Isolde blinked at the apparition that was now speaking to her in flickers of movement and light.
“What are you?” she asked. “And how is it that you’re here but not really here?”
“I’m a cosmic researcher,” Zethar said. “I’ve been studying energetic portals my entire career, and if my atmospheric readings are correct, I believe what we’re experiencing is a kind of rare dimensional anomaly.”
“I’m afraid I still don’t follow,” Isolde said.
She sensed from the sound of the apparition’s voice that whatever he was describing was profoundly significant to him. He didn’t seem afraid at all, but rather excited at the possibility.
“What is the name of your planet?” Zethar asked.
“I live on Veth,” Isolde said.
“And this is a living planet?”
“Yes. There are nearly a thousand in the Cerulean Spiral galaxy. Do you really mean to tell me you’re not from this galaxy?”
“I am neither from, nor in, any Cerulean Spiral galaxy,” Zethar said. “In fact, I’ve never heard of it.”
“And where you’re from,” Isolde asked, “There are no living planets?”
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“There are some. But they’re rare and very far apart. It can take revolutions to travel between them.”
“That sounds lonely,” she said.
“It can be,” he said.
The air wavered between them, fractured like ripples on water. For a heartbeat, they were nothing more than faint outlines; light bodies flickering in and out of focus. The portal hummed with a low, static charge as if the very fabric of the universe was straining to hold them both in place.
“What’s happening now?” Isolde said.
“The portal,” Zethar said, looking down at the numbers on his energy reading meter, which were beginning to plummet. “I think it’s closing.”
“Will I see you again?” Isolde asked, her voice tight as her hand reached unconsciously toward him, then stopped, trembling.
“I’m not sure,” came the faint reply.
The apparition’s light dissipated, leaving Isolde with only the sound of the ocean curling and retreating over the shoreline in a steady rhythm.
“I’ll come back this time tomorrow,” she called out into the darkness.