Chapter Text
Prologue: If Happiness Was a Tangible Thing, It Would Be You
Every star has a role in the universe. Some stars blaze on to keep the infinite darkness at bay. Some stars spark life into existence. And some stars shine to grant wishes.
“That doll is so cute! I wish mommy would get me a new doll.”
“I wish I'd left even five minutes earlier.”
“I wish we had more time together.”
“I’m exhausted. I wish I could take the day off.”
“For my birthday, I’ll wish for a puppy.”
Every day, fleeting thoughts like these echoed up from the human realm and into the celestial realm. Every night, the wishing stars glittered in return, sorting through the trivial and the sincere, looking for just the right requests to bless with their powers.
One star in particular listened quite attentively, flickering with curiosity.
This little star, the youngest in her cluster, listened to all the whispered prayers coming from the world below. She did not always understand what the wishmakers were asking for. (What was love, anyway?) She still had trouble discerning the worthiness of said wishes, too.
Ah, well. She was young, and she had the rest of eternity to learn. For now, the little star was the brightest among them. If a wish felt right, she happily fulfilled it.
But one evening, on the darkest night of the year, a hushed murmur entwined its way into the medley of voices, disquieting the nebula of wish granters. The little star’s light blinked, almost in question, as the murmur deepened into a grumble. She couldn’t understand. What was it asking for?
The grumble picked up speed, too quick to catch an explanation. Then it doubled - a murmur and a grumble, but out of sync. The sounds crescendoed, and the little star dimmed, dizzy from the noise as it began to drown out everything else. Who was this coming from? What did they want?
Faster and faster the chant came - a mantra reeking of both greed and desperation, swirling around all of the stars. The incantation amplified, multiplied until they were surrounded by thunderous roars, screaming and terrifying and building still, until a final ominous word cut off all senses. The world plunged into pitch black silence for one single moment.
Then, with a violent wrench, the little star was ripped from the sky.
Despite the late hour, many citizens of the bay’s tiny kingdom lingered about. A flash from the heavens above caught the attention of every waking soul. This night, it seemed, every star in the galaxy pulsed rapidly, drawing extra attention to…
“Whoa! A shooting star!” someone pointed out to their friends around the café table in the city center.
Down by the docks, a sturdy young girl unloading crates caught sight of the stardust trail. Turning around quickly, she tugged the hem of her father’s shirt. “Papa, let's make a wish!”
And on the edge of a forest, one young couple leaned together against their balcony railing. “Hurry darling, before it passes,” the giant man whispered, wrapping his thick arms around his petite wife and her protruding belly. Smiling softly to each other, they looked up, closed their eyes, and made their wishes, too.
“I wish to be married next year.”
“I wish I could just leave.”
“I wish I had a croissant right about now.”
“I wish I could be as strong as my dad.”
“I wish for our baby to live a long and happy life.”
The little star thrashed against the invisible force dragging her down. As its grip choked tighter, she looked up to her brothers and sisters, flashing intensely and radiating her fear. They all flickered frenetically back at her, panicked but powerless to help.
Of course, stars could die. All things could. Most things did. After eons and eons, many a star quietly extinguished or dispersed into stardust. But it wasn’t her time, and her kin burned in protest until a tidal wave of new wishes flooded the little star’s conscious, breaking off their connection and scattering her focus. Each plea crashed upon her, one after another, shouting louder and louder the closer she got to land.
In the cacophony, the little star caught fragments of some of the wishes, asking for things like strength and safety and freedom. As if she could somehow be blessed with those, too, she granted any wishes she could hear. Quickly, naively, desperately she bestowed miracles, as if the wishmakers could return the favor, as if they could save her from this unheralded terror.
Bursts of stardust showered the kingdom below, but instead of respite from the onslaught, the little star felt her energy draining away. Succumbing to darkness, one last thought crossed her mind as she plummeted to the ground.
And for the first time in history, a star made its own wish.