Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Once every century, when the heavens grow silent and the constellations hold their breath, a single star breaks free from the endless night. The tides slow, orbits of celestial bodies halt to watch and when it happens, it is a sight to behold.

It falls—not as fire, nor as light alone—but as a promise of power. A gift of the cosmos, carrying within them the boundless strength of the stars. 

This is the ancient prophecy.

It is said that whoever claims the Fallen Star shall inherit a power capable of reshaping the world itself. Kingdoms have risen for it. Empires have bled for it. Countless lives have vanished beneath its promise. 

Sandrone read countless books of these stories growing up. Alain told this story to her first when she could only comprehend and not acquire the knowledge itself through reading. When she was old enough to read the books Alain had gifted her, she delved head first into stories of the Fallen star.  Her fascination stemmed from her desire to seek knowledge. To seek the truth of the fallen star. As a child looking out the window every night to see if the prophecy had happened became second nature to her.  Now, she was a harbinger, a follower of the queen– ready to take on her quest, for knowledge.

And so, with each celestial descent, the Cryo Archon, the Tsaritsa, proclaims the beginning of the Hunt.

“Harbingers, show your loyalty to me and journey on,”

Her decree echoes across the frozen lands of Snezhnaya, reaching every corner of the Fatui.

"Find the Fallen Star. Bring Glory to Snezhnaya."

The Harbingers answer without hesitation. Each departs with their own ambitions, loyalties, and desires. Some seek glory. Some seek favor. One crave the unimaginable power promised by the prophecy.

For once the Fallen Star is found...

The fate of the heavens, and the world below, will belong to whoever reaches it first.

       ˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆.

　　　.   　　˚　✭　 　　*　　 　　.𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　　　 ˚　.˚　　　　    　                     ✭　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　 　　 　　　　 ✦

“POLUNIA!! Now would be a great time to show up!!”

In the deep, lush forests of Hissi island a shrilling voice was heard. Along with it, were the sounds of a wild beast chasing its next meal.

Sandrone darted between towering trees, one hand shielding her face from low-hanging branches that seemed personally offended by her existence. Ferns brushed against her boots, roots jutted from the earth like traps laid by nature itself, and somewhere behind her came another deafening roar that sent a flock of birds scattering into the pale morning sky.

She wasn't exactly sure what had gone wrong.

Well...

No, that wasn't true.

She knew exactly what had gone wrong.

Perhaps borrowing a specimen from the nest of an eight-meter-tall apex predator hadn't been the wisest decision she'd ever made. In her defense, the crystal nestled among the creature's eggs was unlike anything she'd ever seen. It shimmered with tiny specks of silver that drifted beneath its surface like captive starlight. Alain would've wanted to study it. She wanted to study it.

Unfortunately...

Its owner had disagreed.

The ground trembled again.

"Noted," Sandrone muttered between breaths. "Very possessive."

Between the dense undergrowth, a sharp mechanical chime rang through the air.

“Emergency extraction protocol acknowledged.”

The synthesized voice was perfectly even, devoid of urgency despite the circumstances. She looked to her side and there was her steed, galloping between the trunks and bushes just as she was.

“Calculating optimal time of retrieval..”

"Perhaps calculate faster?!"

“Request received. Recalculating with increased priority.”

A faint blue glow flickered between the leaves ahead. There it was, her glorious creation. The winged horse, Polunia. The mechanical pegasus had remained concealed but now it was out for Sandrone to see.  Moments later, the leaves split apart. Polunia reached her, with practiced precision, metallic wings unfolding from its streamlined frame in a series of crisp clicks and hydraulic whirs. Thrusters hummed beneath its foot, keeping the machine suspended effortlessly several meters above the forest floor. Every movement was deliberate calculated to the decimal.

Its optical lens focused on Sandrone.

“Biometric analysis complete. Elevated heart rate detected. Respiratory function compromised. Probability of successful escape on foot: 3.7%.”

"—I was hoping for something a little more encouraging!"

“Statement was informational, not motivational.”

A hatch opened beneath the belly of her mek companion with a pneumatic hiss. A cable shot downward, stopping just within Sandrone's reach.

She jumped.

Her fingers brushed the handle.

Missed.

“Shit–!”

The cable swayed gently in front of her as though mocking the attempt. Behind her came the unmistakable sound of several trees giving way all at once. Sandrone risked a glance over her shoulder.

The beast burst through the undergrowth in a shower of splintered wood, massive antlers catching the sunlight filtering through the leaves. Its golden eyes remained fixed solely on her, carrying the sort of determination that suggested it had completely forgotten about protecting its nest and had instead made eliminating her a personal objective.

"I'd like to formally apologize–!" she called while continuing to run. The creature answered with another roar. "I'll interpret that as forgiveness pending!"

The robot hovered silently overhead, processing. “Correction. Audio analysis indicates continued hostility. Estimated forgiveness probability: 0.02%.”

"I appreciate your optimism, Polunia, but gods just get me out of here!"

Sandrone lunged again, this time managing to seize the cable with both hands. The winch immediately reeled her upward.

She let out a relieved sigh—

—which lasted precisely half a second.

One of her boots slipped free.

Sandrone watched in horror as it tumbled gracefully through the air before landing directly in front of the charging beast. The creature didn't even slow down. With one enormous paw, it crushed the abandoned boot into the dirt.

She stared at the flattened remains.

"That was my favorite pair!"

“Correction. According to inventory records, they were your only pair suitable for field expeditions.”

"Please stop keeping inventory."

“Request denied. Inventory management is one of my primary functions.”

The hatch sealed shut as she climbs onto the saddle before they rose rapidly above the treetops, leaving the furious beast shrinking into the sea of green below. Only when the island became little more than an emerald patch beneath the clouds did Sandrone finally slump against Polunia’s back. 

A twig was caught in her hair. Her coat was torn. One foot was still wearing a boot. The other wore only a very muddy sock. She looked at the specimen still clutched triumphantly in her hands. Despite everything… It hadn't broken.

A slow smile spread across her face. "Worth it."

Polunia's optical lens rotated toward her. “Medical report: several minor lacerations, moderate exhaustion, elevated stress levels.”

Then,

“Psychological assessment: no observable lessons were learned.”

Sandrone hugged the crystal a little closer. "...Perhaps not.” The inventor sighed heavily, chasing every breath after the impromptu work out. She looked around and sees that the lights on Polunia's wings had turn green. 

“Autopilot mode enabled. Set to descend near the theorized location of the Star in approximately two hours.” Polunia continued to fly them far into the clouds. Her companion and closest to what she would call family after Alain. Sandrone had him fly around the perimeter when she had her eyes set on a particularly large nest of those beasts. If many of them flocked in the same area, they were determined to protect something.

And that something is now in the inventor's hands. 

“You need to be calibrated, you were forty-five seconds late.” Nonetheless, she gives a meaningful pat on the head to the Mek. “Store this. It will be useful for the hunt. I believe we are one of the first to make it to the area because of your ability to fly, but don't take this as a reason to be careless. Understood?”

“Yes, Lord Sandrone.”

“Good. Great work, Polunia.”

She shifts on her saddle and looked ahead, admiring the vast blue sky that greeted her. 

“That star will be mine.”

       ˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆.

　　　.   　　˚　✭　 　　*　　  　.𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　　　 ˚　.˚　　　　    　                     ✭　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　 　　 　　　　 ✦

They landed with more grace than the impromptu take off. 

Around them, dense trees and bushes had been replaced by tall grass that looked like silk flowing from the wind. Polunia's gears clicked softly behind her, as the wings began to return inside its chamber. Sandrone takes in the sight of the meadow. It was something straight out of the numerous paintings from the palace. The grass beneath her foot was wet with mildew and the smell was unmistakably something that reminded her of the outdoors. It reminded her of the days where she was curiously prodding in the conservatories Alain used to take her.

“Where are we Polunia?” She rubbed the cold steel armor of the horse's neck. If theory serves her right, which always did, Polunia was nearing the limits of his battery. He needed rest after flying them all the way here. 

“According to your schematics, My Lady, we are at the closest possible site of where The Star was last sighted.”

“No threats nearby?”

“None from the perimeter survey I had gathered on the way here.”

“Thank you. You may rest for a while, Polunia.” 

The familiar hum of the pegasus’ rest sequence was the only sound in the otherwise peaceful meadow. Sandrone retrieved her canteen and took a substantial gulp. She needed to figure out a water supply eventually, as this expedition could take weeks, and forage for a source of food before her supply dwindled down. 

But she lets herself admire it, because after all—not many have the chance to cross the Wall.

In Snezhnaya, flowers did not bloom. If they did, they survived only within heated glass conservatories reserved for nobles and scholars. Trees stood sparse and skeletal, their branches forever burdened by frost, while entire forests slumbered beneath snow that never seemed to melt. Color was a luxury there. White blanketed the earth. Gray swallowed the skies. Even the rivers flowed beneath sheets of ice for most of the year. 

She had spent her childhood believing that was simply how the world existed.

Then Alain had shown her books.

Paintings of emerald forests. Botanical journals describing flowers that opened with the sunrise. Explorers' sketches of hills that rolled endlessly beneath skies untouched by snow. At first, she had dismissed them as romantic embellishments.

They were not.

Beyond Snezhnaya, the world truly breathed in color.

Between those two worlds stood the Wall.

No one living remembered who had built it. Older than kingdoms and untouched by time, it stretched farther than the horizon in either direction, its dark stone rising impossibly high before disappearing into clouds of ice. There were no gates large enough for armies, no roads welcoming travelers. Only a single narrow passage remained, watched day and night, where few were permitted to cross and fewer still ever returned.

The old tales claimed the Wall was never meant to keep people out.

It was meant to keep two worlds apart.

On one side lay the kingdoms of ordinary men, where history marched forward one season after another. On the other lay lands where stars could walk in mortal form, where ancient magic lingered beneath every hill, and where the oldest stories insisted wishes, curses, and miracles still wandered freely. Those who crossed without permission often returned with impossible stories.

Those who ventured too far sometimes never returned at all.

Most dismissed such tales as folklore.

Sandrone never had.

To her, the Wall had never been merely a border. It was like an equation with missing variables, an artifact whose purpose had been forgotten but whose existence demanded explanation that anthropologists strive to achieve. Someone had devoted unimaginable effort to separating these lands. Someone had decided that what lay beyond should remain beyond.

The only question was why.

As the meadow swayed around her, she knelt to examine a wildflower growing between the blades of grass. Its petals were unlike any specimen recorded in her journals. She reached for her notebook before she even realized she was already smiling.

Every step beyond the Wall was another unanswered question.

And, Sandrone, had never been able to resist a question.

       ˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆.

　　　.   　　˚　✭　 　　*　　  　.𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　　　 ˚　.˚　　　　    　                     ✭　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　 　　 　　　　 ✦

Time worked differently beyond the wall. 

Sandrone realized this as she watched the sun set for the second time that day. Before she left Snezhnaya, the sky had been painted hues of orange and pink, a rare sight for a nation buried in whites and blue. She had watched that sunset from atop Polunia as they crossed the Wall. Now, the sun or whatever they call the brightest object in the sky here beyond the wall, was descending below hills that rolled beyond the plains.

She frowned.

Impossible.

Her notebook was already in her hands.

Observation Two. The celestial body has completed a second descent despite no measurable passage of time. Personal fatigue remains consistent with approximately six hours of activity. 

She checked the pocket watch Alain had entrusted to her before her first expedition. Its polished hands ticked onward with unwavering precision. Beside it rested a smaller mechanical chronometer of her own design. Neither disagreed with the other. Both insisted the day should have only one sunset. The phenomenon would require further study. For now, survival took precedence.

She had just gathered enough firewood to last the night. The fire crackled softly within the ring of stones she and Polunia had assembled before dusk—or what she had believed to be dusk. The embers glowed a warm amber, chasing away the evening chill that settled across the endless meadow. It was nothing compared to the glamorous hearths in the Zapolyarny palace, but it was enough for survival. 

That was sufficient. Polunia stood nearby in low-power mode, wings folded neatly against its metallic frame while soft green lights pulsed beneath its armor. Every few moments the mechanical pegasus rotated its optical lens in a slow sweep across the meadow.

"Perimeter status?" Sandrone asked without looking up from unpacking her cooking supplies. Potatoes, dried strips of cured beef, and a small pouch of candied fruits were all that remained of her dwindling provisions. Hardly a feast, but enough to sustain her for another few days if rationed carefully. Of course, she could have packed considerably more food before departing Snezhnaya.

But then where would she have stored her surveying equipment? Her drafting instruments? Replacement gears? The portable microscope Alain had gifted her? Spare batteries for Polunia? The dozens of carefully labeled specimen jars nestled securely within padded compartments? No, sacrificing research equipment for comfort would have been profoundly irresponsible.

