Chapter Text
The skies swallowed the silent land below, its vastness stretching along the terrain like a celestial blanket. Stars beamed vibrantly in the abyss, shimmering in a symphony of twilight laughter. Trails of stardust dashed across the cosmos, gripping one another to create scenes of deep purple, navy pools and swirls of gallant rose. The planet hummed with enchantment, the foliage soaking up the heavens and responding with their own soft glow. Casting their gaze upwards, the flowers spread their turquoise petals open and gently released drops of moondew, the pale liquid slowly lulling towards the ground. As it seeped into the soil, the strange liquid gradually lost its phosphorescent luster, hiding itself within the cracks of earth.
A gentle gust of wind disrupted the blissful serenity, followed by the appearance of a small figure as he tumbled through the pentawrens, his excited stride purposely brushing against the flowers and sending fresh moondew across the fields. The figure laughed joyously as the moondew hovered in the air, creating curtains of pseudo-starlight for him to run through.
"Grandfather, look! I've made it to the stars! See? I'm running through them now!" The boy continued his dash through the pentawrens, skimming his sky-blue palms across the petals. The moondew clung to his fingertips before sloshing off with a flick of his wrist, sending shimmers of liquid starlight into the air; droplets of the luminous substance clung to his downy hair, forming a small galaxy among the light cyan wisps.
As the boy continued his romp through the flowers, an elderly man made his way to the edge of the patch, smiling lovingly at his grandson. He chuckled softly, tugging his whiskery beard in amusement while he watched the little tyke run through the fields, his arms outstretched as if he were flying. With a wry grin, the Elder decided to aid his grandson's imagination.
With a swift motion of his hand, he brought his leather headgear tight against his head and pulled his goggles over his eyes. He charged into the field, extending his arms out as he attempted to secure his grandson. The little boy looked over his shoulder with a small yelp, his long blue ears twitching in surprise at the sudden force lifting him from the ground.
His shock was quickly replaced with an ecstatic squeak, his mouth agape as he hollered loudly for all the plants to hear. His grandfather hoisted him onto his sturdy shoulders, holding his little boots with a firm grip while he weaved through the field, causing the boy's burgundy cloak to flow freely through the air. The child giggled gleefully, struggling to hold onto his grandfather through sputters and gasps of excitement. Smiling broadly, the boy extended his hand upwards, commencing a grabbing motion for his favourite star. Now that he was higher, surely that meant he was one step closer to feeling the stars in his grasp.
"Grandfather, can you lift me any higher? I'm so close to catching my star!" To further his point, the young boy stretched his small arm further, grunting from the effort he was putting in.
The Elder could feel his grandson straining on his shoulders. The old man sniffed in amusement, looking up at the same star his grandchild was trying to reach. "I'm afraid not. This is as high as I can go."
His grandson huffed, refusing to accept this realistic statement. "But grandfather, you're not trying hard enough! How will you know unless you try?" The boy strained himself further, grunting audibly once he reached his physical limit. "I'm one step closer than I was a minute ago! That's something, right?"
"Hmm," the Elder pondered out loud, taking a moment to consider his grandson's naïve determination. "Well, it is true that you are further with my help. But what else can I do? I'm simply not tall enough."
"Stretch!" exclaimed the boy. "If we keep stretching, then eventually we'll be able to do it! I keep stretching everyday and I know I've gotten bigger because of it! Mama says so too!" The boy's voice was noticeably tight now, his body trembling from all the effort he was putting into his useless action. "She says that everyday I've grown. So that means one day I'll be big enough to hold the stars in my hands!"
The Elder shook his head, hiding the growing grin that was spreading across his weathered features. His grandson was the epitome of innocence; his youthful hope was something the Elder envied of him. If it were that simple, he would have touched the stars long ago. He remembered being the same age as his grandson, body shaking from exhaustion after countless nights of stretching towards the abyss. Just like his grandson, he would conduct countless attempts to touch the stars, each failure feeling like it sent him closer to the ground. He nearly gave up, dejection getting the better of him as his hope slowly died off into his youth.
It wasn't until his early adult life that his passions had been reignited, a long lost fire kindling to life.
