the sky, drenched in sunlight, morphed to a beautiful purple, streaked with blue, pink and orange, like something created with an art set. True beauty, uplifting the hearts of all who could bear witness.

The oceans on this perfect planet stretched out as far as you could possibly imagine, disappearing where the horizon seemed to brush the clouds, their many moons resting in a halo above the furthest point. None knew what was beyond the horizon, however none very much cared. The tides were unpredictable, ever changing, however they remained ever plentiful with the bounty that they produced; none of the planet's residents went hungry. None wanted for anything at all, for everything they could ever want was right here.

It had long been believed in tales passed down from parent to child, that their Heavenly home was a gift from the Gods; that one had looked fondly down upon them, and granted them their wish- a perfect world in which to raise future generations. And so a perfect world they had been given.

Or so they had believed.

As with all perfect ideas, the reality had been not quite as beautiful as the ideals that it was based upon. Perfection to some meant pure imperfection to others. The sweet water of their lakes, their rivers and oceans had begun to turn bitter and sour, as many believed, reflecting the disdain of their God. They had angered the God with their disobedience and ungrateful response to the gift that It had bestowed upon them, and for this, they had to repent. The non-believers amongst them were hunted, hated, proclaimed to be the evil force that was ruining their perfect world, their utopia.

Forced from the land that they called home, this 'evil' took root on the dark side of their beautiful planet; where the sunlight barely touched. The ground, coloured a deep purple and void of all those bright colours, was icy cold to the touch. The water was murky, barely showing the shadows of the life beneath from atop the surface. The plants were diseased, the darkened, rotting wood of the trees bending and breaking beneath the harsh breeze that seemed a near-constant there.

Was this the price that the planet had paid for their utopia?

Their world was diseased, dying, slowly rotting away from the inside while they had been living their lives at its expense. Their perfect lives, shown in the way that their brightly-coloured rivers met, each colour added turning the murky water darker, until, at the point that it ran into their ocean, the purple had turned to almost black.

There was no beauty in the destruction of this world; of the illness that spread throughout the plants. The leaves' veins ran with black blood, and when it rained? The sky cried tears of crimson, staining the ground with scarlet, before it faded to a crude imitation of the pastel pink that they had come to know. This had been here the entire time. No 'God' had gifted them this world; no, they had taken it. Forcefully, cruelly, and nobody had known, nobody could even begin to fathom the truth. Their perfect world was a daydream, distracting them from the cold, harsh reality that lay just beneath their feet.

Their planet was dying.

[Vanrouge]

Notes to self: Kalon was born from the core of Utopia T.009, the planet's last plea for those living there to open their eyes to what they were doing, what they were allowing to happen.

[Vanrouge]

A kalon made of stardust, as the people believed, radiating energy and exuding an unearthly beauty. Unlike those who had adapted to life under the shroud of constant darkness, they were born shining. Gentle in nature and soft-spoken, they won the hearts and claimed the loyalty of all who came into contact with them.

Dalvorra.

None knew the meaning of the name, unlike the names that their 'Great Leaders' had once claimed, this kalon's name had no meaning in their tongue. Instead, it was given one; from the stars. Though born in the darkness, Dalvorra grew up in the light, in the perfect utopia that none above knew was a living nightmare, one that they were slowly corrupting.

Dalvorra drank from the sickly sweet water, however tasted nothing. They watched the sunset, described as a beauty from the heavens, and felt nothing. They glanced across the ocean, eyes meeting the horizon, and knew exactly what lay beyond. They believed in no God, no unearthly being that had given them this planet to use and to destroy, but in science, in kalon-kind, in their actions and their abilities and the need to show them the harm that they were causing.

[Vanrouge]

"You see," the kalon continued, "the places in my mind are both drenched in light and under the cover of darkness." Arriving on this planet had been a shock to their system, having crash-landed, they had been badly injured when the local inhabitants of the planet had found them. The kalon had not been sure whether they would be friendly or dangerous, for many were territorial.

Or... Were they? They couldn't quite recall. Where had they been going? Where had they come from to begin with? Where was home? What had they been saying?