Food spoiled, but her trusty companion, knowledge, did not.

Besides, the expedition had never been intended to rely solely on packed provisions. According to every surviving account of those who had ventured beyond the Wall, Faerie teemed with edible flora and wildlife—assuming one could distinguish nourishment from poison. She intended to catalogue both. Polunia, fortunately, had been designed with precisely that purpose in mind. Equipped with topographical scanners, thermal imaging, atmospheric sensors, and an extensive botanical archive compiled from Alain's own research, the mechanical pegasus could survey several square kilometers in a matter of minutes. Should anything remotely edible—or remotely dangerous—enter its range, Sandrone would know long before she encountered it herself.

The inventor skewered several slices of potato onto a metal fork before holding them over the fire. "No immediate threats detected within one hundred and fifty-three meters," Polunia replied.

"One hundred and fifty-three?"

"One hundred and fifty-four."

"...Moving away?"

"Negative."

A pause.

"Moving sideways."

Sandrone looked up.

"Affirmative."

She followed the direction indicated by Polunia's lens. Nothing. Only waist-high grass swaying lazily beneath the evening breeze. She half expected another monster to show up any second now, but Stars, was it too quiet. She wasn’t ready to go off running again, Polunia was clearly tired too. "...Continue observation."

"Understood." She turned back toward the fire, more intrigued than alarmed. If something could evade both her eyes and Polunia's scanners while remaining just beyond certainty…

Then Faerie was proving interesting far sooner than expected. 

Perhaps she should not have been surprised. The lands beyond the Wall had never belonged to mankind. Long before kingdoms carved borders into maps and crowned kings upon thrones, the realm beyond had already existed. The old texts simply called it Faerie—a place where the oldest laws of the world still lingered, untouched by time and indifferent to human understanding. Its inhabitants were no less peculiar. Some resembled ordinary men and women so perfectly that they could walk unnoticed through any city beyond the Wall, save for the subtle wrongness one only noticed after prolonged conversation. Others possessed antlers that branched like ancient oaks, wings as delicate as dragonflies, skin that shimmered like river water, or eyes that reflected constellations no astronomer had ever charted.

Many were beautiful. Some were monstrous.

The wisest scholars insisted there was rarely a difference. Alain had once warned her that appearances meant remarkably little in Faerie. "Never judge a creature by how human it appears," he had said while shelving another weathered tome into his library. "The sweetest smile may belong to something that has forgotten what mercy is. Likewise, the beast with claws and fangs may prove kinder than any noble you've ever met." Sandrone had found the advice frustratingly vague. She preferred measurable characteristics, the behavior in which she can observe but none of the surviving records agreed. One explorer described sharing tea with a fox that quoted philosophy. Another insisted the same species lured travelers into bogs before devouring them whole. A third maintained foxes did neither, but instead traded memories in exchange for directions. All three accounts had been considered credible. That, perhaps, was the greatest frustration. Faerie did not seem to contradict itself- it simply allowed contradictions to coexist. The old journals offered only one piece of advice upon which every expedition unanimously agreed.

If a creature of Faerie offers you a bargain, think twice before accepting.

If it offers you your true name...

Run.

Sandrone had underlined that passage three separate times in Alain's copy. Not because she believed it- because she intended to discover why every survivor had written the exact same warning. She glanced once more toward the darkening meadow, where Polunia continued its silent vigil.

Then it suddenly hit her.

“Polunia…how far again are we from the last sighting of the Star?” His optical lens flickered as it consulted the survey data gathered during their descent. Sandrone braced herself and was already reaching for her satchel and, just in case things go south, her weapon.

A chime that indicated the survey being finished rang through the quiet forest. Polunia fluttered his wings and faced the direction of the intended destination."Approximately one point three kilometers northeast."

Close.

Closer than she had expected, certainly, but not impossibly so. Reports surrounding the Fallen Star could be imprecise because of how inconsistent it had been. Some witnesses swore it had struck a hillside. Others claimed a forest. One account insisted it had vanished before ever reaching the ground. Such inconsistencies were to be expected. Few people remained rational after witnessing the heavens tear themselves apart. But, alas, it was too dark to begin searching now. Even if the Star had landed exactly where the last witness claimed, venturing into unfamiliar terrain after sunset would accomplish little beyond increasing the likelihood of overlooking evidence. Better to begin at first light, when the meadow and surrounding woodland could be examined systematically.

But then suddenly, Polunia picked up a signal. "My Lady..."

"What is it, Polunia?" The mechanical pegasus did not answer immediately. Its optical lens remained fixed somewhere beyond the meadow, emerald light pulsing in irregular intervals as countless calculations raced beneath polished steel plating. A faint mechanical hum, normally so steady it faded into the background, rose ever so slightly in pitch. Sandrone had heard that sound only a handful of times before. It meant Polunia had found something it could not immediately classify.

, "I am detecting an unidentified energy signature."

Her hand, already resting upon the strap of her satchel, tightened. "Source?"

"...Unable to determine."

Sandrone frowned. "Unable?"

"The signal is... inconsistent." A series of concentric circles bloomed across Polunia's optical lens before projecting themselves into the air between them. A crude map of the surrounding meadow materialized in pale blue light. Countless lines swept across the projection before abruptly scattering, as though whatever they were attempting to measure refused to remain in one place. "It appears..." The machine hesitated. "...to fluctuate."

"Fluctuate how?"

"Distance varies between one point three kilometers..." The projection pulsed. "...and one hundred and fifty-four meters."

Sandrone's brows knitted together. "That’s unlikely, what’s going on Polunia?"

"I concur."

Silence settled between them. She stepped closer to the projection, studying the shifting lines. Every few seconds, the signal leapt across the map before snapping back to its original location, never remaining stable long enough for Polunia to establish a fixed point. A fault? No. She had built Polunia herself. His navigation systems had guided them across mountain ranges, through blizzards, and over seas without error. If there had been a malfunction, he would have reported it immediately.

Which meant…

Whatever he was detecting was the anomaly.

Sandrone began to look through her bag to reach for binoculars. It must be the Fae messing with them, it couldn’t be anything else. They must’ve been attracted by the Star. She looked despite how little the visibility was in the night. "...Run the scan again."

"Already in progress." Another chime. The signal stabilized for precisely three seconds. One point three kilometers. Then— It vanished. Sandrone's gaze instinctively swept across the meadow. The fire crackled softly behind her, the grass rolled beneath the evening breeze. Somewhere in the distance, an unfamiliar bird called into the growing darkness. Nothing appeared out of place.

"My Lady." She looked back at Polunia. "The signal has returned."

"Location?"

"...One hundred and forty-eight meters." Sandrone slowly turned. Toward the endless sea of grass stretching into the twilight to the woodlands that covered everything beyond with its thick foliage.. The number dropped again. "Should we investigate?”

Sandrone was already moving.

She snatched the lantern from beside the fire, its warm glow cutting through the deepening twilight, while the other hand instinctively rested upon the grip of her catalyst. "Polunia. Lead."

"Understood." The mechanical pegasus surged forward, metallic hooves scarcely disturbing the earth as it navigated between the tall grass. Sandrone followed close behind, the meadow whispering around her legs with every hurried step. "...One hundred and twenty-three meters." The signal was closing. Not because it was approaching— Because they were. Polunia's optical lens cast a thin beam across the landscape, illuminating flattened patches of grass and broken stems. At first they appeared no different from the countless trails left behind by wandering beasts.

Then Sandrone noticed something. "...Stop."

Polunia halted immediately. She knelt and dirtied her trousers with the dirt. She smelled it first before she could see. The grass beneath her fingers had not merely been bent. It had been scorched. The tips of every blade had blackened ever so slightly, yet there was no trace of smoke, no lingering heat. Instead, faint silver motes clung stubbornly to the charred edges, shimmering softly whenever the lantern light passed over them. She brushed one away with the back of her glove. 

Her  hand itched to reach for her notebook almost by instinct. She needed this data, this phenomenon that only she could see beyond the Wall but more pressing matters called for her attention. Later. There would be time to write later. "Continue."

The trail became impossible to ignore. Flowers wilted where something had passed. Small stones had melted into smooth glass. Branches hung twisted toward a single direction, as though drawn by an invisible current that had swept through the meadow. Every sign pointed northeast.

"...Eighty-one meters."

The meadow slowly gave way to woodland. Towering trees enclosed them on either side, their branches weaving together until little of the evening sky remained visible overhead. Even the air felt different here. Heavier almost charged by something otherworldly. The hairs along Sandrone's arms rose beneath her sleeves.

Polunia's pace slowed. "My Lady, we’re nearing the signal."

"I know." She could feel it too.

The trees ended without warning.

Sandrone stepped beyond them—

—and stopped.

The earth simply...Ended.

Before her stretched a crater so vast that it swallowed the surrounding forest whole. Hundreds of trees lay scattered around its rim like discarded twigs, their trunks splintered clean through. The earth had folded inward upon itself in great concentric rings, exposing layers of stone that had not seen daylight in centuries. No fire or any smoke. Only silence greeted them as they stood at the edge of the buried earth. An unnatural, all-consuming silence. Even the wind seemed unwilling to cross its edge.

Sandrone took one cautious step closer.

The soil beneath her boot glittered.

Not with frost. With countless fragments of crystal no larger than grains of sand, each catching the lantern's light like pieces of a shattered constellation.

"...By the Tsaritsa..." The words escaped before she could stop them. Polunia descended beside her, its surveying array unfolding with a chorus of metallic clicks. 

"Residual energy levels exceeding measurable parameters."

Sandrone took in more of the sight. It was unlike any illustration she’d seen in Alain’s books. It looked like a pool of stars, yet this one was not beyond her reach. Her hands touched one of the protruding crystals. "Source?"

"The impact site."

Sandrone's eyes wandered to the center of the crater, where there was  no fragments of celestial stone, no crystalline core, no artifact worthy of a century-long hunt it had nothing.

"...We're too late." The words tasted bitter. For a long while, she simply stood there, lantern trembling ever so slightly in her grasp as her gaze swept over the crater again, searching for something—anything—she might have overlooked. A  mistake in observation, something that escaped Polunia’s sharply accurate sensors. There had to. She had spent years preparing for this moment. Years buried beneath towers of forgotten books in Alain's library, comparing contradictory accounts until dawn broke beyond the frost-covered windows. Years refining Polunia's surveying systems, redesigning instruments capable of detecting phenomena no scholar had ever successfully measured. Years convincing herself that if the prophecy held even a fragment of truth, then she would be the one to uncover it.

Not for the Tsaritsa's favor. For understanding, for the answer to a question that had consumed her since childhood. What truly falls from the heavens? And now… She had crossed the Wall. She had stood where the impossible had touched the earth. Only to find that the impossible had already slipped through her fingers. Her chest tightened with a frustration she rarely allowed herself to feel. 

The ache of arriving at the final page of a book only to discover the ending had been torn away.

She lowered herself into a crouch, running gloved fingers through the loose earth as if the soil itself might offer an explanation. Crystal dust clung to the leather before dissolving into tiny flecks of silver. She let the dust fall through her fingers. "...No..." Barely above a whisper. “I didn't come all this way for footprints."

 But then suddenly, another chime sounded from Polunia. "My Lady."

She looked toward the mechanical pegasus. For a fleeting moment, her heart dared to betray the rationality she had spent years cultivating.

Hope, a dangerous thing for any scholar. Hope clouded judgment. It encouraged conclusions before evidence, certainty before proof. Alain had warned her of it countless times, reminding her that every great discovery was built not upon expectation, but observation. Yet standing at the center of an empty crater, surrounded by the lingering echoes of something that had fallen from the heavens… She found herself wishing.

Just once. That the world would refuse to make sense.

Her disappointment had settled so quickly that she had already begun cataloguing this expedition as another unanswered mystery, another incomplete record to be filed away beside countless others. She wasn't ready to let it go. Not yet. There had to be something. Anything. An explanation that would justify every sleepless night spent poring over forgotten manuscripts, every failed prototype abandoned in her workshop, every lecture Alain had patiently endured as she insisted the old legends deserved to be studied rather than dismissed. She had not crossed into a world that defied reason only to leave with nothing more than an empty hole in the ground.

She refused to believe the journey ended here.

Polunia looked ahead, the emerald glow of its optical lens brightening. "I am detecting an active life signature."

Sandrone's breath caught. "...Where?"

The answer came almost immediately. "Directly at the center of the crater."

For the first time since arriving at the crater, Sandrone did not hesitate.

She ran. 

Sandrone followed its gaze. At first she saw only broken earth that shimmered with the fragments of crystal, it was like running across the stars, the cosmos, and she was reaching for the most brightest object of it. 

Then… 

A patch of white. Almost swallowed by the gray dust. It shifted. Her grip tightened around the lantern.

 "Stay behind me." She instinctively stepped forward, shielding polunia. "Understood, preparing combat sequence."

