The Suns of Treysola (Part 1)

Day 8: The Sun Lantern EY 31 Day Writing Challenge

This is the product of a 31 day writing challenge being hosted by E.A. Wilcox

see the Day 8 Challenge Prompt

The Suns of Treysola

The turquoise river shimmered under the late Nün sun. The lazy current betraying the urgency rippling through Renak’s chest. His goggles fogged, the mismatched lenses blurring under a slick sheen of sweat. The polymer edges bit into his skin, a reminder of their fragility. Once a lowly rebel and hunter of the coveted corucoy fish, Renak was now a fugitive, the sounds of pursuing soldiers echoing in his ears.

The Orbalus patrol’s dartship skimmed low across the jagged red rock, its sleek frame gleaming like polished bone under Nün’s glare. The deep rumble of their engines vibrated through his sand-caked boots. A single mistake—his net of glinting corucoy—was enough to warrant capture... or worse.

Renak plunged into the ravine, boots crunching on golden sand that echoed in the still air. The relentless heat of Treysola’s three suns scorched the land, but Renak felt their rhythm in his blood. Shadows shifted and light danced across the red rock, painting a harsh, unyielding world. He knew each shadowed crevice and crag intimately, each texture and shape as familiar as his own skin.

Sliding down the steep embankment, loose rocks skittered beneath him. He longed for home—The Hollow—a rebel refuge carved deep into the terraform. The cool chambers hummed quietly, a defiant pulse of survival against the scorching suns.

But his home was far, a faint hope on the horizon, and the heavy footfalls of the Orbalus pounded relentlessly behind him.

A sharp chirp from the Orbalus’ communicator echoed down the ravine. Renak’s breath caught in his throat as he saw what was before him. Elite-grade ocular implants granted Orbalus soldiers superior vision, cutting through the haze of the intense midday sun. His goggles, a chaotic patchwork of mismatched parts, felt brittle and flimsy in his hands; they wouldn’t last a second against the Orbalus’ pinpoint accuracy.

Nün’s light burned white-hot, searing the air and glaring off the red rock walls. Even through his goggles, the brightness pressed against his eyes, a suffocating weight. Renak crouched low behind a jutting slab of red rock. He dared not move. If the patrol didn’t spot him, he could slip into the deeper canyon network, unseen amongst the towering rock walls and echoing silence. From there he should be able to reach The Hollow before the majestic, fiery ball of Elune, the evening sun, climbed over the horizon.

The communicator crackled again. A gruff voice boomed out, amplified by the dartship’s speakers. “Renak Veyin. You are charged with the illegal poaching of corucoy and theft of state resources. Surrender immediately. Resistance will result in lethal force.”

Renak’s fists clenched, knuckles white, as his anger boiled. Resistance? Defying the Trisphero’s iron grip was about surviving. A desperate fight for life against its crushing control. In their sun-drenched citadels, high above the barren wastes, elites reveled in their power. The cries of hunger and despair from the miners and farmers, a distant mocking symphony to their opulent lives. The Trisphero’s control stretched to every grain of food, every drop of water, and every iridescent scale of corucoy—resources hoarded in their sunlit citadels, far from the barren wastes. For those like Renak, poverty’s grip was so tight, stealing was the only option to survive.

The hum of the approaching dartship grew louder, a deep thrumming that vibrated in his chest. They were close. Too close.

Renak scanned the ravine’s jagged edges. A narrow fissure, barely wide enough for a man, beckoned him. He could escape if he abandoned the net. But the corucoy wasn’t just a catch—it was survival for the enclave’s children and trade for the weapons The Hollow desperately needed. His breath caught in his chest. Letting it go meant failing them.

With a deep breath, Renak swung the heavy net over his back and sprinted toward the dark, gaping fissure. Behind him, a warning shot rang out—the sharp crack of the blaster echoed through the canyon, a searing bolt sizzling past his feet. The Orbalus were done with warnings. Renak threw himself into the narrow crevice, yanking the net with his quarry behind. The edges scraped his shoulders as he painfully wedged himself through, the cold stone chilling his skin. A deafening tear split the net, sending Renak sprawling onto the beach, a shower of coruscoy raining down as he landed with a splash into the cool turquoise water, the sun glinting off the wet sand. Heart pounding, Renak scrambled up, collecting what little he could stuff into his robe’s pockets.

Unable to follow, the dartship hovered precariously on the other side of the fissure with its landing struts extended, a tense silence emanating from its metallic frame. He let himself hope, just for a second, a tiny spark against the overwhelming darkness.

A voice crackled over his communicator—gravelly, familiar, and haunting. “Renak.” He froze, heart pounding. It was Miri. Months had passed since he’d last heard her voice, but it was unmistakable—urgent, steady, and always right. “They’ve sent ground troops after you,” the voice announced over the crackling radio, the static punctuated by the distant thud of boots on pavement. “Run! Now!”

A wave of dread washed over Renak. The voice was familiar—it was Miri, his contact within the enclave. If she was risking her life to warn him, the situation was worse than he thought.

Boots crunched on red rock echoing through the cavern’s opening—Orbalus troops were closing in. Peering toward the far end of the cavern, Renak spotted the first glimmers of Elune’s light, its arrival a fragile promise of hope amid the chaos. He had one chance. One fleeting moment to evade the Orbalus, reach The Hollow, and defy the Trisphero’s grip.

He ran…