"Then why am I here?" Elias whispered.
The being stepped closer. Elias could smell ozone and rain and something older — the dust of ancient libraries, the silence between heartbeats.
The being tilted its head. One of its eyes closed — a slow, deliberate blink.
"Then close it!" Elias shouted. His voice echoed across the silver forest, and the three moons flickered.
The world went white. When his vision cleared, Elias was no longer in his cabin. He stood at the edge of a forest he didn't recognize — the trees were silver, their leaves dripping light like liquid mercury. Above, three moons hung in a triangle, and the ground beneath his bare feet was warm, pulsing, alive.
He touched it.
And there was the visitor.
At the edge of the tree line, the visitor stood. Not moving. Not blinking. Waiting.
