Earth Angel

I heard my name first.

Soft. Familiar. Like it had been whispered through a lifetime.

My body stirred against something rough. Carpet. Not sand, not metal, but the scratch of the old rug I used to wake up on every morning. My eyes snapped open.

No desert. No worm. No chaos.

Just… home. I was back home.

I shot upright so fast my head spun. The peeling wallpaper by the door, the crooked picture frames that Eli never bothered to fix—it was all there.

How am I back home? The last think I remember is Sylvaine being—

“Fred there’s someone there…” A voice came from down the hall.

From the living room, something was playing. A faint crunching sound followed by laughter. I froze, my breath caught halfway in my throat. Could it be—

Slowly, like turning toward a ghost, I peered around the corner.

“Good morning, Juno.”

She was sitting exactly where Eli used to sit, her long golden hair spilling over her shoulders, laptop balanced on her knees. Autumna.

“I was looking through your memories,” she said casually, “and I found a fascinating delicacy.” 

She gestured toward a glass bowl on the table. Steam curled from it, butter glistening.

“You call this,” she lifted a piece between her fingers, “the popping of the corn?”

I stood there, my body locked up, unable to move.

“Why… why are we here?” 

My voice was flat, cracking at the edges. I wasn’t sure if I wanted the answer.

She tilted her head, eyes softening just slightly.

 “Aw… poor thing.” 

She patted the empty spot beside her.   “Sit down.”

I walked over, every step heavy, like wading through years I’d never get back. The couch dipped under me as I sat beside her.

On the table, his old laptop sat open, a horror movie paused on-screen. A scene I knew all too well—Eli’s favorite, my worst nightmare.

The dialogue bled from the tinny speakers:

“Don’t go in there… don’t—”

A scream. Static. Silence.

Autumna shifted uncomfortably beside me, her perfect composure cracking as the screen flickered.

Then a monster lunged at the screen, a jumpscare.

She yelped, hands flying to my arm, burying her face against it.

I didn’t flinch. My eyes weren’t on the screen anymore—they were tracing the room, every corner, every speck of dust. My throat tightened.

“You… you cleaned this place.” 

The words came out like a heavy exhale, there wasn’t any dust in sight, nor were there crumbs entangled in the rug.

She pulled back, clicking the spacebar. The movie froze mid-frame. “Of course I did,” she said with a small, knowing smile. 

“It’s hardly fit for a god to linger in such disarray. I made do with what I had.”

“How are we—” I started, but the words stuck like sandpaper in my mouth.

She folded her legs under her, growing almost childlike as she spoke. “Once, long ago, my power came from the faith of believers.”

 She lifted a finger, twirling it around in the air as she continued, “Their prayers were my lifeblood. But now…” She tapped her temple lightly.

 “…now, I have none.”

A thread of gold unfurled from her finger as she pulled it away from her head—a delicate, glowing strand that hummed softly in the still air. She flicked it toward a cabinet in the corner, where we usually stored our unused cords.

In a shimmer of light, the cabinet twisted, wood stretching and blooming into a cherry blossom tree. Petals drifted soundlessly onto the carpet… and onto my lap.

I stared, breathless.

“I can do this as well,” she whispered.

Before I could react, her finger pressed to my temple.

A sharp, burning sensation ignited behind my eyes. Like fire that didn’t destroy but hollowed out space inside me. 

I clenched my jaw as a golden string drew out of me, swaying between her fingers like a strand of sunlight.

She twirled it once, then pressed it into the laptop’s screen. A ripple of gold washed through it. The device went dark.

The laptop flickered.

And then there we were. There I was.

Not desert-scoured, not bloodied, not broken—just kids again, right here on this same rug. Eli’s hair stuck up in every direction, his too-big T-shirt sliding off one shoulder as he dangled the remote just out of my reach.

“Give it here.” younger me barked, crawling after him.

Eli let out that laugh, the sharp, squeaky one that always made me join in whether I wanted to or not. “You’re too slow, Juno! You’ll never catch me!”

I lunged. He shrieked and scrambled backward, knocking over a half-empty soda can. It rolled under the coffee table with a soft ting.

