It was a year so far in the distant future that they decided to stop counting altogether. Whether they lost count or it simply didn't matter anymore remains a mystery. Two cosmic archaeologists, armed with the goal of tracking the origins of man, find themselves in a long-forgotten corner of some long-since-forgotten galaxy.

How they ended up here was unclear, but the planet they sighted was scorched beyond recognition. It was a small, rocky planet orbiting a dim White Dwarf with just enough energy to glow, and nothing more. Clearly inhospitable, but perhaps one day, years and years ago, it would have been ripe for life. Or so the faint biosignatures radiating off of it led them to believe.

They almost decided against landing altogether. Time and time again, they had stopped to visit a rocky planet with faint biosignatures to no avail. But today was different. Maybe it was because it had been many millions of miles since their last expedition, and they were growing restless. Or perhaps it was some sort of cosmic intervention pointing them to this lonely planet. Regardless, they landed in what appeared to be a long-dried riverbed, evidenced by the long, branching channels resembling the rivers from their home planet.

Just when they thought they had explored enough to conclude this was in fact just another lifeless rocky planet, one of them had spotted something strange off in the distance: a lonely vessel in surprisingly good shape. This was especially peculiar, considering that everything else in this godforsaken wasteland had been scorched beyond recognition. Its pure white frame stood out against the burnt black landscape like a star in the empty night sky. Inside, they found a pristine skeleton clutching some sort of ancient recording device. They pressed play.

They ask me why I plan on sticking around this place, why I haven't jumped ship with the rest of them. I let out a sigh as I gaze off across the lifeless desertscape from the helm of my beached vessel, its dry, relentless blight siphoning every ounce of life that crosses its path.

Before me lay a boneyard.
Devoid of life.
Devoid of movement.
Devoid of soul.

I remember a time when Angels graced this planet with their delicate songs. Who shimmered and flocked by the thousands in perfect harmony like the stars above. Lighting the way through the deepest, darkest depths no man had ever laid eyes on before.

A time of mystery and wonder.
Sunken cities, lost treasures,
Fantastic Aquatic Beasts, just out of reach,
Waiting to be discovered.

I remember a time when the mighty, unforgiving sea was King. A gentle beast of immense, unrelenting power that was not to be underestimated. Whose chaotic waves upheld order and prosperity on this planet.

Gone are those days, they say.
Or so they say, at least.
For as long as I am here to tell the story,
Those days will live on.

Or maybe it was our lonely Lunar Guardian who was King. Who, with each pass, commanded the ravenous tides to devour the earth, waging war amidst the threshold between land and sea. Each pass signaling a new dawn. A new opportunity to begin again.

Maybe I stick around to pay my respects.
To watch after the throne.
Maybe I stick around to admire it all.
To bask in the absurdity.

As the years pass, my memory fades like the paint on this hull. I wipe a thick coating of dust from the windshield and ease into the captain's seat, trying to remind myself what it was like to cruise on this vessel. When we rode, not even the mighty sea could hold us back.

No land in sight for miles.
Just me, this boat, and Infinity.
What I'd do for one more ride.
One final trip to the edge of the world.

They say that our tired Stellar Guardian doesn't have much time left. I wipe the sweat off my neck as its fiery fury beats down on me. I'm seventy-three years old today. These days, it's starting to feel like neither do I.

Here I sit in the wake of its death throes.
Watching as its hellish flames grow closer.
Ever larger.
Ever hotter.

Maybe I'm old-fashioned, but I have no intentions of following the droves of those escaping. Those who plan to find a new Stellar Guardian, dooming their descendants to this same fate. No, I think I'll wait this one out as the universe intended.

Sitting here on my long-since beached vessel.
Dreaming of the days that have long since passed,
What is yet to come for those who never knew
The days before the world dried up.