It was strange to see two moons in the sky at night. To me, it was beautiful, and a kind of comfort, like someone was watching out for us. But other people reacted differently. Some believed

the Eternal Night had arrived to our world. They said the sun would never return, just the reddish glow of each moon, giving an ominous message: beware.

No one knew much about what type of creatures began to roam the endless darkness. Only that they were faster than lightning and would leave behind a residue that smelled of rotten flesh.

I learned the hard way not to underestimate the night. That first night, my naive self was admiring the two moons when all of a sudden I was shoved down off the park bench into a burrow with thick foliage as cover.

The man’s eyes were bloodshot, and he was covered in sweat. A shaky finger hovered over his lips.

That was when I heard them.

Not the agonizing screams of the dying outside, but the eldritch screech that made my ears want to bleed. Chills shook me to the core as we waited for it to stop, for just a moment of peace, to try to understand what was going on.

Eleven days later, the sounds of the dying and its predators never stopped.

But I had grown a lot since that first night.

Survival of the most careful.

My friend and I found others, and we are trying to end the Eternal Night.

We just need to find the Light.

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