By Sara Codair
She strokes a shard of blue glass. The raging ocean has worn its edges smooth and frosty. It’s like a frozen gem, reflecting light from the dying sun.
Tracing the outlines of strange symbols, she has a vision of the object’s last interaction with humanity:
A rag-clad woman slashes her wrist. Blood pours out with sorrow, transforming cracked concrete to a crimson sea.
Shuddering, she places the beach glass in her pocket. It’s a relic of the world that lived and died before her own, an artifact of the flawed beings that burned her phoenix planet.