Threads of Starlight

Back inside the ballroom, the night wore on. Conversations blurred into a distant hum, laughter ringing through the grand hall like echoes from another life. Selene barely registered the passing of time, her earlier exchanges with Maia and Stellaire fading into the background as she excused herself to leave.

The drive home was quiet. City lights streaked past her window in fleeting glimmers, but she barely saw them. Her mind kept circling back to that feeling. That strange, weightless pull that had been following her all evening.

It was absurd. Unexplainable.

Yet it stayed with her, lingering in her chest like a song she couldn’t quite remember.

By the time she stepped into her apartment, exhaustion settled into her limbs, but her thoughts remained restless. She moved through the familiar motions, slipping off her heels, unzipping her gown, letting the remnants of the night fall away piece by piece.

But the moment she slid beneath the covers, a peculiar stillness took over.

The hush of her bedroom felt heavier than usual, the air charged with something just beyond her reach.

And when she closed her eyes, the darkness didn’t just settle, it pulled.

A shift, subtle yet inevitable.

Like falling.

Like waking up somewhere else entirely.

It started with gold.

Not the solid gleam of metal or the dull shine of jewelry. This was something different.

Living gold.

It moved, shimmered, and woven strands of light twisting through the darkness like ribbons caught in a silent wind.

Selene stood at the center of it all, her fingers tangled in the delicate threads. The sensation was intoxicating, sending tingling warmth up her arms and spreading through her chest. The threads pulsed, responding to her touch, as if they knew her. As if they had been waiting.

She lifted her hands, watching the golden strands loop around her fingers, twisting and braiding together. The pattern was intricate, forming shapes and lines that connected, dots that shimmered.

A constellation.

Selene frowned. Had she done this before?

The certainty settled into her bones before she could question it.

Yes. She had.

A strange calmness filled her, like something long buried was finally rising to the surface. She worked faster now, weaving the threads with a precision she couldn’t explain. It was second nature, the motions flowing like instinct, like—

A sudden snap.

The threads yanked away from her hands, unraveling all at once.

Selene let out a sharp breath, reaching, trying to catch them but they slipped through her fingers like water, vanishing into the void before she could hold on.

No.

She needed them. She needed them.

The ache in her chest bloomed into something unbearable.

Then, just as the last strand of gold faded into the darkness, a single word whispered, soft yet unshakable, echoed in her mind.

"Find me."

Selene gasped awake, her body jerking forward as the dream dissolved around her.

She was in her apartment. The soft hush of early morning pressed against the walls, the world outside still caught in that delicate space between night and dawn.

Her hands trembled as they clutched the sheets. The sensation of the golden threads still lingered, a phantom warmth curling around her fingers, a whisper of something unfinished.

She lifted her hand and, without thinking, traced a pattern along her forearm.

Dots. Lines. A shape she couldn’t name but felt deeply in her bones.

The weightless ache in her chest didn’t fade. If anything, it settled in deeper.

She didn’t know why, but she had the sinking feeling that she had just lost something she wasn’t supposed to forget.

Aster leaned her head against the window, watching the city blur past in streaks of gold and red. The night felt heavier than it should have. The lingering hum of the gala still clung to her skin, but there was something else too, something she couldn't shake.

"You good?" Janus' voice broke through the quiet.

Aster blinked, realizing she had been staring at her hands, thumb absently brushing over her palm. She quickly curled her fingers into a loose fist and forced a nod. "Yeah. Just tired."

Mirael hummed from the passenger seat, unconvinced. "You’ve been quiet. Not that you’re usually loud, but this is a different kind of quiet."

Aster scoffed. "Maybe I just don't have anything to say."

"Or maybe you saw something," Janus countered, side eyeing her through the rearview mirror.

Aster hesitated, then shook her head. "It’s nothing."

It wasn’t a lie. Not exactly.

Because she hadn’t seen anything. It was more like she had felt something. A weight she couldn’t explain. A presence that didn’t quite exist.

The car rolled to a stop in front of her building. Janus turned to say something, but Aster was already unbuckling her seatbelt. "Thanks for the ride," she muttered before stepping out.

