Elisa was born on Aetheris, a world bathed in the eternal light of its three moons, where the stars seemed so close that some claimed they could hear them sing. It was a planet of scientists, artists, and dreamers, but also of strict rules and an obsessive devotion to controlled knowledge. On Aetheris, the chaos of the unknown was a threat… except to Elisa.
From a young age, she was an anomaly. While her classmates memorized equations and followed stellar simulations, she would sneak away into the mountains to listen to the whisper of cosmic winds and gaze at the star-filled sky. She read forbidden texts from vanished civilizations, studied alternative theories of the multiverse, and questioned the idea that knowledge should have limits.
She was always asking what lay beyond, always presenting projects and presentations about entire galaxies, theses that disproved the limits of the universe, or formulas for complete solar systems. But her hunger for knowledge was always frowned upon… The assignments she turned in were graded poorly, or returned for revision, because—according to her teachers—they did not follow the clear instructions and established rules. Whenever she conducted experiments in the laboratories, or even when she simply left class, her classmates would harass her, ruining the formulas she worked on or calling her a freak to amuse themselves.
"If you're so desperate to know what's out there, why don't you just leave and look for it? Then you could finally leave all of us alone."
"Believe me, that's something I'd love to do… idiot," Elisa would reply—only to be beaten afterward.
At first, Elisa cried. But before long she noticed that the teachers always looked the other way, or walked off somewhere else. So she learned to carry those feelings inside.
At home, things were not much different. Her parents—brilliant scientists but deeply rooted in their rules and customs—saw in her a dangerous spark. They loved her, yes, but with fear. Elisa told them about the harassment and discrimination she suffered, and although they tried to intervene—speaking with administrators or sending letters—the academy always excused itself by saying the teachers had seen nothing and that the other students were only joking. Her parents, though worried about her, would always tell her that perhaps she should try to be more obedient and sociable with her teachers and classmates—that maybe she should try to do a little more on her part as well.
Those words only deepened Elisa's isolation and resentment.
There were days when she slipped away into the mountains for entire days at a time, and the academy could not have cared less about her absence. In truth, Elisa was far more intelligent and capable than anyone in the complex—so much so that even she began to feel attending was a waste of time.
She would stare at the sky for hours, imagining herself traveling among the stars she admired so much, being recognized by entire planets while they cheered for her. Sometimes she would even make wishes upon passing shooting stars.
But her wishes and illusions were never fulfilled.
"I really just want to leave… somewhere better," she would sometimes murmur.
One day, while wandering through the forests as usual, Elisa noticed something tangled among the roots of a tree that caught her attention immediately: a shining black hat.
She didn't know why, but the hat fascinated her. It seemed to emit a mysterious aura… as if it were calling to her.
Elisa picked it up and was about to put it on when four classmates appeared. They had skipped class, and when they saw her, they decided to bother her as usual.
"You know, you should live here with the rest of the creatures."
Elisa tried to walk away, but they surrounded her. When they saw the hat in her hands, they snatched it away, saying the object felt just as strange as she did.
"No!!! It's mine!!! Give it back!!!" Elisa shouted, trying to grab the hat from the boy holding it. In her anger and frustration she even struck him—but as always, all she received in return was another beating.
The boys kicked and punched her while Elisa curled on the ground, shielding herself. In her mind there was only anger and frustration. She was sick of all of it.
And the hat—almost as if reacting to her emotions—began to vibrate.
A pulse burst from it, throwing the boys violently into the surrounding trees and ground.
They crashed into the earth and trunks, disoriented and aching. Elisa seized the opportunity, grabbed the hat, and fled.
When she reached home she locked herself in her room without greeting anyone, staring in amazement at the object in her hands.
Without a doubt, it was something special.
"I think my prayers were finally heard," she whispered.
From then on, Elisa kept sneaking into the mountains and began studying the hat. She practiced with it, trying to replicate the pulse she had produced. Little by little she managed to feel its power and eventually control it at will. She could create pulses strong enough to lift grass—and once, she even managed to levitate for a few seconds.
