As the hailstorm began to subside, a faint glow emanated from within the rock structure. The air was charged with static electricity, making the hairs on their arms stand on end.
“What is that?” Ivy Mae asked, her voice trembling.
The glow grew brighter, shifting through a spectrum of colors—green, blue, purple—before settling into a blinding white light. Then, with a loud crack, the top of the formation split open, revealing a hollow interior.
From within, a plume of mist rose, carrying a sound that sent chills down their spines. It was a low, melodic hum, almost like a song.
“We need to leave,” Roman said, backing away.
But Jas didn’t move. Their gaze was fixed on the formation, eyes wide with wonder. “No… wait,” they said. “I think it’s… calling to us.”
The group froze, torn between fear and curiosity, as the humming grew louder, echoing across the landscape.
Then, suddenly—
A beam of light burst from the center, forming a radiant screen in mid-air.
Images began to flicker.
At first, grim: the bill passed, people lost homes, the streets were cold.
But then—static.
The screen glitched, the image stuttered.
A new scene emerged.
A late-night vote.
The bill fails.
Gasps in the chamber.
Angry shouts.
Trump's face twisted in fury, red with rage, fists pounding a podium.
Then—
Fireworks.
Real ones.
On city streets.
People danced.
They wept with joy.
They hugged strangers.
They sang old protest songs that hadn’t been heard in decades.
Children waved flags painted with peace signs.
Elders stood at the edges, nodding—some in disbelief, some with knowing smiles.
It was like the world had paused just long enough to breathe.
The light dimmed again.
The screen shimmered… then split in two.
One half showed the world on fire.
The other, the world reborn.
Both hovered for a moment, then vanished into mist.
The formation hummed once more, low and deep—like a heartbeat fading away.
Ivy Mae sat down hard on the wet ground, stunned.
Roman stood beside her, arms crossed, eyes locked on the empty air.
“I don’t get it,” Ivy Mae said. “Which one is real?”
Roman shook his head. “I don’t know.”
Jas placed a hand on the rock. It was warm.
“Maybe both,” they whispered. “Or maybe it’s up to us.”
The wind shifted. The sky cracked open with a ray of sunlight.
Somewhere, faintly, the humming began again—this time from within them.