The Bridge Between Two Skies

In a world that never saw night, a girl named Lyra lived beneath a sky of endless daylight. The sun never set, and the people of her world forgot what shadows looked like. They said darkness was only a myth, a story from the time before the light.

But sometimes, when Lyra stood on the cliffs at the edge of the city, she saw something strange. A shimmer in the air, like a curtain of glass rippling between winds. When she looked closely, she thought she saw another sky beyond it, darker, filled with stars.

Every evening she came to that place, waiting, watching, feeling something pull her heart toward the unseen world.

One day, as she reached out her hand to the shimmering veil, it moved. A faint sound echoed through the air, a voice that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere.

“Do you see me?” it asked.

Lyra gasped. “Who are you?”

The voice paused, soft and uncertain. “My name is Orion. I live in the world on the other side. We have no light here, only night. But I have watched your sun for so long. It shines through the cracks between our worlds.”

She took a step closer. The air between them shimmered like water touched by wind. “How can you see me?”

“Your light reaches my shadows,” he said. “I follow it.”

From that day, Lyra returned each evening. They spoke through the veil, their voices trembling across two skies. She told him about the warmth of the sun and the way the sea glowed gold at noon. He told her about constellations that never moved, and rain that whispered like forgotten dreams.

As the days passed, their voices grew closer, clearer, until one night Lyra reached through the light and felt his hand. It was cold and real. She laughed through her tears.

“Now I know you are not a dream,” she said.

“You never were,” he whispered.

But their touch made the air tremble. The two skies cracked, light and shadow mixing like storm clouds. The ground shook beneath her feet.

“You must let go,” he said. “The worlds are not meant to touch.”

“I cannot,” she said. “You are the only thing that feels real.”

“If the bridge breaks, both worlds will fall,” he warned.

Her fingers tightened around his. “Then let them fall.”

The veil shattered.

The people of Lyra’s world looked up to see the first night ever born. The sun dimmed, the stars appeared, and darkness covered the earth. On the other side, Orion’s people saw dawn for the first time, golden and blinding.

And in the middle of the two skies, where light met shadow, Lyra and Orion stood hand in hand. The wind carried their laughter through both worlds, soft and bright.

When the storm passed, the veil was gone. The two worlds had balanced themselves, day and night sharing one sky.

No one ever saw Lyra again. But at dusk, when the sun and moon shared the horizon, the sea reflected two figures walking together where the worlds once divided.

Some said it was a trick of light. Others said it was a story.

But those who stood at the cliffs and listened carefully swore they could hear two voices whispering across the wind.

“I see you.”

“And I, you.”