Threads of Starlight

Aster’s mind raced as she stared at Mirael’s message. It was too casual, too familiar, yet there was something in the back of her mind that said it wasn’t. Mirael had never reached out so suddenly, not without a reason.

The morning sun cut through the curtains of her apartment, casting a soft glow over the kitchen where Aster stood, holding her phone like it weighed a thousand pounds. She set it down on the counter and rubbed her temples, trying to clear the haze in her thoughts.

But the air... the air felt charged. Electric. The street outside, usually quiet, now looked alien—endless and still, as if it were holding its breath.

Was it just stress? She asked herself. Just exhaustion?

She couldn’t be sure anymore.

She grabbed her jacket, stepping outside with the feeling that something was pulling her somewhere. She needed to talk to Mirael. Something was shifting. But even before she left the door, the thought gnawed at her: What if she already knew too much? What if this was only the beginning?

Meanwhile, Selene sat on the edge of her work table, staring at her phone. Maia’s message was still open, the vague words hanging in the air like an omen.

"Come over. I have something to show you."

Her heart raced, though she wasn’t sure why. Something about the timing felt off. She doesn't usually invite people to their condo, especially when Stellaire is not around.

The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end as she looked down at the sketch she had been working on, the golden figure. That same figure that felt so painfully familiar, so haunting. She couldn’t stop staring at it, as if it was calling to her, beckoning her to understand.

 But just as it always had, the salty taste on her tongue wouldn’t go away. It was like the sea was somewhere near, just beyond reach. She almost felt like if she closed her eyes, she could hear the waves crashing against the shore. But there was no ocean here.

Only the unsettling hum in the air, the sensation of something ancient stirring within her. Something lost, something forgotten. The sensation crawled under her skin, wrapping itself around her chest like a forgotten memory.

Her fingers brushed the edge of the sketch, and for a fleeting second, it was as though she could feel the golden thread itself, alive, shimmering beneath her fingertips. A whisper of a past life. A life she was forgetting but couldn’t quite let go of.

Both of them felt it, the pull of something intangible but undeniable. The week had started normal, ordinary even, but now, the world around them felt different, as if reality was starting to bend, showing cracks, revealing something hidden just beneath the surface.

Aster checked her phone one last time, but Mirael’s message didn’t feel like a simple invitation anymore. The weight of the moment pressed against her chest. What was coming?

She had to go. She had to face it.

Aster arrived at the café, her mind clouded with fragments of thoughts. Mirael was already seated at a corner table, watching her as she approached. The air between them felt thick, charged. Mirael’s usual playful grin was missing. Her expression was unreadable, her eyes searching her like she could see into the very depths of her soul.

"Something feels different, doesn’t it?” Mirael said, almost as though she’d read Aster’s mind.

Aster sat down, her fingers fidgeting with the cup in front of her. “Yeah,” she admitted. “I... I feel like I’m waiting for something to happen.”

“You’re not wrong,” Mirael replied, her voice low. “But I think it’s already happening.”

Aster’s heart skipped a beat. The weight of the words lingered in the air. Already happening.

Elsewhere, Selene arrived at Maia’s apartment, her breath hitching as she knocked on the door. Maia opened it almost immediately, her wide grin seeming out of place against the tension that thrummed in the air.

“Come in. I have something to show you,” Maia said, stepping aside to let Selene in.

Selene hesitated for a moment, the words feeling like a trap. She stepped inside, closing the door behind her, and followed Maia into the living room. The space was bathed in soft, golden light, almost as if the sun had set too early, and everything was dipped in twilight.

Maia pulled something from a drawer—a piece of jewelry. It was a bracelet, silver, with a star-shaped pendant that shimmered like it held the light of the moon within it. The shape of the star was subtle yet unmistakable.

“You’ve seen this before, haven’t you?” Maia asked, her voice oddly knowing.

Selene froze, her breath catching in her throat. She had seen it before. Somewhere, long ago.

Maia’s smile softened, and for a brief moment, Selene could almost see the vast sky in her eyes—an endless horizon she had long forgotten. The sky was vast, open, and full of endless possibility... just like the weaving of fate.

“I think you’ve been waiting to remember,” Maia said softly. “It’s time.”

Selene’s hand trembled as she reached out to take the bracelet. The moment it touched her skin, a shiver ran down her spine. A memory flickered—no, more than a memory. It was as if the threads of something other—something invisible—were brushing against her fingertips. She couldn’t quite place it, but there was a familiarity to the way the bracelet seemed to pulse, almost like it was alive.

