Written by Juan Ignacio Arias
The Dwedión star is most like the egg of a phoenix, in which four shoots grew burning in perpetuity without being born and without dying. It shines brightly, as if it were a coal made in the mould of a constellation whose design is mass-produced. The western hemisphere is covered by black gas, although stellar sailors say it is only an eternal flight of mythical breath.
Sondora is a blue, oxygenated planet and in most like the old planet Earth. But that atmospheric resemblance is a front. Vegetation grows in seas, displaced from the continental shelves in which the deserts of sand and ice coexist strangely. As its geography is erroneous and extreme, over the millennia the Sondorians have developed new materials with which they have made continents that have been superimposed over them, like a protective carpet that isolates them from the inclemency. From there they try to correct the distortion and like all, they fail, distorting until absorbing themselves with the mistaken planet .
Tagwresa is a diamond concave ball with mountain ranges of up to a thousand kilometres that do not touch the nucleus. A mini galaxy went through it leaving one entrance and one exit hole. There the sidereal winds howl and comets without peace, entangled in a permanent journey back to the shade. That is why its orbit is unstable.
Under the fascinating continents folded on ice of Enesia, there are cones of water that join the centre of the star, of asymmetric gravity. When Fidra, the star that gives life appears in the eastern region, the water retracts inward, forming an impossible sea that awakens Inanes - beings with hard eyelids and double breath. In the craters of the surface the light reveals another type of life: the invisible gods of Enesia, hidden from the eyes of the beings of the water, bathing in the radiation of a beat
All the inhabitants of the planet Burdessa live occupying a single continent of salt and tourmaline in colossal jails that can be seen from space, like seams on a patch done in haste. Their oppressors left long ago. And the locks do not work any more. But the Burdessians do not leave the cube they call home. They respect the planet and let it live its long life, incomprehensible for its ephemeral confined existences
Samán is a giant of ice, with a hole in the shape of a creature, as if in its drift it had collided with a primal being that had left its mark on the surface and remains unchanged in the abyssal bed, breathless. The Samanians, cold-blooded beings, slow thinking and screeching oracles do not reach the edge of their sea. They fear the creature, intuiting that their eyes without eyelids will wake up if someday they see a disturbance in their immutable landscape.
Pañula is not a planet. It's like a granite and nickel jellyfish supported by obsidian nozzles. Orbits at the edge of a black hole, without falling or coming apart in tiny pieces until it is no longer. The stellar navigators are guided by its presence as if it were a beacon on the edge of the abyss that on the other side is a volcano of nothing.
The moon of Sinesia is a globe in which continents resemble faces illuminated from the inside or bacteria under the lens of a microscope. Its rusty seas are the last vestige of a civilization that dreamed of reaching the edge of the galaxy in copper ships. If time and space have not swallowed them, they will be there, dripping nostalgia from their planet in strange blackness.