Ariel held the galaxium up to the moonlight. Legend said that the magics were best viewed with the moon as a light source. The colors shifted smoothly within the glass globe. From purples to blues the swirling colors held her rapt attention. Galaxium was an apt name. When held to the night sky, its shift in colors reflected that of her own night sky. It was said this was the last surviving galaxium. The last to be created before The Loss.
The Loss. That’s how their history was tracked. Before The Loss and After. Before, wonders were performed as a daily part of life. Wonders that would bring joy to the spirit, solace to the mind. There was no sickness. No war. Everything was at peace. In the generations since The Loss, peace had held. No one knew of any other way of living. Family legend said that it was her grandparents, many generations removed, who had ignited this galaxium. Galaxiums were simply in their creation. A large glass orb, sand from the beach of the Rodaran Ocean. And Magic. The stronger the magic, the more brilliant the galaxium. A galaxium created by those in the deepest, truest love? Priceless, and amongst the rarest of all the galaxiums.
One by one they shattered. Shortly after The Loss, the galaxiums began to degrade, until this moment. This one right here where Ariel held the last remaining. It must have been strong magic indeed to make it last these past 100 generations. Ariel gave the galaxium a slight shake and watched as the colors shifted from deep reds to light blues. With a sigh, Ariel set it down in its place of honor. Turning to leave, Ariel heard a soft crack. Whipping around, Ariel saw that a fine line had appeared on the fat curve of the globe. A tear slid down Ariel’s cheek.
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