[i]The desolate dry landscape stretched far into the horizon, so far that it seemed to continue into eternity. Nothing could be seen. Nothing was there to see. In this land of nothingness was a boy and a witch sitting under the shade of a twisted tree without leaves. “What’s a star?” asked the little boy. The witch looked down at the child. “A star?” The boy nodded before pointing at the bright blue sky, absent of clouds, above them. “The adults said that stars are little lights in the sky,” he turned to face the witch. “Are they fireflies?” The witch smiled. “Some old cultures believed that.” “What are they then?” “There are so many explanations to what a star is. They can literally be anything you want them to be. Which version do you want to know?” “All of them!” exclaimed the boy with a wide smile to which the witch laughed in response to. “All of them? We’d be here all week, if I did that. Your mother would be furious with me if I don’ take you home before dinner.” “Then you better get started! There’s no time like the present!” “You’re starting to sound like someone I know.” “Mama.” “Ah, yes, that does sound like your mother.” Chuckling, the witch looked up into the sky. The boy followed the witch’s gaze. “There’s a constellation over there the Phoenicians called Melkarth. The Greeks called it the Phantom,” the witch began when pointing at a specific area in the blue sky. “But we know it as Hercules, the hero who faced and overcame 12 trials to prove his courage and heroism. One day, Hercules put on a tunic that contained a deadly poison. In pain, he climbed a mountain, built a funeral pyre, and perished in its fires.” “What’s a funeral pyre?” the child interrupted. “Think of it as a bonfire for burning dead bodies in.” The witch continued. “Jupiter, or Zeus, was touched by this that he had Hercules’s body carried into the heavens and placed it in the sky where his constellation is now.” “That’s stupid. If Hercules had time to climb a mountain, build a funeral… a funeral…” “Pyre.” “A funeral pie. “Pyre.” “A funeral pyre and burn himself in it. He should have gone to a doctor. Or! Or find some kind of medicine to help him. Mama would save him!” The witch burst out laughing. When the laughing continued long enough for the boy to wonder if he had said something wrong, the witch finally spoke. “I know right?” The witch sighed deeply and repeated his sentence once again, quietly this time. The boy tilted his head to the side. Before the child could ask what was wrong, the witch smiled and continued to tell the boy stories about stars and constellations. The witch explained that many cultures believed that the stars were the souls of those yet to be born; of those already born; of those who have died. The stars, or rather their constellations, were like a novel, full of stories about the souls of those who died, those who live, and those who do not yet exist. The boy listened intently as the witch told the story about star-crossed lovers, Orihime (Vega) and Hikoboshi (Altair), who were separated by the Milky Way and were only allowed to meet each other once a year on the seventh day of the seventh lunar month. The boy’s eyes sparkled with excitement when the witch reenacted the story of the four persistent hunters and their hunting dog that chased the Great Bear into the sky and killed it, only for it to come back to life, and continue the hunt once again. The boy shrieked in delight when the witch covered the child with a large blanket, while telling the story of Citlalicue, an Aztec goddess whose skirt was literally the starry night sky itself. When the boy’s eyes adjusted to the darkness of the blanket, he was sitting in the dry land under a night sky sprinkling with shining diamonds. It took a long time for the witch to calm the child down. “Do you have a favorite star story?” the boy asked once the initial excitement of witnessing the stars subsided to some degree. “Hmm? Hmmm…” The witch stared at the stars in thought. “A fellow witch told me this story once… many, many years ago. She said that powerful deities lived in the heavens. From there, they controlled everything using stars. Everything that happened on earth was determined by the stars. The stars decided who you were, who you were going to be, what would happen, and what you were going to do. The deities were the author of the stories, the stars were the script, and everything on earth was the oblivious actors, playing their parts.” “Fate?” “Yes, everything was destined by the stars.” The witch’s hand reached for the sky, then stole a handful of stars from it. “Until humans stole the stars away from the gods. From that day on, man was the master of his own destiny. ” Glowing jewels fell from the witch’s grasp into the small hands below. The boy stared at the star shaped diamonds in his hands. “So… people are the stars?” “I guess you can say that. People are their own little star, but there are those who shine brighter than the average star.” “Who are