Echoes in the Green

Roger Wilco, two-burning-steps on Xenon, squinted at the horizon. "Never seen anything like it," he whispered, awed by the shimmering landscapes stretching beyond. His boots crunched against brilliant emerald sands as he strode forward.

"Stay sharp, Roger," he muttered to himself. The planet was alive with color, pulsating in hues that would almost make Earth's rainbows seem dull.

Suddenly, something peculiar caught his eye—a faint glimmer from a rock half-buried under the sand. Intrigued, he knelt down, brushing it aside gently with his fingers. A green crayon lay revealed, ancient yet remarkably pristine.

"A crayon? Here?" His surprise danced in his eyes as he pocketed it.

Echoes in the Sand

Two Xenon suns lasered down on Roger, warm yet comforting as he marveled at the crayon now clutched in his hand. Remembering stories from Earth about magical colors and ancient arts, his mind raced with possibilities.

Something rumbled behind him—a pair of slender figures emerged from the verdant mists. Alien in appearance, with translucent greenish skin, they glided gracefully. "Who are you?" called out Roger, his voice steady but curious.

"Orlek and Farla," one replied, nodding towards the other as introductions were made. "We guard the Recollection Sands," Orlek said with a glimmer in their eye.

Roger glanced at the sand, then back at the crayon. Feeling a sudden connection, as though missing pieces were assembling. "This crayon," he started, "do you know its story?"

Farla sighed, brushing a delicate hand over the peculiar sand. "It holds many secrets, young cadet... but what matters are the stories that must be revealed by those who truly wish peace."