Weaver Of Starlight, Hunter Of Hearts

4: Fireflies

"I see you still have a sense of humor," the young man replies with a grin of his own.

I raise a brow at him. "You have to stay positive somehow."

"I'm off duty," he tells me, as he holds out his hand for me to take. "Would you like to have a look around?"

It is a given that I would say yes, I'm sure he can feel it in me, how desperate I am to be closer to anyone resembling myself. The Gods would not understand—they are too weary and eternal to even bother with emotions like these. But, someone who is human... on the contrary, they are much too young to comprehend what befalls us.

They do not know what it is like to drift for centuries without end, in a place where shadow devours the deepest part of our souls and light passes through our skin: we have become something else, an in-between of sorts; not special at all, yet still bizarre all the same.

Creatures of nightmares, and of dreams, that many like to write tales about in old books.

I part my lips. "Where would you like to go?"

I wonder if he knows, how much it hurts.

The Hunter Of Hearts points toward the Eiffel Tower. "Looks... Amusing," he provides, even though he does not sound the least bit amused; at the end of the day, we can only see monuments so much until they become an ordinary thing.

Amusing, I smile. Yeah, right. "We both know it isn't," I say, despite following him nevertheless.

Like burning stars shooting past buildings, we swiftly travel from one area of the city to the next, leaving a shimmering trail into the night that will be long forgotten, once morning sinks its bright, soft teeth into the night sky.

He and I fool around the Eiffel Tower for a bit. We jump off its ledges, then let ourselves fall, before we catch one another last minute. It occurs to me how silly it is, for us to even bother with avoiding hitting the ground—after all, we do not feel pain anymore, in these celestial bodies.

But I am afraid of sinking into the Earth's core again. The idea of going back there terrifies me to no end. It was clear that I wasn't meant to be in that place when I arrived. I will never forget, experiencing a burning that I should not have felt; a certain darkness that glowed orange, then enveloped every part of my being.

I'm uncertain what the Hunter of Hearts' reasoning is for catching himself before he falls for real, but I assume it is likely similar to mine.

I sigh. All these thoughts of sinking have made me not want to jump anymore.

The Hunter of Hearts goes for another round of what I assume could be considered our version of bungee jumping—except we are the ropes—however, I've tired of this game quite quickly. And eventually, I settle for watching him, going back and forth between the sky and a land that's usually so covered up by people, it is impossible to see the ground.

As I sit on a ledge of the Eiffel Tower and kick my legs into the air, I huff. I wonder if we will talk again after tonight, or if this is the only moment we will ever get to share, before we return to work for centuries.

He passes me by again.

I blink. It occurs to me how beautiful the Hunter of Hearts looks as he is throwing himself across the sky, his body changes colors with his emotions—all pinks, violets and light cyan blues. Do I look like that, too, when I am drifting between clouds? I wonder.

Despite our current situation, I'd always thought magic was a hoax.

Nothing had ever seemed magical about being here, for I was merely shoved into another box, another set of obligations and circumstances that I had no say in whatsoever. And what in the world was enchanting about that? I had asked myself for quite a while. Wasn't magic supposed to free you? Make you dream?

For the first time since I became a Weaver of Starlight, I feel it when I look at him—the type of magic that makes you dream. He's dancing through the air. Making it seem so effortless, like it is nothing at all.

I smile. Perhaps, it is not only the scenery that I had gotten used to.

Since when had this world become so mundane?

I cannot say whether he catches me staring, but the Hunter of Hearts calls me over. And soon after, I'm following him, pushing myself away from the ledge, spitting out my presence back into the universe.

As I land on the ground without a sound, I find a used teddy bear next to my feet. I pick up the abandoned toy; memories of a past that don't belong to me flash before my eyes.

I freeze. What is all this?

That can't be true.

"Weaver of Starlight?" the Hunter of Hearts calls again; his voice has been drained of all its playfulness, it is almost as if he seems worried.

However, that can't be right, I think to myself. Why would he be? "Y-Yes?" I don't mean to stutter, but I hate the memories I've just witnessed, and the heart I no longer have in my chest aches for the child that was lost. I wish I had the power to rewind time and bring souls back from The End—but all I can do is observe, and hope for the best.

"Let's go," his words snap me out of my thoughts; I didn't expect his tone to sound so assertive, it catches me off guard. The Hunter of Hearts motions for me to follow him back up, onto yet another rooftop. "It'll be morning soon. We shouldn't linger."

"Will I see you again?" I ask, while we waste no time in making our way back—jumping high above the city—by each other's sides.

He chuckles, takes a glance at me from over his shoulder, then smirks. "If you're lucky."

And just like that, he's gone.

I didn't know he could do that: slinging himself into the distance so fast.

I squint. If I look hard enough, I can still spot the faint glimmer of his outline from far away, like fireflies dancing across the horizon. "If I'm lucky?" As I repeat the words aloud, laughter escapes my lips, my shoulders shake. I stare up at the sky. "Gods, what does that even mean?"

My trip home is filled with hope and excitement for the coming night.

I find myself noticing small, little things I hadn't ever paid attention to before when I look down at Paris—frozen in time, waiting to start living again. Where there was one light in a building are now three, and four, then five.

Slowly, the city is lighting up again. What a relief.

Although I'm glad we've been able to get through this whole process so far, without any terrible ordeals thrown our way, our progress reminds me of what the lights also represent: a countdown to my numbered days spent here, between the folds of the universe, with him.

After that, I'll be alone again.

But I push the thought away, and rush back home before the sun rises. Does it even matter, what I feel, as long as I get the job done?

It's not like I'm human anymore, right?

I'm not important.

I am just a servant, made to help people who are truly alive.

As I slip out of the fabric of the Universe then into bed again, for once, I do not dream.

But a visitor knocks at my window.

Her name is Sorrow. And she will not leave.