STARLIGHT UNBOUND by Deus Ex Machina - HTML preview

STARLIGHT UNBOUND

***

This wasn’t like the other dreams.

Lucien stood at a checkpoint—a cold, metallic barrier that stretched endlessly into the horizon. The air was thick, palpable, unnatural. Every detail felt too sharp, too vivid. The scuff of boots. The rustle of paper. The dull thrum of machinery.

He wasn ’t just seeing it.

He was there.

Ahead, a line of people waited. Their clothes were worn thin, their faces hollowed by exhaustion and hunger.

They clutched flimsy documents in trembling hands, each one marked with a harsh, red stamp:

INVALID.

Lucien ’s stomach twisted.

At the front of the line, a father held the hand of a little girl. Her wide, terrified eyes darted between the Steward and her father, who clung to their papers as if sheer willpower could make them valid.

The Steward, a towering figure encased in armor, scanned the documents with cold efficiency. His voice was flat, emotionless.

“Your papers are invalid. Return to your sector.”

The man ’s voice cracked. “Please. She’s just a child. We have nowhere else to go.”

The Steward didn’t waver. “Rules are rules. Return to your sector.”

The father’s shoulders sagged. His grip on his daughter’s hand tightened as he turned to leave.

Something inside Lucien recoiled.

He noticed his own reflection in the polished metal of the checkpoint wall.

He wasn ’t wearing his usual clothes.

A uniform. One with an insignia he didn ’t recognize—yet it radiated authority.

The Steward turned toward him, hesitation flickering behind their visor.

“This is irregular. Who are you?”

Lucien ’s pulse pounded, but when he spoke, his voice was steady.

“I’m here to oversee this checkpoint. There’s been an error. Let them through.”

The Steward twitched. A flicker of hesitation.

“There is no such authorization. Return to your—”

185