“Mom’s gonna kill you for spilling that,” I said, diving again. My younger self’s voice cracked mid-sentence.

“Only if you tattle!” Eli squealed, kicking his legs wildly as I finally caught his ankle and dragged him closer.

“Gotcha now!”

He tried twisting away, giggling, but I tackled him down onto the carpet. For a moment, both of us just laid there, breathless and laughing, his tiny hands pushing weakly at my chest.

“I hate you,” Eli said between wheezes, but the grin on his face said otherwise.

I couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. My hands just gripped my knees, frozen, as if touching anything else would shatter the moment.

Autumna leaned in closer, her voice a whisper.

“Do you miss it?”

My lips trembled. My eyes stayed locked on the screen, my throat tight.

“…Yeah.”

The word came out broken, like it had been stuck inside me for years.

Silently she closed the laptop and rose. 

Her golden hair dim under the pale light of the living room. For a moment, she tried to hold her usual composure, the quiet grace of a god.

But it cracked.

Piece by piece, until all that was left was raw vulnerability.

Her voice was quiet at first, almost breaking.

“I know a way to take you back,” she said.

The words punched the air out of his lungs. Juno opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

Home. 

The word alone was enough to make his heart seize. 

His throat burned, his fingers curling against his knees like he needed something to hold onto before he fell apart.

She stepping closer to him, her hand hovering like she was afraid to touch.

 “To your brother… to the world you still dream about when you think no one’s watching.” She bit down on her lip, her breath shaking as her chest rose and fell.

“But if you go… if you leave me here…”

Then he saw it.

Her voice shattered, and suddenly she was down on her knees before I could react, clutching my hands with both of hers like they were her last lifeline.

“…I’ll disappear.” The confession spilled out of her, raw and jagged.

“I’ve wandered this world for ages… without warmth, without color, without a single voice calling my name. Do you know what that feels like, Juno? To exist and yet never live? To watch the horizon a thousand times over and know no one is coming?”

Her tears hit the rug, soaking into the fibers. She leaned forward, resting her forehead against my knees, gripping my hands tighter as if I might vanish too.

“But when I found you… when you dragged yourself through the sand, when you looked at me.”

“You didn’t look at me as a god, but just me, for the first time in so long… I felt alive again.”

She lifted her head slowly, golden eyes wet and glistening, searching my face as if it held salvation.

“I don’t want to lose that. I don’t want to lose you.” Her voice cracked again, pleading, “Please… don’t go back alone. Take me with you. Let me see your world. Let me… let me stay by your side.”

Her grip on me tightened, almost desperate.

“Be the first to believe in me… not as a god, not as some relic of a forgotten faith, but as Autumna. Just… me.”

She inched closer, her breath trembling as it brushed against my knuckles.

“I believe in you… so believe in me, I believe that you can deliver me from this place.”

I sat there frozen, her words sinking into me like weighted chains, unable to look away from the breaking, aching god on her knees before me. Her words shattered me. Every tear that slid down her cheek felt like it was carving into my chest. 

Her hands trembled in mine, warm and fragile, and for a moment, I just… stared.

“I’m not leaving you here,” I whispered, breath uneven. “Disappearing something I wouldn’t want for anyone, especially someone like you. We’re going home… both of us.”

The words burned coming out, my chest heaving, but once I said them, I couldn’t stop.

“Every night… I see him,” I confessed, my lips shaking. 

“My brother’s face… I promised I’d come back for him.” 

My vision blurred, I blinked hard, refusing to let it spill over. “So now… I’m making another promise. I’ll bring us both home. You hear me? I swear it.”

Autumna’s breath caught. Her wet lashes lifted toward me, disbelief and something softer tangled in her expression. I lifted our joined hands and pressed my forehead to hers.

“No gods, no worms, no desert hell is strong enough to stop me,” I whispered fiercely, voice raw. 

“So if you believe in me… then I’ll believe in you.”

The moment I said it, something stirred—an almost imperceptible hum, low and warm. I grabbed her hand, and golden light began to seep from where I touch d her. It wasn’t blinding, but alive, curling upward like fireflies against the air. It wrapped around our hands and climbed our arms, light as a feather but unbreakable.

