Entwined in This Infinity

6. Shooting Star - Franz

There aren’t many beings out in the universe that hang out in dead space. Kind of a no man’s land, and those rare creatures that drift in that vast black pit aren’t exactly social. They value their solitude as much as you value the meteors that come hurtling down into planets’ atmospheres – and let it be known that those shooting stars are as precious to you as the glimpses you get of the kingdoms inside the massive clouds.

And let it be known that those glimpses are held dear to your heart, or whatever organ it is that keeps you up and running around.

The creatures in the clouds, they’re the ones with hearts. They’re planet-bound creatures, unable to survive or even venture into the chilly embrace of your frigid homeland. They cower in the brief moments you appear, weeping and begging that you don’t hurt them.

They probably believe you to be some demon god come to warn them to be good little planet-bound simpletons, else you’ll rip them apart. Which is quaint, really. They honestly think you care that much.

Oh!

There it is, there’s one!

A rock hurtles past, its path curving as it is pulled into the planet’s gravitational field. You bolt to it at once, a flicker of dim energy flaring as you cut across a few million miles. Your claws hook and burrow into the pummeled surface of the stone, finding nooks and crannies to anchor onto with ease. From there, all there is to do is steer your vessel into the right neighborhood of clouds and enjoy the ride.

You lie low against the rock as it gains speed, the incredible speed you possess when you choose to race across solar systems. Leeching off its momentum is far more pleasurable than exerting your own strength to achieve it. This is magnificent, the wind tugging at your appendages in hopes you’ll be persuaded off, the whole misshapen lump of stone warming, sparking, igniting as you plunge further into the atmosphere.

It’s immensely gratifying. The meteor begins to glow and disintegrate under your grip. The heat reminds you of your childhood, lurking around suns and riding minor solar flares to see how long it took for you to be burned and driven away.

The rock is far weaker than you were back then. In a few seconds, it’s nothing but dust in your claws and you’re flying solo. Down to the clouds.

There’s nothing to breathe down here. If you do breathe, that is, or if, like your “heart,” there’s another quirky process that keeps you functioning. Whatever it is, you don’t have it down here, and it doesn’t help that the pressure is oppressive. Here, it feels like being compressed down to something three times as small. A minute too long and you’ll snap in half, you’re sure of it, you’re sure.

You dive straight into the clouds and spread your arms.

One pair, the second one down, is the lightest and strongest, and it stretches delicately out to its maximum size. It softens your breakneck pace until you buoy over a platform.

The kingdom is amazing. It has tall spires that lean at odd angles and warped stone walkways with holes that lead to a plummet further into the clouds. There are ladders and vines everywhere you look, pretty signs with scribbled writing, and all manner of objects and walls are woven from some tough, thick browned substance.

The planet-bound creatures scream, and you run out of air.

You ascend.