Elias closed his lantern. The sky was a little darker, but the stars were safe. He turned back toward the frozen belt, waiting for the next spark to grow too bright.
Elias did not carry an axe, but a heavy, light-drinking lantern and a pair of shears forged from the core of a collapsed moon. In the celestial archives, he was known as the Exécuteur de comète . His job was simple: he was the one who decided when a comet’s journey was over.
"You’ve seen enough," Elias whispered. He didn't feel joy in the task, only a quiet reverence.
Elias stepped into the vacuum, his boots finding purchase on the invisible ley lines of gravity. He reached the comet in a heartbeat. It was a jagged mountain of cobalt ice, screaming in a frequency only he could hear.