The first time I saw the sky die… I was nine.
It started like a normal morning. I woke up to the sound of my mother banging a pot in the kitchen. She was boiling water for tea, humming that same song she always does. The one she never tells me the name of. Maybe she forgot… or maybe she didn't want me to know.
I sat up and looked out the window. The clouds were heavy, like they had been sitting there all night, thinking about falling. The air smelled strange. Like rain, but not fresh — more like metal.
Then it happened.
A deep boom rolled through the ground. Not like thunder — no, this one came from under us. Like the earth had sighed too hard and cracked its ribs. The table rattled. A spoon fell to the floor and spun in a slow circle.
I ran to the door. My mother shouted for me to stay inside, but I didn't listen. I wanted to see.
The light outside was wrong. Not dark, not bright. Just… gray. It was like the sun was hiding, but the clouds weren't black enough for a storm. And something was falling.
Ash.
At first I thought it was snow. I even held out my hand to catch some. But it was warm. It stuck to my skin like it wanted to stay. I rubbed it off, but my hand just turned darker. My heart felt strange.
People started shouting down the street. A man ran past me, yelling that the river was gone. Just… gone.
I didn't believe him, so I went to see.
The riverbank was empty. No water. Just a long, deep crack in the earth. And inside it… light.
Thin threads of light, tangled and glowing faintly. They stretched as far as I could see, moving a little, like they were breathing.
Nobody else seemed to notice them. They were just staring at the empty river, cursing, panicking. But my eyes wouldn't leave those threads. I didn't know it then, but those were the Ash Veins.
When I leaned closer, I felt something pull inside my chest. Like one of those threads was tied to me.
That night, my father didn't come home. I stayed awake, waiting. My mother kept pacing the room. Outside, the ash kept falling, covering the roofs until everything looked like a cemetery.
The next morning, the sun didn't rise.
And I knew… it never would again