they?” “They are special.” “Like you?” The witch smiled before putting a hand over the boy’s. “Like you.” When the witch pulled away, the star shaped diamonds were replaced with fireflies that flew away as soon as they were free from their prison. Silently, the two watched the insects fly away into the darkness. “Are the stars gone because humans keep taking them away every time they come out?” “Not every star. Scientifically speaking, the sun is a star too, you know?” The boy’s eyes widened at the news. “Really!? Why can we still see the sun?” “Who knows,” the witch shrugged. “Maybe because we’d die without the sun. Even if the sun was just invisible for 20 years, we’d go mad. Without the sun’s light, we’d be completely lost in the dark. Without the sun… ‘tomorrow’ will never come. Maybe whoever, whatever, hid the stars from us thought taking our sun was overkill.” “----!” The boy looked around his surroundings, quizzically. He thought he heard someone. The witch seemed to notice as well, but continued to talk. “I never truly cared for the stars. They are pretty, yes, but that’s it. They say the universe continues to expand, creating new stars and plants, yet it feels like they have no effect on us. These stars, they’re so far away. So cold. The closest star from earth, other than the sun, is easily over 4 light-years away. The sun might not shine every centimeter of this planet every day, but it’s the brightest, closest, warmest star we’ll ever have.” “----! ----?” “Mama?” The boy stood up to look for what he thought would be his mother. “----zel!” “Mama!” The witch sighed after watching the child become increasingly upset. “I guess I kept you too long.” The witch slowly pulled at Citlalicue’s skirt. As the witch did so, the starry night sky started to shift. The bright twinkling lights of the stars faded away and the black sky started to turn into a gradient of dark blue, blue, grayish blue, and orange. At the other end of the horizon, the edge of the witch’s blanket, the yellow sun appeared. It was dawn. “You are the brightest star I have seen in years,” the boy thought he heard the witch say. “I really hope you realize your full potential.” “Pazel.” [/i] A hand slowly emerged from the warmth and comfort of its blanket cocoon to turn the alarm off. A few moans and groans could be heard in the room, but nothing truly moved for two full minutes. Then six alarm clocks went off at the same time. [i]Emergence has come, little stars. Run as fast as you can if you want to continue to shine. Run if you do not want to be taken away. Shine as brightly as you possibly can if you do not want to be engulfed by the darkness; the void; the nothingness. [/i] --- Beauregard D. Flamel was staring at the stars from a comfortable king sized bed in the suite room of a hotel. From how clearly he could see the self-luminous celestial bodies made up of gas, he knew that every person in Seattle was making an effort to turn off as many lights as possible to see the main attraction more clearly. Though he thought the stars were pretty, Beauregard had experienced Emergence more times than the average man, the wonder and beauty of it all had worn off over the years. His lover lying right next to him seemed to agree as well. The young brunette’s glazed eyes were fixated on Beauregard’s face. He smiled at the woman as he started to play with her hair with one hand. “I would have thought you’d be interested more in the stars than me.” He was lying of course. He knew that Margaret would choose him over everything else. They all did. “You are more important to me than those stars.” Margaret’s lips planted a number of kisses on Beauregard’s chest. “Besides, the stars have enough attention right now.” “That’s sweet Peggy.” Beauregard leaned forward, but a knock on the door interrupted Beauregard from returning her kisses. Margaret whined as Beauregard excused himself to open the door. He didn’t care to put on clothes of any sort to cover his naked body when answering the door. He already knew who it was and it was somebody he loved to mess around with. A mischievous smile painted Beauregard’s face as he opened the door. As he thought, it was who Beauregard expected: his sister. Beauregard knew he would see a well-dressed petite woman with bright red hair that was fiery as her spirit. She had a facial expression that looked similar to a smile, but one could tell the woman was nowhere near having a good time. Beauregard rarely saw his sister in a good mood. Then again, he always gave her a reason to be in a bad mood. It was what little brothers were for. What Beauregard did not expect was his sister holding an arm full of phallic-symbols ranging from a banana to a cigar stick which the woman, still smiling, snapped in half with a standard dual blade guillotine cigar cutter. Beauregard’s fight-or-flight response kicked in. He quickly attempted to shut the door, but his sister’s reflex were significantly faster; a foot slid in and inhibited him