1. A Cosmic Body

I can sense things that others cannot.

The particles in the air, the subtle rays of the moon. The energy that courses through my blood like a river to the sea and back again. I feel it all around me—and sometimes more than just what is immediately visible. It's as though there are layers upon layers of reality at play here, each one invisible but present nonetheless; they exist on their own terms, even if we do not see them or know how they work. We only need to learn enough about our environment so that these hidden elements become accessible once again. But first... we must be willing to pay attention to the world beyond us.

My mother used her ability for healing when she was young before being forced into hiding by those who would persecute her gift because it threatened their power base: the nobles who ran this city-state. They were afraid of anyone with magic—or any knowledge thereof since people knew too much could lead you down paths no sane person should ever follow.

My father had been born during a time of peace between the kingdoms and cities of Anastille, after which he grew up unaware his family was anything other than ordinary citizens living under an oppressive regime. He met my mother while attending school out in the country, where most children went until age fifteen. She'd come from a small farming village outside town, studying alongside him despite having far less money than he did. There was something about her eyes that drew him to her. And then she saved his life.

He never forgot her, and he never will.

"You're staring at the stars again, Eden," sounded a dainty voice from behind. "You're like your father in so many ways."

It took me a moment to realize I wasn't alone anymore. When my gaze shifted upward, I saw Mother sitting crosslegged beside me beneath a tree, gazing at the sky above. Her long black hair fell over her shoulders like silk sheets, contrasting against her pale skin. A pair of thin gold hoops pierced both ears, gleaming in the light coming off the full moon overhead. Around her neck hung a silver locket shaped like a dragonfly, engraved with runes that glowed faintly whenever she turned toward the source of magical energies nearby. That included me now, apparently.

She smiled softly when she noticed me looking at her necklace. "There are times when I miss seeing you look up at night, little one."

I didn't answer right away, turning instead to stare at the sky myself. I tried to ignore the way her words made my heart ache inside. It hadn't happened often growing up, but every now and then, I'd catch her watching me without saying anything. Those moments always felt awkward and uncomfortable, especially considering how hard my parents worked to hide the fact that they weren't normal folk.

Now, however, I found myself wishing we could have talked openly about everything going on. Even if it meant risking discovery, maybe knowing someone else understood why I couldn't sleep or eat certain foods would make some kind of difference. Instead, we pretended nothing was wrong. Maybe we thought talking about it would somehow bring it closer to happening. Make my abilities manifest sooner rather than later. In hindsight, I think we simply wanted to avoid admitting defeat. As though pretending it wasn't real would change fate itself.

But Fate doesn't care whether you believe in it or not. Not really, anyway.

When she finally spoke again, she seemed distracted by the glow emanating from within her locket. “How old were you again?”

“Huh?” I looked at her, unsure if she was kidding. “I’m eight, mother. You should know that by now.”

“Right…” she soughed. “I’m getting a little forgetful these days.”

We didn’t say anything for minutes to come, letting the silence direct our minds to the cosmos.

“Eden, look at me,” she suddenly said, tugging on my arm. “Let me see your face again.”

“Hm?”

"Your father is taking a visit to the city tomorrow."

"Oh?" I asked absently. "What does he want?"

"Just some errands. I figured you'd want to see the city again, don't you?" she whispered, squeezing my hand firmly. "And you need to wear your gloves, Eden. At least on your right hand."

My fingers clumsily rummaged through my pocket until I found a slender glove. "Look, there is a hole in it," I said, holding it in front of her. "They're gonna see my hand anyway."

Mother shook her head slowly, smiling sadly. "No they won't."

We stared silently at each other for several seconds before she reached out and touched my forehead lightly with her fingertips.

Rising to my feet, I peeled off my shirt, exposing a startling sight. My right arm, including half my chest, was as black as the void of space, and it appeared as if the texture of a cosmic, starry night had been imprinted upon it—no, it was as the sky itself. The stars on my body were fluid; they moved around, forming constellations between each other. New stars took birth within me, some emerging from the abyss of nothingness while others arose from the aftermath of two colliding stars. And as these stars reached the end of their life cycle, they met their inevitable fate—a supernova that would cause my body to radiate with a sudden, brilliant glimmer.

"I think my stars grew larger. It's almost glowing through my shirt these days. You think they'll imprison us if they see it?"

Her eyes widened, and a piercing pang of concern shot through her spine. "You absolutely cannot show your body to anyone, okay?" she whispered urgently.

"I know. You've told me a million times already."

She leaned back, supporting her weakening body with her arms. "I guess getting you thicker clothes would be a priority. Why don't you join your father tomorrow? Just stay close to him, alright? If they ask questions..."

I nodded solemnly.

"...just tell them whatever they want to hear."

A gentle smile crossed her lips. "Don't worry. Everything will be fine. Your father knows how to handle himself."

As she rose to leave, I called out to her. "Where are you going?"

"To bed," she answered, pausing briefly. Then she looked down at me, her face filled with sorrow. "Goodnight, Eden."

Walking quickly toward the house, she paused again, looking back at me.

I waved.

Then she disappeared into the darkness.

“Forgetful… Hmm.”

I walked along the path leading to the field, kicking stones and twigs aside. I heard birds chirping high in the trees. The wind rustled the leaves, making them dance in the breeze. This was my favorite place to be.

The grass swayed gently in the cool evening air. All the animals were asleep. Only the insects still buzzed loudly, trying to get my attention. I squinted at the buzzing moths, wondering how they managed such complex flight patterns. Their wings beat faster and faster until the insect became a blur of motion. How strange that something so tiny could move so fast!

Eventually, the sounds faded away as I entered the field. The tall stalks stood like soldiers guarding the perimeter of the property. Occasionally, a few flowers poked their heads out from among the blades of green. These blooms resembled miniature suns; their petals were yellowish-white with red edges. Each flower bloomed only for a short period of time; we enjoyed them while they lasted, and so did the honeybees. Some nights I watched them collect nectar from the blossoming plants, flitting from blossom to blossom and leaving behind trails of white pollen wherever they flew.

Soon, I arrived at the edge of the field. The ground sloped downward slightly, becoming softer, giving way to soft sand. Beyond lay a forest. Dark shadows covered the treetops. No matter the hour of day, the woods remained shrouded in perpetual gloom. Sometimes I wondered what secrets hid within its depths.

One thing I knew for sure was that the forest belonged to no one except itself. Nobody owned it; nobody controlled it. Nature ruled here, not humans.

But this was our farm. Our home.

In truth, it was hardly a proper homestead. The land was barren and rocky, covered mostly by weeds. On top of that, there was barely any water. What little rainwater we collected was quickly depleted due to lack of maintenance. Most nights, we slept hungry.

Yet none of us cared. We were happy here. Happy together.

After all, we had each other.