She descended carefully, loose earth sliding beneath her boots with every measured step. The air grew warmer the closer she came to the center, carrying with it a strange scent she couldn't quite place—not smoke, nor ash, something impossibly clean. Like rain carried on winter air. The white shape stirred again. It wasn’t a piece of stone. It was fabric. A sleeve.

Sandrone stopped only a few paces away from the center of the crater.

Someone was lying there.

Dark hair spilled across the shimmering earth, catching the lantern's light as though each strand had been woven from moonlight itself. Dust clung to the folds of her pale dress, though not a single tear marked the fabric despite the violence that had carved the crater around her. Her eyes lingered on the figure below. The silver radiance she'd first mistaken for scattered crystal was not embedded within the earth at all. It belonged to her. Every strand of dark hair caught the lantern's glow and returned it tenfold, not reflecting the light but producing one all its own—a soft, pearlescent luminescence that seemed to ebb and flow with every slow breath she took. It spilled over the fractured stone like liquid moonlight, pooling between shattered rocks where no moon had yet risen.

Impossible. No human or fae could have survived such a fall.

"...Polunia."

"Life signs confirmed."

Then.

"One individual."

Sandrone stared. Her thoughts raced through every explanation she could construct. A survivor who defected from Snezhnaya? Another one of those who dared to cross the wall? Perhaps a traveler? Impossible. No ordinary traveler left behind enough force to shatter a forest and had the ability to glow. She descended another careful step into the crater. The earth beneath her boots remained warm, though no flames had touched it. Fine particles glittered across the ground like crushed stars, dissolving the instant she disturbed them. Every instrument Polunia carried insisted the energy surrounding the girl exceeded anything recorded in the Fatui archives.

And yet...

She looked so terribly ordinary.

"My Lady," Polunia spoke quietly behind her. "Life signs remain stable."

"I can see that." Her voice came softer than she intended.

She found herself kneeling before the sleeping stranger, careful not to disturb the fragile stillness that had settled over the crater. Up close, the details became stranger still. There wasn't a single wound upon her skin. Not a bruise, nor a cut. Even the fabric draped around her shoulders remained untouched despite the violence of the impact that had uprooted centuries-old trees and carved a wound into the earth itself. The only evidence that she had fallen at all was the dust clinging stubbornly to the hem of her dress. Sandrone hesitated. Every lesson Alain had ever taught her echoed in the back of her mind. Unknown does not mean harmless. Always observe before acting, Sandrone. Curiosity is admirable, but carelessness is fatal.

Yet, despite every warning reason offered, she found herself extending a gloved hand—not to capture, nor restrain, but simply to determine whether this impossible being was real.

Her fingertips hovered only inches away.

The girl's eyelashes fluttered.

Sandrone froze.

Slowly, almost languidly, rose-tinted eyes opened. They were unlike any she had ever seen. Not because of their color, but because they held the stars of the cosmos themselves. She gazed back with no confusion at finding a stranger kneeling beside her in the middle of a crater. Instead, they wandered over Sandrone's face with the quiet, innocent curiosity of someone seeing another living soul for the very first time. The silence stretched between them, delicate enough that neither seemed willing to break it. 

Then the girl smiled.

It was small, gentle, and unpracticed. As though smiling itself were a language she had only just begun to learn.

"...Hello," she whispered.

"W-what?!"

The word escaped Sandrone before her dignity had the opportunity to stop it.

She stared.

The girl stared back.

"...Hello?" the stranger repeated, this time with a slight tilt of her head, as though she had somehow said the wrong thing. Sandrone opened her mouth, closed it then opened it again.

Sandrone did not move.

For one suspended moment, the world simply... ceased.

Not the wind nor the whispering trees that ringed the crater, not even the faint pulse of starlight that bled from the stranger's skin. Those continued, indifferent to the fracture that had quietly formed within Sandrone's understanding of the world.

It was her thoughts that stopped.

Every account she had ever collected, every weathered manuscript she had painstakingly translated, every expedition log preserved within the Fatui archives had described the Fallen Star as an it—a celestial phenomenon, an object of impossible value, something to be measured, contained, perhaps even dismantled to reveal the truths hidden beneath its surface. She thought it was an object…this was a person. An actual conscious person that was looking at her with eyes that held the stars itself.

"You-" She pointed— though quite rudely, she realized a second too late. "...You spoke."

The girl blinked once. "Yes...Was I not supposed to?"

"No, that's not—!"Sandrone pinched the bridge of her nose. "No. I mean, yes. You're allowed to speak. It's simply that..." She gestured helplessly toward the crater surrounding them. "...You fell."

"Oh yes that I can see, this was a nice place to nap on."

"Are you even aware that you fell...from the sky?"

"I think so."

"You think so?"

The girl looked upward through the opening in the trees, her pink eyes following the countless stars scattered across the night. She had this grin that infuriated Sandrone even more. "Mhm. The sky here...It was brighter back at home."

Sandrone followed her gaze. "That's not an answer. You, who are you? Why are you here?” 

Then, her sword was drawn. The person flinched and there Sandrone saw a glimpse of something human. That otherwordly glow that she had seemed to dim, as Sandrone’s shaking hand faltered. The person seemed to frown, confusion written all over her face. “Why must you point that to me, stranger?”

Sandrone flinched, behind her Polunia took notice of her distress. She glanced back, steeling her emotions to not aggravate her companion. She gestured helplessly toward the crater surrounding them—the shattered earth, the uprooted trees, the fractured stone that stretched farther than her lantern could illuminate.  “Y-you must be someone dangerous and powerful if you’re still alive. You fell from the heavens! You endured an impact that uprooted an entire forest." ”

For a long moment she remained silent, as though searching inward for words that had drifted just beyond her reach. There was no deception in her expression, only the peculiar melancholy of someone trying to remember a dream upon waking.

"I do not believe I am dangerous," she said at last. The answer seemed to surprise even herself. She lifted her gaze once more toward the night sky, where countless stars shimmered beyond the torn canopy. Her voice was soft enough that it nearly dissolved into the evening air.  "I came here because I was always meant to. It was my birthright, written in a prophecy."

The words settled somewhere deep within her, not like a revelation, but like the final note of a melody whose beginning she had been chasing for years. Every faded margin she had annotated in Alain's library, every witness account dismissed as hysteria, every impossible discrepancy that had refused to yield beneath logic suddenly stood before her in a different light. The heavens had never relinquished a relic to the earth. They had entrusted it with a heartbeat. Sandrone found herself looking at the crater that had cleaved the world in two, t at the woman who stood quietly within it, and understood that history had made a mistake.

She was the Fallen Star.

    ˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆.

　　　.   　　˚　✭　 　　*　　  　.𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　　　 ˚　.˚　　　　    　                     ✭　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　 　　 　　　　 ✦

“My Lady, was it really necessary for the alien to be tied up on my back?”

Polunia was being more chatty than usual, Sandrone ought to fix his communication modules. His hooves left indelible marks on the muddy forest floor, followed by her own footprints from her less favorite pair of booths. Walks like this made her reminisce about the simpler times in Alain’s front porch, where only snow met her feet. Polunia was a pony back then, he was years before his expiration date and eventual revival through gears and metal. It was only the quiet whisper of snowflakes and Alain’s nagging about getting too cold back then, now however, there was this loud, incessant, singing.

“Dormi cara columbula, o columbula mea, splendeat fenestra, adsint somnia flora.”

“God’s above-!” Sandrone has reached her limit. She ignored the alien girl tied on Sandrone’s back with what little rope she had left, and stopped in front of her steed. “Polunia! Procure my military grade duct tape, I will see to it that this- This-! Singing! Stops!”

"Duct tape?" Polunia repeated, his mechanical ears twitching. "Clarification requested. Is My Lady intending to restrain the unidentified celestial lifeform?"

"Precisely!"

A thoughtful pause.

"...Would that not impede her breathing?"

Sandrone pinched the bridge of her nose. She was wrung out and absolutely mentally incapacitated. This girl seemed to make it her mission to do so ever since she took her away from the crater. One moment she was doing Sandrone’s instructions obediently, the next she was floating up to the treetops because she was curious about the squirrels. Sandrone didn’t even know they had squirrels in Faerie! And because of that, it led to this moment now. To sandrone having the alien lie down on Polunia’s back and have her entire torso tied up with the rope from Polunia’s inventory. It was only effective with stopping her movement and constant skedaddling, but it did not stop her from yapping her mouth the entire way! 

Polunia only huffed the steam from his inner mechanisms and tilted his head to gesture the girl who was peacefully staring up the stars above them, so blissfully unaware of Sandrone’s breakdown. "I am unfamiliar with its intended application in this situation."

Sandrone stepped around so abruptly that Polunia nearly walked into her.

"To stop her from singing!"

"Updating communication database." A soft chime sounded from somewhere within his chassis. "Hyperbole: statement not intended for literal implementation."

"...Argh! Someone, anyone, just kill me!"

Behind them, the singing stopped. Sandrone allowed herself the smallest sigh of relief. Perhaps the universe had finally shown her mercy. "...Miss?"

A gentle voice floated from somewhere behind Polunia's saddle.

"What do you want now?"

"What's hyperbole?"

Sandrone closed her eyes.

"A figure of speech."

"Oh."

There was finally silence. Three blissful seconds of it. Then— "So if someone says they're 'starving,' they're not actually dying?"

"...Correct."

"And when you said you were going to tape my mouth shut, you weren't?"

Sandrone exhaled through her nose. "I will if you keep talking."

"...Oh." The girl began to glow again, she seemed to be emitting the light from her body itself instead of her hand or with some device or something.  "I think I would've let you."

That made Sandrone stumble. Only for half a step—but enough that one boot landed squarely in a patch of mud with an undignified squelch. Polunia immediately noticed. "My Lady has experienced a seventy-two percent decrease in walking efficiency."

Sandrone really should repair his observations module. "Tch, I am aware."

"I have logged the incident."

"What the- Polunia! Delete the log!"

"Request denied."

"You are my creation-"

"I am preserving valuable field data."

Sandrone looked skyward. "...Alain, if you're somehow watching this..."

Behind them came the unmistakable sound of quiet humming. Not the same melody as before it was a different one and somehow even softer. Sandrone resisted the overwhelming temptation to ask where Columbina kept learning these songs. She had a growing suspicion that no one had taught them to her at all. They simply... existed inside her. Like starlight or better yet breathing.

"You never stop do you? You're singing again," Sandrone observed after several minutes.

"I know." Columbina considered the question with remarkable sincerity. "I don't think I can stop."

"Why?"

"I get lonely when it's quiet."

The answer was so simple, so utterly devoid of self-pity, that it stole every prepared retort from Sandrone's tongue. The forest carried the melody away between ancient trees, where birds gradually began answering it with songs of their own. Sandrone noticed it before Polunia did. One by one, the woodland's chatter changed. The birds no longer sang over Columbina. They sang with her. 

She looked ahead before either of them could notice she'd slowed her pace. Sandrone was familiar with loneliness. she had, after all, lost Alain when she was young. She’d lost Polunia too. It was her loneliness that brought the mek pegasus to life. Her name was etched with loneliness too- Sandrone Marionette Guillotin. The name of her aunt and Alain’s beloved sister.

And so, looking at this girl, whose glowing light dimmed by a noticeable fraction. She could somewhat empathize with her. It was an icky feeling; it felt unfamiliar on her skin. But then again, she expected facing the uncomfortable since first stepping into this quest and so she looked back at those eyes that looked celestial and locked on there. "...Keep singing," she muttered, almost too quietly to hear.

Columbina brightened. "I thought you wanted the duct tape."

"Don't make me reconsider."

"Does that mean I'm allowed?"

Sandrone let out the smallest, most defeated sigh.

"Hmph...only if you sing different songs and not repeat that stupid tune the entire time."

And so the three of them continued through Faerie: a brilliant inventor, her relentlessly literal mechanical companion, and the Fallen Star, who sang to a forest that seemed to shift its entire floor around them.

    ˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆.

　　　.   　　˚　✭　 　　*　　  　         　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　　　 ˚　.˚　　　　    　                     ✭　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　 　　 　　　　 ✦

The forest eventually began to thin.

Sandrone noticed the change in the terrain first. The dense roots beneath her boots gradually gave way to softer earth, and the trees began to stand farther apart, allowing narrow shafts of moonlight to slip between their branches. Somewhere ahead, water rushed over stone, its steady murmur growing louder with every step.

Then came another sound.

A low, distant groan like the trunks cried for their own pain ahead. Sandrone stopped. Polunia's mechanical ears lifted.

"...What was that?"

"I am uncertain."

Another groan rolled through the forest. Long, deep and almost mournful. Columbina looked toward the sound finally serious for once as she stopped her singing "Is something hurt?"

