{"id":8929,"date":"2026-04-23T08:46:39","date_gmt":"2026-04-23T08:46:39","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/sum.malmostudenter.se\/?p=8929"},"modified":"2026-04-23T08:46:40","modified_gmt":"2026-04-23T08:46:40","slug":"daybreak","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/sum.malmostudenter.se\/index.php\/2026\/04\/23\/daybreak\/","title":{"rendered":"Daybreak"},"content":{"rendered":"\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\"\"\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/section>\n\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t
<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\"\"\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t

Illustration: Lia Popaz<\/p>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t

\n\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t

Daybreak<\/h2>\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t

By: Stephen K Pettersson<\/strong><\/p>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t

\n\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t

23\/04\/2026<\/p>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t

\n\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t

In a mythic world where night and day take human form, two sisters\u2014Dusk and Dawn\u2014clash over duty, justice, and compassion when a fleeing caravan depends on darkness to survive.<\/strong><\/p>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/section>\n\t\t\t\t

\n\t\t\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t

Under the cover of darkness, a trail of refugees crosses a barren wasteland. Wounded, grieving, desperate for shelter, their huddled forms keep pace with a woman on a stygian mare. She looks east, to the approaching horsewoman on the horizon, and tugs at her inky-black shawl.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m surprised you\u2019re still here, Sister Dusk,\u201d Dawn says as she reels her alabaster stallion next to Dusk\u2019s mare and into the caravan\u2019s fold. \u201cYou should be home by now.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cNot to worry, bright sister,\u201d Dusk sighs, tugging again at the shawl. \u201cI\u2019ll be home before long.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Dawn looks puzzled as she straightens her white, wide-brimmed hat. \u201cNo, sister, you\u2019ll be home <\/span>now<\/span><\/i>. Your night is over, and I need to bring in the day.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cDo you see all of these people behind me?\u201d Dusk says with a sweeping gesture. \u201cHunted like beasts they are, by an evil that wishes to see the people of their blood gone from this world, and your light will reveal them to the bloodhounds. Only in my darkness can they survive.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Dawn glances over her shoulder and a wave of pity washes over her steely face. It doesn\u2019t take long, however, before the same stoic expression returns.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cBe that as it may, the world holds more than just these unfortunates. Think of the rattlesnake, starving for my warmth, or the hibiscus flower, eager<\/span>\u2014<\/span>\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThey can wait,\u201d Dusk interrupts. \u201cFor a few hours, for however long this takes, they can wait.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cSister!\u201d Dawn exclaims. \u201cThe order of the world does not stop and change at your whims.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThey\u2019ll die, Dawn. All of them.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThen they\u2019ll die, like so many others.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Dawn reaches for her hat, preparing to raise it to the sky and summon the morning but doesn\u2019t get much further than that before Dusk grabs her arm.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cAnd where\u2019s the justice in that?\u201d Dusk says with desperation in her throat.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThey\u2019ll find justice in my revealing light, when the world can see what has befallen them.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cRevealed to <\/span>whom<\/span><\/i>?\u201d Dusk cries. \u201cWho can offer justice, when the judges are the unjust? Who can uphold honor, when there is no shame? No, Sister Dawn, these people will only find death in your morning.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

