Through red and purple you arrive at a dawned quiet

place framed by flat planes. Contrasted by high beams

of dust formations your eye is drawn closer and closer

towards the centre point. The focal area of your

journey. Gravity is not at ease here. A reminiscent

humming is heard of unseen origin. It is not

threatening, yet it is eerie nevertheless. Latitude intact,

a sprawl of houses are seen on-top of a large object.

Pomegranate coloured forestry protects these said

houses though they will not overlap each-other. Are

they conscious? Humming increasing, it is unclear how the inhabitants

of this object get up onto it. It is only till you get closer

you start to realise the sheer scale of the orbital frame.

Standing underneath, shadow turns to light and with

an illumination you become a part of Phyon and with it

comes silence. Everything now seems a normality and

that of which you were distant of before becomes

logical.

The atmosphere is thin and with red accents in a mass

of higher blue the weather is monotonous at the least.

But it is not the weather that holds the most

importance but rather the light and dark. Gravity

idolizes the terrain-based sphere and as you peer over

at the vast canyon below a question appears before

you. Why are there only houses up here? Where are the

sources of food, education and sociality? You visited in

day yet there were sparse beaked inhabitants free-

forming to their destination. When night hits it

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becomes as clear as the day of Phyon, the illumination

that saved you in dawn will not do the same in dusk.

Evangelicalism is a split of two shoulder-blades. Light

and dark. Dawn and Dusk.

Gloam-infested invaders will only show in darkness as

if to protect the red dust that they derive from. To

cooperate Phyon will raise up above the gloaming

defenders and in-turn defend themselves at their own

state of gravitational existence. The people of Phyon

will not conform wholeheartedly but refuse to let their

curiosity hinder them.

Red dust is ultimately patient and though you are

neither its saviour nor slave you become attached to it

through your defensive actions. Two sides of a

defensive feat, you cannot help all as if it is for nothing.

The other inhabitants of Phyon are terrified and

somehow thrilled. They do not try to stop that which

seems to need a middle-man to find a medium.

Conceivably, the aforementioned might be the orbital

structure itself. Everything is centred and as such is

logical. As you fly past land-mines of shield-like threat

for food, your beaked cohort prolong such events in an

act of thrill-seeking joy. Dusk is shorter than Dawn in

this world and every essence of it is reaped of its

subsistence.

Heed warning, to be caught by a shield you become

enveloped by the environment you try so hard to stay

above of. To lose to gloom-ridden entities comparable

to that of losing a loved-one to a war, it is however not

declared as such for it is much more childish and

innocent. A game of “it”. Once returning back to your

diamond-shaped, heat-worn house a quick glance

around brings far too many seeds to count. Enough to

only last a dawn-dusk cycle once, in an effort to excuse

another reason to go back to the dusty layered ground.

Inside everything is hard-surfaced. Beams supporting

the wooden house are tightly strung with straw and

thus do feel homely. Your house is as close to another

as it is to the next and with this everyone in Phyon is

connected. Everything is very still and not many

people tread outside whilst dusk is apparent. Though

for those who adhere to being social are ones with

enough spine to forage out into the dust, hiding from

gloom. They can enjoy the drowned out humming of

low-key bars but only when the humming gets louder

than the music should they hide away and remain

hidden to not be consumed by gloom. Regardless of

this, Phyon does not live in fear and respects the

gloomy defence of sand and dust.

If you are overtaken by gloom it can only be assumed it

was your own fault and this might be one major

downfall in the structure of Phyon’s thinking. Blame is

shoved from one to the next and with it events are far

easier to forget. Few people purposely remember

everything but end up scorn. These types of Phyon’s

people are also those who push the gloom to an

extreme. In one sense all the blame is delivered to

them but not returned or delivered onwards.

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Everyone in Phyon is equal to one another. You find

yourself collecting dust next to many other people and

compositing it into the orb at the centre of the canyon.

Every house can place dust straight into the centre.

With beak-like masks and backpacks they feed dust

collected from their journeys with a tube in order to be

protected from the gloom. A miasma of atmospheric

defence. Dust has been collected for generations but

nothing has ever happened; and no initial reason was

given as to why. - Their instinct is to fill what is empty.

There were rumours towards the orbital structure

defying gravity. That it was alive and that it would be

awakened if it could be a consumer without being

consumed. But why are they drowning it with dust and

sand? Is it linked to the gloom? Phyon is safe above the

orb, but the buildings below, clubs, markets and trade

services are worn. Tiles and wood are scattered

everywhere from the defenders popping up wherever

they please. Some places even being invaded so

regularly they are sunken into the sand. But with

foundations and reinforcement they can be inhabitable

for short times for the thrill and excitement of living

alongside something so dangerous is too great in

Phyon. An endless defensive state from every side, in

an arena of red sand and dust.

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