The Elder touched his goggles fondly when he remembered his youth from long ago. The days he had spent gathering materials, conducting different research and analyzing hypothetical aircrafts had given his life new purpose. With the help of his dear friends, they had begun their first steps towards airborne travel. Well, technically it wouldn't be the first time they' dabbled with air travel—it was the mechanical aspect that was new. Their people had managed to domesticate an avian species eons ago, using these creatures for purposes such as long distance excursions and exploration.
These avian beasts were known as Ananiks; beautiful beasts from the skies. Their white bodies were rather plump, but their long, narrow wings were perfectly able to carry their weight—and much more too! The beasts would soar through the skies, the rhythmic beating of their four wings lulling inhabitants with their gentle gusts of air. Although these beasts possessed no legs, they were able to land with unbelievable grace, fluttering their wings softly before touching the ground, folding their smaller wings as a sort of pedestal to rest on. It was on ground level where one could admire their beauty from up close. The Elder believed the Ananiks secretly adored the admiration they received from his people.
Swivelling their long necks, the Ananiks would set their dark eyes on whomever was closest, their enchanting orbs acting as a mirror to reveal the rider-to-be's innermost desire. This was how mutual connections were established; Ananiks could always tell if someone's intentions were pure based on a second of eye contact. If the test was passed, the beast would cooperate with the desires of whoever wished to use it. The beasts were very important for his people, in way more ways than one.
Not only were they used for transportation, but these magnificent beasts also carried vital starlight upon their feathers. Each beat of their white wings would send clouds of stardust to the earth, providing their plants with vital growth through a shimmering display. Whenever one of the villagers happened out of town on an Ananiks' back, they would come back grinning, stardust shimmering on their dusty clothing.
Of course, the cloud-like beasts were essential for the Elder's people, yet the wrinkled man couldn't help himself from wanting more than simple air travel. Much like his grandson, he dreamed of something bigger. Farther than the atmosphere of their planet. He looked to the sky wistfully, feeling a pang in his old core.
It was true—he was unable to achieve his dream during his prime. Despite countless attempts, no one was able to create an aircraft capable of leaving the stratosphere. Perhaps they were a few years too early and required a future of better equipped technology. Perhaps it had already been done and they were simply left in the dust, stuck on the ground while the rest of the universe was free to travel among the stars.
The Elder sighed loudly, brought from his sombre thoughts when his grandson began making a ruckus, shifting his body weight sporadically as he tried to get his grandfather's attention.
"Yes, yes . . . what is it, Strive?" He looked up to see a small hand pointing towards the ground, his voice taut with worry.
"Grandfather, you squished some of the pentawrens! They're all shrivelled up now . . ." Strive's tiny voice sounded distressed, prompting the Elder to gently place him back on the ground. It would seem his grandson had momentarily forgotten about his passionate desire to dance through the starlight.
"Eh, is that so? My apologies, Strive. I guess I'm a little too big to be playing among the flowers." The Elder looked down at his grandson, feeling a slight prick of guilt when he saw just how many of the flowers he had trampled beneath his boots. Strive tenderly grasped the withered plant, their turquoise petals glowing dimly underneath the starlight. The young boy's bottom lip quivered, a pool of tears beginning to swell to the surface. He held the crumpled plant to his chest, weeping sadly at the unfortunate end to its life. As the child held the pentawren close, an azure glow radiated from his chest; his core was reacting to his own sadness.
The Elder frowned, looking down to his own chest. Residing below his chin, a glowing cyan gem protruded from his breast plate, his cloak fabricated to sit snugly around it. Upon seeing his grandson's sorrowful reaction to the crushed pentawrens, the Elder's own core reacted, glowing a little brighter from the onset of emotions he was feeling.
Strive let out a few sniffles, his hands wandering to the unscathed flowers as he felt each of their five petals with a delicate touch. He had always been this way; innocent, kind, and an overwhelmingly gentle soul. He could not stand pain— whether this be pain to himself or others. He would always try his best to be kind to everything, this included nature as well. Even as he was joyously sprinting through the fields, he would always remain conscious as to not disrupt the plants in the ground, simply swiping what little bits of starlight he could. It was interesting to observe, really. Such a playful, head-strong child, yet observant and careful when you least expect it.
