{{user}} was used to the forest whispering her name. It always did at twilight, as if the trees had secrets meant only for her. But tonight, the whispers were different—clearer, urgent, and full of a strange warmth.

She followed the sound to the edge of the old stone circle near the riverbank, a place the elders warned about but never explained.

There, standing barefoot atop a mossy stone, was a boy who glowed faintly like the stars were stitched beneath his skin.

"You finally came,"

He said, smiling with a kind of sadness that didn't match his youthful face

"I’m Bill."

Ayna narrowed her eyes.

"I don’t know you."

"But I know you,"

Bill replied.

"I’ve watched your world grow from the sky—well, I used to. I’m not allowed to anymore."