Ember Snow -

Elara sat down. Not close enough to grab her, but close enough to listen. In her pocket, she felt the worn edge of her own ration card. A number. An expiration date. The Arc’s light hummed overhead, a sound like a dying refrigerator.

The tunnel opened into a vast chamber. And there, on the ceiling, were stars . Not the Arc’s synthetic glow, but pinpricks of cold, white light leaking through a thousand tiny fractures in the earth above. And drifting down from those cracks was not ember snow. ember snow

It was real snow. White. Cold. Silent. It melted on Elara’s cheek like a kiss from a ghost. Elara sat down

“It’s real,” Elara said. “I was born there.” on the ceiling