It felt... like something she should know, something she had known. But the details remained elusive, teasing her just beyond her grasp.

The bracelet was a mystery, a symbol of something she couldn’t fully understand, but it was there, deep inside her, waiting.

She opened her eyes, breathless. The bracelet now felt warm against her skin, as if it held a secret she wasn’t ready to discover yet.

“I don’t understand,” she whispered, staring at the bracelet in confusion. "But... I feel like I’m supposed to."

The sky outside darkened just slightly, as if the world itself was holding its breath, waiting for something to unfold. Both Aster and Selene were on the edge of something, the weight of their past lives settling around them like a veil that had been too long ignored. Their celestial friends were waiting, too, silently, knowing that this moment was inevitable.

But it was still a question of whether they would let fate unfold as it had before or intervene. Could they help without risking everything?

As they sat with their friends, the very air seemed to hum with the gravity of the situation, an unspoken tension growing with every passing second. They couldn’t go back anymore. They knew it.

And yet, the past wasn’t finished with them. Not yet.

The following days look promisingly normal.

Aster wipes sweat from her brow as she kneels in the soil, adjusting the irrigation system. The midday sun is high, casting warm light over the farm. The rhythmic sound of the water flowing through the pipes is soothing, familiar. She reaches for a tool—and suddenly, her surroundings shift.

For the briefest of moments, the farm disappears.

She isn’t kneeling in the soil anymore, she’s standing on something vast, endless, and shimmering. A sky without an end, a river of silver light winding through the cosmos. The weight of the universe presses on her chest, heavy yet familiar, like she’s been here before, countless times.

Then, it’s gone.

Aster gasps, blinking hard, the harsh sunlight blinding her for a moment. She’s back. The farm. The sun. The familiar scent of the earth, the weight of the tools in her hands. Her heartbeat hammers in her ears, thudding against her ribs like a warning.

That wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real.

She stands slowly, wiping her forehead again, trying to shake off the feeling that’s left lingering in the pit of her stomach. She stares at the earth beneath her as if willing it to anchor her back to something solid, something she understands. But the pull, the disorienting feeling that something is missing, won’t go away.

Her breath still feels unsteady. She can almost feel the weight of the stars pressing against her chest, that inexplicable sensation of being somewhere else, somewhere infinite. She tries to shake it off again but can’t. Something about the space she was in... it felt too real.

Across town, Selene runs her fingers over a delicate silk fabric, assessing its quality. The soft sheen of the material catches the light, and she runs through the motions in her mind, her thoughts blending with the rhythmic hum of the city filtering through the windows. The sounds of distant traffic, the buzz of the outside world—all of it feels so far away, as if it’s happening in another life.

Then, a sound—a soft, whispering hum—reaches her ears, so faint at first that she almost misses it. It weaves through the air like an unseen thread, pulling her attention.

She freezes, instinctively lowering the fabric. The sound grows louder, clearer, but still not from anyone in the studio. Selene doesn’t recognize the language, but the words seep into her chest, into the marrow of her bones. She understands them, feels them in a place deep inside her that’s both foreign and deeply familiar.

Her breath catches, and her vision shifts.

Suddenly, she’s no longer in her studio. She’s standing before a grand celestial gate—towering, golden light pouring through its massive columns, the air thick with power and ancient energy. It pulses with a presence older than time, and Selene feels an overwhelming sense of being both tiny and infinite at once.

She steps forward, though she isn’t sure why. The weight in her chest grows, unbearable, as though she’s walked through this gate before—left something behind.

The gate seems to call to her, an invitation, or maybe a warning.

But before she can take another step, the vision shatters like glass, and she’s back.

Her studio. The city. The fabric in her hands. Everything is ordinary again. Selene stumbles back, her breath coming in shallow gasps. She presses a hand to her chest, trying to calm the erratic beating of her heart.

Exhaustion. That’s all this is.

She glances at the unfinished designs around her. The sketches on the table, the faint outlines of constellations in the corners of her drawings. She focuses on the fabric again, feeling the texture between her fingers, grounding herself in the tangible.

But even as she tries to convince herself that it was just a momentary lapse, a trick of her tired mind, the visions don’t stop. They linger at the edge of her consciousness, just out of reach but always there, ready to pull her under again.

That night, the dreams return, clearer and more vivid than ever before.

