Ilat never thought that this day would come.
However, now he was here on the Ark, together with a few hundred of his companions, among whom there were old, young, male, and female. They were Epzons, survivors of a proud race, the last members of the people of Ilat. Broken souls who witnessed the destruction of their world.
Ilat, even though he was still a young male, knew he would never be able to forget the terrible tragedy. Just ten summers ago, he emerged from his mother's purse to explore the world. How he loved to chase in the swamp of his home with the other offsprings! Climbing trees with its long fingers to suck the juice from the tubers growing on the branches with its snout. The gentle caress of the leaves on his head-tentacles falling on his shoulders. The typically sweet smell of the air and the early morning song of the feathered crickets. Admiring the night lights of the ships bound for the neighboring moon. However, all this is lost forever. The arrival of the enemy swept away everything that was valuable and good. Ilat hated them for that. The enemy...
The elders often told stories at night within the walls of the Long House about the black demons that, in ancient times, were at war with the gods of the Epzons. The stars died and the sky rang, but the gods, who visited his people less and less often, finally defeated the demons. However, they could not destroy them. For generations, the elders believed that they would return one day. They were right. Ilat shuddered while standing at the window of his cabin as the red and white vortex of the hyperspace swirled outside. It was almost hypnotic, but his subconscious only brought images of destruction to the surface from the recesses of his mind. He remembered the giant ship that cast a shadow over his world, the black smoke as it spread and covered the sky in darkness. He saw panic take hold of the inhabitants of the Swamplands as hundreds of capsules, belching smoke from above, crashed into the ground. He was there when the warriors gathered to fight their battle. He saw the horde rushing into the swamp, causing the population to flee. They swept through Ilat's home like a storm, sparing no one and nothing. There were countless hideous creatures emitting black smoke from their bodies. The Epzons did not stand a chance against them. The survivors found refuge only on the Ark. They were condemned to wander the stars in search of... something. Maybe a new hope, Ilat thought and sighed.
He did not know much about where they were going, but he did know what was leading them. The Ark was a huge, old ship that had been languishing on the edge of the Swamplands for centuries. From its elongated trunk, two wings extended to the sides and one above, which curled backward as if it were just a fin. It was an alien craft whose passengers were shipwrecked on the planet of the Epzons. They were strange but friendly creatures who came from another galaxy and called themselves Humans. They followed a mysterious religion that said the universe was created by the song of a divine being and that every living thing is an echo of that song. Priests of Ekhé, Ilat recalled their names. This religion took root among his race as the people found a new home with them. Together they repaired the Ark, but the priests did not leave, and finally, because they lived a shorter life-span, they laid their heads in eternal sleep among the Epzons. However, their teachings lived on, and as a last resort, their ship rescued some of them. Ilat, although grief weighed heavily on his heart, somewhere deep down he felt grateful that the Humans' pilgrimage had led him to them. Now they, the last members of the Epzon people, set out, following the divine motivation of the priests, to find the source of the Holy Song. Ilat recalled what the elders had taught him about the Priests of Ekhé. Surprisingly, their prophecy told of a Long Darkness, the coming of which would silence the singing of the stars. It was also referred to as the Black Flood in their sacred scrolls.
Ilat already knew that all their words were true. The Black Flood had reached them. However, at this moment, a new feeling took root in the young Epzon's heart as he stared out the window into hyperspace. The core of his determination jumped into an unshakable stem, his hands clenched into fists, and a strange light shone in his small eyes. He knew that the Darkness, the Black Flood, would not stop; it would engulf new worlds. However, there was still hope, as the priests also set out for this reason. The source of the Holy Song! Yes, they had to follow the humans' guidance. Ilat overheard the older Epzons who could control the ship, talking about mysterious coordinates that were stored in the Ark's memory.
Despite his painful loss, Ilat smiled faintly under his snout. There is still hope for his people. We will find the source of the Holy Song! No matter how long we have to search, while sailing on the endless ocean of stars.
THE END