Sullen Suns

The walls were perfect portraits of moving oceans. The ceiling rose up, fading far into foggy nothingness. The floor was swept marble with streaks of swirling darkness, passing one another and bundling up in layers below.

Why have you come?

I came for answers.

Its scales were multifaceted, different shapes and colors. In each of them was a moving sun, royal purples and oranges glittering out of its body. Down its chest were massive flat shields, each one a setting sun moving across the horizon. Mountains, valleys, city skylines, forests, and oceans. A depiction of the ends of days. I felt like reaching into its scales, pulling out the sun and bringing its light to justice.

The teeth came to a grin. Hundreds of glittering suns shined off the tips, rows of sharp spikes in sequined ivory.

Your teeth sequester the sun.

Your eyes sequester my teeth.

Why are you trapped here among the oceans?

The door is too small. I am too big.

A small wooden cupboard sat at the far end of the room. Its ends were scratched and worn, and the handle fell limply to one unfastened end. Inside, behind chipped and shattered pottery, was the moon.