Aster lies in her bed, the soft hum of the wind outside her apartment the only sound. The faint glow of the moonlight filters in through the curtains, casting long shadows across the floor. The town outside is quiet, and everything feels still... too still.

She closes her eyes, drifting off, and that’s when it happens.

The world around her fades away, the warmth of her blanket vanishing, replaced by an unnatural cold. She blinks—once, twice—and suddenly, she isn’t in her bed anymore.

Aster stands in a vast, ethereal expanse, her bare feet brushing against something smooth and cold, like stardust. The space stretches endlessly in every direction, illuminated by an otherworldly glow. Her heart races, a sense of unease blooming in her chest as her gaze shifts upward, taking in the infinite sky above—a sky where constellations swirl, yet feel out of reach. There’s no horizon here. No beginning or end.

And there, standing before her, are the members of the celestial council.

Their robes shimmer like the very fabric of space itself, moving in slow waves that ripple across the cosmos. Their faces are unreadable, their eyes like deep, endless pools that seem to hold all the answers but refuse to offer any.

"You knew the law,” one of them recites, the words slicing through the air, sharp and cold.

Aster’s breath catches in her throat. The weight of the words presses against her chest, suffocating her. She’s powerless to respond, the truth of their meaning settling into her bones.

“You were warned,” another voice adds, softer, but no less condemning. The voice lingers, echoing in her mind, a quiet whisper she cannot escape.

The ground beneath her feet seems to pulse with energy, as though the very universe is alive and aware of what they’ve done.

“Love between us is forbidden,” a third voice states, this time heavy with finality, each word thundering through her.

Aster’s hands tremble at her sides, her fists clenching as her chest tightens. She feels the weight of their judgment, but even more, she feels the truth of it—this is what they’ve done. And now, the consequences are here.

She turns her head, seeking some sort of solace. Her eyes meet Selene’s.

Selene stands beside her, just as lost, her face pale and drawn. The light from the council’s presence casts strange shadows over her features, but Aster can still see it—the shock, the fear, and the understanding that’s already forming between them.

They both know.

The council’s declaration echoes in the stillness.

“We will erase you. Your memories will be wiped clean, your celestial forms shattered. You will be sent to Earth. Strangers to each other. Unless your love is strong enough to find its way back, you will never remember.”

The words send a chill through Aster’s veins, paralyzing her. Her heart pounds painfully in her chest as she stands frozen, unable to look away from the cold, implacable faces before her.

But in that moment, everything seems to slow. Time stretches, and Aster’s gaze flits to Selene, a silent plea in her eyes.

In that single glance, they exchange everything they’ve been too afraid to say—everything they’ve been too afraid to admit. A promise. A vow. No matter what happens, no matter what they’ve done, they will find each other again.

And then, as though the universe itself is collapsing, everything fades.

The celestial realm dissolves, and the warmth of the night returns. The air around Aster shifts, her heartbeat thumping loudly in her ears as the world reappears. She’s back in her apartment, the faint moonlight still casting shadows across the floor, the town outside still quiet. But it’s not the same.

In a different part of town, Selene stirs awake, her body slick with sweat, her breaths shallow. The room around her seems both familiar and strange, a disorienting sense of displacement clinging to her.

Her condo is minimalist, chic. The soft hum of the city can be heard through the windows—distant traffic, the occasional murmur of passing pedestrians. It should be peaceful. But tonight, everything feels heavy.

She blinks rapidly, the aftershocks of the dream still trembling through her. In the dim light of her room, she can still see the celestial council in her mind’s eye. The overwhelming sense of authority. The powerlessness she felt standing before them.

Her fingers curl into the sheets, trying to ground herself in reality. But the dream lingers. She squeezes her eyes shut, and then—just like that—she’s no longer in her room.

The same endless expanse stretches around her. The same celestial council stands before her, their cold, calculating eyes trained on her. Their words still echo in her mind.

“You will be erased.”

The weight of it presses on her chest, leaving her breathless. The silence stretches on, unbroken, suffocating. But even then, even in that moment of absolute finality, Selene knows this: She and Aster are not the only ones who have felt this pull.

The promise between them. The one unspoken word, unbroken by the distance between them, is already etched into the fabric of the universe.

No matter the cost. No matter the price. They will find each other again.

Aster’s voice rings in her mind, soft but persistent. This wasn’t just a dream.

The same words echoed in Selene’s mind as if they’d always been there. They both wake up, gasping for air, separated by miles of space, yet inexplicably connected by something far more powerful than either of them can understand.