I didn’t know if it was magic, or divine, or just us, but for the first time since I landed in this world, I wasn’t alone anymore.

Meanwhile…

Far below Solaris’s neon skyline, G sector was a different world entirely, metal stacked on metal, patched-together shacks connected by dangling bridges and rusted staircases. Narrow alleys twisted like veins through the undercity, lit only by weak bulbs strung on sagging cables. Water dripped somewhere in the dark, echoing over graffiti-stained walls, while vents exhaled warm air that smelled faintly of oil and dust.

Inside Cassian’s home, the quiet hum of old fans filled the spacious but cluttered workshop. Tools hung from every wall, parts of broken V2s scattered across benches. Against the far corner, the robot stirred in the chair where Cassian had patched it up, crude metal braces running along its leg.

SYSTEMS ONLINE…

Helix Dustranium Cell: ACTIVE…

Threat redirected… 

Adjusting parameters…

Its optics glowed to life. It looked down its leg moved stiffly but held. The core pulsed steadily in its chest, humming like a second heartbeat. Rising from the chair, it accidentally nudged a glove from a nearby shelf. The glove clattered to the ground, skidding across the floor toward the couch.

From under a patchwork blanket, Rilke stirred, eyes still half-shut. She raised a hand lazily, and the glove zipped into her palm with a soft whoosh, clicking snugly as purple light flared briefly across its seams.

Cassian shuffled out of his room, boots unlaced, rubbing sleep from his eyes. His brown coat hung open, a cigarette unlit in his mouth. “What the hell’s with all the noise?” he rasped. 

“Thought my welding job would’ve held you down for another day.”

The robot straightened fully, joints clicking. “Threat detected,” it said flatly, voice resonant in the small space.

 “Forty miles… above.”

Cassian froze mid-step, tipping his hat back. “Forty miles? That’s… A sector. What in the hell’s up there?”

The robot didn’t answer. Instead, it reached into its chest, removing the glowing diamond. But this time, it unfolded segments rotating outward, forming a floating, double-helix construct that emitted a deep, pulsing hum. Tools on the nearby bench rattled, and Cassian’s cigarette fell from his lips, landing silently on the floor.

“That little thing…” Cassian’s voice cracked. “That was the whole damn engine…”

The robot turned its glowing optics toward him. “Do not be alarmed,” it said. “I will not recreate the event that destroyed this world. I will use it… to save us all.”

Rilke sat up fully now, the faint glow of her hand casting soft light. “What the hell are you two even talking about?”

Cassian swallowed hard, face pale. “That thing… that’s the object that burned this world clean. It’s Eddy…”

Rilke blinked. “You mean the story about how there used to be… trees? Oceans? That’s the thing that created the desert?”

The robot’s head tilted slightly. “You call it Eddy. Surprising… you know its lab name.”

Cassian shifted his weight, jaw tightening.

“Perhaps,” the robot continued, “you were one of the scientists who studied it centuries ago?”

A faint whir came from its sensors as it scanned Cassian’s face. Cass swore under his breath, yanking his hat down to block the scan.

“Just leave,” he muttered, voice sharp.

The robot paused. Then, with mechanical precision, it touched the helix. The construct collapsed instantly back into its compact diamond form, clicking softly in its palm. Cassian’s breath hitched.

“You… you’ve learned how to control it?” he said, barely above a whisper.

Silence. The robot turned away and walked toward the exit. As it passed, Cass instinctively took a step back, watching the metallic frame disappear into the maze of G sector alleys.

Rilke stood now, glove still glowing.

“Want me to stop him?” she asked, lifting her hand. With a sharp snap of her fingers, a glove shot out from the cluttered workshop, slicing through the stale air. It spun once before latching perfectly onto her hand, sealing with a soft hiss. Burgundy light bled from the seams, crawling up her arm like liquid fire.

“NO—” Cassian barked, grabbing her wrist before she could move, he winced as the glove burned his hand.

“Not yet.” His usual drawl was gone, replaced by a gravelly edge. 

“I need to tell you what that thing really is… before we do anything stupid.”

The sound of the robot’s heavy footsteps faded, leaving only the hum of flickering lights and the distant hiss of steam vents.

“I need to tell you how it truly started.”