Chapter Text
At first, Blair thought she was still asleep.
The sky felt endless, stretching above her in deep shades of blue and silver. Stars drifted instead of staying still, pulsing softly like living things. Some moved in slow spirals. Others trailed long ribbons of light behind them, disappearing into clouds that glowed from underneath.
For a moment, Blair only stared.
Then the thing beneath her shifted. She froze. A sharp breath caught in her throat as she looked down and realized she was not floating.
She was riding something.
The creature beneath her was enormous, covered in pale feathers that shimmered like frost under moonlight. Its wings cut silently through the air, scattering tiny sparks every time they moved. Blair couldn't even tell where its body ended properly—parts of it dissolved into stardust before reforming again.
Its eye turned toward her briefly.
Human. Far too human. Blair nearly screamed. The creature let out a low trill, offended more than threatening, and dipped suddenly in the air. The world tilted violently.
Blair grabbed fistfuls of feathers on instinct, heart pounding so hard it hurt. Wind teared past her face. Below her, clouds drifted over islands suspended in open space—gardens glowing gold and violet, rivers flowing upward into the sky, buildings made of glass and light connected by impossibly thin bridges.
None of it felt real.
None of it could be real.
Then the memories hit her all at once: The woman, the warm voice, the promise.
You may help prevent tragedies.
Blair's stomach twisted. The realization terrified her more than the fall.
The creature shifted again beneath her, trying to steady itself, but Blair panicked and pulled away too quickly.
And suddenly there was nothing beneath her at all.
Wind screamed past her ears as stars blurred together overhead. Blair flailed helplessly, fingers grasping at empty air while the floating islands rushed closer and closer under her.
I'm going to die.
The strange thing was how quickly her brain accepted it.
There was barely even time to be afraid properly before the ground came rushing toward her in impossible colors—fields of silver grass, glowing trees, crystalline lakes reflecting galaxies that shouldn’t fit inside them. Blair squeezed her eyes shut.
The impact never came.
Instead—
boing.
The sound was so absurd that Blair opened her eyes immediately.
The ground beneath her was caved inward like stretched fabric, catching her in a massive dip before bouncing her lightly back upward again. Tiny lights scattered everywhere around her like disturbed fireflies. Then the surface slowly settled beneath her until she was lying safely in soft silver grass.
Blair looked up, gazing at the sky to try to spot the feathered creature, but the only things she saw were stars and galaxies.
Nearby, enormous flowers made of translucent glass bloomed and closed with slow creaking sounds. Rivers drifted overhead instead of below, carrying glowing petals through the air. Somewhere in the distance, she heard laughter echoing between the floating structures.
Blair slowly sat up.
“What is this place…?”
“Pretty, right?”
Blair yelped.
A girl was suddenly crouching beside her. She looked around Blair’s age, maybe slightly older, with bright eyes and a grin that felt almost too warm for somewhere this strange. Tiny stars clung to the ends of her pink hair.
Typical appearance for this place, Blair thought.
The girl tilted her head. "You're new."
“I fell out of the sky.” Blair admitted.
“Yeah, that happens sometimes.”
“Sometimes?!”
The girl laughed brightly, like Blair hadn’t just experienced the most terrifying moment of her life. “You should’ve seen Katsumi’s first landing. She broke three railings and screamed at a cloud for ten minutes.”
Despite herself, Blair lets out a small sound halfway between a laugh and disbelief. The stranger stands, offering her a hand. “Come on. Mother hates when newcomers wander around alone.”
Mother.
Blair already acknowledged Her presence. It felt far away, but also buried inside her soul. It made Blair feel warm and fuzzy, despite Mother's mechanical emotions.
Still, she took the girl’s hand, and as she pulled her to her feet, Blair looked out across the impossible realm again—the drifting stars, the floating gardens, the endless glowing sky. Hope and wonder bloomed in her chest at once.
Yuna didn't let go of Blair’s hand immediately. Though it wasn't tight or possessive, just enough to guide her forward as the silver grass bended beneath their feet. The ground felt strange to walk on. Soft in some places, almost liquid in others, like the realm hadn’t fully decided what matter is supposed to be. Tiny lights drifted around Blair’s ankles when she stepped, scattering lazily before gathering again. Everything here moved.
“You'll get used to it eventually,” Yuna said casually.
Blair blinked. “I didn’t say anything.”
“You looked overwhelmed.”
Yuna smiled again. It was a nice smile, like she was used to calming frightened people.
They passed beneath enormous archways woven from glowing branches. Above them, the same starry sky Blair had started to get used to. She stole a glance at Yuna — that was the name of the former stranger, which fit her bubbly personality and unique style — who was strolling cheerfully through the forest. Her pink hair shone in the gentle light of the fireflies wandering nearby. She looked so normal in this bustling world next to Blair. It was as if she adapted her lifestyle after observing for enough time.
Blair couldn't stop staring. “So this is really real.”
“Unfortunately.”
Blair glanced at Yuna. The girl’s grin widened. “Kidding. Mostly.”
Ahead of them, a river flowed upward into the stars. Not metaphorically. Actually upward.
Blair stopped walking entirely just to watch it.
