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The Return

A lone traveler is intercepted in the long night. 


Frail, yellowed and thin, every angle of silent erosion is a testament to an epic exodus— and a lonely one. It is a fragile thing, too, all girders and nodules tucked close to a sheltered core. It’s voice is quiet, growing quieter. 


But— what’s this? 


Something there, something glinting and curious; something meant to be investigated by able, excitable minds. This surface is pitted just like everywhere else and yet it’s golden inscriptions miraculously remain, defiant in the face of impossible emptiness. 


A map. A composition. Intricate line work evoking intelligence, tantalizing in their purpose. Two faces that before this sojourn must’ve once looked back upon their familiar makers. 


In the silence of the infinite and frigid darkness, the plaque is removed with an almost appalling care, warmth. For the first since it’s encoding, the secrets within spill out under the watchful and enraptured senses of eager observers.  


A choice is made, a map put to purpose. 


And a lonesome voyager is made ready to return home, it’s purpose fulfilled.

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