The core, once a searing inferno, had transformed into a mesmerizing spectacle. A white dwarf, a circular tapestry of purest white, akin to ethereal smoke, emerged from the cosmic forge. Yet, within this celestial masterpiece, a profound shift unfurled. Threads of the smoky fabric darkened, becoming ebony strands woven from the fabric of death itself. As this transformation unfolded, fumes spiraled, giving birth to tendrils of smog and luminescence that waltzed in a cosmic dance.
Astonishingly, I felt not only the unraveling of the universe but the essence of my very being. Energy dissipated like morning mist under the first rays of dawn. My body, my essence, my soul—all dissolved into the ephemeral tendrils of the void.
A breathtaking realization washed over me.
I had perished.
Not unlike the countless deaths I'd endured before. This passing was but a fragment of the countless I'd faced—a normal cycle, an incessant fate I bore. Death was a well-worn garment, woven into my existence, its fibers intertwined with my soul. The past bore witness to my numerous deaths, each accompanied by rebirth—a perpetual choreography of demise and resurrection.
In the grand tapestry of existence, the cycle of life and death emerged as an unyielding thread. An unending loop, an eternal heartbeat.
As the cosmic ballet continued, I sensed my own vanishing approaching. My form receded, cloaked in the embrace of billowing clouds. Unseen, unnoticed—a disappearance as quiet as a sigh.
Yet, this departure brought no lamentations, no mournful cries. The winds carried no whispers of sorrow, no echoes of grief. Amid the solitude, only the faint hum of space reverberated, a cosmic serenade to mark my ethereal passage.
I am a star. A celestial entity fated to fade every fifty years.
A falling star.
A fallen star, whose descent grants desires—a cosmic dance of wish-fulfillment that unfolds without fail, an intricately woven performance that defies time.
Just as I fade, I am reborn—a tapestry woven anew. This cycle persists, relentless as the march of time.
Humans, like stars, bear the burden of mortality. Born to perish, stars and beings alike. We explode, we fall, we rise—our existence a catalyst for dreams, our descent a catalyst for hope.
In this ephemeral instant, I sense a radiant shroud enveloping my essence. The tender warmth of a nascent star kisses my form, each beam a caress upon my skin. This is the origin of my rebirth, a cocoon of luminous affection. I yearn for this serenity to linger, a gentle lullaby accompanying my journey.
But then, an abrupt shift shatters the tranquility. Gravity's invisible fingers tug as the star core draws near the terrestrial realm. Fragrances stir—hints of sea, wood, bloom, and honey—a symphony of life beckoning me. The world is alive, its pulse quickening in harmony with my own.
Excitement mingles with trepidation as the universe unfolds its embrace.
Life, fervent and unrelenting, summons my essence, demanding its offering. The words of my destiny whisper in the breeze, echoing a tale I've encountered countless times before.
And yet, uncertainty lingers. A myriad of sensations crash over me—a deafening explosion, a blinding brilliance, and the sensation of falling through the symphony of a celestial crescendo. All these elements converge, unfolding as a grand symphony upon a sandy stage.
Upon impact, the inferno that once consumed the world extinguishes. Only the full moon remains, a solitary witness to the spectacle that transpired—a cosmic cradle shattered, a journey fulfilled. I unfurl from my celestial cocoon with meticulous grace, my weightless form floating like a feather on the breeze.
With rebirth comes amnesia. My origins blur, my memories dissolving like morning mist beneath the sun's gaze. Past lives remain enigmatic, identities a tapestry woven of forgotten threads.
In contrast, my brain, like the ceaseless march of time, remains steadfast. Gradually, the present becomes past, and recollections fray. Memories, like whispers, vanish into obscurity, the marks of each existence slipping through my fingers.
And yet, my mind persists in its quest for understanding, an unceasing inquiry. Who am I? The question echoes, a mantra of uncertainty reverberating through my consciousness.
Continuously, relentlessly.
A realization dawns, one as illuminating as the brightest star. The truth unfurls—a realization woven into my very core.
I am no one.
A nameless wanderer, an enigma spun from cosmic threads, seeking purpose among the celestial tapestry.