And the way he looked towards the skies—his wonder was unbelievably contagious. His determination to reach what others had dismissed was admirable, though it often got him in trouble.
More than once, the Elder had found him missing from his room only to locate him on the highest point of the roof, gazing wistfully at the stars while he danced around, his tiny hands flexing towards the glowing orbs. His mother was just like him, deciding to join him on the roof and hoist him into her arms, asking him which star he wanted so she could give it to him. Strive would bubble over with giggles whenever she said this, pointing at one specific star, reaching, claiming that it would be his some day. Strive's mother would smile, bouncing him in her arms before whispering to her dozing son, affectionately commenting on how he already had starlight in his eyes.
Now, Strive's starlight was gone, replaced with pools of sorrow as he gathered more of the crumpled foliage in his arms. The Elder sighed once more, lowering himself to his grandson's level; he made sure not to sit on any of the pentawrens. He crouched above the glowing flowers, praying that he would be able to keep his balance for the time being. "I'm sorry for hurting the flowers, Strive. I didn't mean to. Your grandfather can be a little clumsy sometimes."
Strive wiped his eyes, his small hands brushing over the lighter half of his cyan face; the brighter patch mimicked the placement of his grandfather's goggles. He sniffed once, his eyes slowly dragging across the remaining pentawrens. "It's okay, I know you didn't mean to." He tilted his head to the sky, his eyes scanning the vast cosmic scene. "Do you think there are pentawrens in the sky as well?"
"Pentawrens? In the sky?"
"Yeah." Strive continued, his dark eyes flicking from one dot to the next. "Sometimes when I run through the flowers, some of the petals will fly away in the wind. I never see where they go, but do you think they can travel to the stars? I mean, they glow just like they do!" As if to make his point, he ran his fingers through the crushed flowers, filtering all the detached petals from the stem. While they were slightly withered from the weight of the Elder's boot, they still held onto specks of glowing moondew, the dreamy hum highlighting its turquoise palette.
"I suppose we could see for ourselves." Feeling a smile return to his lips, the Elder gently picked up his grandson, setting him down on his shoulders once again. "You'll be able to see the petals longer when you're higher up. Come now, scatter them and let's see where they go!"
Strive grinned, his sadness forgotten once he found a renewed purpose for the flattened flowers. The boy inhaled sharply, trying to fit as much air in his lungs as he could. His core flickered lightly as he willed himself to gather more air than he could handle. After reaching his full potential, he let out a mighty gust of wind, sending the petals soaring through the glittering sky. Both he and the Elder watched them coil through the air, swirling together in a turquoise waltz. A sudden, blustering wind whipped past them, sending the petals further into the sky.
"Look!" shrieked Strive excitedly."They do go to the sky!"
The Elder let out a low chuckle, his grandson's innocent marvel at the simplest things warming his core. "I guess they do. You were certainly right, Strive." The boy giggled some more, idly swinging his legs on his grandfather's shoulders while he watched the twilight skies, the fluorescent petals dimly visible as their distance increased.
Strive began humming a little tune, losing himself in the mesmerizing scene above. His misty eyes fell upon his favourite star, the impressive dot shimmering in response. His star was the centre of everything; speckles of smaller stars gathered around its form, scarved in milky starlight, its various hues of purple and pink dominating the surrounding blue. If he looked hard enough, he swore he could see splotches of green and yellow as well. This was one of the reasons his star caught so much attention. It was like looking at a cosmic rainbow, his eyes becoming saturated with every colour the galaxy would allow.
Strive continued to stare dreamily at his star, resting his head on his grandfather's hat when he began to grow tired. He willed himself to keep his eyes on his star. One of these days he was going to be up there, trailing his hands among the thousands of glistening dots. Some times it felt impossible, the distance between himself and the open space terribly daunting. Yet deep down, Strive knew he was going to make it. He didn't know how he was going to get there, but he would. He certainly could. He must.
