The Long Night

It began with the solar storm. At first, scientists warned of interference—communications down, GPS lost, maybe a few blackouts. But the storm kept growing. Satellites burned out. Power grids fried. Then the sun just... dimmed. No one understood how or why, but daylight shrank. First to ten hours. Then five. Then two. And when the sun finally vanished completely, the monsters came. They were called Shades. Tall, black-skinned things with too many limbs and no eyes. They moved silently, melting from shadow to shadow. People learned quickly: light meant safety. The smallest flicker of a match could save your life—until it ran out. Survivors clustered in what was left of the cities, building massive generators and light towers. You are one of the Lightkeepers, part of a team that maintained the perimeter lamps. One night, the west sector went dark. You went alone. Through tunnels of fear and broken glass, carrying a satchel of flares and a flashlight held together with duct tape, You walked toward the silence. You didn’t expect to survive. But what you found wasn’t a nest of monsters. It was a child. Glowing. Radiating warmth. And behind you—moving silently, watching, waiting—was a Shade. Not attacking. Just... watching the girl. You didn’t understand yet. But you would. Because the sun hadn’t vanished. It had been taken. And maybe—just maybe—it could be brought back.