But she told no one. No one knew the object existed.
She knew they would never understand.
The hat was not merely a relic. It was a doorway.
When she wore it, she heard voices—not human, not threatening—speaking in symbols, emotions, and memories. She felt the boundaries of her world shatter like glass.
From that day on, Elisa was no longer just a girl from Aetheris.
She was something else. Something out of place.
Even after being expelled from the academies for experimenting with unauthorized technology—and later marginalized by her own parents after an accident involving a miniature wormhole—Elisa felt there was nothing left for her on that planet except her hat.
So, hurt and resigned but determined, she left.
She departed in a ship she had secretly been building for years, using scraps from crashed ships, shattered satellites, and any materials she could find while sneaking into the scrapyard. It was a small vessel, no larger than a room, assembled inside an abandoned laboratory she had discovered deep within the forest.
She had never been able to make it work. In fact, the experiments that led to her expulsion were attempts to find a power source to propel it—attempts that had ended in discouraging failure.
But with the help of the hat, she had finally discovered a usable energy source.
Now she was going to make it fly once and for all.
The day she left her home planet, there were no farewells—except for her parents, and even that moment was far from grand or emotional.
They watched her pack a few belongings, put on her favorite purple sweater, and place the hat on her head before heading toward the door.
They asked what she was doing and where she was going.
Elisa simply replied that she was going to do exactly what everyone wanted—she was leaving.
Her parents didn't quite understand what she meant, but they tried to talk her into staying.
"Why? So you can keep treating me like garbage? There's nothing left for me here, and I know you want me gone too."
"That's not true, daughter. I know we can sometimes be distant or strict with you, but it's only because we love you and want what's best for you."
"What's best for me… is getting out of this place. And you don't love me. You're just like everyone else. To you I'm an anomaly too. You never supported or encouraged me, and you never defended me. The day they expelled me from the academy, you voted in favor of it as scientists. And when they accused me because of the wormhole, you weren't even there—you didn't want to stain your reputation. So don't tell me I matter to you, because I don't. The only thing I ask now is that you don't worry about me and leave me alone, like always."
Her parents fell silent.
When Elisa turned to leave, they grabbed her arm to stop her. But she was already too exhausted.
A pulse from the hat forced them back, and she walked away.
None of them noticed—because Elisa never looked back—but both she and her parents were crying.
Elisa entered her ship, placed the hat inside a glass case, and took off.
Aetheris breathed in relief at her departure.
And Elisa… broke a little inside.
During her first journey, a radar malfunction led her to an inhospitable planet where she discovered the cosmic pieces.
It was on Yllium—a world devoured by its own core—where gravity and logic bent like soaked paper. The pieces were not hidden. They lay in plain sight at the planet's center, almost as if waiting for her.
As she approached them, her hat shone brighter than ever before.
For the first time in her life, Elisa felt power.
Not curiosity. Not wonder.
Real power.
The fusion happened instantly—almost instinctively.
The pieces briefly surrounded Elisa before shooting into her ship, transforming it completely. The vessel became massively larger, merging with the pieces and turning them into its new energy core.
And Elisa herself changed.
She gained the ability to see and understand things no mortal should—almost as if she had awakened from a dream and now saw the real world.
Her eyes could see entire galaxies.
Her voice could alter minor gravitational patterns.
And her mind… began to lose its sense of limits.
She could finally see everything beyond.
All the planets she could now explore.
And she decided she would finally fulfill her dream: to be recognized and celebrated by everyone.
She entered her remodeled ship and placed the hat on her head once more.
Her first missions across the cosmos were noble.
She evacuated collapsing worlds, resolved interstellar disputes, and cured diseases that the scientists of those worlds considered incurable.
But every heroic act carried a hidden price: residual radiation, quantum displacements, marble-sized black holes.
Small mistakes, she told herself.
Acceptable.
The greater good justified them.
Over time, she began avoiding planets where she had made mistakes. When certain worlds stopped appearing on her stellar radar, she simply erased them from memory.
Some began calling her "the traveler of catastrophes."
Others worshiped her as a savior.
