The silence was heavy, thick like fog, after the world cracked apart with the Custodian's gesture. Ayame clutched Kael's arm, her breath shallow, the remnants of the broken sky swirling around them in translucent waves. The stars had stilled—literally frozen mid-twinkle—as if the universe had hit pause.
Then, suddenly, the Custodian blinked.
"That… wasn't supposed to happen," the Custodian said, scratching their head like someone who'd accidentally spilled coffee on a keyboard. "Oops?"
"Oops?" Kael echoed, his voice half an octave higher than usual. "You just broke the sky and said *oops*?"
The Custodian sheepishly wiggled their fingers. "I was trying to show off a bit of power. A little spark. Not... shatter the celestial membrane." They flicked their wrist, and a few of the floating stars rewound and stuck themselves back into the sky like thumbtacks on a bulletin board.
Ayame finally exhaled. "Is this what it's going to be like every time we meet someone from the celestial realms? Casual apocalypse?"
The Custodian straightened, dusting their robe. "No, no. This is a one-time thing. Besides, you're not just meeting anyone—you're chosen."
"Chosen?" Ayame narrowed her eyes. "We don't even know why we're here. All we did was try to pass some old memory puzzle and suddenly—bam—godly hand gestures and sky breakage."
Kael folded his arms, taking a step closer to the Custodian. "Start talking. Who chose us, and for what?"
The Custodian sighed, as if burdened with ancient secrets and mild indigestion. "Long ago, the realms of man and stars were tightly bound. Magic ran like rivers, not underground streams. But then came the Severing—a rift in destiny caused by a single star-crossed love. Since then, the two realms have drifted apart."
"And?" Ayame asked, eyebrows raised.
"And you two are the echo of that love. The remnants of what was torn must become the thread that binds."
"Okay," Kael said slowly, "but you're still speaking in riddles. Like a fortune cookie that forgot to finish its sentence."
The Custodian chuckled. "Fine. You want it straight? There's a darkness brewing—one that thrives in the cracks between realms. It feeds on lost love, broken promises, and unresolved goodbyes. If left unchecked, it'll consume both worlds."
Ayame blinked. "So, we're supposed to... love each other hard enough to save reality?"
The Custodian paused. "Essentially, yes. But also, find the Star Keys, unlock the Pillars of Connection, reignite the Luminous Flame, and maybe—just maybe—don't get vaporized along the way."
Kael whistled. "Piece of cake."
"Oh, and try not to fight too much. The harmony of your bond determines the resonance of the Flame."
Ayame snorted. "Have you *met* us?"
"I have now," the Custodian deadpanned.
Before more questions could be thrown around, the ground beneath them gave a low hum. The celestial platform they stood on began glowing with strange runes—like circuitry made of starlight. A portal slowly unfurled in the air before them, revealing what looked like... a café?
There were twinkling string lights, hovering pastries, and a floating blackboard that read *Welcome Chosen Ones – First Task: Survive the Trial of Taste*.
Kael tilted his head. "I thought this was a cosmic mission, not a baking show."
The Custodian gestured dramatically. "Even cosmic heroes must pass the test of refined palate. Beyond that café lies the first Star Key. But beware—the Flan of Foresight sees all."
Ayame burst out laughing. "You're making this up."
The Custodian was suddenly deadly serious. "I am not. The Flan is a terrible foe. Its caramel layer is deceptive."
Kael groaned. "Great. We're risking our lives in a magical Great British Bake Off."
"Technically, it's French-inspired."
As they stepped into the café dimension, the door shimmered behind them, locking with a clink that sounded suspiciously like a coffee cup clinking on porcelain.
Inside, everything smelled like sugar and cinnamon. Dozens of pastries floated around like lazy comets, occasionally rotating in space to show off their icing. In the center of the room sat a large, wobbly custard dessert on a crystal pedestal. Its eyes—yes, eyes—glowed faintly.
"Behold," a voice echoed from the flan, "the Test of Trust."
"Did the flan just talk?" Ayame whispered.
"Did the *dessert* just declare a trial?" Kael replied.
"You must choose one dessert each," the Flan of Foresight rumbled. "Only one grants strength. The other... gas."
Ayame's stomach flipped. "Gas?"
"Cosmic indigestion," the Flan added. "You'll both float helplessly for hours. Uncontrollably."
Kael stepped forward, inspecting the hovering pastries. "We're in a magic bakery being judged by gelatin. Our lives depend on picking dessert."
Ayame stared at him. "I mean... it was either this or student loans."
They picked their desserts—a glowing éclair and a deceptively calm Danish. As soon as their teeth sunk into the flaky, otherworldly layers, their eyes widened.
A beam of light erupted from the pedestal, the Flan screaming, "THE CHOSEN HAVE BEEN TASTED AND APPROVED!"
The ground rumbled again and a secret door opened in the wall behind the counter, revealing a long corridor filled with sparkling glyphs and strange echoes.
Ayame wiped crumbs from her lips. "That was... oddly delicious. Also, is my hair floating?"
Kael looked at her, his feet slowly lifting off the ground. "Yup. Guess we picked the gassy one."
The two of them floated up toward the ceiling, limbs flailing in slow motion as the Custodian's voice echoed in laughter from above.
"Next time," Kael said, bumping into Ayame, "you choose the dessert."
Ayame groaned. "I will. And it's *never* going to be a talking flan again."
They bumped into each other again midair, spinning slowly like satellites caught in a soft breeze, their laughter ringing through the corridor behind them as the door creaked closed with a knowing hum....