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 freeforming to their destination. When night hits it

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 hinder2them.
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 Phyons 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 Phyons
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.

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.