The Star God

“Please.” Lyris’s whisper sounded foreign to her ears, since she was used to shouting out the windows of her tower. The tower she had stayed in since her birth. Her bedroom was in the highest room, containing only her tiny bed, her brother’s sling-shot, and a table, barely big enough for her to sit at. The wind clawed at her thin clothes, the wooden floorboards hard under her knees. Cramps crept along her legs but she ignored them. An hour had passed since she kneeled in front of the window, since she had seen the first star of the night. Air filled her lungs like liquid crystals. She wondered what it would be like to go out in it, to let it embrace her.  

No. She knew what would happen. Just as her brother, Tyr, always told her, outside was a dangerous place. She would surely be killed. Last year, she had lost Tyr. He had cut his leg while working at the fishing docks. When infection set in, she had done all she could for him but it hadn’t been enough. She hadn’t been enough.

She shouldn’t have listened to her brother. She should have ignored him, should have left the tower to find help. But she hadn’t, she had let him die. And now she was alone.

“Please,” Lyris said again, as if the star couldn’t hear her. She shut her eyes as if the wish would jump out and be lost if she didn’t. “Please, bring me a friend. I just want a friend.”  

Nothing happened.

Lyris opened an eye. Then the other.

The star was gone.

She stood, rubbing her hands down her legs to get the blood flowing again. Lyris crawled into her bed, the blankets her brother used to sleep on wrapping around her like his embrace.

A knock woke her up. She ignored it, curling up into a smaller ball on the bed. This happened often—kids wanted to see the Tower Girl, wanted her to grant their wishes. No use yelling down to them that she couldn’t even make her own come true, couldn’t even muster enough courage to leave her tower, let alone please other people. If she ignored it long enough, it would stop.

But it didn’t. Whoever was at the door knocked incessantly for over an hour. Lyris groaned and slipped out of bed, promptly landing on her face. She whimpered and touched her stinging nose, grabbing her ratty coat from off the floor. With the coat settled around her, she began the long journey down, down, down.

Normally, she remained on the top three floors, so when she reached the first floor, it was as if something was trying to push her back up. The wooden door practically vibrated from the knocks. She took a step toward it, fingers trembling like the door as she grasped the handle, cold as mist.

As she pulled the door open, she realized she had no idea if the person on the other side was friend or foe. What would she do if it was the latter? Her brother’s sling-shot was three floors up and hardly a weapon, no matter how true her aim.

It was a boy. His face was in shadow, so she couldn’t see his expression. He was standing with his hands on his hips, reminding Lyris of an angry midwife or mother. She was pleased to see that he was only a few inches taller than her, meaning he was fairly short himself. And after she noticed all of this, she noticed there was something else… something not… right.

His skin. Skin the exact color of moonshine and hair as if it were pulled from the night sky. She had seen people with black hair, of course, but this was an entirely different color. It didn’t look like hair. It looked like someone had cut out strips of midnight sky and draped them on his head.

“I demand that you take me, Astrophel, God of the Stars, to see Vestume. Immediately.” Astrophel stepped forward, no longer in shadow. His eyes were unmistakably stars.