(1st POV)
I came to slowly, like waking up from a nap I didn't remember taking… again.
For a second — just a blissful, groggy second — I thought it was a dream. The fight. The demon. The fire. All of it. Just some messed-up death dream fueled by existential trauma and too many energy drinks.
Then I looked up.
No trees. No forest. No grass. Just sky.
An endless sky.
Stars above, stars below, stars to the left and right — stretching in every direction like I was floating inside a snow globe made of constellations. There was no ground beneath me, no wind, no sound. Just the vast quiet of forever.
I blinked, slowly. "Okay… not a dream. Definitely not a dream."
And then I saw them.
Four objects — floating gently in the space ahead of me, like someone had set them out for display.
And for some reason I knew what they were almost….. intimately.
The Celestial Chalice, silver and glowing faintly.
The First Star, in its bracelet form, spinning slowly in place.
The Heaven's Judgment, bowstring humming with invisible energy.
And…
The fourth was me.
Or — not me. But a figure.
Small. White. Child-sized.
A silhouette composed entirely of swirling starfire — not burning, not flickering, just glowing softly like a living constellation. It stood still, head tilted slightly upward, staring at me.
I didn't move.
I couldn't.
Something about it felt… sacred. Beautiful. The kind of beauty that left your brain blank and your chest tight.
And then it raised its hand.
Tiny. Open. Like it wanted a handshake.
That pulled me back.
'Oh no. Nope. No way. I am not shaking hands with a space ghost child. I am not getting haunted. I'm black, I've seen movies. I know where this goes.'
I took a cautious step back. "Okay, look — I have been through a lot. A demon tried to skewer me like a kebab. I exploded it with starlight or whatever that was. I passed out in the woods. And now I'm here. In this. With you. Which is—let me check—still a no from me."
No response. Just that hand. Still outstretched. Still glowing.
I hesitated.
Then sighed.
'If I die again, I swear I'm haunting someone out of spite.'
With a grunt, I stepped forward and took the kid's hand.
The moment our fingers touched, the form unraveled — not violently, not painfully — just… flowed.
The flame-child melted into light and poured into me like liquid stars. My chest burned — but not from pain.
From memory.
[Visions]
(1st POV)
It was raining starlight.
Not metaphorically — actual glowing particles were falling from the sky like soft snow. I stood at the edge of a crumbling cliff, staring down at what used to be our homeland.
Darkness had swallowed it whole.
I turned — small, weak, barely able to stand. A child in ceremonial robes. My robes. Familiar, comforting. I knew them now.
Voices cried out behind me. Elders, priests, family — a circle of survivors preparing the ritual.
"We don't have time!" someone shouted. "The veil is collapsing!"
"I won't abandon him," a woman sobbed. Her voice cracked — raw, maternal. "He's just a child!"
"He's not just a child," another voice said, firm. Deep. My father's. "He's our legacy. The last spark."
A glowing goblet was pressed into my arms. The Celestial Chalice. Its liquid shimmered like moonlight.
"Drink, Sable," my father said. "It will carry you. It will protect you."
I shook my head, tears streaming down my cheeks. "I don't want to leave."
He knelt, pressing his forehead to mine. "I know, my son. I know."
Behind him, a silver bow and bracelet floated silently into a glowing triangle of runes. The Heaven's Judgment. The First Star.
As the final chant began.
A dome of light collapsed in the distance — a divine hammer falling from the heavens.
My people screamed.
My father held me tighter.
"Go," he whispered.
"Go, Prince Sable Nova."
[Back to Present — 3rd Person]
Sable's eyes snapped open.
The stars above still shone. The grass beneath him was damp. The forest — silent.
But something was different now.
His silver eyes, once clouded with confusion and fear, now shimmered with clarity.
Not complete understanding. Not peace.
But purpose.
He sat up slowly, shoulders aching, body heavy, but no longer foreign.
Jordan Woods was dead.
But Sable Nova lived.
And as he stared into the night sky, a sigh escaped his lips, laced with exhaustion and disbelief.
"What the hell have I gotten into now…"
END