Elisa knew.
And she never denied it.
One day, in the nebula of a galaxy called Vam'Raeth, a group of children greeted her with flowers and prayers. They even offered her a crystal containing the history of their people.
Elisa celebrated with the inhabitants of the planet, and after the festivities she wandered across some lonely plains.
By chance she came upon several children bullying another girl.
The sight stunned her.
She remembered herself.
She approached the boys and shouted for them to leave the girl alone—but they hadn't attended the celebration and didn't know who she was.
One of them simply told her to mind her own business.
"Oh believe me… it's very much my business, idiot," Elisa replied.
She released a pulse of power that slammed the boy into the ground.
The others froze in fear. Two tried to attack her, but Elisa dropped them with nothing more than a word.
"Stay."
Her voice altered gravity around them, crushing them against the earth.
Then she raised her right hand. A dark aura wrapped around it as she lifted the boy she had struck earlier.
"Now you're going to feel a fraction of the pain you caused me… you bastard."
Her mind was slipping into rage.
She imagined that boy was one of the many who had tormented her back home.
The child begged desperately for forgiveness.
But Elisa only answered that she had begged countless times too—and no one had ever listened.
Now she wouldn't listen either.
She clenched her hand, increasing the pressure. The boy screamed in agony as her judgment blurred further and further. Her eyes began glowing with a violet light.
Her hat shone as well.
The girl she was supposedly protecting was crying and begging her to stop.
But Elisa was too lost in her rage.
"How many times did I beg you to stop while you laughed and beat me?!" she screamed.
"Can you hear me asking for forgiveness?! Can you feel the pain I felt?!"
The pressure grew until the boy's bones snapped and his lungs collapsed.
It was only when the girl grabbed Elisa's other arm—pleading for mercy—and when Elisa saw the boy lose consciousness that clarity returned.
She released him.
He lay motionless on the ground.
"No… I… I'm sorry… I really—"
She looked at the terrified girl.
When Elisa tried to approach her, the girl screamed for her to stay away.
Hearing that voice reminded Elisa of herself.
A chill ran through her body.
She vomited from shock and collapsed to her knees, sobbing uncontrollably.
"I'M SORRY, I'M SORRY, I'M SORRY, I'M SORRY, I'M SORRY! IT WASN'T MY FAULT! I DIDN'T WANT TO DO IT! DON'T BE AFRAID OF ME! I DON'T WANT TO HURT YOU! I'M GOOD!!!"
The children eventually carried the unconscious boy away, leaving her behind.
Elisa remained there until nightfall.
Then, when everyone slept, she returned to her ship and left the planet.
She was afraid that if she stayed, the inhabitants would learn what she had done—and see her as dangerous.
Elisa said nothing.
She simply left.
And from that moment on, something inside her broke forever.
She began to wonder whether she was truly exploring…
Or merely running from herself.
Every jump took her further from the memory of Aetheris.
She grew more distant, more erratic, more feared.
Some began to say Elisa no longer aged. That her body was no longer entirely human. That the cosmic pieces had not only transformed her but replaced parts of what she once was.
Even her appearance began to change.
Her once-blonde hair darkened into brown.
Her blue eyes turned violet, as if galaxies and stars shimmered inside them.
And yet, she never lost the flame.
Amid the chaos, she still looked up at the sky and stars with the same fascination she had as a child—always from a different mountain, always with nostalgia.
Sometimes even with regret.
She asked the stars to guide her toward a better path.
She asked that the next planet be the adventure she had always dreamed of.
Every life she saved rekindled something inside her.
But every harm she caused—no matter how small—extinguished something as well.
Elisa was, is, and will always be a living paradox:
A hero driven by curiosity, yet corrupted by power.
A villain without intending to be.
An explorer who may have discovered too much.
When the Guardians stole the cosmic pieces from her, she didn't just lose her ship.
She lost the illusion of certainty that had kept her standing.
She was forced to confront what she had done—and what she might be becoming.
And perhaps, in the depths of that pain…
redemption was born.
Notes: I remade the chapter.