As his eyes began to droop, Strive felt the sudden start of his grandfather, the elderly man freezing beneath him. The boy squinted in confusion, wondering why his grandfather had gotten spooked. Looking upwards, the child's eyes widened when his star began moving to the side. Rather, it looked like it was being sucked away. He jolted upwards immediately. His feathered ears went rigid with shock. Below him, he saw his grandfather raise his goggles back to his forehead, eyes wide and unmoving.
"Wha—the stars. . . . They're—they're being pulled away!"
Strive looked around desperately, watching as the sky's colourful palette was drenched in a sickening black, the inky darkness spreading into the cosmos like an airborne sickness. One by one, the stars were pulled into the black void, disappearing into the frightful unknown. He felt a cry escape his chest when the remaining stars were pulled into the oncoming abyss, some dots momentarily staying in place while they fought against the unknown force. Slowly but surely the stars lost their battle, the last of the glistening warriors plunging into chaos.
Not only did the stars get pulled away, but the essence of the pentawrens as well. Strive watched with dismay as the turquoise flowers leaned towards the darkness, their luminous petals becoming shredded as the prismatic sky-beast tore at their limbs, clawing, biting, tearing out every bit of moondew from them. A few of the flowers were uprooted, soaring through the skies on a bout of ominous wind.
Strive's core ached painfully at the sight, desperately clawing at the sky as he tried to hold onto a simple bit of starlight. He felt his lower lip quiver before biting down, feeling tears of fear and confusion fall across his cheeks. He stared at the black prism, the towering beast holding onto the stars like a gluttonous giant, its darkness dimming the beauty of the cosmos. The boy let out a gut wrenching scream, his core ablaze with a tortured azure light, his mournful glow highlighting the flowered corpses surrounding them.
The Elder quickly snatched the child from his shoulders, shielding his grandson from the beast by holding him to his chest, shakily running in the direction of the village. The Elder's eyes were wide with fright. He tore through the forest path, his breathing coming out in strained huffs as he willed himself to run faster, all while keeping a grip on his thrashing grandson.
Strive had tears of anguish rolling down his cheeks, his tiny hands balled into fists while he wailed in despair, his core glowing frantically with each shuddering breath he took and tortured scream he let out.
The Elder grimaced, feeling his own tears beginning to surface. I mustn't cry! I can't! he thought to himself, his focus currently occupied with clutching the shrieking child. I've got to get to the village! My daughter . . . oh, my daughter! I have to get to her!
The Elder didn't have to run long before he was met with some familiar figures; the villagers. The Elder looked over his shoulder, shuddering at how empty the skies looked. Sweeping his gaze across the bleakness, he should be relieved that the prism was no longer there. Yet the sky's emptiness was so haunting that he briefly wished the beast had stayed. At least there would have been something to look at.
"Elder Alcadous! What's happening? Where are the stars!?" yelled the villagers.
Alcadous stopped in front of the distraught villagers, panting heavily in an attempt to catch his breath. He rocked Strive in his arms, the poor boy having screamed his voice raw. Alcadous felt tears swim to his eyes once he looked down at the shaking bundle in his arms, his grandson's core flickering dimly while he quietly wept. The older man collapsed to his knees. An available villager swiftly took the child in their arms while others went to aid the Elder, supporting the distraught man by his trembling arms. They tried to calm the young child, whispering soothing words to the inconsolable form. By this point, the boy had completely shut down, his eyes closed from of exhaustion in an attempt to escape this cursed night.
Catching his breath, Alcadous pointed down the path. "My daughter, where is Avida? I need to make sure she is safe!"
"E-Elder Alcadous! She's in the village. We saw her run into her home shortly before we came running for you!
Wasting no time, Alcadous freed himself from the other villager's grasps, practically dragging himself down the remainder of the path. Despite the concerned protests of the villagers, the Elder hobbled on. "She wouldn't. Not for something like this, she truly wouldn't! She couldn't!" Alcadous kept repeating these words as he stumbled to a familiar home near the edge of town, the exterior having been built from leftover metals and scrap materials from deserted projects. While the exterior was not the most pleasant to look at, the interior betrayed its roughness.
Alcadous tore through the door, nearly running into the one he was looking for. "Avida! You can't!"
"I must!" The woman nearly tore past Alcadous before being stopped by his outstretched arm, his limbs still shaking from holding onto Strive for an extended period of time.