"I'd like to go there!" A young voice cut through the confusion, a small, excitable kit with bright, wide eyes was watching them, hanging on their every word. If only they could remember what those words had been. There were flashes, every now and then, vibrant colours mixed in with the stuff of nightmares. Deceptively gentle breezes and those that would chill you to the bone, cut you like a knife. The two extremes. A double-edged sword. Not all of the flashes were pleasant, some accompanied a deep, aching pain that hurt the very core of their being.

Vivid, lucid dreams occasionally had them wake with a thin sheen of sweat covering the entirety of their body, salty tears dripping down their cheeks as they sobbed for a world that they could not recall.

The forgetting, however, hurt more than the remembering.

"I'm sure that you would," their voice came sweet, smooth like honey, their eyes holding a warm light. "But I do believe that it's time for you to be getting to sleep now." Sleep. The one thing that seemed to be the key to the lock that surrounded their memories. Unconsciously, they remembered everything, however the second the dream ended, those memories flooded from their mind like the rush of an ever-constant waterfall, drowning out everything else. The few times that they had been quick enough to put pen to paper had been a sketch, and a single word. Star. The first word that they had uttered upon waking, it had become their given name. Star the story-teller, they supposed that it had a nice ring to it.

"I can't sleep," the young kit complained, though troublesome, the girl was incredibly sweet. "I have nightmares." The words made the kalon's heart ache, yearning to be able to assure the girl that it was alright, that she would be okay, however they couldn't do so. Nightmares plagued their own rest, always there, inescapable as soon as they closed their eyes. "I can sing to you, song scares away those bad thoughts." A lie, but one that would be believed by a kit so young.

Once settled down, the storyteller moved to perch on the edge of the young girl's bed, singing softly, gently and melodious. The words that fell from their lips weren't that of the kit's tongue, but were soothing nonetheless, they came to the kalon as easily as breathing. Within bare minutes, the young kit was sleeping soundly, curled up in bed, a complete picture of peace and serenity.

Such was not the same for the kalon's own rest.

Droplets fell from the heavens, cutting the skin that they touched like razors. The agony was unbearable, soul-deep, the crushing weight of the atmosphere above them was making each breath arduous, their lungs desperately working to gasp in air.

Searing flames, red-hot like magma, burned across their body, the heat of the sun unbearable, scorching every exposed piece of them.

The constant assault of fire and ice on their beaten, broken body was too much.

Sleep. They needed rest, they needed escape, they needed-
"Don't give in."
The voice came from somewhere above them, or perhaps somewhere below, resonating through their entire being. Don't give up. Don't give up. Don't give up.

Their legs trembled beneath their own weight, struggling to even hold their body above the ground. White-hot, searing pain shot through them on each step. They had to. They had to. This was their last hope. Practically dragging themselves through, finally, they reached their goal.

Light flooded their senses.

They woke.

Not to the darkness of a bedroom on the planet that they had landed on, but to a dream-like reality. Everything was softer, dimmer, more blurred, but... Familiar. This was their home planet, the planet from their dreams, the planet that was...

Dying.

Had the kalon died? Was that how they were able to be here now, staring at a ghostly image of the world they had once known? No. They hadn't died, they were quite certain of that fact, despite the ghostly voice calling to them, calling a name long since forgotten. Dalvorra. From the stars. They thought that they'd remembered that, plenty of times they had heard it in dreams however the word had disappeared from their waking memory. Dalvorra, that was their name, and Utopia T.009 was their planet, their home. They were here, but how?

"Dalvorra." The same voice from before, the voice that had been there from the start, the voice in their head all along. "Dalvorra, don't give in."

The planet, this planet, their planet... It didn't look right, not as they remembered it, not stained with darkness or infected with disease, it wasn't falling apart. It wasn't dying. Until, in the blink of an eye, it was, it was finally revealed to them exactly what had happened.

They watched, frozen in place, as darkness consumed the planet, ate away at the light, fire burned across the surface and icicles grew in the seared remains.

Fire and ice.

They glanced at their paws, the black veins slowly creeping further and further up their body, dark purple tinting their skin everywhere the veins ran. Crimson tears ran from their eyes, turning their cheek fur a crude imitation of that vibrant pastel pink before them.

