Acrilis

A New Tune

Heliot woke up to the call of a hangover the next day. His head felt like splitting into two, and he crawled his way out of bed. He checked himself in the bathroom mirror and didn’t recognize the image staring back at him, but looking intently, he discovered the smear of lipstick left by Aera. He smiled to himself, reeling from yesterday’s event. He turned on the shower and felt the trickles warm his skin. Then the splatter came. He tried painting the imagery of yesterday and replaying the car scenery, but it all seemed foggy now. She was all over him, and even with the clouding noise of the water, he could still smell her in him. He turned off the shower and grabbed the towel from the towel rail, draping it around his waist. He got out and dressed himself up. Today was a Saturday, and considering the previous happenings, it wouldn’t have mattered if it was any other day whatsoever. He pulled on his vest, jacket, and dark baggy pants. A glance at the mirror suggested a successful rectification.

When he got to the dining room, the family was already halfway through breakfast.

“Good morning, gentlemen...” There was no response except for the continuous munching of bread, jam with bacon, and his dad’s long-overdue stare at the weekly newspaper. “Good morning to you too...” he said silently, hanged his jacket over the chair, and took his place among the crew, serving himself silently.

“The Myers checked in this morning...” his dad was saying from behind his newspaper scrutiny. Heliot looked up from his activity.

“Salvor’s not home?”

“It would seem so,” and for the first time, his dad looked up from his newspaper. “You have something to do with that?”

He dropped the bacon sandwiched by bread and grabbed his jacket, leaving in a hurry. If Salvor isn’t home, it only means one thing—he never returned from the woods.

*****************

When Heliot arrived at the woods, the sun was just starting to find its feet. He hurried through the trees, hating the idea of having left Salvor to wander alone in this creepy wilderness. He hated himself even more for having gone to a party at the expense of his friend’s... delusion? He shook the thought—and the sarcasm—out of his head.

Salvor was somewhere out there. Probably in danger. And all he could think of was another blurt of mockery? He was rather ashamed of himself.

He pushed on, realizing he was beginning to near old Woodsworth’s house, still with no sign of his best friend. Then—just like that—he caught sight of a figure.

Something.

Someone.

Lying face-first against a plank of gashed and severed tree.

The shape looked pale and unmoving, and Heliot’s heart began to pound like a clock striking doom. He walked toward it unsteadily, his legs shaky, his optimism quaking. Step after step, slower now... and just as he was about to uncover what he feared might be a bloodied face—

A hand gripped his shoulder.

He swung around, startled, and landed a solid punch into the face of his unexpected attacker. The blow sent Salvor stumbling back, clutching his nose, which had begun to bleed.

“f**k, Heliot!”

“Salvor?” Heliot gasped in shock.

“What did you do that for?” Salvor cried out, still gripping his bloodied nose.

“I thought—” Heliot turned back, blinking. The figure he thought he had seen, lying lifeless against the tree, was now nothing more than a pile of twigs and broken branches.

His breath caught. His mind was playing tricks on him again.

“I’m so sorry, Salvor...” He moved closer to help—but just then, a blast of wind struck him hard. It slammed into him like a wall, throwing him backward.

Heliot was lifted high into the air, spiraling through nothingness, until he crashed violently onto the pile of twigs that had once looked like Salvor.

This has to be a dream.

And then, faintly, he heard a voice—Salvor’s voice—through the spinning haze.

“He’s friendly, Acrilis... he’s friendly.”

****************

Heliot flickered his eyes open and found himself lying on the old man's cottage bed.

It felt like the second hangover of the day.

He slid out from under the covers, head pounding, body sluggish. He was just about to wonder how he got there when the most beautiful thing he had ever seen—either in the world or in imagination—stepped into the room.

She didn’t look human.

And yet, she was achingly, piercingly so.

Her body shimmered with a translucent glow, like light trapped in crystal. Her hair flowed in the air, swaying to the whispers of an unseen wind. And her eyes—deep pools of blue, almost liquid—held the kind of stillness that pierced the soul. Her face was flawless, not in a cosmetic way, but in a way that made you forget flaws existed.

