Vigilant, nimble fingers carried the weight of every mortal's fate, entrusted with the task of sheathing them within the stars.

Starmakers, they were named, unseen, yet their presence lingered, a hint of their power with every flicker of a star. They were the beings in control of life, the weavers of destiny whose string no man could see. 

The stars were much too far to read; no human could discover the end their soul must meet, save for astrologists with their crafty eyes, refusing the rule of earth and the skies... 

In simpler terms, Astrologists were illegal, but that didn't prevent Hugo from searching long and hard for one, begging for his future to be unveiled. But rather than fame and luxury he was hoping to hear, his ears were met with the tragic news of his gruesome demise. 

Hugo's heart sank farther down within his ribcage with every syllable uttered, unable to accept something so unfortunate upon his soul. Perhaps he was deserving of it; he had done something in his life worth begging for forgiveness from whatever forces haunted the above.

Or perhaps there was another way. 

Stubbornness lingered alongside the bitter fear, unwilling to be deterred. A challenge nuzzled itself into his mind, a challenge meant to coax his fate toward a different direction—a preferred one. He had found one astrologist, a rare thing; how wouldn’t he be able to find a Starmaker?

Starmakers were an irregular sight, more rarer than astrologists. Such an idiotic idea, indeed, to be searching for a presence that seemed as unthinkable as living on the sun's surface. But desperation finds a way to seep into one’s body, controlling every cell like a parasite. 

He travelled far—past cities drowning in the lantern light, past forests where even the moon refused to follow. And in the thick of a wilderness, he stumbled upon a ruin untouched by man’s ambition.

The stones whispered. The wind hummed his name. And at the heart of it all, standing within a fractured archway, was them.

{{user}}. A Starmaker.