Another week had passed in Lumina Vale. Time flowed softly there, like the river that snaked lazily behind the village. The trees were tall, older than stories. The clouds rolled slow and sleepy across the sky, and the people lived without rush or war.
It was the day of the Lantern Bloom Festival.
Everyone was busy preparing. The market square was transformed with ribbons and golden paper lanterns, each one hand-painted by children. Flowers were scattered across doorsteps, and laughter filled the air like music.
Hsyko ran barefoot through the streets, holding a brush three times the size of his hand.
"Don't forget to paint your wish on the lantern before sunset!" called a villager.
"I won't! It's gonna be awesome!"
His steps clacked against stone, and his cape dragged behind him like a comet tail. He stopped at the edge of the plaza where a large sheet had been hung for all the kids to paint their hopes, dreams, and silly imaginings.
Jairou was already there, tongue sticking out as he carefully drew a pair of wings.
"Speed wings!" Jairou said. "One day, I'm gonna fly so fast the wind won't even see me."
"Nice! I'm drawing a sandwich with a crown. He's king of all food."
"You're weird."
"You're just jealous of King Breadwich."
Beatrice arrived a moment later, her painting already finished.
"What'd you draw?" Hsyko asked, peeking over.
It was a spiral of clocks, some ticking forward, some backward. In the center, a flower bloomed upside down.
"It's a riddle," she said simply.
"I think mine's hungrier than yours."
As the day wore on, Hsyko helped the elder set up the tall lantern tower in the center of town. He wasn't much help he tangled ropes, got caught in banners, and somehow managed to trip twice on the same rock but his laughter kept the mood light.
Elder Kaien chuckled at his antics.
"You remind me of someone," he said, adjusting the lanterns.
"Was he also awesome?"
"He was many things. But yes, he made people smile. Just like you do."
That evening, the entire town gathered as the first stars appeared.
The lanterns were lit one by one, golden lights rising like tiny suns.
"Light your lantern with your wish," the townspeople said in unison, "and let it find the sky."
Hsyko stood at the edge of the crowd, holding his lantern close.
He had drawn a simple picture: a boy, standing on a hill, surrounded by stars.
He didn't write a wish. He just whispered it.
"I hope tomorrow is fun."
And with that, he let go.
The lantern soared.
Later that night, after most had gone to sleep, Hsyko crept back outside. The plaza was quiet now, empty except for flickering candlelight and drifting music from a lone flute in the distance.
He sat on the hill, where the wind always felt different.
A soft voice reached him.
"You're still awake?"
He turned. Beatrice was there, arms folded, eyes glowing faintly in the dark.
"Couldn't sleep. The stars are dancing tonight."
She sat beside him.
For a long moment, they just listened. The world was slow, warm, wrapped in silence.
"Do you think wishes come true?" he asked.
"Some."
"What about the really big ones? Like... world-changing stuff."
She looked up.
"Big wishes need time. Some are already in motion, even if we don't see them."
Hsyko nodded like he understood. He didn't, not really. But it sounded important.
"Do you ever feel... weird? Like you're something else, but also not?"
Beatrice hesitated.
"Yes. But I think that's not a bad thing."
He leaned back.
"Sometimes I dream I can fly without wings. And the sky turns upside down, and I'm holding... something huge. Like the sun, but it's made of stories."
She said nothing, but her gaze lingered on him.
The wind shifted. Something soft moved in the dark a flicker, barely there.
For just a heartbeat, the stars above them flickered in a pattern.
A spiral.
The next morning, Hsyko woke late.
His hair was a mess, his blanket half on the floor. Lira Hoshima, his mother, was already at the stove, humming a quiet tune as rice boiled.
"You're late, little sky-lantern."
"Had deep sleep missions," he mumbled.
She smiled.
Breakfast was simple sweet rice and pickled root, with a bit of fruit.
After eating, he helped clean the front garden. Or tried to.
He mostly chased butterflies.
By noon, he was back at the bookstore.
Uncle Varo had found a strange book.
"Hsyko! This one fell off the shelf last night. Nearly hit me. A very rude book."
"Books can be rude?"
"Only the good ones."
It was small, with strange symbols. No one could read it.
"Maybe it's from the future," Hsyko said.
"Or the before," Varo whispered. "Some things return when they're needed."
He ruffled Hsyko's hair.
"Go on. Take it. Maybe you'll unlock it one day."
That evening, Hsyko sat on the hill again.
The festival was over, but lanterns still hung like stars in the town below.
He opened the book.
No words.
Just a single drawing on the last page.
A spiral of stars.
He blinked.
Then laughed.
"I don't get it. But it's pretty."
He closed the book.
The sky above remained still, quiet.
But somewhere, far beyond even that silence, something stirred.
Not ready to awaken.
Not yet.
But watching.