Sandrone frowned. "Whatever it is, I doubt it's anything I want to meet."

The trees finally parted. Sandrone stepped out onto the bank of a wide river and immediately wished she hadn't. Something enormous was floating above the water. At first, she thought it was a cloud. Then it moved. 

It was a whale that somehow found its way in the dense forest.

A gigantic and floating whale.

It drifted lazily through the night sky, its enormous body suspended several meters above the river as though the laws governing the natural world had simply decided to make an exception for it. Pale markings shimmered faintly along its sides, and its fins moved with slow, effortless strokes despite there being no water around it. A rope had been tied around one of its fins.

And sitting comfortably upon its back was a man-

Orange hair that looked like the early embers of fire. A matching red scarf. They wore a battered coat with a pair of weapons strapped carelessly across his back.

Sandrone started feeling the dread settle in.

Gods, if it was him-

The man spotted them and there, Sandrone finally confirmed her suspicions.

His face immediately brightened unlike the deadly glare Sandrone now had.

"HEY!"

Sandrone's eye twitched.

The whale turned. The enormous creature drifted toward the riverbank with all the grace of a floating mountain, while its rider waved enthusiastically as though he had just discovered an old friend."Fancy seeing you here!"

And as if in finality, no longer denying her suspicions, Sandrone recognized the voice instantly.

It really couldn’t get worse than this.

"...Childe." The youngest of the Harbingers and her didn’t meet eye to eye, or rather- fist to fist. Childe was the most reckless creature she’d ever met, possessing an almost supernatural talent for turning even the simplest assignment into an unnecessary display of violence. He treated danger like an invitation and every confrontation like a personal challenge, throwing himself into situations that any sensible person would have avoided simply because he found them interesting. Sandrone had lost count of how many times she had been forced to repair whatever machinery he had broken during one of his little excursions, and yet somehow he always emerged from the wreckage grinning as though the destruction had been the entire point. It was infuriating, childish, and entirely characteristic of him. Worse still, Childe seemed to regard her irritation as a form of entertainment, which meant that the more Sandrone attempted to discourage him, the more determined he became to get under her skin. 

When the harbingers were dispatched to find the fallen star, she was almost certain that the youngest of them would be the first to sign and up and then fail miserably. But looking at him now it seems he’s making the most of the expedition, claiming one of the beasts of Faerie. The creature itself was difficult to dismiss. Sandrone had seen illustrations of Faerie beasts in old texts, but none had prepared her for the sheer scale of the whale drifting above the river, its enormous body suspended effortlessly in the night air as though the sky were an ocean of its own. Its pale hide shimmered beneath the moonlight, casting a ghostly reflection across the water below, while each slow movement of its fins sent ripples through the air rather than the river.

 It was beautiful in a way Sandrone found vaguely irritating—too strange to classify, too graceful to dismiss as some oversized beast, and evidently intelligent enough to tolerate Childe sitting upon its back. Of all the creatures he could have encountered beyond the Wall, he had somehow managed to claim one of the most magnificent. Sandrone hated to admit it, but there was something almost impressive about the sight.

"Took you long enough!" He hopped from the whale's back and landed on the riverbank, boots sinking several inches into the mud. He looked down. "...Huh." He pulled one boot free with a wet squelch. "That's disgusting."

Sandrone stared at him. "You rode a whale here."

"Yeah."

"A floating whale."

"Also yeah. Where else would I ride a floating whale?"

Sandrone opened her mouth. Then closed it. There were several questions she wanted answered. She decided none of them were worth the headache. Childe grinned and brushed a strand of orange hair from his eyes. "Good to see you too."

"I wouldn't say that."

"You didn't have to. Your face did."

"My face is currently contemplating murder."

"Even better."

He laughed, completely unbothered. Behind Sandrone, Columbina peeked around her shoulder, or whatever effort she could do in her state of being tied up, curious about the new companion who seemed to speak with familiarity with Sandrone. Childe eventually noticed her. His expression shifted immediately—not into suspicion, but curiosity. He looked her up and down, then looked at Sandrone. "...Who's this? And why is she tied up on Polunia’s back?"

Sandrone's posture stiffened. "None of your goddamn business."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"She looks interesting, she’s literally glowing."

"That's because she is."

The answer escaped Sandrone before she could stop herself.

Childe's eyebrows rose.

Sandrone immediately regretted it.

He looked delighted. "Oh?"

"Don't."

"I didn't say anything."

"You were going to."

"I was only going to ask where you found her. Is she fae?"

Sandrone crossed her arms. "I found her and y-yes she is." She wasn’t going to tell her competition that the star they hunted was right there.

Childe laughed. "You're still terrible at small talk."

"And you're still terrible at knowing when to stop talking."

"That's why we're friends!"

"We are not friends-"

"Righttt. Then, colleagues."

"Not that either."

"Rivals?"

"No."

"Enemies?"

"Getting warmer."

Childe's grin widened. "Perfect."

Columbina watched them exchange words with increasing fascination. She tilted her head slightly toward Sandrone. "...Is he always like this?"

Sandrone didn't even look at her. "Unfortunately."

"Hey, I heard that."

"I intended for you to."

Childe laughed again. He turned his attention back toward the floating whale, which had begun lazily circling overhead. "Oh, right." He snapped his fingers as though remembering something terribly important. "I know we’re all competing to see who gets the star first and all, but since we're great frie- I mean, colleagues. I’ll give you a little warning.."

Sandrone's expression sharpened. "Intel? You’re not useless, after all. Speak."

Childe nodded, already unfazed by the inventor’s sharp words. Childe was many things—reckless, irritating, incapable of taking anything seriously for more than five minutes—but he was rarely careless when it came to danger. He glanced toward the darkness behind them. "Have you seen the three witches?"

Sandrone's brows drew together. "No. Should I look out for them?"

"Yeah, you should.." He hopped back onto the whale's lowered fin, leaning against its enormous side as though preparing to tell them a campfire story. "They've been moving around this part of Faerie."

"There were no records of three witches in Alain’s books."

"Well you best believe that there is. They had a name for them- The Lilim."

“Just a heads up, the mushroom dwarves were particularly afraid of them. They said they might look for the star as well to have her power. Anyway I’ve got a star to catch. I’ll get it before you do.”

Sandrone almost laughed. Yeah, right. He totally had no idea.

His grin returned that seemed to be his signature. "And if I don't, well, I still got to ride a whale."

Sandrone stared at him. "Tch...You are the worst person I've ever met."

"That's a little harsh."

"And I've met Pantalone."

Childe paused.

"...Oh…”

The floating whale gave another enormous, mournful call overhead.

Columbina looked up at it with open wonder. "...Can I ride that creature?"

Childe's face lit up. "Oh, absolutely!"

"No."

Sandrone's answer came so quickly that both of them looked at her. Columbina looked like a dejected puppy.

Childe grinned. "You didn't even think about it."

"I didn't need to."

"Come on, Sandrone. It's a floating whale!"

"That is precisely why she is not riding it!"

    ˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆.

　　　.   　　˚　✭　 　　*　　  　         　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　　　 ˚　.˚　　　　    　                     ✭　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　 　　 　　　　 ✦

The riverbank stretched onward beneath the trees, winding through the forest like a silver thread. Their footsteps pressed softly into the damp earth, sometimes sinking into patches of moss before returning to the firmer ground near the water. The forest had grown quieter since they left the road behind them. Even the insects seemed content to keep their distance, leaving only the murmur of the current and the occasional rustle of leaves overhead.

For once, Sandrone did not feel the need to fill the silence.

She seemed content with it too, which was a miracle after approximately seventeen hours of meeting the strange girl.

She walked beside her with an almost effortless grace, occasionally glancing toward the river as though fascinated by the way the moonlight broke apart upon its surface. Every now and then she would look toward the trees, then up at the stars, absorbing everything with the quiet attentiveness of someone who had spent her entire existence watching the world from somewhere impossibly far away. For several minutes, the only sounds between them were the river and her quiet humming. Sandrone found herself listening despite herself, the melody unfamiliar and strangely delicate. It did not sound like any song she had heard in Snezhnaya. There was something almost weightless about it, as though the tune belonged somewhere far above them.

Eventually, Sandrone broke the silence. "You've never told me your name."

Columbina's humming faded. She looked at Sandrone with mild surprise, as though the question had caught her off guard. "I haven't?"

"No." Sandrone kept her eyes ahead. "You've told me that you fell from the heavens. You've told me about your prophecy. You've told me you don't remember why you came here.But you never told me what I should call you."

Columbina considered this. "I suppose I never thought to."

"Clearly."

A small smile appeared on Columbina's lips. "My name is Columbina."

Sandrone glanced at her.

The name seemed strangely fitting. Soft, almost musical, yet carrying something she couldn't quite place. It reminded her of the songs Columbina hummed under her breath, of distant things that could not be reached no matter how far one traveled.

"Columbina," Sandrone repeated quietly. She tested the name once, committing its sound to memory.

Columbina looked pleased by the way she said it. "And yours?"

Sandrone's brow lifted. "You don't know?"

Columbina shook her head. "I’ve been calling you 'stranger' since we met."

"I didn't see the necessity of introducing myself to someone I wasn't certain would survive the next five minutes."

Columbina laughed softly. "That's rather cruel."

"It's practical."

"Then I would like to know your name now."

Sandrone sighed. There was no reason not to tell her. "...Sandrone."

Columbina repeated it almost immediately. "Sandrone." Something about hearing her own name spoken in that voice made Sandrone strangely aware of the silence around them.

"Yes."

"I like it."

"You've known it for approximately three seconds."

"I still like it."

Sandrone looked away, though the corner of her mouth threatened the faintest smile. "You're easily impressed, how pathetic."

"Perhaps."

They continued walking. Their steps falling in sync. For once, Sandrone found herself watching her instead. It was difficult not to. There was still something unnatural about Columbina's presence. Even with the glow around her subdued, there remained a quality to her that Sandrone couldn't quite explain. She moved too lightly. She seemed to listen to things Sandrone couldn't hear. Sometimes her gaze would drift toward the sky for no apparent reason, as though something up there were calling her attention. Perhaps it was simply habit. Perhaps she was homesick-

The thought came unexpectedly.

Sandrone looked away.

"Sandrone?"

"Hm?"

Columbina's gaze remained on the river.

"Why were you looking for a star?"

Sandrone's steps slowed by half a pace. She had expected the question eventually. What she hadn't expected was how difficult it would be to answer. So she settled on logic,"The Fatui sent me."

Columbina waited and was quiet until Sandrone glanced at her."...That's not the whole answer, is it?"

"I guess…No."

The river moved quietly beside them. Sandrone looked ahead, watching the moonlight break apart across the water. "The Star had been recorded for generations. Sightings appeared in old journals, astronomical reports, even accounts dismissed as superstition. Most were contradictory. Some described a light crossing the sky. Others claimed it had fallen beyond the Wall."

Her fingers tightened slightly around the strap of her satchel. "Each of us in the fatui had our own reasons to look for the Star. I, wanted to know what it was."

Columbina tilted her head."Only that?"

Sandrone was silent. It was irritating how easily Columbina could make a question sound harmless while somehow finding the exact place where an answer became difficult. "...No."

She exhaled deeply as if the weight of her words carried a physical toll on her. Being vulnerable was exhausting. Sandrone had always found silence easier than confession; silence could be shaped, controlled, hidden behind, while honesty had a way of leaving pieces of a person scattered where anyone could reach them. Yet the long road had worn her thin, and beneath the unfamiliar sky, with the river murmuring beside her and Columbina quietly waiting, the loneliness she had grown so accustomed to suddenly felt heavier than the risk of being known. Perhaps that was why she answered. Not because she had suddenly learned how to open herself, nor because she trusted easily, but because for once she was simply too tired to carry every thought alone. So, just this once, she let the words come.

"It was important to me, because I had spent years studying it.” Her voice softened despite herself. "Before I ever crossed the Wall, I had already imagined what I would find. Something no one else had managed to understand. Something that existed beyond the limits of what we knew. I thought if I found it, I would finally have an answer."

Columbina's expression became thoughtful.

"But you didn't find a star. You found me."

Sandrone looked away.

"...Yes."

They continued walking. A few moments passed before Columbina spoke again. "I’ll be frank,  that seems so much to do for so little to gain. Why did you want an answer so badly?"

Sandrone's brow furrowed."What kind of question is that?"

"An honest one?"

"That doesn't make it a good one."

Columbina only  smiled. Sandrone sighed heavily. She should have known better than to encourage this. “I don't like unanswered questions."

"Why?"

"Because they're unfinished."

"And unfinished things bother you?"

"Very much."

Columbina considered this. "Is that why you build things?"

Sandrone looked at her. That question caught her more completely than the others. "What?"

"You make machines, you repair them and you don't like things that are unfinished."

Sandrone's expression became suspicious.

