A young boy looked up at the distant sky, its vast infinity captivating his eyes. Though he would never be able to touch those very stars, he enjoyed watching their fight against the infinite darkness.
To Vel watching the stars was his only form of freedom. Born into a world of enslavement he had known one place: The Factory or "Purgatory" as the other children would call it, whatever that meant.
Purgatory was a large factory that manufactured many goods for the kingdom of Alethia. From simple utensils to finely woven dresses, anything the kingdom required could be produced within its walls.
Despite the immense wealth it generated for its owners and shareholders, life inside Purgatory was far from glamorous. The factory was operated almost entirely by slaves, those unable to repay debts, or those condemned for crimes against Alethia.
Vel was neither.
He had no memory of any crime committed, nor of debts inherited. In truth, he had no memory of a family at all. As far as the ledgers were concerned, he had always belonged to the factory. The only proof of his existence was the crude brand burned into the back of his right hand:
VEL
While many children in Purgatory lived alongside parents or siblings, Vel had only himself. His cell, his body, and his name were the only anchors tying him to reality.
Despite everything, he had survived in Purgatory for fourteen years.
That alone was a feat.
Corruption festered in every corridor, danger lurking behind every machine and shadowed corner. Weakness was punished, hesitation exploited. Survival demanded obedience and silence.
His days followed a rhythm as unchanging as the iron walls that surrounded him. Wake up to the bell at the crack of dawn.
Work until the second bell,
Eat,
Work again,
Sleep when exhaustion claimed him,
Time blurred into motion, and motion into survival. If Vel stopped moving, stopped producing, he would be noticed—and being noticed was dangerous.
The Myr guarded nearly every section of the factory. They were enforcers, overseers, executioners when necessary. Many of them had been blessed - touched by a star during the Festival of Purity.
Despite the title, there was nothing pure about them.
Power had rotted them. Corruption clung to their every action. Vel had seen what happened when they took an interest in someone especially young girls and women dragged into the Myr's commons, their screams swallowed by stone walls.
Even with the injustice surrounding Vel what could he do?
He was just a lowly factory slave...
Even so, when the factory finally fell silent each night, Vel would press his face to the cracks of his cell and stare at the sky.
The stars were distant. Untouchable.
But they had something he did not.
Freedom.
The elders of the factory whispered that the stars were not merely lights, but watchers—ancient beings that descended once a year during the Festival of Purity, choosing the young who are worthy of their blessings. Power, they said, was written in bloodlines and fate. Children of noble houses trained their entire lives for that single night.
The blessing promised possibility—fame, wealth, power.
Never once in the history of Purgatory had a slave been blessed.
Knowing this Vel never cared for the Festival of Purity knowing that it would only create false hope.
On the day of the Festival of Purity, Vel continued his daily routine in the factory. A few Myr were overseeing his sector and discussing tonights advent.
"I wonder which brats from House Alethia will be blessed tonight."
"Those nobles are insufferable. Brainwashed to think the stars exist for them."
"Still—we were blessed. And look at us now. Guards instead of heroes."
Their laughter echoed.
These were words Vel heard every second, minute, hour, day, month, and year. To him he'd grown accustomed to the slander that spewed from the mouth of the Myr.
When the final bell rang, he gathered his things and returned to his cell. Blessed or not, he always watched the Festival.
Then the sky cracked.
A white rift tore through the night, splitting the heavens apart. Stars poured through it—countless, radiant, streaking toward the kingdom of Alethia before vanishing once more into the wound they came from.
Vel's pupils reflected a myriad of stars rushing down toward the kingdom of Alethia to bless its inhabitants then returning back the rift they came from. Though for some reason a few of the stars seemed larger than the past few years. Admiring getting to see the stars at such a size Vel failed to hear the alarms screaming throughout the factory.
Outside of Vel's cell, Slaves screamed as stars pierced their bodies. Cell houses collapsed. Cheers mixed with terror. As blessings spread, so did rebellion. Chains shattered. Fires ignited. The Myr rushed to respond, but they were overwhelmed unprepared for power blooming in the hands of those they had oppressed.
A civil war ignited within Purgatory's walls.
Returning back to reality Vel looked back and saw the monstrosity that was ensuing within the factory. Blessed slaves fighting among slaves over past grudges. The Myr were also struggling to control the blessed slaves as their sudden gain of power left the Myr unprepared and undermanned to deal with situation.
Vel's keen eyes watched as the chaos grew, but he slowly began to notice. All the blessed slaves weren't adults or elders, but instead were those his age.
Hope stirred—unwanted, treacherous.
Then the stars descended again.
More blessings fell.
But none came to him.
Instead, a cell beside his erupted in blinding white flame.
"AGHHHH IT HURTS IT HURRRRTS"
Vel stared in horror as the inferno consumed an entire family, flesh and stone melting together beneath impossible heat. The flames burned pure, merciless. As the blessed child continued to weep more flames spewed from his tears slowly engulfing his entire surrounding.
The was when Vel learned the Stars could curse the living as well.
This was no longer the Festival of Purity it was... a Festival of Purgatory.