The rhythmic journey of the train to the southern realm of the land had stretched on for nearly a day and a half by then. Days of preparation had led to this point—a journey that would span several days itself: our migration to the fabled city of Tribus. Guided by the hands of my parents and my brother Avi, we had painstakingly readied ourselves for what lay ahead—a relocation into the heart of Tribus, a place revered and sought after. Our passage through the bureaucratic labyrinth had been lengthy, but the blessing of three powerful clans finally shone upon us. Leviste, Aragon, and Santi—the trio that held dominion—had sanctioned our ascent to the grandeur of Tribus. In this neighborhood, only the chosen few can claim residence. It's an honor of the highest order to hail from a city overseen by three influential families, their joint rule encompassing business, education, technology, military prowess, and nature's abundance. But entry is no trivial feat. Aspiring citizens must end
"Invitation, Miss?" the man in the tuxedo paired with a black bowtie asked me when I tried to enter the gate into the Arcane Circle of Baristo. I gave the invitation to him, and he examined it in great detail before accepting it. His dark eyes gave the invitation a careful examination before moving on. As he handed back the card, the smile on his face returned. The fact that the man was strikingly handsome was the clincher. He examined my entire physique in great detail. I ought to confess that despite the thick spectacle frame that matches the thickness of his eyebrows, he was pretty handsome. This is despite the fact that he had the power to stop my blood cold in its tracks. It was almost as if I'm looking at a model who's in the middle of getting her makeover when I look at his jawline since it was that perfect. I smiled back at him when he did, which he seemed to like. I was taken aback when I felt someone suddenly put their hand on my chest, which caused me to jump. It was only
He was very hot and lovely to look at. In plain view before my very eyes. Half-naked. Sweating. It's almost as if I've already met him in one of my nightmares before. Almost. Or was it all just a dream? I had the impression that we were connected in some odd way. Why do we become brighter whenever we are in each other's presence? Who is he? He was either a god or a fallen angel who had been sent from the mystery mountain of Noah to torment me by scorching the surface of my flesh. As I was still outside the Tribus, it appeared to me that the legends were true and that the gods actually resided in this location. They were not an illusion. I tried to take a small step backward, but as soon as my legs were able to lock with the rest of my body in what seemed to be an incomprehensible sensation, they stopped moving on their own and I was unable to go farther. Once more, the lights started to come on. It appeared as though we were unable to see the moon at all when we were in the bush. H
I heal. I possessed the ability to heal individuals of their ailments and wounds, including cuts and burns of varied degrees. I could even heal people who had died from their injuries. In addition to that, I was able to heal myself. I revitalize. My physical make-up will never acquire an inclination to rid itself of any of its constituent parts. I probably won't die. Avi has the ability to see the relationships between individuals. They could even break them or bind them on purpose at her own will to bring those who were destined to meet each other together, but doing so would need a lot of energy from her and may even cost her her life if it was way too much. She was much too young to be engaging in such behavior. The present that my brother Avi and I were given was something that had been a topic of investigation for my father for quite some time. My father brought up the subject of fate weavers and falling stars quite frequently while we were in Samaria. That's us. But our paren
"We're here," dad said as he pulled over the shiny new automobile next to a wooden fence bearing the Tribian mark. Neither Avi nor I have ever seen the inside of Tribus Academy, though she may have seen it already. The ivy-covered old wooden gate and fence were very substantial in height. The wall and gate looked like they cost a fortune to build. Since no one else seemed to be in the building, Avi felt a sense of mystery and anticipation about the place. "Cool! This is like the movies I’ve binge-watched! Like students go to an out-of-this-world school and they discover their powers. The cliche still feels so exciting when they come into actuality!" Avi clapped her hands as we gazed at the tall gate of Tribus Academy. "Papa, can we go now?" My suspicions were verified when Dad got out of the car to assist my siblings and me in exiting the building. After opening the door to the vehicle, he proceeded to the trunk of the vehicle and placed the two suitcases of a medium size that had b
The unexpected occurrence appeared out of nowhere. The particulars and the plethora of arguments for our positioning here are sufficient to leave me unable to articulate my thoughts. This place could not even come close to recreating the ambience of a regular schoolroom. Because of this, the new atmosphere that greeted us as soon as we went inside was a very pleasant shift. I had not adequately prepared. This conversation was not hidden from Avi. She has witnessed everything and then some. Every living thing is connected to one another by a network of cords that are colored red, black, white, and blue. I have no doubt that she was clairvoyant regarding every possible contact. One good example of this is how the door of the provost's office opened on its own. A young woman with a tanned skin, long black hair, deep gray eyes that were obscured by thick glasses, and low stature walked through the door that creaked. She was dressed in the same manner as the children that we had seen ear
I woke up and opened my eyes. As the sun's rays reach their corneas, they emit a near-screaming sound. To express my annoyance, I let out a groan. I couldn't see anything.Once more, I succumbed to sleep. After giving my injured eyes some time to heal, I looked again. My first day of school has begun.The moment I opened my eyes, I flipped the room's orientation. In my mind, I could recall our home's shattered ceiling. The old house was probably not much more than a shed even back when it was in use. However, after we had departed, the roof began to slump severely, as if a giant had sat on it. So far, I've gotten used to it. The fact that it was so ancient and rundown didn't bother me at all and, in particular, made me feel secure. I'd called it home for a long time. My heart longs for Samaria. That was our old abode.Metallic coatings based on resin and aged slaked lime were now readily apparent to my eyes. A Venetian ceiling above me made me feel like I was in a privileged world tha
The person's firm hold on my neck nearly caused me to suffocate. Although I attempted to loosen my grip, my body's pressure simply worsened matters."Quit it, Mira! There's nothing wrong with you, according to him!" Myra let out a scream, and by that time, she had grabbed my leg to keep me from dangling."What are you doing, Mira? I know that you're simply trying to make a scandal out of me so you can get rid of me as student council regent. Stop what you’re trying to kill her!" Isabel, who had noticed that her palm was beginning to turn black, attempted to stop Mira. Her iris color was changing to a brilliant white.In a close call, I nearly passed out. For an instant, I felt my hands move on their own to my suffocating tendon. I could feel the electricity frying them. Still, with a gleam in her eye, Mira raised the hand that would be her instrument in releasing my neck from whatever power was holding me there.This is not how I die. This is not how I die... This thought kept running