from accomplishing the simple task. As Beauregard’s arm shook fiercely to close the door, or at least keeping it from opening it any further, his free hand struggled to place the door chain in place. Every time his hand passed the small crack, however, a carrot would whack his hand. With no sign of the door moving either way, the two were at a stalemate. “Hi Sophie.” “Hello, brother.” “I didn’t know you smoked.” “I don’t.” “Explains why you wasted a perfectly good cigar.” “Yes, it is a waste when you cut things so short that they become useless.” “Is… that a threat?” “Ahaha. Does it sound like one?” “Why… do you have those things?” “Oh, these? These are nothing; I went shopping after work. I just really needed to mutilate something that best represented my business partner. You see, I had a really bad day today. Did you know my partner was this close to single handedly destroying the lives of his employees? It’s amazing really. Which reminds me, brother, what time is it?” “Night time?” Sophie flicked the carrot directly into her brother’s face, making Beauregard momentarily paralyzed, and giving Sophie the time to open the door wider. With the dreaded carrot gone, as soon as he recovered, Beauregard managed to slip the door chain into its place before backing away from the door. It was only going to be a matter of time until Sophie the fire spewing mini She-Hulk would break the chains. The door began to crack and the chains started to scream as Sophie continued to push open the door. “SIX HOURS LATE TO YOUR OWN GODDAMN MEETING! DAMN IT BEAUREGARD, DIDN’T I TELL YOU REPEATEDLY THAT WE HAD AN IMPORTANT EXECUTIVE MEETING!?” “Yes! And I said I would be absent!” The chains suddenly snapped and Sophie slammed the door open with such force that the door’s hinges broke. “BY SENDING A F***ING D***O!?” “No. No. If you were paying any attention, you would have noticed a letter that said ‘Sorry I couldn’t make it to the meeting, I have a date. I sent you guys a present. Think of it as me. Make sure you share it with everyone. Have fu---…” Sophie backhanded Beauregard with the golden d***o in question and proceeded to beat her little brother with it. “OW! OW! IT WAS A JOKE OKAY!?” “NO ONE WAS LAUGHING! IF YOU WANTED TO SAY F**K YOU, YOU COULD HAVE BEEN THERE TO SAY IT INSTEAD OF---…” Sophie’s ears caught something cutting through the air. Her hair, eyes, and back suddenly emitted a mixture of red, orange, and yellow colored lights for a split second, before turning the fork, in midair, into ash. Sophie’s eyes narrowed as she turned her head towards Margaret. The woman had the decency of wearing a bathrobe, unlike someone else, but the thing barely covered the places that needed to be covered. Based on Margaret’s expression Sophie knew what she intended to do with the knife in her hand. Sophie did not feel threatened. She was p***ed. Who did that bitch think she was throwing a fork at Sophie Flamel? Does she really think a normal human had any chance of defeating Sophie Flamel? The nerve of her! In her head, Sophie knew it was pointless to get mad at Margaret. Regardless of the person she used to be, it was ultimately Beauregard’s fault Margaret was ready to attack Sophie. Anyone could see it in her eyes: Margaret was an addict. An addict obsessed with one man and one man only. People say the obsession was love, pure and simple. What these people don’t know is that any romantic relationship with Beauregard Flamel was poisonous. “Bo,” she hissed. “Is this filthy whore hurting you?” Beauregard could practically hear his sister snap. As much as he thought it would be entertaining to watch a catfight, he couldn’t have Sophie burning Margaret into a pile of ash or pound her body into a patty which Sophie would undoubtedly shove down his throat. Not now at least. He chose Margaret for a reason. If she died here, his time spent with her would have been a waste of time. Beauregard got up from the ground with a charming smile and a soothing voice, approached Margaret. “No Peggy, I’m perfectly fine. We were just playing around. My sweet-gentle-wonderful-illustrious-pulchritudinous-intellectually superior darling sister would never hurt me. Look. See? Nothing.” His hand gently touched her hand holding the knife. “It’s okay. You can let go of the knife now.” When Margaret continued to stare at Sophie with suspicion, Beauregard spoke with extra honey, “Peggy.” On cue, Margaret dropped the knife. Completely forgetting Sophie’s existence, Margaret turned to Beauregard as if he was, once again, the center of her universe. “Good girl.” He petted the brunette as a reward. “You always look out for me don’t you?” “Of course I do!” Margaret hugged Beauregard like a security blanket. “I love you.” “Damn it all.” Sophie exhaled slowly, attempting to let her boiling blood cool down. “Beauregard. We need to go. We’re having a family meeting concerning… you know what.” The brother’s smile broadened further as he continued to caress Margaret. “That I do.”