A Peaceful Dawn Shattered: The Invasion of Lïho-Minaa's World

The living light above her waved its glowing filaments gently; in this, it was like all things in the world, in tune with the stars, seasons, sun, and sea. She responded to the gradually increasing illumination by opening her impossibly blue eyes, blinking peacefully, slowly awake, welcoming the new day with the same tranquility with which she had welcomed slumber the evening before.

Her soft, still-drowsy gaze took in the warm pink and coral hues of her bedchamber. Light spilled down the curving staircase, and the shiny surfaces of the enormous shell's walls and ceiling picked up the gleam and suffused the room with rosy brightness.

Her skin caught the light, too; a white that was so much more than a stark, single color. It was decorated with images that changed shape as her moods did: art of the spirit.

Pale and celestial-seeming as moonlight, her smooth, soft skin held every color of the rainbow blended into a pearlescent, ever-shifting, subtle glow.

She was Lïho-Minaa, and she was a princess.

A soft squeak beside her drew her gaze from the familiar shape of the chamber to her favorite little friend, who always snuggled beside her while she slept. Lïho-Minaa smiled as the creature snuffled at her neck happily with its long snout, offering its furry, impossibly soft belly for scratches. It was small enough to perch in her hand, but never feared being smothered by its mistress when she slept—the hard, bumpy scales on its back would wake her before any harm would be done.

Moving with the easy grace of a curling wave, she swung her legs to the smooth floor and stretched, before placing her little friend atop her shoulder. Rising, the princess padded barefoot to the giant clamshell affixed to the wall. It did double duty. The upper portion had been polished to create a reflective surface, albeit an imperfect one. Its base cupped dozens of large pearls, the one at the center as large as her own head. Above this base that served as a sink, a luminous, tendrilled creature, kin to the one suspended over the princess's bed, provided light, but the pearls themselves also emitted a soft, pulsing glow as multicolored energy shifted within their smooth surfaces.

Lïho-Minaa smiled at herself and her small friend on her shoulder. He opened his slender muzzle for an enormous yawn, and she laughed. She dipped her long, elegant fingers into the shell's bowl, scooping up handfuls of small pearls. As if they were water in solid form, she brought them to her face and rubbed them on her skin. Any trace of sleepiness fled from her. Her blue eyes brightened, her skin became even smoother and tauter about her fine bones. She felt restored, refreshed, and energized, and she carefully let the pearls she had cupped return to their fellows in the bowl.

Before she departed, she fastened a simple necklace about her long, slender throat. It consisted only of a chain and a single exquisite pearl. Gently, the princess touched it, and the pearl thrummed, glowing gently at the caress.

Ascending the steps, she emerged outside into the dawning day. Lïho-Minaa was seldom sorrowful. Her life, and those of the rest of her people, were filled with rhythm and calmness and beauty. But if she ever did feel melancholy, all she needed to do was look around at what her world showed her.

She felt powdery white sand between her toes, heard the soft, endless sound of the languid ocean reaching up to touch the shore, then withdrawing its watery fingers.

Enormous shells of different shapes and colors dotted the beach, some even sitting in the shallow aqua-turquoise water: homes to family and friends. She set down her little friend on his perch outside her comparatively small shell-home, patting him gently before turning to stride toward the sparkling water. The playful ocean teased Lïho-Minaa’s feet, pale as the sand, as she went to join the group of others. Some were in the water up to their waists, gathering up filigree-fine nets laden with pearls of all sizes. They brought them to the shore, moving gracefully, their bodies pearls themselves. Children and adults clustered around the nets, eager to help remove the precious orbs and place them in large seashell-baskets that were then hoisted onto the backs of adults for carrying.

Further inland were small craters in the earth, about the size made when one extended one’s arms and made a circle, fingers touching. Smiling, their faces bathed with the milky glow, those who bore the pearl-filled shells emptied them into the waiting earth. The very ancientness of the routine was comforting. Lïho-Minaa turned her face up toward the rising sun and closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them, she beheld a bright streak across the dawn-dappled sky—a shooting star. It was not alone. Another joined it… and then another…

Fear closed around the princess’s heart as the first chunk of something unknown—but definitely not star matter—slammed into the water. It smashed a shell house into jagged pieces. Others came too swiftly to count, sending spouts of water in the air as they struck the ocean, making angry craters, wounds on the world. Cries of terror erupted and people began to flee. But where could they run? The princess stared up at the sky, which had once contained nothing but stars and moons and sunlight, as chunks of metal ranging from the size of a fist to the size of a house rained down mercilessly upon the frightened populace.

She turned, helplessly, to gaze at another part of the sky—and then she saw it. The scope of it was gargantuan, inconceivable, and she understood at once that it was not simply a vessel, but death. Lïho-Minaa dwelt near the ocean, soothed by, and loving in return, its lulls and song and smell. Her family, wishing to be in the heart of the population they ruled with a gentle hand, lived in the village. And the still-burning ship would crash directly into it. All around her was the awful, never-before-heard cacophony of screaming.

But the princess did not scream. She ran.