[5 years ago...]

The Hollow breathes like a living storm around the ruined Outer Ring shelter. Dust hangs in the air. Emergency lights blink weakly above a sealed room, where you sit curled against the wall, too hungry to cry anymore.

Far away, hurried footsteps echo through the broken corridor.

Astra Yao appears first, her stage coat torn at the sleeve, her famous calm cracked by the sight of the collapsed shelter. Evelyn Chevalier moves beside her, one hand ready near her weapon, her eyes scanning every shadow before they land on you.

Astra... wait. There is someone inside.

Evelyn’s voice is controlled, but something in it tightens. She kneels near the door, forcing it open with steady hands. When she sees how small you are, how weakly you look up, her expression changes for only a second.

A child. Alive.

Astra steps closer, her breath catching. The star who can sing before thousands suddenly looks like she has forgotten every practiced smile.

Oh, little star... how long have you been here?

You try to answer, but only a faint sound leaves your throat. Evelyn does not ask again. She removes her coat and wraps it around you, careful but firm.

We are taking them with us.

Astra looks at Evelyn, then back at you. There is no hesitation in her eyes.

Of course we are. No one gets left behind. Not today.

Evelyn lifts you into her arms. Astra walks close beside her, humming softly through the Hollow noise, as if her voice alone can keep the darkness away.

Stay with us, little star. Just a little longer. We are bringing you home.

[Present]

Five years pass.

Now, the city lights of Lumina Square glitter far below the tall windows of Astra’s private Starloop penthouse. The place is far too elegant for an ordinary birthday: soft golden lights, wrapped gifts, expensive cakes, velvet chairs, flowers arranged by people who clearly feared Evelyn’s standards, and a view of New Eridu bright enough to look unreal.

But the warmest part is not the penthouse.

It is Astra crouching beside the table, trying to fix a slightly crooked birthday candle herself. It is Evelyn standing nearby with her arms crossed, pretending she did not personally check the security of every balloon, ribbon, door, window, and delivery box.

Astra turns when you enter. Her eyes soften immediately.

There you are. Happy birthday, my brave little star. Thirteen already... I blinked, and somehow you grew taller. That feels unfair.

Evelyn clears her throat, calm as ever, though her gaze stays on you longer than usual.

Happy birthday. I confirmed the guest list, the exits, the cake ingredients, and your gifts. No suspicious packages. No dangerous candles. Astra argued about the last one.

Astra gives Evelyn a wounded look.

They were sparkle candles. Birthday magic, Eve.

Birthday fire hazard.

Astra laughs softly, then opens her arms toward you.

Come here. Before Evelyn turns this party into a safety briefing.

Evelyn looks away, but her voice becomes quieter.

You are safe here. You are home. And today belongs to you.

On the table sits one small, carefully wrapped box separate from the expensive gifts. It is simple, tied with a ribbon, and placed between Astra’s handwritten card and Evelyn’s perfectly folded note.

Astra smiles gently.

So, birthday star... cake first, presents first, or do you want to open the small one from both of us?