Inferno Rising
The creature emerged first as a shadow, rippling in the infernal glow of the molten copper veins. It didn’t so much rise as it unfolded, its grotesque form distorting the human conception of logic. Its translucent exoskeleton shimmered like fractured glass, and a thousand eyes peered out from pulsating, luminescent orbs buried within jagged cavities. A being of pure, unfathomable heat, it had languished beneath the planet for eons, a remnant of Persephonica's scorching adolescence when magma seas boiled beneath its crust. No longer dormant, the Herald of Ancient Fire had awoken.
Ishtar’s green eyes narrowed, wiping sweat from her charcoal-smudged cheek. It wasn’t fear that tensed her sinewy arms but something deeper: regret, anger, resolve. Around her, screams pierced the sulfurous air as miners scrambled for cover, abandoning their massive digger automatons and scurrying across the disjointed scaffolding that jutted from the bone-dry walls of the mine. Tonja, her closest confidante and second-in-command, called out from the ridge above.
“Ishtar! We have to fall back! The evac ships are prepping!” Tonja was smaller than Ishtar but no less fierce, her bright auburn hair dyed and chopped to sharp angles that broadcast her brash personality. She wore a pressurized jumpsuit suited to Persephonica’s thin atmosphere, patches of dirt worn into its brilliant orange fabric.
Ishtar didn’t respond. She scanned the ridge of the crater, her thoughts straining away from the chaos and focusing instead on the radiant entity that loomed before her. It wasn’t just heat that radiated from the creature; it was something primal, something that bent the air in waves of palpable fury. The mining drills—they were its trespassers. And now she stood at the precipice of this devastation, fighting the urge to turn away.
The Catalyst in the Deep
This wasn’t how it all began. Ishtar had seen the warning signs six months earlier: distorted seismic readings beneath Grid Sector Gamma; thermal surges spiking beyond human comprehension. She tried to notify the heads of mining corporations who orbited above Persephonica in lavish space stations. “We’re stretching the vein too far,” she’d argued. “We need to stop mining before the crust fractures.” But no, copper extractions fed the Trans-Luminal Colonies; Persephonica’s worth extended far beyond the meager concerns of its workers scraping by on terraformed plains.
She had been dismissed as hysterical, “too attached to the soil.” Perhaps they were right to shrug. No one believed in old ghost stories anymore—not the architects of humanity’s march into the stars. But the ghost had risen. It was here now, and she felt its fiery breath.
Between the Flame and the Void
The firefight erupted before Ishtar could snap into action. Tonja shouted somewhere above her, directing frantic workers to haul modified plasma torches toward the crystalline hide of the monstrosity. Ishtar threw herself backward as a blast of searing molten rock cut through one of the mine’s suspended platforms like paper, sizzling into slag. Amidst the din, she found a cryopress rifle—standard issue for mining expeditions. Smaller than the armaments employed by the abandoned security drones, yet deadly in the right hands.
Ishtar shouldered the weapon. Her fingers, calloused from years of labor, clenched against its triggering assembly. Despite its crystalline defenses, the Herald of Ancient Fire had made its fatal flaw. It was moving upwards, nearing the surface layers of Persephonica’s crust. The heat shields orbiting the colony—not built for military invasions but rigged with enough precision to regulate temperature for entire colonies—were her gambit.
“Tonja!” Her voice cut through the cacophony. Her friend hesitated before locking eyes with her, her freckled cheeks streaked with soot.
“What’s your insane plan this time?” Tonja bellowed, but Ishtar saw the sliver of hope in her voice.
“We’re taking this thing into the open. If we can brute force it far enough into the stratosphere, we can hit the thermal overcharge switch on Shield Array 6 Beta and blast it into oblivion. It’s the only way!”
Tonja blinked, glanced nervously at the survivors clustering along the catwalks. “If we don’t die before it gets there…” Then she grinned, teeth bared. “Gods, I knew working with you was trouble.”
The Final Reckoning
It took all of ten minutes, but anyone who survived would remember it as eternity. Ishtar led the survivors masterfully—not with orders barked but with movements so driven, so precise, that they instinctively followed her. Those who remained locked onto its flank, lancing barrage after barrage of freezing cryogenics into its superheated core until its ascending form billowed with plumes of silicate vapor.
Tonja and Ishtar dragged the last remaining power drone into position above the crater well, siphoning bypassed fuel cells to kickstart Shield Array 6 Beta’s orbital targeting system. As the creature twisted its impossible body skyward, a final plasma blast erupted from Tonja’s sidearm. This wasn’t just survival—it was rebellion against everything this corporate nightmare represented.
Moments later, the searing pulse of ionized detonation tore through the creature, its form fracturing into a million incandescent shards that burned bright before turning to ash within Persephonica’s thin atmosphere. The skies were quiet once more, spattered with copper-red dust. Persephonica endured.
Epilogue: The Sparks Remain
Days later, amidst the scorched remains of the mine, Ishtar stood silent. Her once-elegant tunic was now entirely unrecognizable, clamped beneath the heavy reinforced plating of recovery gear. The survivors had been evacuated to the orbital station, their futures uncertain in a galaxy forever hungry for resources. Tonja watched her silently, leaning against melted rubble in exhaustion.
“Do you think this will finally wake them up?” Tonja asked.
Ishtar stared quietly at the endless tunnels spiraling into the planet’s core. For all her strength, for all her resolve, she knew: nothing stopped the hunger. Not for long.
“No,” she said softly. “But for now, we’re alive. And that’s enough. For now.”
She turned away, the embers catching faintly in her emerald eyes—eyes burning brighter than the stars.
The fire was quenched, but humanity’s greed still smoldered. Somewhere deep below, another ancient spark awaited the reckless daring of humankind.
The Source...check out the great article that inspired this amazing short story: Chile: Economic Progress, Wealth, and Despair
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