The light of the Celestines had returned with a quiet brilliance, casting a soft glow across the landscape as they flickered back into their steady rhythm. The sky, touched with hues of gold and rose, began to brighten once more, marking the dawn's arrival. Yet on the hilltop, where the night's silence had left an imprint, he remained, still and patient, the weight of his cloak settling over his skeletal form. Aya lay beside him, her small body curled against the coolness of the earth, her face peaceful in sleep as the stars of the Celestines softened into the early light.
The world around them was quiet, save for the low, rhythmic hum of the Celestines' energy—a subtle presence that seemed to stretch across the land, guiding and watching, but never interfering. The day was young, and in the distance, the faint stirrings of the slum below began to echo up the hill, but here on the mountaintop, it felt as though time had forgotten to move. Aya had always believed that this was the place where the world could stand still—a place where she could let the weight of her worries lift, even if only for a short while.
Yet, all things must come to an end, and so did the tranquil dawn they shared. As the light grew stronger, it eventually touched the edge of her dreams. Aya stirred, her eyes fluttering open to the strange sensation of coldness creeping into her bones. She blinked a few times, her gaze focusing first on the still form beside her, and then on the empty space around them. She was not where she should have been. The hilltop, though familiar in its beauty, was not the safe haven of the little home they called theirs.
Her heart skipped a beat.
Aya shot upright, her small frame trembling as her hands instinctively grabbed at his cloak. Panic surged through her, innocent and pure, yet tinged with the bitter understanding that not all things in this world were safe, and some moments were meant to be carefully guarded. Her wide eyes searched the empty landscape, her breath quickening as she looked toward the distant horizon, as if hoping that everything would reset itself in an instant. But it didn't.
She turned to the cloaked figure beside her, her expression faltering as she quickly processed the situation. "Mister," she whispered urgently, shaking him lightly. "What time is it? We... we've been here all night."
He remained still, unmoving as always. The same silent guardian she had come to trust, the one who never asked questions, never gave answers, but always showed up when she needed him most.
Her hands clenched around his cloak as her mind raced. "Oh no, Tanya's gonna be so mad!" she said aloud, her voice laced with worry. She had always known Tanya's protectiveness. It was a love that ran deeper than the roughest of days. But it was also a love marked by a fierce, almost frantic edge, especially when it came to Aya. Aya wasn't supposed to wander too far. She wasn't supposed to spend the night on the hill, a place too far from their makeshift home. And now, with the first light of day breaking, the reality of her absence would have already settled in.
"We need to go quickly," Aya whispered, her voice tremulous as she stood, stumbling slightly, her legs weak from the night spent on the hard ground. She glanced down at the tribute they had left on the hill, a glimmer of regret flashing across her face as she realized they would have to leave it behind. She had wanted to stay longer, to see if the Celestines would show some sign of acknowledgment for her offering, but that thought was quickly overshadowed by the growing tension in her chest.
Without looking back, she began her descent from the hilltop, her feet moving with urgency but hesitation, as though the weight of her actions already weighed heavy on her small shoulders.
He followed her, silent as ever, the wind rustling the edges of his cloak as he kept pace with her. There was a quiet understanding between them, a bond that required no words, no explanations. He wasn't sure why he followed her; maybe it was simply because she needed him, or maybe it was the same instinct that had drawn him to her from the beginning—something deep and undeniable.
The journey back to the slum felt longer than it had before, each step heavier than the last. Aya's thoughts were consumed with worry, her mind racing over the possible reactions that awaited her. Tanya, with her ever-present vigilance, would have been frantic by now, scouring the area for her. Aya couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt for not being where she was supposed to be.
By the time they reached the edge of the slum, the first rays of daylight had begun to break through the haze of the morning. The slum, which had always felt so chaotic, now seemed quieter, more subdued in the early hours. It was as if the entire place was still waking up, taking in the light that bathed it in an otherworldly glow.
As Aya approached their home, the familiar sounds of daily life greeted her—children's laughter, the clatter of metal and wood, the distant murmur of voices. And then, as she rounded a corner, she saw Tanya.