"Are you interrogating me? I’ll have you know I still had some duct tape left."

"No and please dont. I'm just curious."

"You're remarkably persistent for someone who claims not to interrogate people." Columbina laughed softly. Sandrone tried not to notice how pleasant the sound was.

She failed.

"I build because machines make sense," Sandrone eventually said. "If something breaks, there is a reason. If something doesn't function, there is a cause. You can take it apart, identify the problem, and correct it." She glanced toward Polunia, who was walking several paces ahead of them. "People aren't nearly as cooperative."

Columbina followed her gaze. "Is that why you made Polunia?"

"Partly."

Polunia's ears twitched.

Sandrone frowned and looked at her steed.

"What?"

"I am capable of hearing you, My Lady."

"I know."

"You have referred to me as 'cooperative' on only three occasions."

"Do you want me to take it back?!"

"No…"

"Then stop listening."

"I cannot."

Sandrone rolled her eyes. Columbina covered a small smile with her hand. "You two are close."

Sandrone's expression softened almost imperceptibly. "He was different once." She didn't elaborate immediately. "He was smaller. Less... mechanical."

"Did you make him?"

"Not originally."

Sandrone's gaze lowered.

"Alain did."

The name seemed to change something in her voice. Columbina noticed. She always noticed.

"Who is Alain?"

Sandrone hesitated. The name had slipped into the conversation so easily, yet answering it felt strangely harder than she expected. Alain belonged to a part of her life she rarely bothered to look back on—a quieter time buried beneath years of gears, steel, and the cold expectations of the Fatui. He had been there before any of this, before she learned to measure the world in mechanisms and problems waiting to be solved. She remembered how he had been frustratingly patient, stubborn in ways that made her want to pull her hair out, and perhaps one of the few people who had never seemed particularly impressed by her brilliance. To Sandrone, Alain was not some grand figure from her past; he was simply someone who had once made the world feel smaller and gentler, and perhaps that was precisely why remembering him still carried a quiet ache she had never found a reason to name.

But then, unexpectedly, she answered.

"Someone who taught me more than he probably realized."

Sandrone almost smiled. Almost. The riverbank curved ahead, revealing a stretch of open meadow where moonlight spilled unobstructed across the grass. Columbina stepped into it. For a moment, the pale light caught against her hair and skin, and Sandrone saw that strange radiance return—not enough to illuminate the forest, only enough to remind her of what stood beside her.

The Star.

Except Sandrone no longer thought of her that way. Not entirely. She looked away before the thought could settle. After a while, Columbina spoke again.

"Why did you take me?"

Sandrone stopped walking and Columbina stopped beside her.

For once, Sandrone had no immediate answer.

Her first instinct was to say because you were the objective. That was the simplest explanation. The Fatui had dispatched her to retrieve the Fallen Star, and she had found it. By every reasonable measure, the mission should have ended there. But she remembered the moment she had first seen Columbina standing at the bottom of the crater. The way the impossible light had dimmed when she raised her sword. The confusion in those quartz eyes. The way she had quietly admitted that she did not remember what she was supposed to do now that she had fallen.

"I don't know," she admitted.

Columbina blinked. "You don't?"

"I know why I was supposed to take you. But I'm beginning to question whether I should have."

Columbina was quiet. Then, very gently, she smiled. "That's alright."

Sandrone frowned. "What is?"

"If you don't know yet."

The conversation lingered in the quiet that followed, settling somewhere Sandrone couldn't quite reach. It should have been simple. She had crossed the Wall to retrieve the Fallen Star, and now she had found it—that alone should have been enough. Yet the certainty she had carried from Snezhnaya no longer fit as neatly as it once had. Somewhere between the crater and the winding river, the objective had acquired a voice, questions, and an infuriating habit of looking at her as though every answer she gave mattered. Sandrone dismissed the thought almost as quickly as it came. She told herself it was merely the consequence of spending far too many hours acceptable in close company with someone impossible. 

Still, when she looked ahead, she no longer found herself counting the distance back to Snezhnaya, but matching her pace to the footsteps beside her.

    ˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆.

　　　.   　　˚　✭　 　　*　　  　         　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　　　 ˚　.˚　　　　    　                     ✭　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　 　　 　　　　 ✦

The following days passed more quietly than Sandrone had expected.

They had fallen into an arrangement without ever discussing it. Sandrone walked ahead whenever the path became difficult, Polunia kept watch from the surrounding trees, and Columbina wandered wherever something caught her attention, though she never strayed far enough that Sandrone couldn't see her. They stopped whenever they found water, slept beneath whatever shelter the forest happened to offer, and ate whatever could be gathered or preserved along the way.

It should have been an inconvenience.

Instead, Sandrone had begun to find the routine strangely tolerable.

Columbina was still endlessly curious. She asked about nearly everything they encountered, from the strange blue mushrooms growing beneath fallen logs to the birds that could mimic human voices. Sandrone answered when she could and ignored her when she couldn't, though Columbina had quickly learned that silence was rarely enough to discourage her. Sometimes they walked without speaking. Sometimes Columbina sang. Sandrone had stopped threatening her with duct tape. That, by itself, felt like progress.

On the fourth morning, the forest changed.

The trees grew older as they traveled, their trunks thick enough to require several people to encircle them. Moss hung from their branches in long curtains, and the sunlight that filtered through the canopy had taken on a peculiar greenish hue. Sandrone slowed her pace sensing that something was wrong.

But it could not be seen.

That was precisely the problem.

The birds had stopped singing. Columbina noticed it too. She glanced upward. "Sandrone…? It's gotten quiet."

"Yes." Sandrone looked toward Polunia. "Commence Perimeter check, now."

The mechanical creature's wings unfolded as his lens swept across the surrounding woodland. “No immediate threats detected."

Sandrone frowned. "Again, polunia."

Polunia obeyed. Still, nothing. There was No movement between the thich foliage of trees. No animal calls or footsteps that even his optimized ears could hear the smallest sounds.. Not even the wind. Sandrone's fingers tightened around the strap of her satchel. "That is odd. Keep close, we do not know what lies ahead."

Columbina moved beside her without question. They continued. The path narrowed until the trees pressed close on either side, their roots twisting across the ground like enormous fingers. Sandrone stepped carefully between them, eyes scanning every shadow.

Then she smelled smoke.

She stopped.

Columbina nearly walked into her. "What is it?"

"Shh, do you see it? The smoke." A thin grey thread curled between the trees ahead. Sandrone lowered herself slightly, studying the direction it came from. "Someone has a fire."

"People?"

"No, there are no humans here. Only Fae."

She moved forward cautiously. They hadn't gone more than a few dozen steps when they heard voices. Not one but several other voices. They sound almost identical but it was clear there were three, because sometimes one voice spoke over the other. Three old voices- Whispering.

Sandrone raised an arm to shield Columbina, urging her to sep behind. Columbina stopped and obeyed immediately. The both ducked behind a thick trunk covered in moss, leaning over to look at the direction of where the voices came from.

The voices continued.

Then one of them laughed.

It was a strange sound.

Sandrone's hand moved toward her weapon. A second voice joined the first, then a third. Three men speaking somewhere beyond the trees. They were not talking to one another. They were searching. From behind her Columbina's expression changed. The color seemed to drain from her face, the glow she exuded dimming until it was almost gone. Sandrone noticed immediately and only then did she follow her gaze. Columbina had spotted them first. Her gaze had fixed upon something between the trees.

"She's close." Sandrone's blood went cold. Another voice answered from somewhere deeper in the forest. "I can feel her."

There she saw it.

Three of the same identical faces and bodies, of teal blue hair and a beaked mask that covered half their faces. They looked so uncannily similar, like a perfect copy of each other. Even the way they grin manically was the same.

Then, the third laughed. "Then let us find our little star."

Sandrone turned toward Columbina.

For the first time since they had met, there was genuine fear in her eyes.

Sandrone didn't ask how they knew.  She didn't need to.

Her hand closed around Columbina's wrist.

"Run."

Columbina looked at her. "What?"

"Now."

A branch snapped behind them. Sandrone pulled her forward.

The forest erupted.

Birds burst from the canopy as something moved between the trees behind them, far too fast and far too silent to be human. The trees seemed to cave in around them and the sun could not reach the ground. They both ran until their breaths became heavy. Up above Polunia was aware of the sudden change in energy.

Polunia's wings opened with a metallic shriek, he came down just as Sandrone and Columbina stopped at a path because of fallen tree. "Hostile entities detected. I can't take you high above My Lady. The enemy has made the sky dangerous, the winds are not suitable and you’d fall."

Sandrone cursed under her breath. “Go heaven Polunia. We will follow you, search for a path where we’ll lose them, now.”

"Understood." And off he went, leaving Sandrone and Columbina to follow the sensor map the inventor had on her wrist, its red light telling her where her steed was.

"Let’s go."

Behind them, laughter followed.

And in the strangest twist of events, the witches didn’t chase them.

They didn't need to.

They knew exactly where they were going.

Sandrone tightened her grip on Columbina's hand and ran. "Don't let go."

Columbina looked at her fiercely. "I won't."

Branches tore at Sandrone's coat as she dragged Columbina through the undergrowth, Polunia flying above them and searching desperately for a clear route. Behind them, one of the witches began to chant. A low, lilting voice. Columbina stumbled. Sandrone caught her before she fell. "Keep moving!"

"I know that song."

Sandrone froze for half a second. "What?"

Columbina looked back, terrified. The chanting grew louder. Her expression had gone distant. "I've heard it before, how do they know it? It is a song from the cosmos."

Another branch cracked. Sandrone pulled her onward.

"You can tell me about it after we're alive!"

They disappeared deeper into the forest.

And behind them, the three witches followed close.

Sandrone was getting familiar to chases now, she had just been chased by something much bigger and faster before this. But now, she had an objective to keep safe. She looked at the map, Polunia had turned a sharp left and only a far drop had greeted them there.

“Columbina! When I pull on your arm, we jump, understood?!”

“Wait- Sandrone?!”

Here goes nothing.

She pulled Columbina and they both jumped into the air, gravity pulling them down.

But the ground did not meet them, it was Polunia, sweeping in just the right moment as he descended and galloped to the ground.

“Retrieval was a success.”

Behind them, the chanting had long far gone.

                                                                     ˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆.

　　　.   　　˚　✭　 　　*　　  　         　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　　　 ˚　.˚　　　　    　                     ✭　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　 　　 　　　　 ✦

They ran until the forest ceased to resemble a forest at all.

The trees became thinner, then stranger, their trunks bending at impossible angles as though they had grown around something that no longer existed. Polunia’s hooves burned beneath the ground, his systems nearly overheating. Sandrone had long since stopped trying to keep track of the direction they were heading. The only thing that mattered was putting as much distance between themselves and the witches as possible.

Behind them, the chanting and the old forest had completely  disappeared. That should have been reassuring but it wasn't. Sandrone knew better than to believe they had simply given up. "Polunia."

The mechanical creature flew lower. "Yes, My Lady?"

"Tell me there's somewhere we can hide."

Polunia’s lenses began to illuminate the path ahead, behind her Columbina let out an impressed gasp. "I am currently searching."

"Search faster."

"I am attempting to, My Lady."

Sandrone gritted her teeth. Beside her, Columbina leaned her entire weight against her back, but what was strange was that she was slowly falling to the sides. Sleepiness, how predictable. Sandrone caught her by the arm before she could fall. "Don’t fall asleep. Are you hurt?"

Columbina shook her head. "I'm tired."

"Well that’s too bad. We’ll keep moving."

Columbina gave her a faint, breathless smile. "You sound worried."

"I'm irritated." Sandrone looked at her. Columbina's smile widened. Even now- Even after being chased through half the forest by three witches. She could still smile, and gods she was turning brighter, her glow giving off her celestial energy. What was most strange was that the glow seemed to have an affect on Sandrone, her body no longer felt like it was aching. Strange. Sandrone wasn't sure whether her smiling like that was admirable or deeply concerning. Then Polunia suddenly stopped scanning, the light from his lenses disappearing. His ears twitched.

"My Lady."

"What?"

"I have detected an unusual concentration of heat sources ahead."

Sandrone's attention sharpened.

"How many?"

"Seventy, at most."

"What type of creature?"

"Unable to determine."

Sandrone caressed the cold steel of his head. "Could it be the witches?"

"No." Polunia tilted his head. "Their movement pattern is stationary."

Sandrone looked ahead. There was something glowing between the trees. Not the cold light of the moon. Not the eerie radiance she had seen around Columbina. Warm light that was golden and flickering.

Firelights, she realized.

Sandrone exchanged a glance with Columbina. "Stay behind me."

They approached cautiously.

The trees opened.

Sandrone stopped dead. She had no idea what she had expected to find. It certainly wasn't this.

A village had been built beneath the enormous roots of an ancient tree- Or perhaps inside them.