As if to prove her point, a loud rumble fills the nightly silence. In the distance, metal birds soar and dive back and forth over the desert, searching for those that managed to escape, for any sign of life that they could snuff out. Panicked screams arise amongst the gathered, each scrambling to hide behind the nearest rock or outcrop as the winged terrors fly ever closer.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cLayla!\u201d Dusk calls out to a one-armed woman in the caravan. The woman is swift to follow procedure, giving a simple nod in response before putting an ivory whistle to her mouth and blowing it twice. By Layla\u2019s command, her people come out of hiding one by one and gather before the two sisters on horseback.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Dusk removes her shawl from her neck and raises it to the wind. Caught by the storm formed from the great birds\u2019 wings, the shawl stretches and spreads its black threads, forming a veil of impenetrable darkness over those assembled. Not a second later, one of the Skyterrors focuses its blazing gaze upon where the caravan had been, ready to strike. This time, it finds nothing.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Under Dusk\u2019s shadowy veil, the refugees hold each other close and offer hushed prayers <\/span>\u2014 <\/span>as much to themselves as to their god. Terrified, they listen to the thunderous roar of the Skyterror as it fades in and out in its search for those hidden by Dusk\u2019s shawl.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cVery well sister. Bring your dawn,\u201d Dusk says as the Skyterror passes by for the third time.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhat?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cIt was so important to you, after all.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Dawn looks stunned. \u201cSister, I\u2026 this isn\u2019t\u2026\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cLet the sun tear through my veil. I ask only that you watch the outcome, that you witness the genocide as it happens. It\u2019s only fair that you see your share, as I have.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Dawn looks out over those gathered, at their desperate faces caked in blood and ash, and tightens her hold on the bejeweled reins. The muscles around her face relax, and she looks down in defeat.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou know I can\u2019t, sister. Not now.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Dusk and Dawn sit in silence for a while, listening as the Skyterrors\u2019 presence slowly abates. Once the night falls silent again, Dusk removes her veil over the caravan with a sweeping motion and wraps the shawl around her neck. Relief begins to take the place of worry and fear, and, as if it had never happened <\/span>\u2014 <\/span>or <\/span>because<\/span><\/i> it had happened <\/span>\u2014<\/span> the caravan comes to life with song and dance. Handfuls of bread, salt, and water pass from family to family, no one taking more than the other. Once the foodstuff reaches the sisters, only Dusk accepts.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s considered impolite in their culture to deny a gift,\u201d Dusk says, nudging her sister with an elbow. Saying nothing, Dawn reluctantly accepts the offering and takes small bites in silence. When she finally speaks, it is with the softness of their mother.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWho makes this time any different?\u201d Dawn asks.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhat?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI know you, dear sister. Who is she?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Dusk hesitates at first. Then, she points to the one-armed woman named Layla. \u201cHer.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Dawn finds the woman in the crowd, a toddler in her lap that she bounces gently to the rhythm of the drums. The child squeals and giggles with excitement, clapping two chubby arms together as Layla brings him in for a hug. She puts the residual limb of her right arm against the toddler\u2019s own stump of a leg and makes a surprised face, all as if to say \u2018Would you look at that, we\u2019re the same!\u2019<\/span><\/p>\n

As Dawn watches, a frown forms on her brow. \u201cBut\u2026 she\u2019s so boring?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cOh, you should see her, sister. How gracefully she dances in moonlit fields at night, how patiently she counts the stars in the sky, how softly and serenely she prays before bed.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cShe doesn\u2019t pray to you, dear sister.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cAnd yet, it feels like she does. It feels like religion when she touches me, and when she calls my name\u2026 it\u2019s an act of worship. Not to me, but to <\/span>us<\/span><\/i>.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cAnd you would hold off the day for her?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cFor all of them. For any of them.\u201d\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Dawn looks at the starry sky and sighs. \u201cYou’re not asking for permission, are you?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou know me, remember?\u201d Dusk answers with a rare smile.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cDark sister, how can I deny you this?\u201d Dawn says and strokes Dusk\u2019s cheek with her ever-warm hand, \u201cCall upon me when they\u2019re ready, and we\u2019ll let my light shine on their future.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThank you, Dawn.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cAlways,\u201d she says and rises from the ground. She treads over to her ever-patient stallion, who whinnies at having a rider again. \u201cDon\u2019t keep me waiting.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Dusk gives another smile as she calls after her sister. \u201cI\u2019ll take off my shawl, you\u2019ll raise your hat, and we\u2019ll watch the daybreak together.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/section>\n\t\t\t\t

\n\t\t\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\"\"\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/section>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

As war closes in, Dusk shields refugees in darkness, forcing Dawn to face a harsh truth: sometimes survival depends on shadow, not light.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":8931,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[333,335],"tags":[294,291],"class_list":["post-8929","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-creative-writing","category-for-students","tag-creative-writing","tag-short-story","entry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/sum.malmostudenter.se\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/8929","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/sum.malmostudenter.se\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/sum.malmostudenter.se\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/sum.malmostudenter.se\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/sum.malmostudenter.se\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=8929"}],"version-history":[{"count":11,"href":"https:\/\/sum.malmostudenter.se\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/8929\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":8943,"href":"https:\/\/sum.malmostudenter.se\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/8929\/revisions\/8943"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/sum.malmostudenter.se\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/8931"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/sum.malmostudenter.se\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=8929"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/sum.malmostudenter.se\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=8929"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/sum.malmostudenter.se\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=8929"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}