The giant looms below. Red gasses whorl. Haloed by the light of the local star, the bright horizon makes its startling arc across the blackness of space.
In the station, a woman kneels before a bowl into which she pours red wax from a lit candle. Strange symbols dot the perimeter of the circle of salt that surrounds her. The lights of the observation deck are off and the shadows of the consols flicker in the light of dozens of candles.
A soft lullaby escapes her lips, so quiet you’d have to lean in close to hear its ancient words.
She sets the candle aside and picks up the bowl, filled with cooling wax. She pours it over the bundled effigy of herbs before her, weaved around a sparkling chunk of meteorite. As the wax slips into the tiny alcoves that mark the exterior of the small rock, she begins to gently chant.
The planet watches. Something within its crimson tides, agitated by the distant call, begins to stir.
Paddy Dobson
13th January 2021