STARLIGHT IN THE RUNS
557 Words
The train cut through the Italian countryside like a steel whisper.
Milan rose slowly on the horizon — grey skies bleeding into a city that never quite forgot how to mourn. Sarafina sat by the window, gloved hands clenched tight in her lap.
She hadn’t been back since the funeral.
Not since they scattered her mother’s ashes beneath a tree that no longer stood.
Not since the world burned down behind her.
Dante sat across from her, saying nothing. Alba rested against the glass beside him, her reflection strangely peaceful — like she belonged in places that had been abandoned.
They reached the edge of the city by nightfall.
And just beyond the forgotten tram lines and rusted gate signs, they saw it:
The observatory.
It rose like a skeleton dome against the sky. Cracked glass. Ivy climbing its flanks like veins. The doors were chained but barely hanging on. It hadn’t been touched in over a decade.
Except… it had.
---
Inside, the air was warmer than expected.
Noemi’s voice came through the comms. “Heat signature stable. Power confirmed. You’re not alone.”
Sarafina’s boots echoed down the curved halls as they passed labs covered in dust — and others swept clean.
She stopped at one door.
Painted over. But faintly, she could still see it:
> LUCIANA LUCETTI – ASTRONOMY + MEMORY CODE DEPT.
Her mother’s name.
The silence around her pulsed.
---
They entered the lab.
Everything had been preserved in secret — books stacked neatly, star maps pinned to the ceiling, a glowing projector of Saturn suspended midair. In the corner sat a small interface console — humming.
Sarafina approached it.
Dante stepped forward. “Be careful—”
She waved him off and entered the locket’s coordinates into the interface.
A small screen flickered to life.
> Welcome, Sarafina.
If you're seeing this... I’m already gone.
Her mother’s voice.
It wasn’t a recording. Not exactly.
It was a voice-stitched AI, woven with fragments of memory and code.
“I left you everything I could,” the voice continued. “Not to make you into a weapon. But to protect you from what your father couldn’t destroy.”
Sarafina’s throat tightened.
“The USB you carry holds half of Silence. The other half lives here — buried under a star chart I never finished. You must complete it. And when you do... you’ll see where the truth leads.”
The transmission ended.
A map bloomed across the wall — constellations shifting and realigning.
Dante stepped closer. “This isn’t just astronomy.”
Alba’s eyes widened. “It’s a genetic sequence. The stars are coordinates. Her memories… encoded into celestial positions.”
Noemi’s voice came through again. “Sarafina. You’re not going to believe this.”
“What?”
“There’s another Lucetti registry. Buried deep. Someone logged in using your mother’s credentials two days ago. From inside that observatory.”
Sarafina spun. “What?”
“You’re not the first to come back.”
---
Below the observatory.
A figure walked through the dark, watching them from a hidden camera.
She wore white gloves. Her hair tied in a tight braid. Her expression calm.
She looked like Sarafina.
Older.
Sharper.
Like someone who had already survived the war Sarafina was just beginning.
She smiled.
And whispered, “Soon, she’ll remember me.”
- Writer