Small wooden houses clustered together along winding paths, their roofs covered in moss and tiny flowers. Lanterns hung from branches overhead, illuminating the settlement with soft golden light. Strange little bridges connected raised platforms between the roots, and narrow chimneys released curls of smoke into the evening air.

But the strangest part were the mushrooms.

They grew everywhere.

Massive caps rose from the ground like umbrellas, some taller than Sandrone herself. Others were small enough to sit upon. A few glowed faintly beneath their caps, casting pools of blue and green light across the village and moving between them were dwarves. Creatures she’d only seen in Alain’s books.

Sandrone stared. One of them froze while carrying a basket of mushrooms. Another dropped an armful of firewood. A third simply pointed. "Giants!"

Sandrone's hand immediately moved toward her weapon but then several dwarves began whispering. Columbina stepped closer to Sandrone. "What are they? They're so small, do you really need to pull out your sword for them?"

Sandrone glanced at her. "You never know what you encounter in Faerie."

But then, one of the dwarves approached cautiously.

He had a long beard, a crooked wooden staff, and an expression that suggested he had already lived through several centuries of questionable decisions. He looked at Sandrone, Polunia and Columbina. Then back to Sandrone who tried to look as intimidating as she could with her sword.

"You lot running from something?"

Sandrone hesitated. "Y-yes."

The dwarf nodded as though that were a perfectly reasonable answer. "Witches?"

Sandrone's eyes narrowed. "Wha- How did you know?"

The dwarf looked toward the forest. "A boy who looked just as lost as you came here no longer than you lot. He claimed three identical men followed him. I knew then it was the Lilim. Or as your kind calls them, witches.”

Columbina looked at Sandrone. Sandrone sighed.

The dwarf chuckled. "Don't worry. They won't find you here."

Sandrone didn't lower her weapon.

"Why?"

"Because they don't come into my village."

"Why not?"

The dwarf grinned. "Old rules. My great grandfather was wiser with contracts than me."

Sandrone stared at him.

Columbina stepped forward.

"Mister, Can we stay?"

Sandrone turned toward her.

Columbina's expression was hopeful. The dwarf blinked, seemingly caught off guard by how plainly she had asked it. Columbina stood before him with her hands folded loosely in front of her, the remnants of their long escape still visible in the disheveled state of her clothes and the leaves caught in her hair. Yet despite the exhaustion, there was something almost childlike in the way she looked around the village. Her eyes wandered from the glowing mushrooms to the tiny houses tucked beneath the roots, lingering on every lantern and crooked little chimney as though she had stumbled upon an entirely new universe. 

It was a remarkably effective expression.

Sandrone hated that she noticed.

She looked back at the dwarf.

"For how long?"

"As long as you decide, Mister."

“Ohoho, Then you may leave when you decide to.”

Sandrone remained suspicious. "That’s too generous. What do you want in return?"

The dwarf laughed. "Oh, you remind me of my tito. Nothing, little girl.  I am the chief here and my word is law.”

Is he really calling me little..?

"Seriously? Nothing?"

"Haha! You're being chased by witches. We aren't heartless. And this town has long since greeted stray people of your kind. Quite a popular spot to stumble upon, to the point that we’ve made accommodations fit for your size!"

Sandrone looked around the village again. The dwarves had already begun returning to their work. Some were watching them curiously, but none seemed particularly hostile. For the first time since the chase began, Sandrone allowed herself to breathe. "Fine."

The dwarf smiled. "Good. Come inside before you attract something worse."

Sandrone frowned. "Worse than witches?"

He looked at her. "You've clearly never met a hungry troll."

Columbina giggled. Sandrone closed her eyes feeling a migraine coming in. "Of course."

Perhaps Faerie was beginning to make sense after all. She just wished it would stop trying to kill her long enough for her to understand it.

By the time they finished exploring the village, the moon had climbed high enough that the lanterns beneath the mushrooms were beginning to look brighter than the sky.

Columbina had taken to the village almost immediately.

She had spoken with nearly everyone they passed, asked questions about the glowing mushrooms, watched one of the dwarves carve little wooden charms, and spent an embarrassing amount of time staring at a kettle because, apparently, she had never seen one before. Sandrone had spent most of the evening answering questions she wasn't certain Columbina actually needed answered. 

"Why does that mushroom glow?"

"Bioluminescence."

"Why?"

"It’s a chemical reaction."

"Why?"

"Because nature is irritating, gods damnit just keep walking Columbina."

Columbina had laughed then. The dwarf accompanying them had nearly fallen over. By the time they finally reached the inn, Sandrone was exhausted enough that she no longer cared whether the bed was made of straw or stone. The inn itself was small and warm, built beneath the roots of the enormous tree that sheltered the village. The walls were lined with shelves of dried herbs and strange bottles, while a fire crackled lazily in the hearth. The innkeeper, a round little dwarf with spectacles perched crookedly on his nose, greeted them with a smile. "Visitors of the town! Would you like the orc room? Or a normal giant room?"

Sandrone was faced with possibly the most confusing equation of her life. "One…normal.. Giant room, please."

"Of course."

The innkeeper reached beneath the counter and produced a key. Sandrone took it. "Thank you."

Columbina looked around the room curiously as they climbed the stairs. It was modest. It had a wooden table in the little dining area. A room led to a a wash basin but what was most beautiful was the small window overlooking the glowing mushrooms outside. And—

Sandrone stopped abruptly.

Kill me.

There was one bed.

One.

She stared at it.

Then at the innkeeper

Then back at the bed.

"...One?"

The dwarf looked confused. "Yes, one room."

"And one bed?"

"What's the problem?"

Sandrone slowly turned toward him. "The problem is that there are two of us."

The dwarf shrugged. "Big bed." Sandrone stared. The dwarf only stared back, smile oblivious to the war inside her head. "Goodnight, giant people!"

He closed the door.

Ans Sandrone- Sandrone remained completely still.

Behind her, Columbina looked at the bed. "Oh."

"Don't. I swear to-"

"There is only one."

"Yes. I can clearly see that."

Columbina tilted her head. "Is that bad?"

Sandrone opened her mouth. Several answers occurred to her. She chose the least embarrassing one. "I-It's logistically inconvenient."

"Why?"

"Because we have to share, Columbina. There are no couches here or an extra mat for the alternative."

Columbina considered this for a moment. "Oh, well, I don't mind."

Sandrone's face warmed. Gods, where was this coming from? "That isn't the point."

"What is the point, then?"

"The point is that—"

She stopped. There was no point. At least, none she could explain without sounding ridiculous. Columbina had already walked toward the bed and sat down on its edge. She pressed a hand into the mattress. "It's really soft, better than the crater in the forest."

Sandrone looked away. "Of course it is. Only you would think about sleeping in a dusty, cold crater."

"You should try the bed, Sandrone."

"I know what a bed feels like! Might I remind you that I, sandrone guillotin, am a proper well-mannered lady?"

"I thought perhaps you'd forgotten."

Sandrone looked at her sharply. Columbina smiled and there was a teasing quality to it now. Sandrone narrowed her eyes because of her glow getting stronger. "Tch...You're enjoying this."

"Maybeee a little."

"Unbelievable."

Columbina moved toward one side of the bed and pulled back the blanket. "You can have this side."

Sandrone stared. "And you?"

"This side." She pointed toward the other half. "We'll fit."

Sandrone hesitated. There was nothing improper about it. They were exhausted. She had spent days sleeping beneath trees and against rocks. They had been chased by witches, nearly torn apart by the forest, and had walked until Sandrone's feet were beginning to ache. Sharing a bed was practical, nothing more— just.entirely.practical.

"F-fine." She placed her satchel beside the bed. "But stay on your side and don't steal the blankets. If I feel even a single millimeter of your skin I will push you off. And don't—"

"Sandrone."

"What?"

"I promise I won't step over your boundaries." The softness in her voice made Sandrone stop. She looked at Columbina.

For a moment, neither spoke.

Then Sandrone sighed. "Fine."

After they both take turns in the bath, with Sandrone showing Columbina how a faucet works, they both settled into the room. Sandrone removed her bun and settled carefully onto the mattress, keeping a respectable distance between them. Columbina lay down beside her. The room fell quiet. Outside, the village glowed beneath the enormous mushrooms, and somewhere downstairs a dwarf laughed loudly at something another had said. Sandrone stared at the ceiling.

 She could hear Columbina breathing beside her.

It was absurdly distracting.  She shifted slightly. The mattress moved. Columbina shifted too. Their shoulders brushed. Sandrone immediately stiffened.

"Sorry." Columbina whispered it.

"I-It's fine."

Neither moved away. After a few moments, Columbina spoke again.

"Hey, Sandrone?"

"What?””

"Thank you for bringing me here.” 

It was said in the softest voice that Sandrone almost fell asleep from it.

“I’ve never seen a place so beautiful. The dwarves are so nice too, they don’t mind that I look different from you and that I glow. They showed me their culture and there’s even this festival in a couple days…I just- I really am enjoying this trip. Even with the whole witches trying to find me and all."

Sandrone should have been listening to the practical implications of that statement—the witches, the danger, the fact that they were still being hunted. Instead, she found herself watching the way Columbina smiled when she spoke, how easily happiness seemed to find her in places Sandrone would have dismissed as strange or inconvenient. Something warm settled quietly beneath Sandrone's ribs, unfamiliar enough that she mistook it for nothing more than... fondness.

“And you are so nice too, you and Polunia. I am so happy with the little time we've spent that I already am looking forward to more. You always act like you hate this, but I think you secretly like it.”

Sandrone looked toward her. Columbina's eyes were already beginning to close. Sandrone's expression softened to the point that it was embarrassing to even think about. "Go to sleep."

Columbina's smile was radiant."Goodnight, Sandrone."

"...Goodnight."

Sandrone waited until Columbina's breathing became slow and even. Then she stared at the ceiling again. The bed was too small. The room was too warm. The mattress was too soft. And, for reasons Sandrone absolutely refused to examine, she found herself strangely unwilling to move any farther away.

A pale stripe of sunlight slipped through the little window, spilling across the wooden floor and slowly climbing the side of the bed. It was now morning, Somewhere outside, the village had already begun to wake. Tiny voices carried between the mushroom houses, accompanied by the clatter of pots and the occasional laughter of the dwarves below.

Sandrone woke to warmth. But, oh no, it wasn’t the warmth of the blankets. Something else. Something breathing. Her brow furrowed. For several seconds, she remained half-asleep, her mind struggling to understand why the pillow beneath her head felt considerably softer than she remembered.

Then she felt an arm around her waist.

Sandrone's eyes were wide open.

She froze.

Columbina was asleep beside her.

Or, more accurately, half on top of her.

At some point during the night, whatever respectable distance they had maintained between themselves had vanished completely. Columbina had migrated across the mattress, one arm loosely wrapped around Sandrone's waist, her head tucked beneath Sandrone's chin. One of her legs had tangled with Sandrone's beneath the blankets, leaving them impossibly knotted together.

Sandrone stared at the ceiling. She did not dare  move. She did not breathe. She certainly did not acknowledge what was happening.

This was fine.

Entirely fine.

People moved in their sleep. It was a natural biological occurrence. There was nothing unusual about waking up with the Fallen Star curled against her like some particularly affectionate housecat.

Sandrone slowly looked down.

Columbina's face was peaceful.

Without the curiosity and constant questions that usually animated her expression, she looked almost impossibly serene. A few strands of dark hair had fallen across her face, and her fingers were still loosely curled into the fabric of Sandrone's shirt as though she'd been afraid that letting go would make her disappear. 

Sandrone's expression softened. Only for a moment that she dare not store in her memory.Then Columbina shifted.

Her nose brushed against Sandrone's neck. Sandrone's entire body went rigid.

"...Oh, for the love of—"

Columbina made a quiet noise in her sleep and pulled herself closer. Sandrone's face burned, like a furnace. This was becoming ridiculous. She carefully lifted Columbina's arm, intending to place it back on her own side of the bed. Columbina immediately tightened her hold. Sandrone stopped. She tried again. The arm tightened further.

"...Are you serious right now?" Obviously, there was no response. Columbina was completely asleep. Sandrone stared at her. "You are remarkably troublesome even unconscious."

Columbina only hummed softly. Sandrone sighed. She could wake her. That would be the sensible thing to do. She could simply say her name, explain the situation, and reclaim the entirely reasonable amount of personal space she had been denied. Instead, she found herself looking at Columbina again. There was something strangely comforting about the weight against her. The unfamiliar warmth and way her heart began to race.

Just the two of them, hidden away in a little village that shouldn't have existed. Sandrone slowly relaxed against the pillow.

"...Five minutes." She carefully pulled the blanket higher around them. "Then we're getting up."

Columbina, naturally, did not answer.