Somewhere away from prying eyes, their celestial friends gather in a quiet, dimly lit space. A room tucked away from the world, a place they’ve used for centuries to discuss what matters most—those moments that shape fate itself. The air is thick with the weight of unsaid things, each of them wrapped in their own thoughts.

The soft hum of the city below barely reaches them, as though even the world outside knows not to disturb their conversation. The room feels endless, with no walls to define it. Just shadows and the faint glow of starlight that flickers from the ceiling itself.

Janus stands with her arms crossed, a frown tugging at her lips. Her eyes scan the room, glancing at each face, but her thoughts are far from the here and now.

"And what if the truth destroys them?" she asks, her voice low but filled with a concern she cannot shake. She ran a hand through her hair, frustrated by the uncertainty gnawing at her. "What if they can't handle it? They’re not ready to remember everything. Not yet."

The others fall silent, the words hanging in the air. The question lingers, heavy.

Mirael shifts uncomfortably, her brow furrowed as she steps forward. She stands with her arms at her sides, staring out the window, as if looking for something in the distant city lights. Her voice is a little softer, but the tension in it is unmistakable.

"They’re remembering too fast," she murmurs, her words measured, deliberate. "If they recall everything before they’re ready, it could break them. We don’t know how fragile they are now. What if they can’t handle who they used to be?"

The room feels colder as the silence stretches between them. Each of them knows Mirael is right—everything they’ve been through, everything they once were, has the power to unravel them. The past is a force, pulling at them in ways none of them fully understand.

Maia, however, isn’t swayed. She leans against the wall, arms crossed with a confident smirk on her face. Her eyes gleam, amused, as if she’s already seen the outcome in her mind.

"They deserve to know," she says, her voice calm but firm, a quiet conviction behind it. "We’ve waited long enough. All these years, pretending we’re not who we are, pretending they’re not who they were. It’s time. They need the truth."

She turns her gaze to Stellaire, who’s lounging casually on one of the low chairs, tapping her fingers to an imaginary beat. The smile on Stellaire’s face is as carefree as ever, the usual glint of mischief in her eyes.

"Then it’ll be interesting to watch," Stellaire grins, her voice light but undeniably full of challenge. She leans back, watching the others like a spectator, amused by their inner turmoil. "But I’m not sure I’d be too concerned. Let them remember. It’ll all work out in the end, right?"

Cyra stands off to the side, arms crossed, her presence calm and steady, a stark contrast to the others’ rising tension. The faint glow of the stars outside her window is mirrored in her serene expression. She’s always been the balanced one, the one who can hold the silence and the weight of a situation with the same quiet grace.

"This isn’t about us," she says, her voice cutting through the chatter like a cool breeze. "It’s about them. They need to find their way back—on their own. We can guide them, but we can’t make this decision for them." Her gaze moves slowly from one friend to the next, the calmness in her eyes steadying the others, even if only for a moment.

Gaela stands beside her, quieter than usual. She’s been silent for much of the conversation, her brow furrowed as she watches the group, absorbing every word with the depth of someone who knows what it’s like to carry a heavy burden. Her eyes seem to look beyond the room, into something far more distant.

"And if they don’t?" she asks softly, her voice barely above a whisper. Her words hang in the air, as much a question as a statement. The room falls silent again, the weight of her words settling into the hearts of everyone present. What if they can’t find their way back? What if all of this has been for nothing?

The question stirs something in the room, an unease that settles like a fog, clouding their thoughts. None of them have the answer.

For a long moment, there’s nothing but the sound of the city outside, the occasional creak of the building, and the stillness that fills the space between them. The uncertainty, the weight of their roles, presses down on them all.

Finally, it’s Stellaire who breaks the silence, her voice light but with an edge of finality.

"Well," she says, standing up with a stretch, her energy unfurling like a wave, "no use in worrying about it now. We’ve all got our part to play. They’ll figure it out, one way or another." She flashes a grin, though it’s tinged with something more complicated—something like hope, maybe, or the bittersweet understanding that no matter how much they want to control this, some things are beyond their reach.

But Maia, her eyes narrowing slightly, doesn’t seem so convinced.

"Not if we don’t step in soon," she mutters under her breath, but loud enough for the others to hear. She crosses her arms, clearly not ready to give up on the idea of revealing the truth, whatever the cost.

