Chapter Text
The halls stretch endlessly, lined with doorways of every shape, size, and hue. No two are the same. Some shimmer with runes from lost civilizations, others pulse with starlight, or echo with whispers from futures yet to come. Each door leads to a different room — a chamber brimming with ancient artifacts from all points in time, a library that holds every book ever written (and many yet to be), or perhaps a corridor of doors that opens into any universe you could ever imagine.
In the center of the largest room a vast, domed chamber with a floor like obsidian glass and a ceiling that mirrored the cosmos stood a little girl. She was no older than eight, her blond hair braided with threads of silver, her blue eyes wide with a knowing far beyond her years. She stood in silence, facing the glowing mass before her.
It wasn’t a star, though it shimmered like one. It wasn’t a flame, though it danced and twisted as if caught in a breeze that didn’t exist. It was magic in its rawest form, primordial and untamed, suspended in the air like a living nebula. Swirls of violet and gold folded through sapphire mist, scattering faint arcs of electricity and trails of glittering dust with every pulse. It hummed gently, resonating with a frequency older than the multiverse itself.
The magic swirled around her, lifting her gently into the air as if the room itself had exhaled in delight. It played with her hair, reshaping braids into curls, ribbons, constellations. Her simple tunic transformed with every twirl — a queen’s gown spun from moonlight, a pirate’s coat stitched with stardust, the robes of a sorcerer inked in languages no longer spoken. Every change told a different story, each one pulled from the corners of her imagination.
It had no face, no voice, no body and yet, its love was unmistakable.
Even without a form, you could feel its joy, its laughter, its deep, infinite affection for the girl it had created. She was not just a child of magic.
She was its child.
But even here in a place where time folded like paper and space split like water — safety and danger were entwined.
The magic moved quickly now.
It gathered its precious child close, ushering her toward one of the doors. A cloak warmer than any embrace settled around her shoulders. An endless bag was tied securely to her back. And when it was done, it made certain she was not alone.
“What’s going on?” she asked, confused, clutching her three small, smoky companions tightly to her chest. “Why are you taking me here?”
The magic knew its child was powerful. But she was still so young. Far too young to face what was coming.
She stamped her foot and huffed, indignant. “They’re just anomalies. I can handle them.”
~Astrea~
“But—”
Mist rose gently, covering their daughter’s mouth as a small paper butterfly fluttered into her vision.
~Safe. Be safe.~
She sighed, then nodded. “Where will it take me?”
~Father~
She blinked. “I have a dad!?”
The magic spiraled sharply, as though rolling nonexistent eyes.
“Right. Of course I have a dad,” she muttered.
It nudged her closer to the door as the hallways around them darkened.
~No magic~
“No magic?!”
~Little magic~
“Fine.”
She looked back one last time, gripping her staff as she scooped her companions into her bag. They watched as the door opened into a vortex of light and shadow — and then swallowed its child whole. The door sealed, vanished, leaving nothing behind.
She will be safe.
It will not let them take her away from it.