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You wake to your phone buzzing against your forehead.
​
From: Cyan
Subject: MEGA
Technically I still have the meteorite.
Either way, I want to help.
Meet at the Beach tonight
“Technically?” You ask out loud
You write back:
I’ll be there.
For the rest of the day you keep the coffee tin within arm’s reach.
As night falls, you fill a backpack with supplies -
you get the feeling you’ll be a while.
At sunset, you walk the long way to the beach and sit on the seawall, listening to the fragment hum through the metal.
The sky goes ink-blue. Streetlights blink alive.
​
At a quarter full, the moon feels a lot brighter than usual.
The beach is mostly empty, the only sound the hiss of the tide and the occasional gull crying out in the distance.
Near the driftwood line, a bonfire sends orange sparks into the dark.
A silhouette waits at the fire’s edge, one hand on her hip.
“Cyan?” you call.
She glances up. “That’s me.”
A sharp knife in her other hand catches your eye.
Your step stalls. “Hey. I, uh—”
“So how do you know Xeno?” she interrupts, eyes narrowing.
“We grew up together. He used to live right around here.”
Her suspicion eases. She nods.
​
You open the coffee tin,
the glow spills faintly as the melody leaks into the night.
You tell her about the crater, the fragments and MEGA.
“So what happened to your fragment”? You ask
She flips her knife point-up in one sudden, casual motion,
holding it inches from your face.
“WOAH—hey!” You stumble back, hands up.
Cyan laughs. “Relax!”
“You carved the meteorite into a knife?” You take a closer look.
It’s got the same subtle iridescent glow as your fragment, but intricately carved with sharp grooves like channels that guide and reflect the light.
​
“Why not?” she says. “It was a cool rock. Now it’s a cool knife.”
​
She offers it to you, handle first.
The moment you hold it, a faint melody rises from the blade.
Not the same as your fragment’s song - similar, but darker, edged with something almost menacing.
Cyan studies you, nodding “Beautiful, isn’t it.”
​
The fire cracks. The ocean breathes.
You realize you’ve both turned to look at the moon at the same time.
“So,” she says, “third fragment?”
“Third—there’s a third?” You ask
“Of course.” She kicks a charred log. Sparks scatter, then fade.
“They’ve been falling for weeks. Could be 15 by now! This one’s in an abandoned radio observatory in the forest outside the city. I’ve had a pin on it for a while… you’re down to do this, right? I mean, I thought thats why—”
“That’s near the hyper train maintenance station.” You confirm
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“Exactly.” She dumps a handful of wet sand on the fire.
Steam rolls across your shins.
“If we’re careful, we’ll be there by dawn.”
You shoulder your backpack.
The tin thumps against your spine like a second heartbeat.
​
Cyan gestures toward the dark trail climbing the bluff.
“Let’s move,” she says, already walking.
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