For now, though, there is nothing more to say. Each of them retreats into their own thoughts, the decision still hanging in the air, unresolved. Each friend is left to wrestle with their own understanding of what should happen next—whether to interfere or let fate play out.

The only certainty is that Aster and Selene’s journey is far from over.

Aster finds herself standing in a place that seems both foreign and achingly familiar. A celestial garden, bathed in twilight hues. The air smells of something distant—of time itself, stretching out infinitely, of moments too precious to hold for long. This garden, a secret tucked away from the rest of the celestial realm, was a place meant only for them. Their sanctuary. Here, there are no rules, no judgment. Just the two of them.

The ground beneath their feet hums with an energy that is theirs alone. The trees around them stand tall, their branches glittering with stardust, the flowers blooming in colors that words can’t quite capture. The sky above is a mix of purples and blues, swirling in shades that shift like a slow dance. Everything here feels endless, eternal. But it’s fleeting. They both know it.

Aster is holding Selene’s hands, her fingers trembling slightly as if they both feel the impending loss. There is a desperation in Aster’s voice, one that echoes her fear and the weight of everything they’re about to lose.

“They won’t let us stay together,” Aster says, her voice shaking, her grip tightening on Selene’s hands as if trying to hold on to something that’s already slipping away. The words feel like a cruel truth they’ve known but never fully accepted. Aster’s eyes search Selene’s, but there’s nothing but sorrow in them now.

Selene’s tears, golden and glistening like drops of starlight, slip down her cheeks. The tears are warm against her skin, and Aster wishes she could freeze this moment, freeze everything, so that the inevitable end would never come. But Selene’s face is calm, resigned, as though she’s already said goodbye a thousand times in her heart.

“I know,” Selene whispers, her voice breaking just slightly. “We knew this day would come. We’ve always known.”

Aster’s heart aches, a familiar pain deep in her chest that has been with her for as long as she can remember. She shakes her head, not willing to accept it. Not yet. “I’ll find you again. No matter what happens, I’ll find you.”

The words sound so much like a promise. A vow. But the air around them shifts, a subtle change in the atmosphere, something that makes the garden feel suddenly smaller, the space between them growing wider. The sound of distant voices rises, a warning, an unspoken command. Their time is running out.

“Aster…” Selene starts, her voice a whisper now, but it’s filled with urgency.

She cups Aster’s face in her hands, her fingers trembling as she leans in, their foreheads touching. For a moment, the world seems to stop, the stars freezing in place, the garden silent, as if everything around them is holding its breath. Their breaths mingle, slow and shallow. It feels as though time itself is holding them together for just one last moment.

But then, in the silence, Aster whispers Selene's celestial name.

Aster’s heart skips a beat. The name—Selene's name—echoes in her mind, sending a shock through her veins, a jolt of recognition she cannot fully understand. Her eyes widen, a deep pull in her chest, but she can’t quite grasp what it all means. The name feels like something she’s forgotten, something she’s always known, but the connection is hazy, clouded by the uncertainty of their situation.

And then it happens.

A burst of golden light erupts around them, blinding and beautiful. The warmth of it surrounds them, a final embrace before everything changes.

Aster reaches out, her hand desperately trying to hold on to Selene’s, but it’s slipping. Selene’s hand vanishes from hers, the light swallowing her up.

Aster’s breath catches in her throat as she wakes up with a sharp gasp, her heart pounding in her chest. Her hands are gripping the sheets tightly, her knuckles white. The name, the celestial name, still lingers on her lips, but she doesn’t understand it. She doesn’t understand any of it. But it’s there, a truth that feels more real than anything she’s ever known.

Across town, Selene bolts upright in her bed, gasping for air, her chest rising and falling in quick, shallow breaths. Her heart is racing, the echo of the dream still ringing in her ears. She stares at the ceiling, her mind reeling, trying to piece it all together. The golden tears. The celestial garden. Her name on Aster's lips.

She knows, in that instant, that she’s no longer just dreaming. No longer just remembering fragments of a life she couldn’t quite reach. She knows it with every fiber of her being.

For the first time, they don’t just feel something missing.

They remember.

And if they were running out of time before, they know it now. The punishment is coming, and they can no longer ignore it. The weight of what they know presses down on them, the truth heavy in their hearts. Their love was once forbidden. Their memories were stripped away. And now, they are dangerously close to breaking through the celestial punishment that has kept them apart.

They are no longer just strangers. They are something more. They have always been something more.

But the universe, it seems, is not so forgiving.