When Star Fall

The celestial halls of Lunara shimmered with silver light, cast by the ever-present glow of the Starspire. Towers of polished moonstone stretched high above the floating city, their surfaces etched with ancient constellations that pulsed softly—remnants of a power that once ran through the veins of the Starborn.

Now, Tala Caelum, the last of them, stood before the High Council in the Hall of Ascendancy, her heart a tempest beneath the weight of her crown.

The chamber was vast, circular, lined with towering columns that reflected Lunara’s glow like mirrors of starlight. Carvings of the celestial lineage—her lineage—stretched across the walls, silent and judging. She was the last name in that long line.

And she did not know if she deserved it.

The crown—a delicate circlet woven from strands of pure starlight—sat upon her brow. It was weightless, yet it pressed against her like iron shackles.

At the center of the chamber, Archon Verian, the eldest of the Council, regarded her with his piercing gaze. "Your Majesty," he said, his voice calm yet heavy with meaning. "The Hollow King stirs. The Veil of Stars weakens. The people look to you for guidance."

A murmur of agreement swept through the gathered councilors, their faces half-hidden by the silver-trimmed hoods of their ceremonial robes.

Tala forced herself to stand taller. If she was to be their queen, she had to act like one. "Then tell me what you know."

A pause. Then, as expected, evasion.

"The ways of the Starborn are ancient," Verian said smoothly. "Some knowledge is not yet meant for you."

Tala clenched her fists beneath the flowing sleeves of her indigo robes. They always did this. Hiding truths behind riddles and traditions.

"You expect me to lead," Tala said, her voice sharper now, "but you shroud me in half-truths. How am I to protect Lunara when I don’t even know what threatens it?"

The silence stretched. She was supposed to be their queen, but in this room, she felt like a mere child playing at royalty.

Then, a familiar voice broke through the quiet.

Elyndra "Elyn" Veyne, the scholar among them, stepped forward. Unlike the others, her hood was down, revealing sharp, knowing eyes that held something close to pity. "We only wish to protect you, Tala. Some knowledge is dangerous."

Tala exhaled sharply. And yet, if the danger was real, wasn’t it her right to know?

The chamber felt suffocating. She needed answers, and she would not find them here.

Turning away, she strode toward the great double doors, her indigo cloak billowing behind her. The doors opened at her will, parting like stardust in the wind.

And as she stepped out onto the balcony, the cold air wrapped around her.

Above, the stars shimmered in the endless void.

They should have comforted her.

Instead, they felt distant.

As if their light no longer reached her.

The halls of the palace stretched before her, lined with floating runes that pulsed gently as she passed. Even in its grandeur, Lunara felt hollow tonight.

Tala found Seren Astralis waiting for her on the terrace. Her oldest friend. The one person who knew her best. He stood with his arms crossed, silver-blond hair catching the moonlight.

"You stormed out again," Seren noted, his voice even.

Tala sighed, leaning against the railing beside him. "I hate how they speak in riddles. They want me to rule, but they won’t tell me the truth."

Seren studied her for a long moment before saying, "Maybe they fear what you might do with it."

Tala scoffed. "I don’t even know what I’m capable of."

A pause stretched between them. The bond they shared, forged in childhood, had always been one of understanding.

Seren had been raised beside her, trained in the ways of the Starborn. But while Tala bore the crown, he bore the expectations of a warrior—a guardian sworn to stand at her side.

He shifted his gaze to the sky. "The stars are quiet tonight."

Tala followed his gaze. The constellations, once vibrant with celestial energy, seemed… dimmer.

A strange unease coiled in her chest.

That night, Tala stood alone in the Sanctum of the Starborn Queen—a chamber carved into the highest peak of Lunara. Here, the stars were brightest, the Veil of Stars closest.

She knelt before the Pool of Starlight, a rippling surface of cosmic energy.

The past queens had once communed with the stars through this very pool, seeking guidance.

Tala placed her hand over the water.

Nothing happened.

She should have felt something. A whisper. A pulse.

But all she felt was emptiness.

Frustration clawed at her. She closed her eyes, forcing herself to remember the stories—the Starborn of old, their power bending light and shadow alike. She was their heir. The last of them.

And yet, the stars refused to answer her.

The reflection in the water shifted.

A face that was not her own.

A hollowed face. Eyes like dying stars.

Tala gasped and stumbled back. The vision flickered, fading as ripples spread across the pool’s surface.

But the whisper lingered.

"You are not ready, little star."

That night, sleep eluded Tala. When it finally claimed her, it did so with shadows.

She found herself standing in an expanse of nothingness, the air thick with the scent of something ancient and decayed.

Ahead, a throne of obsidian and bone loomed.

And upon it sat a figure shrouded in void.

The Hollow King.

A voice, smooth as silk and sharp as shattered glass, echoed through the abyss.

"The crown does not belong to you."

Tala couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. The weight of his presence crushed her.

"You are not ready."

The darkness surged forward.

Tala woke with a gasp, her hands trembling. The cold clung to her skin, an echo of the Hollow King’s presence lingering in the air.

She pressed a hand to her chest, forcing herself to breathe.

Then, from her window, she saw it.

The stars—just for a moment—flickered.

As if something unseen had stirred.

And for the first time, Tala wondered if the stars had begun to abandon her.