As she walked toward the entrance, she glanced up toward the stars.

She wasn’t sure what she expected to see.

But she was sure of one thing.

She felt watched.

The apartment was quiet when Aster stepped inside, a welcome contrast to the buzz of the gala. She tossed her blazer onto the back of the couch, sighing as she finally let herself relax. The air smelled faintly of brewed coffee and pine, which felt familiar and grounding.

Kicking off her heels as she made her way to the small balcony attached to her living room. The city skyline stretched out before her, distant but still alive with twinkling lights. She leaned against the railing, the cool night air brushing against her skin.

Her fingers twitched.

The feeling had been there all night. That strange pull in her chest. She had ignored it, pushed it aside as coincidence or fatigue, but standing here now, with the night stretched out before her, it was impossible to deny.

She had felt something. Something old. Something familiar.

Her gaze drifted upward, where the stars hung against the velvet sky. Aster exhaled. Maybe she just needed sleep.

She pulled herself away from the railing and headed inside, shutting the glass door behind her.

The moment she closed her eyes, the world shifted.

There was no warning. No gentle drift into unconsciousness.

One moment, Aster was asleep in the quiet of her room. The next, she was here. Suspended between shadow and light.

She was standing on something, but when she looked down, there was no ground beneath her feet, only an endless stretch of darkness, shimmering faintly as though it held the reflection of a thousand unseen stars. It didn’t frighten her. Somehow, it felt… familiar. Like she had stood here before, waiting.

For what, she didn’t know.

A flicker of movement caught her attention.

The space before her was no longer empty. A figure stood just at the edge of the golden light that pulsed in the air, their form blurred, indistinct. Aster couldn’t see their face, but the warmth radiating from them was undeniable. It was the kind of warmth that curled around the edges of the soul, deep and unshakable, like the lingering touch of someone you never wanted to forget.

Aster’s heart pounded in her chest, a strange mixture of longing and unease washing over her.

She knew this person.

Her breath hitched as the figure slowly raised a hand, palm facing upward. The silent gesture sent a shiver down Aster’s spine—an unspoken plea, a wordless question.

She hesitated.

There was something about this moment that felt unbearably fragile, as if one wrong move would shatter it completely. And yet, Aster’s body moved on its own, her fingers reaching toward the outstretched hand.

The moment their fingertips brushed—

Aster’s world fractured.

A sharp gasp tore from her lips as light engulfed everything. It wasn’t blinding, but it consumed her—wrapping around her like golden threads, like something pulling her back to a place she didn’t remember but desperately should.

A voice, soft, distant, heartbreakingly familiar, whispered through the air.

"Find me."

Then, just as suddenly as it began, it was gone.

Aster jolted awake, her chest rising and falling in shallow, uneven breaths. The dim glow of the city outside her window cast long shadows across her room, grounding her back to reality. She lifted her hand, staring at her open palm.

It ached. As if it had just been holding something that was no longer there.

She exhaled sharply, running a hand through her hair, trying to shake off the lingering weight of the dream. It had felt so real. Too real.

And worse, it left her with a hollow feeling in her chest like something had slipped through her fingers before she even had the chance to grasp it.

Selene woke with a lingering unease, the kind that settled deep in her chest and refused to fade. For a few seconds, she stayed still, letting the weight of it settle around her. Her breaths were slow and measured, but beneath the calm exterior, her pulse thrummed with an inexplicable urgency.

She had always been a light sleeper, never one to get tangled in dreams, always able to slip between consciousness and wakefulness with ease. But last night had been different.

There was weight to it. A pull. A loss.

She sat up slowly, pressing her fingertips against her temples. Behind her closed eyelids, golden threads shimmered in the darkness, slipping through her fingers no matter how tightly she tried to hold on.

And that ache. That deep, sinking ache in her chest when they unraveled into nothing.

"Find me."

Her eyes snapped open.

The whisper from her dream still clung to the edges of her mind, haunting and familiar in a way she couldn’t place.

Selene exhaled sharply, trying to shake off the sensation, but it clung to her like a second skin. She ran a hand through her hair, her fingers catching in the strands as frustration bubbled beneath the surface.

