The stars had always spoken to Lior—though no one else could hear them. Tonight, they were restless.
Perched on the edge of the old observatory roof, Lior traced constellations with a finger trembling against the cool night air. The wind tugged at their jacket, carrying a faint hum that seemed to echo from the heavens themselves. It wasn't just the wind. Lior knew it.
"Probably just the wires," they muttered to themselves, staring at the flickering streetlights far below. But the sound didn't fade. A low, vibrating whisper threaded through the quiet city, calling, beckoning… somewhere beyond the known.
Lior's chest tightened. They had always felt like an outsider, like part of them existed somewhere between what was and what could be. And tonight, that part stirred awake.
A shimmer of light appeared on the horizon—not a plane, not a shooting star, but something hovering, almost alive. It pulsed, and with each pulse, the hum grew louder, until it felt like it was inside Lior's head.
Without thinking, Lior scrambled down the fire escape, heart pounding, toward the source. Every instinct screamed caution, but the pull was irresistible. Whatever this was—it wanted them to find it.
And Lior knew, deep in their bones, that the world they thought they knew was about to change forever.