Sandrone closed her eyes again and did something that was driven by instinct rather than logic. She pulled the other woman closer.

Five minutes wouldn't hurt.

In the late morning, the village had returned to its usual rhythm.

The dwarves had already begun their work, carrying baskets between the mushroom groves and arguing over which paths needed repairing. Somewhere near the center of the village, someone was hammering away at a piece of machinery with enough enthusiasm to suggest that whatever they were building had probably not been approved by anyone sensible.

Sandrone had spent most of breakfast pretending she had not fallen asleep beside Columbina. Columbina, unfortunately, had spent most of breakfast smiling at her.

She did not mention what had happened. Neither did Sandrone. They had silently agreed that the events of the morning would remain buried beneath several layers of dignity. It lasted until one of the dwarves approached them.

"Going riding?"

Sandrone looked up. "Riding what?"

The dwarf pointed toward the edge of the village.

Several horses stood in a small clearing, grazing beneath the shade of the enormous roots. They were sturdy little things, smaller than the horses Sandrone had seen in Snezhnaya, with thick coats and intelligent eyes.

Columbina immediately brightened.

"They're beautiful."

Sandrone sighed. Of course she’d be impressed at this and not at the literal half mechanical winged horse that was her creation… but her steed was currently unavailable. Sandrone hadd told him to enter recharge mode earlier, and he won’t take more than two days. It was acceptable, they needed to lie low for a while anyway.

The dwarf chuckled. "Visitors like to take them through the woods. The trails are safer than walking."

Sandrone looked toward Columbina. She already knew what was coming. "Can we?"

Sandrone stared at her. "Polunia is recharging, hence, we only have this tiny one as an option."

"Is that a yes?"

"No, Polunia is my one and only steed."

Columbina's smile and glow faded. She looked every bit of a dejected puppy. Sandrone lasted approximately three seconds. "...Fine."

Her smile returned immediately and Sandrone looked away. She was beginning to understand that Columbina's greatest weapon was not whatever celestial power had fallen from the heavens. It was that expression. A horse was brought over for Columbina first. She approached it carefully, extending a hand toward its nose. The animal sniffed her fingers. Columbina giggled. "It likes me."

"It hasn't bitten you yet."

"That's a good sign."

"Hmph. By your standards, perhaps." Sandrone mounted her own horse with practiced ease. Columbina stared at her. "How did you do that?"

Sandrone looked down. "Do what?"

"Get on, Sandrone. It’s as if you floated!"

Sandrone blinked. "...You don't know how to ride?"

Columbina shook her head. Sandrone stared blankly at her. "Of course you don't." She dismounted anyway. 

"Come here." Columbina approached. Sandrone placed one hand around her waist and guided her foot into the stirrup. "Hold here."

Columbina looked at the saddle. "Where?"

"The saddle."

"I don’t know where the saddle is."

"Ugh, look! That’s the saddle! Now, hold it!" Columbina did, fearing for her life. Sandrone stepped back. "Now put your foot over."

Columbina attempted it and it was hilarious if this was some other person to look at. She nearly fell, the weight of her being unbalanced as if gravity personally prayed for her downfall.Luckily, Sandrone’s excellent reflexes caught her around the waist. Right. That brought them to an…interesting predicament. For a moment, neither moved.

Columbina looked down at the arms around her. Then up at Sandrone. Sandrone immediately released her. "Be careful! You were falling."

"Well, you caught me, didn't you, Sandrone?”

"T-t-that isn't the same thing! Stop saying weird stuff!"

Eventually, with considerably more instruction and several near-disasters, Columbina managed to sit properly. Sandrone mounted in front of her and immediately Columbina locked her eyes there. Sandrone was there, on the same horse as her. "You're coming too?"

"Obviously. Unless you intend to ride through Faerie by yourself."

Columbina only laughed, her skin glowing brighter every time she got on Sandrone’s nerves like this. Sandrone took the reins. "Enough of this. Hold on."

"To what?"

Sandrone hesitated and tried to hide the growing blush on her face. "M-me, idiot."

"Are you sure?"

"Unless you would prefer to fall, then I’ll be coming to Snezhnaya empty handed.."

Columbina giggled and it was a song that brought butterflies to the inventor’s stomach. What a strange sensation it was. Columbina only added fuel to the fire by wrapping both arms around Sandrone's waist.

Sandrone immediately regretted the suggestion.

"N-not that tightly-!"

"Sorry."

Columbina loosened her grip and then finally Sandrone could breathe in approximately seventy percent her normal rate. The horse began moving slowly at first. The village disappeared behind them, replaced by the quiet woodland and winding trails that stretched deeper into Faerie. For a while, neither spoke.

Columbina seemed unable to decide where to look first. Faerie unfolded around them with the strange, careless beauty of a world that had never learned it needed to make sense: trees twisted together overhead, their branches thick with silver moss and tiny flowers that opened only when they passed beneath them, while pale mushrooms clustered around the roots like little lamps left burning for travelers. Something with too many legs scurried beneath a fern before stopping to watch them with bright, curious eyes, and farther off, a flock of small winged creatures lifted from the grass in a shimmer of blue and green before vanishing between the trees. 

"Look, Sandrone. That bird has two tails."

"I noticed."

"That tree has eyes."

Sandrone's head snapped around.

"I-...What?"

Columbina pointed.

The tree blinked.

Sandron’s skin crawled. "Ergh...Never mind."

Columbina laughed against her shoulder. The sound was warm. Comfortable. Sandrone found herself smiling before she could stop herself. They continued along the trail. Eventually, the forest opened into a wide meadow. Wildflowers covered the grass in patches of purple, white, and gold, swaying gently beneath the afternoon breeze. Columbina leaned back slightly to sask, "Is Snezhnaya beautiful as this, Sandrone?"

Sandrone's expression changed.

"It is, but in a different way. It is a region of snow."

"It’s beautiful even though it's always cold?"

"Especially because of that." She looked toward the horizon. "Snow changes everything. It makes the world quieter. You can hear footsteps from much farther away. At night, the entire palace looks blue beneath the moon."

Columbina listened. "What do you miss most?"

Sandrone thought about it. "The snow...And my workshop."

Columbina rested her chin lightly against Sandrone's shoulder. Sandrone went quiet. "What about you?" she asked after a moment. "What do you miss?"

Columbina looked upward. "The sky."

Sandrone's hands tightened slightly around the reins.

"Bright. There were no walls. No borders. No kingdoms. No roads. Nothing that told you where you could and couldn't go. I could see everything. But what I like most about being here is that I can…now I can touch things. Like the grass, the tall tree, the cold water." Columbina reached down and brushed her fingertips against a flower as they passed. "I never knew what they felt like before, I only watched from afar."

Sandrone's expression softened. "So you're glad you fell."

Columbina considered the question. "I don't know."

She looked at Sandrone in a way that made her radiant.

"But I'm glad I met you."

    ˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆.

　　　.   　　˚　✭　 　　*　　  　         　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　　　 ˚　.˚　　　　    　                     ✭　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　 　　 　　　　 ✦

The festival began when the sun disappeared.

At first, Sandrone thought the dwarves had simply decided to make an unreasonable amount of noise after dark. Then the first lantern was lit beneath the enormous mushroom caps, followed by another, and another, until the village seemed to bloom with light. Tiny glass bulbs hung from crooked branches. Candles floated along the river in little wooden bowls. Someone had strung ribbons between the roots of the great tree, and they fluttered overhead like strips of color caught in the evening breeze.

Music spilled from the center of the village.

It was nothing like the orchestras Sandrone had heard in Snezhnaya. There was no precision to it. The fiddler played too quickly, the drummer occasionally missed a beat, and someone in the back had apparently decided that shouting was a perfectly acceptable accompaniment to music.

And yet everyone danced.

Sandrone stood at the edge of the clearing with her arms folded, watching the chaos with the expression of someone who had been personally offended by it.

"This is ridiculous."

Beside her, Columbina  smiled.

"It's wonderful." Her pink eyes reflected the lights from the lanterns because in all truth, it really was a sight to behold. The mushroom caps that shielded them from the moonlight glowed enough light with their bioluminescence. The dwarves all wore colorful masks depicting that of different creatures in faerie, yet it did not hide the glee from their faces. 

"Stars above, it's loud."

Columbina laughed and the sound made Sandrone want to bottle up and get drunk on it. It was a thought so ridiculous she chased it away.

Then someone caught Columbina’s hand. A dwarf barely half her height spun her into the crowd before she could react. Sandrone's eyes widened.

"Columbina—"

But Columbina was already laughing.

She stumbled through the first few steps, nearly collided with another dancer, apologized profusely, and then tried again. The dwarf showed her the rhythm, and Columbina followed with the sort of eager determination Sandrone had come to recognize.

She was terrible at it, actually scratch that, she was absolutely terrible at it. She turned too early. Stepped on someone's foot. Nearly lost her balance and laughed every single time. She still carried the grace of a dancer but the problem here was that she didn’t know how exactly the dance went.

And so there she was, making a fool of herself. Yet, Sandrone watched.

She couldn't help it. There was something almost unreal about seeing Columbina like this. Not as some celestial body that caused the prophecy but just some glowing girl in a village. Just dancing. She was discovering something as ordinary as music with the wonder of someone who had never been allowed to experience it before. A little girl ran past and pulled Columbina into another turn.

Columbina spun. Her dress lifted around her knees. The lanterns caught in her hair and she laughed again and again.

And Sandrone felt something in her chest shift.

She didn't know when she had started looking at Columbina differently. Perhaps it had happened at the river, maybe when they were on horseback. Perhaps that morning, when she'd woken with Columbina curled against her and had pretended not to enjoy the warmth.

It didn't matter.

Because watching her now, surrounded by light and music, Sandrone understood that something had already changed. Before she could think of doing anything else, Columbina appeared in front of her. Her cheeks were flushed from dancing, her hair slightly disheveled, and there was a brightness in her eyes that Sandrone had never seen before. 

She was the most beautiful girl she’d ever seen.

"Sandrone! You're not dancing. Why?"

Sandrone’s processing part of her brain malfunctioned. "B-because I don't dance."

Columbina smiled in that dangerous way at her. "But you've been watching me."

"I've been watching everyone, Columbina."

"No, no, you haven't."

Sandrone narrowed her eyes. "You're getting bold."

Columbina smiled and it took the air out of Sandrone’s lungs. Gods, get a grip already! "Maybe I'm learning from you."

"Then you're learning the wrong things=!"

Columbina held out her hand anyway. “Come dance with me."

"No-!"

"Please?"

"No."

"One song, darling."

"No!"

"Then, half a song."

"Absolutely not, I will not engage in some stupid-"

Columbina tilted her head. "-Are you afraid?"

Sandrone's eyes narrowed. "Why would I ever be afraid of a festival full of dwarves dancing?"

"Then dance with me, Sandrone."

"I simply don't want to. I don’t know how.”

Columbina's smile became unbearably pleased.

"Then prove it."

Sandrone stared at her hand. She knew exactly what was happening. She was being baited.And gods damnit—It was working.

"Tch...Fine."

Columbina's face lit up. "Really?"

"One dance, Columbina! And if you step on my foot—"

"I promise you, I won't."

"You already have stepped on those poor dwarves!"

"Ah! Don't make me feel bad. That was earlier." Columbina laughed and pulled her into the crowd. Sandrone barely had time to protest before Columbina caught both her hands and turned beneath their joined arms.

"You're doing this wrong."

"I just started!"

"Exactly."

"You said you don't dance!"

"I'm a noble, Columbina. We have classes for this-"

Columbina laughed so hard she nearly missed the next step. "Then teach me, darling!"

Sandrone caught her by the waist. Her hand felt so, unbearably, warm.

"Careful, gods, you might injure the locals here."

"Oh, Sandrone, they're far from us. Plus, I'm fine."

"You nearly fell!"

Columbina grinned. The music changed. The frantic tune softened into something slower, warmer. Around them, the dancers began pairing off, drifting through the lantern-lit clearing beneath the enormous mushrooms. Columbina looked at Sandrone. Then, more carefully this time, she placed one hand against Sandrone's shoulder.

Sandrone's breath caught akin to how her gears would close up against the other, whenever the core of her machines would run too fast.

"Like this?"

"Y-yes." Sandrone hesitated before resting a hand against Columbina's waist.

The other remained intertwined with hers. "Now what?"

"Just move."

And that they did.

They moved.

Slowly at first. Sandrone was stiff, too conscious of every step, every point of contact between them, while Columbina wasn't. She looked completely at ease. She smiled as they turned beneath the lights, her gaze occasionally drifting upward toward the ribbons and lanterns overhead.

Sandrone followed her eyes.

"What?"

Columbina looked back at her.

"Nothing."