Tanya's expression was unreadable at first, her eyes searching for Aya as though she had already known what to expect. Her eyes softened when they met Aya's, but there was a flicker of worry beneath the surface, something Aya knew only too well.
"Tanya!" Aya exclaimed, rushing to her sister with an apologetic look. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to worry you. We were just... just at the hill, and we fell asleep there." Her words came out in a rush, her hands wringing nervously in front of her.
Tanya studied her for a moment, her lips pressed together as if weighing her words. Aya could feel the weight of the silence pressing down, but then Tanya sighed, the tension easing from her posture, even though the concern in her eyes remained.
"Aya, you know better than to wander around like that." Tanya's voice was firm but laced with something softer—something that only a sister's love could carry. "You can't just run off without telling me where you're going. What if something had happened to you?"
Aya lowered her head, feeling the sting of her sister's worry. "I know... I'm sorry, Tanya. I just... I wanted to be close to the Celestines. I thought if I stayed up there, maybe they'd show me something... maybe they'd give me a sign. But I lost track of time."
Tanya's gaze softened further, though her worry didn't entirely fade. She knelt down to Aya's level, her hands gently cupping the younger girl's face. There was tenderness in her touch, but also a quiet desperation, as though she were trying to convey all the things she couldn't say with words.
"Aya, the world is full of dangers. The Celestines may be beautiful and full of wonder, but they don't care about us the way we care for each other. You can't let yourself be swept away by their light, not when we have so little time left to protect ourselves." Tanya's voice was quieter now, almost a whisper, as though revealing a deep truth that carried weight.
Aya nodded, her small form feeling much heavier than it should have. She had hoped to see something, anything, that would ease her restless heart—the same longing she always felt when gazing at the sky, watching the Celestines glow above her. It had been a childish dream, perhaps, but one she couldn't shake.
"I know, Tanya," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "I just... I thought if I waited... if I stayed... maybe something would happen, something good."
Tanya sighed, the burden of the world pressing down on her. She was no stranger to this kind of hope—this hope that the impossible might become possible. But she had long learned that such things came with a cost. In the end, it was the bonds between people, not the stars above, that kept them alive.
"Come on," Tanya said after a long moment, standing up and brushing the dirt from her knees. She offered a hand to Aya, who hesitated for only a moment before taking it. "Let's go home. You've got a lot of explaining to do to the others."
Aya followed Tanya back to their small dwelling, feeling the weight of her actions settle more heavily on her. The bustling slum was beginning to wake fully, with the first traces of Celestines light filtering through the cracks in the buildings, casting long shadows on the ground. The air smelled faintly of earth and dust, the usual scent of their home—familiar but always heavy with the weight of survival.
As they neared the entrance, the noise inside grew louder—the clatter of metal, the laughter of the smaller children, the murmurs of adults beginning their day. It was both comforting and stifling, a reminder of the fragile balance they had to maintain in this fractured world.
Aya entered first, her eyes searching for familiar faces. She immediately spotted Sach, their older brother, moving in the corner of the room. His expression was unreadable, but there was a subtle tension in his posture as his gaze flickered toward her. The air between them seemed to shift, but he said nothing, choosing instead to focus on his work.
Tanya, noticing the silent exchange, took a deep breath and turned to Aya. "Go sit down. I'll make sure breakfast is ready," she said, her voice gentle but firm, the weight of her protective nature surfacing once again.
Aya nodded meekly, making her way to their corner of the space where a small wooden table sat, cluttered with bits and pieces of salvaged materials. It wasn't much, but it was theirs, and it held memories of laughter and small victories. The younger children, sensing Aya's return, began to gather around her, their curiosity piqued by her absence and the apparent scolding she was about to receive.
One of the smaller children, a little boy with a mop of wild hair, tugged at her sleeve. "Aya, where'd you go? Why didn't you take us with you?"
Aya gave him a half-smile, her eyes dimmed by the guilt she felt. "I was just... I needed some time. I didn't mean to worry anyone."
The boy frowned, pouting for a moment before his face brightened again. "Can we go with you next time?"
Aya laughed softly, her heart lightening just a little. "Maybe. But only if Tanya says it's okay." She cast a glance toward her older sister…
To be continued…