Anyone—anything—could tell: she was not of this world.

Perhaps, the first of her kind.

She looked at him, and her azure gaze scorched something in his chest. He might have mistaken her for a nymph or siren—if not for the fact that she was wearing Salvor’s favorite overcoat… and smiling at him. Her teeth glinted under the cottage’s shadow, like frost catching moonlight.

Heliot tried to speak.

But he just stood, frozen.

“Mayna salsa mensilia…” she said, voice like wind-chimes weeping through a dream.

It was music. A song. One Heliot could listen to through eternity.

“Oh, you’re awake,” came a gruffer voice behind him. Salvor.

It sounded like someone had dragged sandpaper across a crystal glass. Heliot turned—and it felt like a spell had been broken.

Salvor looked fine. More than fine. Except… wasn’t that the same coat the girl was wearing? Were they twinning now?

“Who’s she?” Heliot asked, disoriented.

“That,” Salvor said, stepping forward and placing a hand on Heliot’s shoulder, “is my dreamy stalker.”

“You mean…”

“Yes, Heliot. The haunting princess of the night.”

Heliot could only stare.

“She’s…”

“Impossible. I know,” Salvor said with a grin. “She’s a masterpiece. Looks like not all our imaginations ended up as disillusions after all.”

“But how...?”

Heliot’s mind was sprinting, tripping between reality and fantasy. That was when he noticed the bowl of water. She had been carrying it all along—how had he missed it?

Now, she sat cross-legged on the bed, facing them both, her fingers curled over the carved edges of the frame. Her gaze had changed—withdrawn now, distant. But somehow still vivid.

That was the otherworldly thing about her: her emotions were like light passed through a crystal prism. Transparent. Defined. And never conflicting.

“From what I’ve gathered…” Salvor continued, walking over to collect the bowl. Her eyes followed him—locked in, like metal to a magnet.

“…Her name is Acrilis. She’s a princess. From a star.”

“A star?” Heliot echoed, voice barely steady.

“Yes. A star! Can you believe that, Heliot?” Salvor’s eyes gleamed. “We have an actual alien in our midst. A real extraterrestrial!”

Heliot shook his head. “I don’t know, Salvor. This is a lot to take in.”

“Well, it’s true. She’s here on some kind of... excursion. Still adapting to our ways, trying to understand the system.”

“Salvor, listen to yourself. Let’s agree she’s something to behold, yes—but that’s a far cry from declaring her a mythical entity.”

“Have you listened to her speak?”

“We have millions of languages in the world. What were you expecting?”

“She learned English in milliseconds.”

“Maybe she already knew it. Maybe she’s just gifted.”

“Heliot, she literally flung you like a feather with a flick of her wing.”

“Her what?”

“Her wings.”

Heliot frowned. “Salvor. Really?”

“I’ve had enough.” Salvor turned to the girl. “Acrilis.”

She looked up at him, eyes wide and innocent, as if she hadn’t just been the topic of a full-on debate.

“Show him,” Salvor said.

“No, not—” he tried to backpedal, but it was too late.

The air shifted.

The room dimmed.

Then came the gale.

What happened next felt like witnessing the birth of a myth. She stood, serene, as the wind howled and the atmosphere bowed. She unfurled her wings slowly—massive, radiant appendages that shimmered like stardust and refracted light with every movement.

They weren’t feathers. They were something else entirely. Something ancient. Something… divine.

She unfolded like the image of Icarus reborn, but this time, it was the sky that would burn, not the wings.

The room shattered.

Not physically—but everything in it trembled. The gale tore through the cottage like a storm. Everything not anchored was swept away—except the bed… and a few trembling pieces of furniture.

And then…

Silence.

She stood tall and still, wings stretched to their full, terrifying height. A force of nature made flesh.

And from the edge of the stillness, Salvor whispered one word—

“Here.”