It wasn’t just the dream itself that unsettled her. It was the feeling it left behind, something unfinished, something important slipping just beyond her reach.

Her gaze drifted to her hands, resting loosely in her lap. There was a strange heaviness to them, like she had held onto something all night and had only just let go.

Without thinking, she lifted her fingers to her forearm and traced an invisible pattern.

A constellation.

She froze.

The realization sent a shiver down her spine. Her chest tightened as a foreign yet eerily familiar sensation settled over her. Like she had done this before, over and over again, in a lifetime she couldn’t remember.

Frowning, she reached for the sketchbook on her bedside table, flipping past pages of unfinished designs and scattered ideas until she stopped.

Her breath caught in her throat.

There, in soft graphite strokes, was the same constellation from her dream.

She didn’t remember drawing it.

The air in the room felt heavier, the silence pressing against her ears. A strange unease coiled in her stomach, but beneath it, something else stirred.

Something that felt a lot like longing.

A chill ran down her spine, but she couldn’t look away.

The world outside Aster’s window was still bathed in the muted colors of dawn when she finally gave up on sleep.

She sat on the edge of her bed, elbows resting on her knees, staring at her open palm as if the answer to something unspoken lay hidden in the lines of her skin. Slowly, she flexed her fingers, curling them inward, then releasing, testing, searching.

But the sensation wouldn’t leave. That warmth. That weight. The impossible familiarity of a touch she had never truly felt, yet somehow missed.

The dream clung to her in fragments, slipping through her consciousness like mist at sunrise. The faceless figure. The celestial robes. The hushed, urgent whisper—

"Find me."

Aster exhaled sharply, pressing her palm against her chest.

It was just a dream.

She repeated the thought like a mantra, but it didn’t loosen the tightness coiling beneath her ribs.

She had never been the type to put meaning into dreams. They were just the mind sorting through noise, she had always believed. But this one... it felt too much like a memory. Like something she had lost rather than imagined.

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to hold onto the details. The way the fabric of the robes shimmered. The faint scent of something familiar in the air like jasmine? No, something deeper. Something she should know.

But the moment she tried to grasp it, the memory slipped through her fingers like grains of sand.

With a frustrated sigh, she raked a hand through her hair and pushed herself to her feet.

Padding toward the kitchen, she reached for the glass on the counter. She filled it automatically, but when she lifted it to her lips, the water felt colder than it should have. It slid down her throat, crisp and clean, but it did nothing to wash away the feeling still buzzing beneath her skin.

A soft vibration on the counter pulled her from her thoughts. Her phone.

Janus: Coffee? You looked like you saw a ghost last night.

Aster snorted, shaking her head. Not far off.

Aster: You’re paying.

A few seconds later, the dots indicating Janus was typing popped up.

Janus: Dreams haunting you, or is this about a certain designer? 👀

Aster’s thumb hovered over the keyboard for a second longer than necessary. She could ignore it. She should.

Instead, she just locked the screen and set the phone down, exhaling slowly.

She flexed her fingers once more, then pressed her palm against the counter, grounding herself. But even then, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something—someone—was still reaching for her, waiting.

The cafe was tucked into the quieter side of town, nestled between a bookstore and a flower shop that was just beginning to set out its morning display. The air smelled of fresh coffee and something sweet, maybe cinnamon. It was the kind of place where the regulars nodded at each other in recognition, where the low hum of conversation blended seamlessly with the soft clinking of cups.

Aster sat across from Janus, her hands wrapped around a steaming mug, letting the warmth seep into her fingers. The restless energy from her dream still clung to her skin, stubborn and lingering.

Janus studied her for a moment before raising an eyebrow. “You look like you got hit by a truck.”

Aster gave her a flat look. “Good morning to you too.”

“Seriously.” Janus leaned forward, stirring her coffee lazily. “Something’s off. Spill.”

Aster hesitated.

How was she supposed to explain that she woke up feeling like she had lost something she never even knew she had? That the dream didn’t feel like a dream at all? That even now, she could still feel the ghost of a touch, warm against her fingertips?

