A ray of light. 

A barren landscape. An island of rubble. 

She sits on the edge of the world, the bright red apple in her pale hands, 

a beacon of color among swirling grays and the pitch black of the abyss. 

 That and her eyes, fixated on their amber counterpart, full of knowledge. 

Deep pools of purest blue. 

Precariously sitting on the edge of a derelict park bench, before her lies an endless void, 

all that remained of what once was the Yarra river. 

During the creation of Apocollis the extreme pressure created a huge tectonic shift. 

The resulting earthquake cracked open the ground, resulting in this gaping maw. 

Like a blackened mouth come from the depths to swallow her. 

Pale hands release the crimson sphere, a sigh escaping her lips as the void swallows up the mote of color. The air is filled with the sound of rushing water where the Yarra falls eternally into the crevice. 

The darkness seems endless, the only evidence of movement, a slow rising fog. 

A cloud suddenly breaks free of its brethren, creating a hole in it's gray, dark world, letting through a pale wash of sunlight. 

Bathed in the faint glow of a single ray of light, her deep orbs lift toward the sky, the single disk of purest blue reflecting her own. The sunlight throws her pale face into view. Dark hair spills from her hooded jumper framing beautiful features, long jeans ending in dark boots dangle amiably over the drop. 

All too suddenly , the light disappears, other clouds move into place and shadows rule once again. The girl watches the clouds for some time, her pensive gaze almost willing them apart. With a sigh she shoulders the video camera seated next to her and abruptly stands up. Inches from the edge of the world she stands on the line between life and death. With a swift and practiced movement she pulls the camera from its bag and brings it to her eye. With a click she turns it on. Brilliant images fill her view. Flowers, tree's, birds, animals, before her is a garden of flora and fauna. Turning around she spies some children dressed in strange garb running through the trees, her heart aches. She opens her other eye which had been screwed shut until this point. Devastation, a gray world, broken and dead. She opens both of her blue orbs wide taking in the contrast, her heart filling with wonder. A blinking red light, she swallows a curse as the video camera shuts down. Left alone once again in a dead world, she takes one last gaze deep into the abyss. Wordlessly shouldering the camera, she heads off toward the collapsing architecture of what was once Flinders street station, debris crunching under her boots. 

Her name is Emma.