Starfall: A New Horizon

Prologue

PROLOGUEThe Dream

There's this dream I keep having.

It starts pitch black. It's so dark, I'm not sure my eyes are even open. It's like being woken up when the power's gone out. All those familiar bits of light snuffed out, swallowed up. Just me and an empty night.

I can't help myself. I reach out, hoping that it is just a blackout, that I can just push away the weight of being alone like too many heavy blankets. But the darkness doesn't move.

I tread midnight like water in a well, all the while the cold drip of loneliness slips down my back. Then I realize that there's no surface to break. My chest tightens. My panic rises and it's hard to breathe. I'm in way over my head. Then someone or something's pulled the plug at the bottom of the darkness and I'm sinking further into the inky black. My mouth opens to yell, to scream, but only silence comes out.

What did I expect when I have a mouth full of nothing? My heart's beating too fast. Just when I'm about to give up, just when I'm about to let go, I feel them.

Janna. Lulu. Poppy. Jinx. I feel their light. It's like warmth and joy and comfort and laughter got balled up together so tightly they had no choice but to catch fire.

My eyes are open. Maybe they were there from the beginning, but this is the first time I can truly see. Their faces are so beautiful, so peaceful. They're sleeping, dreaming maybe, untroubled by the darkness that surrounds us. I stretch my arms out, but they're too far. That's when I realize we're falling.

The horizon of a world big and blue rushes up to meet us. I can't concentrate on where we're going, the danger that's fast approaching. At this point I don't care. All I can see are my sisters falling. The atmosphere of the planet below us burns hot, and their lights ignite.

My arms ache to the bone. I try to catch them. I try to hold on, but I can't stop them from falling. I'm not strong enough to keep us together. I'm not enough for them. The tips of my own fingers start to glow and break apart. The last thing I see is their emblems darkening as their light shatters into a rainbow of ragged cinders.

And then I wake up.

I'm in my bed, the blanket in a sweaty tangle. The darkness is gone, replaced by a muted gray. I've taken to sleeping with one of the windows open. I walk over to it and watch the street below. The soft glow of the lights outside paints me and my room in shadow.

Above all the sleeping quiet is darkness. I can feel it still, stretching on and on. It's hard to see the stars from the city. Just a few pinpoints of light break it up. But I know more are out there. Somewhere.

I crawl back into bed and wait for the dawn. I don't go to sleep. I can't. The dream is the same.

Always the same.