The Death Between Stars

The most beautiful things are the most dangerous.

At least that is what my mother told me before she bolted the windows shut five years ago. I sigh at the memory before walking towards the couch. I settle on the sofa, drawing my feet beneath me and burying them under my warm blanket. God, it was cold. I shiver before leaning against the backrest.

My hands search for the remote, until they close around its smooth surface. The television flickers to life, bathing the room in a bright light—

Only for my smile to fade.

Emily sits on the floor before me, obscuring my view.

“Can you move?” I snap, swatting a hand as if I were warding off a fly. Emily doesn’t bat an eye, continuing to run the file over her perfectly shaped nails. Being a year older than me suddenly makes her believe that she can ignore me whenever she wants. The faint rasp of the file is barely audible over the news channel. It would have been perfect were it not for that head-shaped figure blocking the television.

A frustrated sound escapes me. It wasn’t every day that my mother fell asleep early.

I roll my eyes before nudging her with the bottom of my foot.

“You can do that elsewhere,” I whisper, my eyes darting towards my mother. Her faint snores have started to grow louder. Emily doesn’t glance at me, her gaze fixed on her fingers.

“Do something else, Izzy,” she says dismissively. “Just don’t bother me.” Emily’s fingers grab the remote from my hands before turning the television off, giving me a look. I frown at her before lying on the sofa, fixing my blank stare at the ceiling.

“Why do you even bother fixing your nails?” I turn to give her a look. “It’s not like there is anyone you want to impress.” Her hands pause as if she were digesting my words. She picks up the polish.

“Let me do what I want, Isabelle.” Her voice is sharp this time, laced with warning. She’s a lost cause. I shake my head in exasperation before turning towards the window. Various nuts and bolts latch the windows shut, as if there was something precious inside.

Whenever I asked my mother what she was hiding, she managed to change the topic. She’s always been good at that. My eyes dart to Emily, who is preoccupied with her nails.

Perfect.

I manage to squeeze out a yawn before stretching my hands out. “I’m tired,” I say to no one. The sofa creaks softly as I stand up.

“Good night.”

Her reply is inaudible as I go to my room, grabbing the keys silently from the kitchen counter. My mother must have been really tired tonight to forget to lock them in the safe. Maybe it is just a sign from the gods themselves. My feet betray my excitement as I hurry up the stairs, the third step creaking slightly as it always does.

I turn on the fairy lights of my room, the light casting an orange glow on the walls, before reaching for the salt on my bedside table. I tilt the container to the side, shaking out a pinch of its contents in my palm. My mother told me only to use this emergency.

Surely this is an urgent cause.

“Deus me protege,” I chant, drawing a circle with the salt on the wooden floor. I raise an eyebrow expectantly, waiting for it to evaporate. It leaves a blue mark in its wake, glowing faintly. I step outside the ring and grasp the keys eagerly.

The bolts that I had once pried on with all my strength, come off with a simple twist of my wrist. I push the wooden boards open, the sight of the stars captivating my eyes. The city has changed so much in the last five years. The neighbor seems to have decorated her house, lights flickering from red to green, illuminating their once dull house. The shock is probably evident on my face. She’d never been the type to go through such a hassle, since the last time I saw her.

I lean out the window, closing my eyes in relief. I wonder how long it has been since I last felt the breeze through my hair. The night air kisses my face in welcome as if it is rejoicing at the prospect of having me back.

Faint footsteps drag me back from paradise and I hurry to close the windows. The wooden boards slam with a finality that makes my stomach twist. My door swings open. Emily stands in the doorway, her hands crossed over her chest, a carbon copy of mom. Her brown hair shines dimly under the lights as a frown appears on her face.

“Why are the keys on your desk? You know Mom said never to touch those.” I hesitate at her words, my fingers instinctively closing around the keys. Her eyes widen as she looks past my shoulder, staring at the salt remains on the floor.

Hands clamp down on my shoulders, shaking me slightly as if she were confirming that I was real. “Are you crazy?” she whispers, her words astonished.

“Didn’t you tell me to leave you alone?” I cross my arms. “Can’t you return the favor?” She pulls her hands back, raising an eyebrow, before crossing them over her chest.

An uncomfortable silence fills the room, except for the wind that blows against the wooden boards.

“If you give them to me, I won’t tell mom that you took them.” I must admit that her words are tempting. My eyes meet her gaze. Based on the steady look in her eyes, she doesn’t seem to be lying.

After all, she doesn’t seem like the type to do that anyways.

“I just wanted to look outside.” I mutter, my hands hesitantly offering her the keys. At her expectant look, I drop them into her outstretched hands.

She closes her hands around the keys, narrowing her eyes. “Didn’t you say you were tired?”

I force a smile onto my face. “Yes, I was,” I say, pushing her out of my room.

“In fact, I still am. Good night.” I lock the door, the faint click echoing throughout the room. I turn around, sighing in frustration before something catches my eyes.

A rope hangs from my bedside table, waiting to be used.

I guess I forgot to put it back after training. My hands reach for it, going to put it in the closet before a gust of wind smashes the wooden boards against the window. I jolt at the sound, staring at my escape. I eye the rope, a smile forming. It’s like the gods want me to venture outside.

How can I refuse such an enticing request?

The house is silent as I tie one end of the rope to the bottom leg of my bedside table. My hands tug on it firmly. It doesn’t budge. Perfect.

