8. FenwinterSelene stood with Ondo on the blasted, windswept plain, staring at the numbers projected onto the sheer cliff face in one hundred metre characters.
Seventeen digits. Seventeen sevens. Up above them, an array of atmospheric drones hovered, generating the display. The digits were bright enough to be visible by day. By night they cast shadows, glowing on the horizon for fifty kilometres around. Fenwinter lay in ruins, yet the devices propagating the numbers remained fully-functional, drawing in enough solar energy by day to maintain their output.
Selene thought she knew what the numbers represented. “This is the sacred tally; the count of sentient lifeforms that Concordance believes marks the end of days. The trigger to kill everyone.”
“I think it must be,” said Ondo. “Seventee