Instead, she settled for, “Just a weird dream.”

Janus hummed, unconvinced. She tapped her spoon against the edge of her cup, her gaze steady.

“Some dreams stay with you for a reason.”

Aster frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Janus shrugged, but there was something deliberate in the way she lifted her cup, like she was choosing her next words carefully. “Maybe it’s not just a dream. Maybe it’s fate knocking on your door.”

Aster huffed, shaking her head. “That’s a terrible line. You sound like one of those fortune tellers in Quiapo.”

Janus smirked. “You mean the ones who are always right?”

Aster rolled her eyes, but her fingers tightened around the ceramic of her cup.

There was a beat of silence, a small window where Aster could have pushed. She could have told Janus about the voice in her dream, about the whisper that still echoed in her chest.

Find me.

But she didn’t. Because saying it out loud would make it real.

Before she could dwell on it any further, Janus leaned back, suddenly grinning. “Anyway, speaking of things that haunt people, did I tell you Mirael almost got into a fistfight with a taho vendor?”

Aster blinked at the abrupt shift. “What?”

Janus launched into a dramatic retelling, complete with exaggerated gestures. Something about Mirael claiming one type of taho was better than another and the vendor taking it as a personal insult.

Aster snorted, shaking her head. She let the conversation flow, let Janus steer them into safer waters.

But in the back of her mind, the dream lingered, heavy, waiting.

Selene didn’t mention the sketchbook to anyone.

She brought it with her to the studio, tucking it beneath a stack of documents on her desk. Between reviewing fabric samples and approving the latest batch of fittings, she flipped through the pages absently, her fingers ghosting over the graphite lines as if searching for an answer.

But the more she ignored it, the heavier it felt.

The weight sat with her through meetings and lingered even as she worked through fabric textures, color palettes, and design revisions. No matter how much she tried to push it aside, the sketch pressed at the edges of her mind—insistent, unrelenting.

It wasn’t until later, when Stellaire dropped by unannounced, sprawling across the couch in Selene’s office like she owned the place, that she finally said something.

“I drew something in my sleep.”

Stellaire, mid chew on a piece of gum, blinked. “Like sleepwalking but with art?”

Selene shot her a look. “I’m serious.”

That seemed to catch her attention. Stellaire sat up, stretching lazily before propping her elbow against the armrest. “Alright, alright. Let’s see it.”

Selene hesitated, then reached for the sketchbook. The second her fingers brushed the cover, she felt that same strange pull in her chest like opening it would set something into motion she wasn’t ready for.

Still, she slid it across the table.

Stellaire grabbed it without ceremony, flipping it open with an exaggerated yawn. But the moment her eyes landed on the page, her teasing expression flickered.

She didn’t speak right away. Her gaze lingered on the constellation, fingers tapping idly against the spine of the sketchbook.

Selene noticed. “What?”

Stellaire’s lips quirked, but the usual mischief in her smile felt muted. “Where’d you see this?”

Selene frowned. “That’s the thing. I don’t remember drawing it. But I know I’ve seen it before.”

Stellaire’s reaction was almost imperceptible, the barest shift in her expression, a quiet inhale. But Selene knew her well enough to catch it.

For a moment, Stellaire didn’t say anything. Then, with a small, knowing smile, she leaned back against the couch.

“Well,” she said lightly, “maybe the universe is trying to tell you something.”

Selene held her gaze, searching for something beneath the casual tone. But Stellaire had already slipped back into her usual easygoing demeanor, twirling her gum wrapper between her fingers like she hadn’t just said something that sent a shiver down Selene’s spine.

Selene didn’t answer. But the unease in her chest only grew stronger.

That evening, as Aster stood on her balcony, the night air cool against her skin, she found herself staring up at the sky, searching.

And as Selene sat by her window, fingers absently tracing invisible constellations into the fabric of her sleeve, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was forgetting something important.

They both felt it.

That strange, weightless pull.

The quiet ache of something missing.

A whisper at the edges of their consciousness, a name they didn’t know yet longed to remember.

And somewhere, beneath the vast expanse of the same endless sky...

They weren’t alone.