STARLIGHT UNBOUND by Deus Ex Machina - HTML preview

STARLIGHT UNBOUND

The smiles floated like ghosts, before fading into nothingness.

Lucien reached out a hand instinctively. Don ’t go. Not yet.

But it was too late.

***

Lucien jolted awake, his lungs expanding and contracting in ragged breaths. The light of dawn seeped through the blinds, a sliver of it slicing across the room like a blade, too bright, too sharp.

He sat up, his body trembling, the remnants of the dream clinging to him like smoke —thick, inescapable, curling through his thoughts in restless patterns. His hands shook as he dragged them through his damp hair, his mind racing.

What does it mean?

It wasn ’t a dream. It couldn’t be. It had felt more real than reality itself— every detail, every sensation burned into him like a scar. The void, the stars, the house. The way they had smiled at him before fading into nothing.

His pulse thundered in his ears as the words from the dream echoed, relentless. You’re looking for something.

Lucien swallowed hard and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, his feet pressing into the cool floor. The room felt too small, too quiet, suffocating him with unanswered questions. He glanced at the nightstand. The black disk sat there, a silent reminder.

He picked it up, staring at it. His thumb traced the gold constellation etched into its center, the symbol pulsing in his vision like a heartbeat. It meant something.

The decision settled in his mind like a stone sinking in a cavernous lake.

“I need to see her.” His voice was hoarse, raw, as though speaking the words made them real.

Lyra knows something. And he was done pretending otherwise.

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