Amazing Plannet

In a distant corner of the multiverse, where time ticked not by hours but by the bloom of cosmic orchids, there existed a planet unlike any other. Its name, as pronounced by the native tongues of the whispering trees, was Plannet. Not "Planet" as humans might spell it, but Plannet—a deliberate name, as if fate had woven it twice into the fabric of reality, a double thread of destiny and design.

Plannet was not found in any star chart, nor could it be glimpsed through the most powerful of telescopes. It lived in a fold of the universe known as the Verdant Drift—a realm where the laws of physics took long vacations, and dreams mingled with atoms.

The surface of Plannet shimmered with endless hues, ever-shifting like liquid stained glass. Its oceans were not of water but of memory—vast, rippling fields of thought and history. Sailors who dared to venture upon them returned speaking languages they had never learned, recounting lifetimes they had never lived. Some returned with eyes that glowed like suns, some with voices that carried the wind of forgotten songs.

Above these oceans floated skylands—immense, levitating continents teeming with life. Each skyland was its own biome, a self-contained wonder. One was a jungle so dense with foliage that light never reached the ground, and the plants glowed with bioluminescent runes. Another was a desert of crystalline sands that sang in the wind, and where the cacti whispered prophecies to those who would listen.

The creatures of Plannet were equally extraordinary. There were glass-winged drakens that flew through thunderclouds, absorbing lightning and releasing it as lullabies. There were sentient puddles called Muris, who could mimic any shape and shared their memories through touch. And then there were the Korvalans, the caretakers of Plannet—tall, graceful beings with translucent skin revealing constellations that moved beneath like living tattoos. The Korvalans did not speak aloud; instead, they communicated through harmonic pulses in the air, shaping music into meaning.

Every cycle—a period equivalent to a year on Earth—Plannet chose a visitor from another world. No one knew how the selection happened, only that it did. These visitors were not always explorers or scientists. Often, they were dreamers, wanderers, artists, and sometimes, those whose lives had unraveled at the seams.

This cycle, the visitor was a young woman named Lyra Calder.

Lyra had been many things in her twenty-nine Earth years: a student of astrophysics, a violinist, a skydiver, and most recently, someone running from heartbreak. She had lost her partner to a sudden illness, and with that, her passion for everything she had once loved seemed to drain away. Grief hung around her like an overcoat, heavy and soaked from a storm that would not end.

One night, as she lay awake under the glow of her planetarium projector, a soft note filled the air—a sound unlike any she had heard. It was a harmony, neither major nor minor, and it seemed to reach into her heart, pull her gently. Then came the light—a pulsing sphere of teal and silver that appeared in the center of her room. Without thought, she stood and walked into it.

She awoke on Plannet.

The air was warm, charged with a kind of magic that tingled on her skin. She was lying in a meadow of bluegrass, and above her floated three moons in a violet sky, dancing in rhythm like old friends sharing secrets. A Korvalan stood nearby, its gaze calm, its arms stretched out in a greeting. The stars in its skin pulsed a welcome.

Lyra blinked. “Where... am I?”

“You are on Plannet,” came the reply—not in words, but in a melody that played inside her mind, clear and gentle.

Thus began her journey.

The Korvalans taught her how to listen—not with ears, but with presence. They took her to the Memory Ocean, where she learned to sail upon her own dreams and regrets. In one voyage, she relived the moment she met her partner for the first time, but this time, with clarity and peace. In another, she saw futures that never came to be—lives where they had grown old together, laughing beside warm hearths and cool lakes. She cried, and the ocean held her.

She visited the Skylands, danced with the flameflowers that opened only at dusk, drank dew that sparked forgotten childhood memories. In the desert of crystal sands, she sang to the wind, and it sang back. The cacti showed her visions of Earth—not as it was, but as it could be: healed, harmonious, whole.

The Korvalans never asked her to stay, nor did they urge her to return. They only offered presence, knowledge, and reflection. Plannet itself was a mirror, not just of the universe, but of the soul.

One evening, as Lyra sat beneath a tree that grew music instead of fruit, a Korvalan sat beside her.

“Why me?” she asked, the question finally surfacing after weeks of wonder.

“Because you were ready,” the Korvalan replied, its harmony soft, soothing. “Plannet chooses those whose hearts are cracked, for it is through the cracks that the light of change enters.”

Lyra nodded slowly, eyes misting. “Will I remember this when I go back?”

“You will remember enough.”

And she did.

When she awoke, it was morning on Earth. Her room was the same, yet different. The light seemed richer, the air softer. Her violin case sat in the corner, untouched for months. She picked it up, tuned the strings, and began to play.

The melody that came out was not from any symphony or sonata she knew. It was a fragment of Plannet—a tone that shimmered with skylands and memory oceans, with glowing trees and star-skinned beings. It was a song of healing.

People who heard it stopped to listen. Some cried, some smiled. Many couldn’t explain why they felt better, only that they did.

Lyra began to perform again, but this time not for fame or money. She played in hospitals, shelters, parks. And wherever she played, echoes of Plannet followed—soft reminders that wonder still existed, that healing was possible, that the universe had secret doors waiting to be opened.

She never told anyone the full truth. Some wouldn't have believed her. Some would have tried to find Plannet, to exploit it. But she knew it could never be taken. Plannet came to those it chose, and only when they were ready.

Years passed, but Lyra never forgot. On quiet nights, she would gaze at the stars, close her eyes, and hear the music of the Amazing Plannet—her heart forever carrying the notes of a world that had shown her how to live again.