Shadows of the Starlit Veil

The stars hadn't shone for Calla in seventeen years.

She stood at the edge of the village, the tips of her boots brushing against the frosted grass. Above her, the night sky glittered with constellations, their light pulsing like tiny heartbeats. It was beautiful, hypnotic even. But Calla felt nothing.

No warmth.
No pull.
No spark.

The stars refused to answer her.

"Still hoping for a miracle?" came a voice from behind.

Calla didn't turn. She knew who it was—Erik, the village blacksmith's apprentice. His tone wasn't mocking, just tired, like he had asked this question too many times before.

"It's not a miracle I'm looking for," Calla replied softly, her breath misting in the cold air. "It's an answer."

Erik stepped closer, his boots crunching against the frost. "Calla, you're the only one born without it. Without the light. Maybe it's just—" He hesitated.

"Maybe it's just what?" she pressed, finally turning to face him.

His brown eyes softened. "Maybe it's just not meant to be."

Calla clenched her fists. "Not meant to be? Erik, the stars choose everyone. Everyone but me. Don't you think that means something?"

Before he could respond, a low hum filled the air—a vibration that rippled through the ground beneath their feet. Calla's heart jumped as the constellations above flickered, their light dimming for the briefest moment.

"What was that?" Erik asked, his voice tense.

Calla's gaze shot back to the sky, her pulse quickening. For the first time in her life, she felt it. Not warmth, but cold, sharp and electric, crawling up her spine.

Something had changed.