I nudge the window open, the boards tossing in the wind. My eyes stare at the view ahead of me, drawn to the stars that glitter up in the sky. I don’t remember them looking this bright. My memory of them has become foggy, each recollection different than the last.

I raise a finger, tracing the constellations I’ve learned by heart.

Sirius. Orion. The Big Dipper.

I smile up at them before tossing the rope down the window. I’ll only be gone for an hour. My eyes glance towards the alarm clock.

1:43 am.

Emily should be fast asleep by now. She has always been very particular about going to bed early. She believes that it does wonders for her skin.

I’m sure it does.

I grab a leather jacket that lies absentmindedly on the back of my chair before wearing my shoes. I balance on the scales of my sloped roof, my hands gripping the rope firmly. I lower myself down slowly, careful not to sway back and forth. The wind makes that impossibly difficult. My feet drag themselves down the house, scraping against the walls with a force that I’m sure will ruin my shoes. The sound is drowned out by the roar of the wind. My head leans towards the sky, embracing the sweetness that lingers in the air. It’s only then I decide to look down.

The city is prettier than I last imagined. Millions of little lights decorate the buildings that stand boldly at every corner. I’ve never seen so many colors in my life.

My shoes thud against the pavement, the ground soothing beneath my feet. I let go of the rope immediately and stare at the road in front of me. It used to look so small. Memories of the times when I used to be allowed to run around through the forest rush back to me. I smile, throwing my hands in the air as if caressing the night. I never thought this day would come. My life was destined to be locked away behind wooden boards, nuts and bolts blocking my way out. Not anymore. The glimpse of freedom tempts me to run through the street, desperate to get lost in the world. Asterra is completely silent at night. That hasn’t changed since the last time I saw the world. Little fireflies come to join me, their lights rivaling the stars. My feet pound through a garden of trees, a laugh escaping me.

Is this what freedom truly is?

The endless maze of trees ends, leaving the sight of a little alley. A streetlight shines down at it, the light blinking on and off. My mother said never to wander in unknown places. She also told me never to come down here, but then again, I have a feeling that she was wrong. The outside is beautiful.

She told me brutal stories of what happened outside. I half expected the world to be covered in black and white, void of color.

Perhaps the world has changed since last she saw it.

The alley draws me in, the bright light illuminating the little pebbles that sit at my feet. I lean against the wall, the coolness of the granite seeping through my jacket. The stars attract my gaze and I look up, a smile forming on my face.

They are much clearer from here.

My mother used to tell me and Emily stories of how the stars are actually people who have passed away. Their souls first have to be judged before staying in heaven or hell for a while. That is why you can’t see them immediately. But after they have served their penance, they join a constellation.

My grandma joined Cassiopeia a few years ago. That was the only day we got to open the windows. As soon as we spotted her and bid our farewells, my mother locked it up for good despite my protests. I raise my finger, tracing down the constellation. I know she is somewhere here, but I can’t find her star.

Only my mother has that gift.

She tried to teach me, but I guess I didn’t have the ability to connect with the stars. I had looked at her, confused, wondering why my palm wasn’t turning warm like she told me it would. When I asked her, she just patted me on the shoulder before telling me that I had to grow to be more compassionate. I honestly think I am a very compassionate person, thank you very much.

The sound of leaves crunching hits my ears like a war drum. I jolt, my head snapping towards the sound. Something is not right. No one in this kingdom is awake past two a.m. There are no animals in this part of the Asterra either. A heavy gust of wind brushes over my arms. I witness a chill go down my spine as I peek at both ends of the alley.

How could I forget?

The guards of the castle always roam around at night, their weapons pounding against the pavement. The memory of their royal blue uniforms glinting in the moonlight resurfaces and I shake out of it, feeling my face going pale.

I peek to the right, my left hand going over my bracelet. My eyes squint in the darkness. My mother always told me to steer clear of them. She said that the first thing they’d do is lock me up in the castle dungeons. I had once asked her why, and never got the answer. Perhaps it is just a fairytale. But even I can’t bring myself to believe that lie.

There is no one in the alley.

Another crunch. This one is closer.

I tap my thin silver bracelet twice, watching it glow under the moonlight. “Illuminara,” I whisper. The two thin bands of metal that had encircled my wrists transformed into a sword that I’d wielded since my eighth birthday. I flip it around, its weight familiar in my grip. This is certainly not how I thought my night was going to go.

The sound of boots pounding against asphalt reaches my ears as I steady the sword in front of me. Blood rushes to my ears as I see him turn the corner. There is only one of him. That’s weird. Guards normally hunt in packs. I squint at his silhouette to see him clearly.

The streetlight blinks. My head snaps up at the lights before staring back at the man. He doesn’t look worried. His posture is straight, his hands tucked in his pockets as if this was the idea of a normal stroll.

I take a step closer. Something about him is familiar. A grin twists his lips, a lollipop dangling out of his mouth. He can’t be much older than I am.

He tilts his head to the side, as if amused by my scrutiny. I stare at him back, contemplating his next move. His hands are in his pockets, his eyes relaxed.

He must have a plan.

I just have to make sure I don’t play right into it.

Frost creeps up the pavement, racing towards my shoes. Little specks of snow lightly layer over them as if it were a sign, warning me to escape.

I should run.

But just as I’m about to make a move, the light blinks again.

The streetlight goes out.