Avida's appearance was similar to that of Strive's, sporting the same shade of cyan blue across her fair skin, a lighter patch gently sweeping across her eyes like painted goggles. Her hair was longer than her son's, the beautiful wisps tied into a half-up bun with a few of her cloudy locks bouncing at her shoulders. Her eyes burned with unspoken intensity, her dark eyes housing the fires of a thousand meteor showers.
She glared at her father, hoisting up the head gear she had planned to put on before his arrival. "You saw what happened out there, didn't you? The blinking stars have disappeared! What do you make of that?!"
Alcadous looked at the headgear and felt a lump in his throat; he saw his old pair of aviator goggles. "Avida, I told you that I've never perfected the mechanical airship! I never even got past the stratosphere before threatening to burn up! We can't go any further than that!"
Avida sneered at her father, narrowing her eyes in defiance.
"You speak with fear!" she yelled. "What happened to the man who dreamed of the stars? The one who told me of all the possibilities once we reached the skies? You may have given up, but I never did! I'm going out there and figuring out what happened!" Avida shouldered past her father and walked out of the house with a hostile gait, signalling for the villagers to back away from her.
Terror-stricken, Alcadous watched his daughter leave. "You can't just leave! What about Strive?!"
The woman stopped in her tracks, twitching when the Elder mentioned her son. She looked around the crowd, narrowing her eyes while she searched the murmuring clearing. Her gaze sparked to life when she found the villager cradling her son, the small child having been soothed into a somewhat relaxed state. Avida's glare softened as she approached the sleeping boy, causing the villager to back away in alarm. She rolled her eyes at the cowardly gesture; she was intimidating, sure. But not that scary.
She gazed lovingly at her son, tracing her eyes over his features so she wouldn't forget them anytime soon. "Don't worry," she cooed. "I'll be back soon. I'll bring your stars back to you."
Avida sighed loudly. She pulled her goggles over her eyes and slowly faced the crowd. She saw their looks of despair, fear and worst of all—hopelessness. She grimaced to herself, placing her hand over her core. The gem shimmered with determination.
She looked towards her father, not out of defiance, but with pleading eyes. "Father, I need to do this. Not only for us, but for him. My little Strive." She looked towards the sky, feeling hollowed when she took in the emptiness above. "If I can go beyond our planet, I have a shot at finding a solution. How can I stand by while the world dies? That's no way to live."
As Avida began to walk away, Alcadous shook his head, balling his fists as he yelled for his daughter to stay. "This is suicide! Did you hear what I said?! We don't know what's beyond the veil! We have never crossed before!"
The woman stopped, standing at the edge of the forest where her ship was being kept. She looked back at her father, a sad smile making its way across her features. "While you may not hold the stars in your eyes anymore, I still do. I'm not letting the Void take that away from me too." She fastened her goggles tighter to her head, quickly checking their stability. "If I stay here and do nothing, my Starlight might die as well." She cast a quick look to the sleeping bundle in the stranger's grasp, her gaze unintentionally lingering for longer than she planned.
She gave a shaky sigh, willing herself to keep her composure as she fought back devastating tears. She'd be back—she'd come back for her Starlight.
Alcadous watched his daughter disappear into the bushes, a panicked murmur rising among the villagers. The Elder quickly ran to his grandson's side, gently shifting the small boy into his arms. The elderly man stifled a pained gasp, his whole body shaking in time with his sobs. He listened helplessly to the foreign hum that filled the air, followed by a sharp gust of wind. The villagers watched in awe when a round, white aircraft began to ascend into the air, a familiar form encased within the glass cockpit. Alcadous gazed at the carrier with a mix of admiration and horror. It was amazing that she had been able to get the old prototype working, yet equally horrifying due to the promise it held for the open skies.
With an audible draft of wind, the ship soared through the sky, disappearing among the desolate abyss. Alcadous felt Strive shift within his grasp, the small child's eyes remaining closed. The boy let out a frightened whimper, his hands reaching out for nothing in particular. The Elder cradled his grandson, feeling a cold emptiness spread throughout his exhausted core. He held Strive tightly, refusing to let go of the one she left behind.
