23/05/2026
Happy Saturday! Sharing one of my short stories. “When the storm broke, she found more than a silver rock. She found a secret the heavens should have kept.”
ECHOES OF A FALLEN STAR
Julia Splendor clutched the trembling silver rock, its glow pulsing like a trapped heartbeat. She had found it on the beach that morning, its strange gleam calling to her through the mist. The moment she touched it, visions had crashed through her mind; falling stars, burning skies, a world cracking open. She should have left it there. She knew that now.
The storm outside her cottage at Skrinkle Haven had grown vicious, the sea hurling itself against the cliffs as if trying to warn her. Rain hammered the window in a relentless, frantic rhythm. Then, without reason, the curtain of rain split open, revealing a corridor of mist stretching toward the horizon. The air stilled. The world held its breath.
That’s when the figure appeared.
He emerged from the storm like a blade drawn from darkness. His wings unfurling in a violent sweep that sent droplets spiraling. His silhouette towered against the lightning‑lit sky, each flash revealing more of him: armor etched with ancient symbols, eyes burning with a cold, celestial fire. Julia’s breath snagged in her throat. No amount of wine could conjure something like this.
The Seraph descended with a force that rattled her windows. When he landed, the earth itself seemed to recoil. Her grip tightened around the restless rock, but it offered no comfort, only a deeper tremor.
He beckoned her, but there was nothing gentle in the gesture. His expression was carved from authority, not compassion. She hesitated at the threshold, instinct screaming that stepping outside meant surrendering more than the stone.
She didn’t get the chance to decide.
The front door blasted open, slamming against the wall. The Seraph strode inside, wings folding with a sharp, metallic rustle. His presence filled the room, swallowing the space around her. A defiant glint flashed in his eyes, ancient, unyielding, and far too knowing.
Julia swallowed. “Do you want a resolution,” she whispered, barely audible. His gaze snapped to the silver rock.
“Julia,” he said, voice resonant and edged with thunder, “I may be ancient, but I am not senile.”
Outside, the storm roared in agreement. Strange flute‑like tones drifted through the air, mingling with distant, haunting voices. Her pulse hammered.
The rock vibrated violently, then tore itself from her hands with brutal force. It shot across the room and landed in the Seraph’s palm as if it had always belonged there.
“That’s better,” he said, though his grin held no warmth, only triumph.
Julia’s knees weakened. She understood then: she had never stood a chance against the guardian of the stone. The moment its power awakened, her fate had been sealed.
“The world isn’t ready,” the Seraph said, his voice softening but never losing its edge. “I dropped it from the heavens by mistake. And for that, I apologize. But you cannot keep it. Its power is immortal… and catastrophic.”
He stepped back into the storm. The rain eased instantly, as if obeying him. The sky cleared in a single sweep of light. Julia watched him vanish into the mist, her heart heavy with dread.
What would become of Earth now? Would it be saved, or judged?
Far away, Roderick closed the book with a thoughtful sigh and poured himself a glass of red wine.
“Shall we ever know what mysteries lie beyond the horizon of our own knowledge,” he murmured.
