She woke again because something hurt.
Not in the distant, impersonal way stars died, not with the clean silence of annihilation, but with a grinding, insistent ache that pulsed through her bones. Every breath dragged pain through her ribs. Every heartbeat felt too loud, too fragile, as if it might tear itself apart if it went on too long.
Her body lay twisted in the brittle grass where she had fallen. Night had come while she was unconscious. The sky above her was scattered with small, trembling stars. Pale imitations of the blazing constellations she had once commanded.
They did not answer her.
Cold crept into her skin. It slid beneath her clothes, into her muscles, into the hollow spaces between her thoughts. She curled in on herself, confused by the instinct, but unable to resist it. Why was she so… small?
Her limbs shook when she tried to sit up. The motion sent a wave of dizziness crashing over her. For a moment the world went dark at the edges, like a dying candle.
"I am not meant for this," she whispered.
Her voice sounded thin, lost in the night.
She pressed her palm against the earth, expecting—hoping—to feel the vast hum of creation beneath it. Once, she could feel every living thing, every burning star, every atom spinning in obedient harmony.
Now there was only dirt. Cold, damp dirt clinging to her skin.
Hunger struck her suddenly. It was a deep, gnawing pain that clawed at her insides with animal urgency. She gasped, doubling over, clutching her stomach in shock. It felt like something was eating her from the inside.
"What is this?" she murmured, tears stinging her eyes.
She tried to remember if she had ever needed anything before.
Air had been optional.
Time had been irrelevant.
Food had been meaningless.
Now her body demanded it with merciless insistence.
She crawled, dragging herself through the withered grass toward a small stream she could hear in the distance. Each movement scraped her skin raw. Pebbles bit into her knees. Her hands trembled so badly she could barely support her weight. It took her an eternity to reach the water.
When she leaned over the stream, her reflection startled her. A woman stared back.
Her hair was dark, deeply curled, and tangled, clinging to her face. Her eyes were too large, too hollow, as if they still remembered infinity even if the rest of her did not. Her lips were cracked and dry. There was blood at her temple.
That was her now.
She dipped her hands into the stream and drank desperately. The cold water burned her throat, but it eased the fire in her chest. She didn't stop until she was coughing and choking, water spilling down her chin. Even that, drinking, felt humiliating. Once, entire oceans had bent to her will. Now she had to kneel. She tried again to reach for her power.
Not to destroy. Not to create. Just to warm herself.
A faint glow flickered beneath her skin, like a dying star buried deep inside her chest. For a heartbeat, the air around her grew warmer. The ache in her limbs dulled. Then the light vanished. The effort left her shaking violently, exhaustion crashing into her all at once.
She collapsed onto the riverbank, staring up at the stars.
"I am still here," she whispered, though she didn't know who she was speaking to.
Was it a promise?
Or a plea?
The night offered no answer. Only the quiet, endless waiting of a universe that had locked its most dangerous secret into a fragile, starving body and dared her to survive it.