Aarav had always been curious about the night.
As a kid, he would sneak up to the roof after everyone slept, lie back against the concrete, and stare at the sky. Not to dream. Not to wish.
Just to listen.
Because sometimes… it whispered back.
Now, at 17, the whispers had become voices.
Not loud. Not human. Just pulses—like light translated into feeling. Each star above had a rhythm, like a quiet, blinking code. Aarav couldn't explain how he knew that. Only that he did.
But lately, something had changed.
He was starting to feel them move.
It began during a physics lecture.
The teacher was talking about gravitational lensing—how light from distant stars bends around massive objects like black holes. Aarav's pen stopped mid-word.
He felt something. A pull.
The room dimmed for a second, but only to him. The projector warped. For a fraction of a second, the screen behind the teacher bent, as if curved by some invisible force.
Aarav blinked.
The world snapped back to normal.
But something inside him did not.
That night, he sat under the stars again. He reached up without thinking, hand trembling.
And then... it happened.
The stars blinked.
Not one or two—all of them. The whole sky twinkled in unison, just for a heartbeat.
Like they knew him.
And responded.
He stood, heart pounding. A wind picked up from nowhere. It didn't push him—it wrapped around him, tracing his spine like electricity. He stumbled back.
Then a voice behind him:
"You're awake."
Aarav turned.
An old man stood at the corner of the rooftop. Thin frame. White beard. Cloak fluttering in the wind. His eyes gleamed like moons, but his skin was weathered like someone who had walked through time itself.
"Who are you?" Aarav asked.
The man stepped forward. "A fragment. A shadow. A memory. Call me what you wish. What matters is what you are."
"And what's that?"
The old man smiled gently.
"You are the Vessel of the Stars."
Aarav laughed—but it caught in his throat. Part of him had always known this. Not the words, but the feeling.
The man gestured to the sky.
"Each star holds power. Energy. Age. Memory.Some died before your species was born, and yet their light still touches you.You… are their bridge.Their vessel."
Aarav's hands trembled. "Why now?"
The man's expression darkened.
"Because one of you was born full.And he burns too brightly.If the flame is not balanced, it will consume everything."
"You're talking about… someone else like me?"
"Three of you. Born as the world tilted. One carries the ocean. One carries the flame. And you..."
The man looked up.
"You carry everything else."
The wind stopped. Silence. The man's body flickered—just slightly, like a weak radio signal.
"You're far from them now.But light moves.So will you."
He stepped backward. "When the sun calls the stars… you will have eight minutes. Remember that."
"Wait—what does that mean?"
But the man was already fading.
Not vanishing—just becoming light.
Aarav reached out—
—and he was alone again.
But the sky didn't feel empty anymore.
It felt like it was watching.
Waiting.
And Aarav knew:He wasn't just under the stars.
He was connected to them.