The water rose in slow spirals, carrying glowing flower petals into the sky where they vanished among the constellations.
“Where does it go?”
“Nobody knows,” Yuna said. “Ruelle says it loops forever. Katsumi says she’s gonna jump in one day and prove it.”
“Did she?”
“Mother banned her from trying.”
Blair laughs before she can stop herself.
Yuna glances sideways at her. “You seem calmer now.”
“I almost died.”
“No you didn’t. The realm wouldn’t let you.”
“That’s somehow worse.”
“Yeah,” Yuna says lightly. “You’ll fit in fine.”
The certainty behind her words makes Blair pause.
After a while, they reached a wide platform overlooking the rest of the realm. Blair’s breath caught. From here, she could see everything: floating islands layered endlessly beneath the stars, glass towers glowing softly from within, creatures made of feathers and light soaring through the sky in slow arcs.
And people.
Girls around her age crossing bridges, laughing together, carrying glowing orbs in their hands. Some wore uniforms, others wear strange flowing clothing stitched with constellations. A few glance at Blair curiously before continuing. None of them seemed surprised she was here, like newcomers were normal.
Yuna leaned against the railing.
“So,” she said, “have you thought about your new name yet?”
Blair frowned.
“My what?”
“Your new name.”
Yuna said it casually, like discussing the weather. “Everyone gets one after arriving.”
Blair stared at her. "Why would I need a new one?”
For the first time since meeting her, Yuna hesitated. “The Womb of Stars changes people,” Yuna said carefully. “New life, new purpose, new name. That’s just how it works.”
A cold feeling curled quietly in Blair’s stomach. “I like my name.”
Yuna’s expression softened, something dangerously close to understanding. “Most of us did.”
Silence stretched between them.
Far overhead, constellations drifted across the sky like living things searching for somewhere to settle.
Blair gripped the railing tighter. “Did you choose yours?”
Yuna smiled faintly. “I don’t remember the old one anymore.”
She said it too easily, like she’s repeated that sentence enough times for it to stop hurting.
Blair suddenly didn’t want to ask anything else.
Yuna pushed herself upright again.
The brightness returned to her expression so quickly it almost felt artificial. “Anyway! You don’t have to decide immediately. Mother usually gives newcomers time.”
“Usually?”
“Depends.”
“On what?”
Yuna started walking again. “How attached they are to who they used to be.”
Blair followed automatically, unease settling heavier in her chest with every step. “And if they are?”
"You'll find out."
"When?"
"After you visit Mother."
Blair went quiet. She fidgeted with the hem of her shirt, suddenly not that interested in the landscape anymore.
"And..where is Mother?"
Yuna had an ever-present smile on her face. "Do you want me to take you to Her?"
Blair hesitated. "Is it far from here?"
"Not if we go by train."
It took a few more moments of pondering for Blair to agree. She and Yuna walked through the bustling village until they reached a train station.
The station hung beneath the largest island in the realm. Blair didn't understand how something can hang beneath anything without falling, but after seeing rivers flow upward and clouds move like living creatures, she began to realize the Womb of Stars did not care about the rules she grew up with.
The train tracks curved through open air, silver rails stretching endlessly into glowing fog.
Blair stopped near the edge of the platform immediately. “That cannot be safe.”
“It’s completely safe,” Yuna replied.
A pause.
"Probably.”
Blair shot her a look and Yuna grinned.
The station itself was beautiful in an unsettling way. The ceiling resembled a night sky trapped behind glass, constellations slowly shifting overhead. Pale flowers grew between the tiles beneath their feet, opening whenever footsteps passed nearby.
Everything was quiet.
Too quiet for a train station.
No announcements. No crowds.
Only a few girls scattered across benches, speaking softly to one another. Some glanced toward Blair with curiosity before quickly looking away again. One of them whispers something, another shakes her head.
Blair catched only one word.
Newborn.
A chill crawled up her spine.
Yuna noticed. “Don’t mind them,” she said. “People get weird around arrivals.”
“Why?”
Yuna shrugged. “You still look like someone from before.”
Before Blair could ask what that meant, a distant sound cut through the silence. A train approached. At least, Blair thought it was a train. It moved without touching the rails, gliding silently through the air. Its body was made of dark reflective glass threaded with silver light, long enough that Blair couldn't see where it ended.
The doors slided open soundlessly.
Yuna stepped in first. “Come on.”
Blair hesitated. Every instinct in her body suddenly screamed at her not to enter, because something irreversible waited beyond those doors. Blair looked back toward the impossible sky beyond the platform.
Then at the train.
Then at her own trembling hands.
She remembered the voice that called to her before she came here.
You may help prevent tragedies.
People needed help. That mattered, didn’t it? Slowly, Blair stepped onto the train, the doors closing behind her at once.
Inside, the train was... normal? Blair looked around, almost waiting for something or someone special to show up. But only the same girls she saw earlier were chatting close by. Yuna sat across from her. For the first time since they met, she seemed nervous, her fingers tapping lightly against her sleeve.
“Mother usually asks two things first.”
The train began slowing, interrupting Yuna. Ahead of them, through layers of silver fog, a structure slowly emerged. Massive, ancient. A cathedral made entirely from glass and starlight.
