Echoes of the Aurora

The skies were alive with ribbons of color, twisting like silk threads in hues of green, purple, and blue. Sasha adjusted her thermal suit as she stepped out of the shuttle and onto the frozen crust of Proxima B. The air was biting, but she barely noticed. Her eyes were fixed on the brilliant aurora above, an atmospheric phenomenon they hadn’t expected on this barren exoplanet.

“Can you believe it?” her voice crackled through the communicator as she reached the edge of a towering, icy cliff. She took a deep breath, tasting the chill through her mask. “It’s like the sky is singing.”

Her partner, Jonas, climbed down from the shuttle, shivering despite the suit. “Not bad for a planet with no real life,” he muttered, casting a wary eye at the landscape. “Still… it doesn’t make sense, right? We shouldn’t be seeing an aurora. No magnetic poles. No solar winds.”

Sasha shrugged. “Maybe there’s more to this place than Command knows.”

“Command is wrong about a lot of things,” Jonas replied. He scanned the icy valley below, which glittered under the spectral lights. “But whatever it is, let’s collect our samples and get back. This place gives me the creeps.”

Ignoring him, Sasha took a step forward. She was entranced, captivated by the strange dance above. “Jonas, I swear it’s like they’re calling to us.”

“They?”

“The lights. They feel… alive.” She chuckled, hearing how absurd she sounded. But something in the air was different, tangible even, like a hum vibrating in her bones. “Do you feel that?”

Jonas sighed. “What I feel is freezing cold. And I’m worried about—”

Before he could finish, the ground beneath them quaked slightly, and a low, resonant sound, like a distant choir, filled the air.

Sasha’s eyes widened. “Did you hear that?”

“Yeah,” he said, his voice hushed. “Maybe we should—”

But she was already moving forward, her boots crunching through the snow, drawn by the strange, haunting melody. “This is incredible… it’s like the lights themselves are making the sound.”

Jonas caught up, grabbing her arm. “Sasha, wait. We don’t know what’s down there.”

She stopped, but her gaze never left the aurora. “What if this isn’t just an aurora? What if it’s some form of… intelligence?”

Jonas sighed but didn’t argue. They continued down the slope, their path illuminated by the shifting lights. The closer they got, the stronger the vibrations grew, echoing deep within them.

As they reached the valley floor, the lights overhead began to descend, swirling lower until they were just above their heads, forming a glowing dome around them. The colors pulsed, and the hum grew louder, more distinct—no longer just a sound, but words, ancient and unfamiliar.

Sasha’s heart raced. “Do you hear that, Jonas? They’re… speaking to us.”

He nodded, transfixed. “It’s like… they’re asking something.”

Sasha closed her eyes, letting the hum resonate through her. Then, just as suddenly as it had started, the lights retreated, rising back into the heavens. Silence fell, leaving them alone once more.

After a long pause, Jonas broke the quiet. “What… just happened?”

Sasha took a deep breath, feeling an inexplicable peace. “I think we just met the soul of this world.”

In the shuttle on their way back to the base, they watched the aurora fade behind them, its echoes lingering in their minds. Proxima B wasn’t barren, after all. It was waiting—for someone to listen.