The Sky is Alive

A first-contact flash story from the Expansion Era - The Transcendent Chronicles

I remember the first time they came.

I was wrapping up the harvest when the sky suddenly burst into flames, changing from purple to pure white in a blinding second. It was as if a third Twin Sun had been born, one much closer and brighter than Zaphos and Zukhos. When my eyes got used to the dim light of the Second Dusk again, the Silver Gods were already there.

At least, that's what they seemed to me, with their silver bodies, rainbow-colored faces, and golden eyes. They looked like us, but not exactly. They were taller, lighter, but also stronger, faster, better in every sense. Except one.

They spoke in a weird language you could almost understand but with strange noises and uncomfortable rhythm. They knew all the plants and the animals, although they had different names for them.

And they seemed to know it all.

I brought them to our home, to our people, and we gave them everything we could offer to Silver Gods, our best songs, our finest dishes. We are simple people, you see, but we have our ways.

They tried our food, not before asking their strange lightning rocks to make sure, I suppose, that the food was up to their divine standards. And they liked it, or at least so they told us, maybe in an attempt to make us feel less insignificant in their presence.

One night, not long after their arrival, one of the Silver Gods fell ill. She —I suppose it was a she, given the faint curves of her body and the light softness of her face— fought the Fever for a couple of nights, but neither of their lightning rocks could help her.

We gave her the burial of kings. We sang our most sorrowful songs in her name. And the Silver Gods cried, or so it seemed, for their faces were always difficult to read for us. Similar, but not quite the same.

One by one, the Silver Gods succumbed to the Fever. The last of them, minutes before his demise, spoke to me in a rush. He told me they were not Gods but men and women like us. He told me there were many more like us out there, living in rocks hurling around other stars —for stars, he said, were also Suns, just like the Twins.

He said they had been watching us for a long time, from above the sky, learning everything about us, our food, our language, before deciding to pay a visit. The sky is alive, he said, with his final breath.

And then I understood. They knew almost everything, but not all.

Days earlier, the Shadow Scarabs had left their burrows, for the first time since the last Conjuntion of the Twins, to come above ground to fight, mate, and die. Their eggs were recently collected, in preparation for the Agony Ritual. Our finest warriors already awaiting the Agony, hoping to be among the chosen few to survive the Fever and be granted the Strength of the Shadow Scarab.

The Silver Gods had arrived right after the Harvest. Of course, we gave them our finest dish. They were the Gods themselves, so they would certainly appreciate a dish made from other Gods.

It turns out, they weren't Gods after all.

They were men and women, stronger, faster, better in almost every sense. They knew almost everything, but they didn't know it all.

Now we know. We know they're out there. They, and others like them. We know one day they'll come. And when they do, we'll be waiting.

We are simple people, you see. But we have our ways.

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This is my first attempt at writing flash fiction, inspired by a prompt from

radicaledward

. Let me know if you like it!

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