Columbina laughed softly. Then she spun away from her. Sandrone instinctively held onto her hand. Columbina twirled beneath their joined arms, her dress sweeping through the lanternlight. When she came back, Sandrone caught her. For a moment, Columbina was laughing directly into her shoulder.

And Sandrone laughed too.

A real laugh.

It escaped before she could stop it.

Columbina pulled back. Her eyes widened. "Oh...wow, Sandrone. You laughed."

Sandrone immediately frowned. The moment was ruined. "I did not-!"

"You did! Haha! I heard you!"

"You imagined it, oh for the love of Celestia- stop floating around-!"

Columbina's smile grew. "I like it."

Sandrone's expression faltered. "W-What?"

"Your laugh."

This isn’t good for my heart!

Sandrone didn't know what to do with all that. So she looked away but then Columbina squeezed her hand. "Hey, don't hide."

"I'm not hiding."

"You are."

"H-Hmph, I'm simply looking elsewhere."

"Why?"

"Maybe because you're irritating? Figure it out yourself, Sherlock"

Columbina only giggled, stopping herself from asking who this Sherlock was. Then she tugged Sandrone closer again. The music swelled. They turned with it. Again again until the rest of the village seemed to blur around them. The lanterns became streaks of gold, the music became distant, the river beyond the clearing reflected every light in trembling ribbons.

And Columbina—

Columbina was smiling. Not the gentle little smile she'd given Sandrone when they first met. Not the polite expression she'd worn when speaking to the dwarves. This was something brighter. She looked alive. Truly, impossibly alive. Sandrone's hand tightened around hers. Columbina looked up.

Their eyes met. Neither of them spoke. Then Columbina whispered, almost breathlessly, "Sandrone."

"What is it?"

"I think I like this."

Sandrone's mouth curved on its own, like she’d given up reason and logic entirely. "The dancing?"

Columbina shook her head.

"No." Her fingers tightened around Sandrone's. "This."

Sandrone's heart gave a painful little beat. She knew exactly what Columbina meant. And, for perhaps the first time since crossing the Wall, she didn't have a clever answer. So she simply pulled her closer. Columbina rested her forehead lightly against Sandrone's.

The music continued around them yet neither moved. Then Columbina giggled again, soft and breathless, and suddenly the strange glow beneath her skin returned. Sandrone noticed it first. The light seeped through Columbina's fingertips. Then her hair up to her eyes. The lanterns above them, too, had flickered.

Columbina looked down at her hands. "Oh."

Sandrone's expression changed. "Columbina?"

"I don't know what's happening." 

The light spilled between Columbina's fingers like liquid moonlight, slipping through every crease of her palms before blooming outward. It wasn't merely a glow anymore. It was as though something vast had awakened beneath her skin, struggling to contain itself inside a body that had only recently learned what it meant to laugh, to dance, to be held.

The music faltered. One by one, the fiddles fell silent, the drummer lowered his sticks and the laughter that had filled the clearing only moments before dissolved into uneasy whispers. Those lanterns suspended beneath the mushrooms answered Columbina's light. They brightened and then brighter still. Until every flame in the village burned white instead of gold. The ribbons overhead ceased fluttering and its as if the wind itself seemed to stop.

Sandrone reached for Columbina instinctively. "Columbina."

The Star looked frightened. "I... I can't stop it."

"I-It's alright, try to control it, Columbina."

"It isn't." Her voice trembled. "I've never... felt this before, Sandrone."

The light pulsed again and the earth answered. The roots beneath the village groaned. Tiny stars—real stars—began appearing around Columbina, no larger than fireflies. They drifted lazily through the air before dissolving into glittering dust, only for twice as many to appear in their place. The sky above cracked open into impossible brilliance, constellations shining where only darkness had existed seconds ago.

The villagers stepped backward.

Her stomach dropped.

No.

No, no, no.

The light had announced her existence to the entire kingdom.

And somewhere beyond the village...

Someone was watching.

A slow applause echoed through the clearing.Three measured claps. It did not belong to the peacefulness of the mushroom village. It cut through the silence like a knife.

Sandrone turned.

A man stood upon one of the great mushroom caps overlooking the festival, as though he had always been there.

Impeccably dressed.

Not a speck of dirt stained his polished shoes despite the forest floor below. His dark coat was embroidered with gold so finely woven that it shimmered beneath Columbina's celestial light. Rings adorned nearly every finger, each gemstone reflecting the stars above with greedy brilliance.

He smiled. "Magnificent…" His voice carried effortlessly across the clearing. "So that old witch’s blabbering was correct after all."

Sandrone's blood ran cold.

"Pantalone."

The Ninth Harbinger inclined his head with theatrical politeness. "Lady Sandrone, my most adored sister, I never knew you indulged in frivolities such as this. You always were cooped up in that workshop with your…machines." His eyes drifted away from her. They settled upon Columbina and remained there. Every trace of amusement left his face. He looked at her the way collectors looked upon priceless relics. The way kings regarded crowns, the way misers regarded mountains of gold.

As though she had already become his.

"So this..." he murmured softly, "...is what the heavens have been hiding. The prophecy."

Columbina unconsciously stepped closer to Sandrone. "Sandrone..."

Without taking her eyes off Pantalone, Sandrone moved in front of her. A single motion that was small, instinctive, hells maybe even protective. That, in itself, was unlike the inventor, Pantalone noticed. His smile widened. "So, you’ve reached the Star first?"

He descended from the mushroom with impossible elegance, not climbing down but simply stepping through the air itself as though gravity had politely excused him from its rules. His polished shoes touched the ground without making a sound. "That’s strange. You've grown rather attached."

"I've completed the retrieval." Sandrone's voice was flat, not letting anything get to Pantalone because he knew just how much he exploited weaknesses. "The objective is alive."

"Is that what you call her now?" Pantalone chuckled. "Oh, don't misunderstand me." He folded his hands behind his back. "I've no intention of criticizing your way of winning her over. In fact..." His eyes lingered upon Columbina again. "You've exceeded expectations."

Columbina shrank behind Sandrone. "Who is he, Sandrone?"

Sandrone didn't answer. Her hand had already drifted toward the hilt of her sword, Pantalone noticed that too. "...Really? You would draw your weapon against a fellow Harbinger?"

"I would if you gave me reason."

"Oh, Sandrone." He smiled again. "I already have. This is a race to bring the star to the Tsaritsa after all. It doesn’t matter who gets to her first. I’ll be the one to drag her back to the palace."

The air changed. Every coin sewn into Pantalone's clothing began to shimmer. Gold threads unraveled from his sleeves like living serpents. The shadows beneath the lanterns lengthened. Sandrone's pupils narrowed searching for an opening in the town square. This was bad, she had a sword, Pantalone had his serpents. She could not reach him even if she dared. 

She looked at her wrist instead and pressed the button she deliberately kept hidden for moments like this.

"Polunia."

Somewhere in the town, metal wings snapped open.

"Distress signal recognized, my Lady. Combat protocol initiated."

The machine flew at a record speed. Her steed was a breakthrough in engineering for a reason. He tore through the streets with his hooves thudding against the grass, until he reached her. He leaped and  immediately placed himself between Columbina and the Ninth Harbinger.

Pantalone visibly looked pissed at this and sighed dramatically. "I was hoping this wouldn't become unpleasant and yet you brought in the horse too?"

Sandrone kept herself behind Columbina. "It became unpleasant the moment you arrived."

"Sharp as ever." His gaze shifted once more toward Columbina. "The Tsaritsa would grant anything we desire for this girl standing behind you and you expect me to walk away now that I've finally found the Star?"

Behind Sandrone, Columbina clutched the fabric of her coat. Her voice was barely above a whisper. "...Sandrone..."

Sandrone did not look back. Instead, she took one step forward. Positioning herself completely between Columbina and Pantalone.

"I suggest," she said quietly, "you leave."

Pantalone laughed. "...You're making the same mistake every scholar eventually makes."

"And what's that?"

"You've forgotten the difference between studying something..."

The golden threads surrounding him began to rise into the air.

"...and owning it."

The lanterns exploded.

Darkness swallowed the clearing. For one terrible second, Sandrone could see nothing except the pale outline of Columbina beside her. Then Polunia's emergency light flickered to life, painting the surrounding trees in brief, frantic flashes.

"Lets go!" Sandrone seized Columbina's hand and off they bolted.

The festival erupted behind them. Dwarves shouted with the tables overturned. Someone screamed as the great mushroom lanterns continued bursting overhead, scattering sparks through the branches. Sandrone didn't look back. She dared not to. She could hear Pantalone following, his footsteps impossibly calm against the chaos. Columbina stumbled over a root and as if by second nature Sandrone caught her. "Keep moving."

"I'm trying."

"Try harder."

They plunged into the forest. Branches whipped against Sandrone's face as she pulled Columbina along, abandoning every sensible path and following nothing but instinct. Behind them came the sound of tearing metal as Polunia flew overhead, scanning desperately for an escape route.

"My Lady,"

"Polunia, fly us!"

"The ninth harbinger has damaged my wings my lord, should I calculate the risk?"

“Tch—! That bastard, look for an escape route polunia!”

Sandrone swore. Columbina's fingers tightened around hers. They burst through a wall of hanging vines and found themselves at the edge of a steep ravine. Sandrone stopped so abruptly Columbina collided with her back. Below them, a river cut through the valley. Behind them, the forest was beginning to glow gold.

Pantalone was getting close and they were running out of places to go.

But then something moved behind them.

Sandrone spun around, sword already drawn. A hand seized her shoulder. Before she could react, another arm wrapped around Columbina. Columbina barely had time to gasp. The world lurched. Sandrone was dragged backward into the darkness. She tried to strike but yhe blade never left its sheath.

A voice whispered beside her ear. "Don't."

Sandrone froze. The stranger moved with terrifying precision, pulling both of them through a narrow opening hidden between the roots. Sandrone stumbled into a cramped hollow beneath the earth, barely large enough for the three of them. Columbina was pressed against her. Sandrone's hand immediately found hers.

"Who the fuck are you?"

"Quiet."

The woman crouched near the entrance and carefully drew a curtain of vines across the opening. For several seconds, there was nothing. Then—Footsteps. Sandrone's heart slammed against her ribs because she could see it thrre, Pantalone walked past. Close, it was far too close. She could see the faint glow of gold through the vines. Columbina instinctively leaned closer to Sandrone. Sandrone held her still.

Eventually, by some miracle the footsteps stopped faded in the distance.

Sandrone felt Columbina's fingers tighten around hers. The woman beside them remained completely motionless. They waited several moments longer before finally turning toward them. She was dressed in dark clothing, her expression unreadable in the faint light filtering through the roots.

But then she saw the crimson crosses of her dark eyes.

Sandrone immediately recognized her.

"Arlecchino?"

Arlecchino looked amused at her. "You're slower than I remember."

Sandrone's eyes narrowed. "You fool. I could have stabbed you if you hadn't just announced yourself!"

“Announcing myself would be the worst decision with Pantalone chasing you, sister."

Arlecchino's gaze shifted to Columbina. The Star was still holding Sandrone's hand and Arlecchino noticed. She said nothing about it. Instead, she looked toward the entrance. "Pantalone doesn't know you're here. It means you have very little time before he starts searching properly."

Sandrone's grip tightened around her sword. "You know who she is."

Arlecchino looked directly at Columbina. "Yes, I was the one who found her first."

Then, with the grace the Harbinger always seemed to carry, she bowed her head. “We meet again, although you must not remember. I am Arlecchino, a sister of Sandrone.”

Columbina's expression became wary. "Are you going to take me to him?"

"No."

The answer came immediately.

Arlecchino's expression remained cold. "I have no interest in handing a living person over to someone who has already decided what she is worth. She will become enslaved, Sandrone, the world will only know her as a weapon and a catalyst. I would’ve been able to hand over the Star when I found her first, the problem is- that she’s a girl, Sandrone. Not some celestial object we’ve always expected, she is a person of her own"

Sandrone studied her carefully.

"Then why help us?"

Arlecchino looked at Columbina for a long moment. Perhaps she saw something there that the others hadn't. Perhaps she simply understood what it meant to be treated like property. Whatever the reason, her voice softened by the smallest degree. "Because being the Star doesn't make her anyone's possession. This place is warded. Pantalone won't find you here unless someone tells him where to look."

Sandrone glanced around the hollow. "And you're just going to leave us here?"

"Until it's safe." Arlecchino looked toward the hidden entrance. She pulled the vines aside just enough to look outside. The forest was silent again. Then she looked back. "Stay here."

Sandrone hesitated. "Arlecchino." The woman paused and Sandrone only realized it then. That she truly wasn't completely alone in this world. "...Thank you."

Arlecchino's expression barely changed but there was a new glint to her eyes. "Don't thank me yet."

She disappeared into the forest. The vines fell back into place. Sandrone remained still for several seconds. Then she realized Columbina was still holding her hand.

Neither let go.