That light. The light from their dreams, she recognised it, burning, glowing deep from within the planet. That was their home, their beginning, they remembered now. They had forgotten, lost their sense of who they were and where they were from.

Star. They were a star, born from the core of the once-flourishing planet, the one that now was riddled with disease, the pain that had continued to spike through them as they walked upon the planet's surface. Their last hope. The planet's last hope for survival, to have things return to the way that it had been before the false prophet had come with tales of Gods, of deities that had 'gifted' this to them, to burn and freeze and ruin and take.

But... That didn't seem right either, the state of the planet, their planet, it wasn't quite as Dalvorra had remembered. Drifting in the unknowns of space, looking down at their home, their memories fading in and out again, they couldn't be quite sure. They certainly hadn't arrived to their current planet in this state; with blackened veins and skin darkened by sickness and disease...

They had healed.

They were sure of it, certain that this vision that they were being shown, the dark, desolate world that it was slowly becoming in their mind's eye, wasn't the truth. No, it had begun to heal, they remembered now. They had spoken, given their last plea to those who were killing the planet, killing Dalvorra along with it, and to their voice they had listened. The inhabitants, whose eyes and minds had been closed to the truth for such a dreadfully long time, had begun to see. No longer blinded, they had noticed the blackness that resided beneath their sweet oceans, rivers and lakes, the pollution. They could no longer avoid the fires in the skies that were their precious sunsets; cotton candy clouds burning up in their damaged atmosphere. Rotting wood was revealed beneath the vibrant blossoms as flowers were peeled away; the rose tint removed from their world. Things had changed.

Shock had been a certain consequence of the reveal; many hadn't wanted to believe it, but all had wanted to help. Together, they had healed the scars left by years of neglect, they had purified the water, and, gradually, the planet had become the paradise that it had once been; their Utopia.

No longer was the water sweetened, nor coloured from the chemicals that had been poured into it so long ago to conceal the illusion of perfection. The sky no longer burned with an array of unnatural colours that the inhabitants had come to recognise to be their precious sunsets. No longer did they live the lives that they had once known...

But the birds had begun to sing again, clear, warm droplets of water had begun to rain from the clouds again, no longer the scarlet that had once stained their landscapes. The bark of the trees had healed with plenty of love and care, turning an almost rosewood colour, instead of the rotting darkness beneath beautiful blossoms. But the blossoms, the flowers, the nature that the inhabitants of this Utopia had come to love, they remained.

A smile came to Dalvorra's lips, the darkness disappearing from their veins, their skin turning back to its usual hue, then brighter, and brighter- They were glowing. Revitalised, shining with an ethereal glow, they watched as the planet regained its natural beauty- the beauty from the time before their false prophet, from before the prophet had come to name it as their 'Utopia', taking Dalvorra's name from them.

'Utopia', they had named it.
They supposed it fit now.

[Vanrouge]

For once, the kalon awoke with no sweat staining their brow, no tears trickling down their cheeks, no pain or hoarseness to their throat from having screamed in the thrall of their night terrors. Instead, they awoke bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, all of their memories having been returned. Though here accidentally, and knowing that they had to leave, they would enjoy their last moments here, with the family that had taken them in, the most that they were able.

Armed with all of their forgotten knowledge, they could put the kind family's minds at ease, they knew how to return home, to repair their ship and follow the light deep inside them. They knew their name, they knew where they belonged, what awaited them when they returned home to the warmth and comfort of those who had come to understand them.

But right here, in this moment, they had something to do that was far more important than any of that...



They couldn't wait to tell little Polaris a story that she would never forget.

[Vanrouge]

To this day Polaris still looks to the stars, with tales in her head of planets where the water runs almost a crystal blue, so clear that you can see right into the depths. A world where flowers bloom vibrantly, all year round, even in the coldest months of the year, and sherbert-coated mountaintops brush cotton candy clouds. A perfect Utopia. A world so very nearly destroyed by one, but healed by many.

Night after night, she looks to the stars, charting their paths, watching, wondering, waiting for the day that her storyteller will return. Her shining Star.