Magnus — 10

I love you. I love you. I love you.

The skeleton’s jaw unhinged—not in threat, but in something like a smile. magnus 10

Day six. I breached the first cavity. The drill bit burst into a cathedral of crystal—not lifeless, but organized . Pillars of astralidium rose in concentric rings, each one carved with grooves that weren’t natural. They looked like circuit boards grown from rock. And in the center, on a throne of compressed iron, sat the source of the magnetic field. I love you

Day three. The Perseverance chewed through obsidian and magnetite, its plasma-tipped bore melting a shaft into the dark. The deeper I went, the wronger everything felt. My instruments twitched. Compasses spun like dying tops. And I started hearing it—not a sound, exactly. More like a pressure behind my eyes, a whisper just below the threshold of hearing. The skeleton’s jaw unhinged—not in threat, but in

Day one started with a lie.

“How long?” I whispered.