The village of Nerenvale sat at the edge of a vast, silver forest. Its roofs were thatched, its streets made of soft earth, and its people simple and quiet. But what made Nerenvale most peculiar wasn't on the ground — it was above.
The sky never changed.
The stars were frozen in place, like tiny dots pinned to a deep blue curtain. The moon was always full. It didn't wax, or wane, or drift. It hung motionless, glowing with cold white light. And no one questioned it. Not the elders. Not the merchants. Not even the children.
Except Luma.
She wasn't like the others. She had hair like pale moonlight and a small constellation-shaped birthmark under her left eye. While other children learned to fish or sew or trade, Luma spent her days drawing the sky, hoping to find a difference — even the tiniest one. Every night, she would sneak out of her window and climb onto her roof, whispering to the stars.
"Why don't you move?" she would ask. "Are you stuck? Are you… afraid?"
The stars never answered. But she felt something — like a tremble in her chest, or a hum in the wind — that told her someone was listening.
Her grandmother, Nani Elsi, was the only one who didn't scold her curiosity. She'd sit beside Luma on stormy evenings, humming lullabies and telling forgotten tales.
"They say the stars used to dance," Nani whispered once, her voice like candle smoke. "Until the sky went quiet. Some believe it was a curse. Others say the stars just gave up."
"Gave up?" Luma asked. "Why would they do that?"
Nani only smiled, brushing Luma's hair back gently. "Maybe they were waiting for someone to remind them how."
That night, Luma couldn't sleep. She stared at the sky for hours, eyes wide, heart pounding. The stars… gave up? Could that be true?
She pulled her sketchbook out from under her pillow and scribbled something at the top of a blank page:
> ✧ "I will make the stars move again." ✧
Then she drew herself — standing at the edge of a cliff, reaching up toward a glowing sky.
But just as she closed her book, a strange sound sliced through the silence. Like the wind, but not. A shimmer. A whisper. And then—
FWOOOOOOOM!
A trail of light tore across the sky — a falling star.
Luma's breath caught in her throat.
It streaked across the frozen sky like a spark on dry.