At its center stood a figure so tall and still that Blair mistook her for part of the building itself at first.
Then the figure moved and every light inside the train dimmed instinctively.
Yuna stood. “Sorry for not finishing what I had to say, but... try not to lie to Her,” she said quietly.
The train doors opened without a sound, cold air spilling inside immediately. Blair stepped out carefully, her shoes clicking against transparent glass. Beneath her feet, stars drifted slowly through endless darkness, as if the floor itself was only pretending to be solid.
The cathedral towered above her.
No—
not a cathedral.
A throne room.
A courtroom.
A grave.
The structure keeps changing the longer she looked at it.
Its walls stretched impossibly high, lined with floating rings of light inscribed with symbols Blair couldn't read. Giant strands of glowing fabric hung from the ceiling like suspended rivers, moving despite the still air.
At the center of it all stood Mother.
Blair suddenly understood why everyone called Her that; She looked inevitable.
Mother’s form shifted subtly every time Blair blinked. One moment she resembled a woman draped in pale robes threaded with stars, the next she seemed too large, too many-limbed, something hidden poorly beneath the shape of a person. Her face remained calm through all of it.
Beside Blair, Yuna lowered her head immediately. “Mother.”
“You accepted the invitation willingly,” Mother said. Her voice did not sound loud. It simply existed everywhere at once.
Blair swallowed. “I think so.”
A pause.
The floating lights overhead flickered.
“You are uncertain.”
“I don’t remember all of it.”
“You will.”
That answer did not comfort her.
Mother stepped forward. The glass beneath Her feet bloomed with constellations as She walked. Blair fought the urge to step backward.
“Your previous life remains accessible only in fragments during transition,” Mother explained calmly. “Attachment complicates reassignment.”
“I don’t want to forget myself,” Blair said quietly.
Mother's expression shifted to something close to recognition, like She'd heard that sentence countless times before.
“You misunderstand,” Mother said. “No self is lost. Only reconfigured.”
Blair immediately hated that sentence.
“A new designation is required before assignment.”
Blair’s stomach sank.
Yuna finally spoke again, voice gentler now. “You can choose it yourself.”
Blair hesitated for the millionth time that day. Then, quietly—
“Francesca.”
The word left Blair’s mouth before she fully thought it through.
Mother tilted her head slightly. “Reasoning?”
Blair frowned. She didn't know. “It sounded right.”
Mother studied her for several long seconds. "Accepted.”
The entire chamber vibrated. Softly at first, then all at once.
Light flooded upward through the glass beneath Blair’s feet, racing across the cathedral in enormous glowing patterns. The floating rings overhead began turning slowly, illuminating symbols faster and faster until they blurred into streaks of gold.
Blair gasped as warmth surged through her body. Her reflection appeared briefly across the glass floor below. Not Blair anymore.
Francesca looked back at her.
The light did not fade immediately. It lingered beneath Francesca’s skin, moving through her in slow waves that made her feel too warm and too hollow at the same time. She could still hear her old name in the back of her mind.
Blair.
Mother watched silently, waiting. For what, Francesca didn't know.
Then the pain started.
At first, it felt small, a sting in her left hand. Francesca glanced down instinctively. Nothing was there.
Then the skin along her palm suddenly burned.
She jerked violently.
A strangled noise caught in her throat as she gripped her wrist with her other hand. The sensation spread fast—not heat exactly, but pressure, like something sharp was being pushed beneath her skin letter by letter.
“W-what is that—?”
Yuna immediately looked away, like this part is private.
The pain sharpened. Francesca gasped as light suddenly burst across her left hand in thin glowing lines. A shape. Something was carving itself into her. She stumbled backward, panic flashing across her face.
"Make it stop—”
Mother remained still. “The mark finalizes the bond.”
Francesca barely heard her. The burning became unbearable for one terrible second, bright enough that tears sprang instantly to her eyes. It felt ancient somehow, deeper than skin, like the mark was being etched directly into whatever part of her now belonged to the Womb of Stars.
Then—
silence.
The pain vanished as suddenly as it came. Francesca’s breathing turned uneven. For several seconds, nobody spoke. Slowly, she lowered her trembling hand, a star resting in the center of her palm. The lines glowed faintly silver beneath her skin, as if moonlight had been trapped there permanently. Francesca stared at it.
“Each magical girl receives a symbol reflecting her nature,” Mother said calmly.
Yuna finally stepped closer again, carefully. “It’ll ache for a while,” she said softly. “Especially when you use magic for the first few times.”
Francesca then noticed something faint near Yuna’s collarbone—a barely visible glowing symbol beneath her skin, hidden under fabric. Yuna noticed her staring and gently pulled the neckline higher. Not ashamed, but protective.
“Do all of you have one?”
“Everybody here,” Yuna said.
Mother began walking again, robes trailing starlight behind Her. “Your transition is now complete, Francesca. Attachment to previous identity will lessen with time.”
“What if I don’t want it to?”
For the first time since arriving, the chamber became truly silent; even the drifting lights seem to pause. Mother turned slowly toward her.
“They all say that at first.”