The night sky was ablaze. A cascade of shooting stars streaked across the heavens, painting the darkness with gold, silver, and fire. Kael Adren squinted upward, shielding a small child in his arms as debris rained from the heavens. The ground shook, and screams filled the streets, but his focus was singular: keep the child safe.
He hadn't expected this meteor shower to strike the city directly. One moment, he was walking home from college, enjoying the rare sight, and the next, chaos erupted. Buildings groaned as cracks spread through the pavement, and shards of rock—some no bigger than pebbles, others the size of small cars—hurtled from the sky.
Kael didn't have time to think. Reflex took over. He dove toward a collapsing wall, the child clutched tightly against his chest. Pain lanced through his side, sharp and sudden, but he ignored it. There wasn't time. Not for him. Not for the child.
And then… nothing.
A white, blinding void enveloped him. The world dissolved, screams fading into silence. It wasn't death. Not exactly. It was like drifting through the space between stars, weightless, untethered. Memories flashed unbidden—his college lectures, his friends, the rare quiet moments he had stolen for himself. And then one thought crystallized in the void: I can't fail.
When he opened his eyes, the world was different.
A faint glow filled a small, dimly-lit room. The walls were rough, almost earthen, and a single window let in the soft shimmer of twin moons. Kael felt… fragile. Unfamiliar. A dull ache pulsed through his arms, his legs, his chest. He tried to move, only to realize that his body didn't feel like his own.
He struggled to sit up. Everything felt smaller, weaker, younger. Panic surged. What happened? Where am I?
"—Oh." A small, cracked voice interrupted his thoughts. "You're awake."
Kael turned toward it. Sitting on the edge of a rickety bed was a thin boy with messy hair and sharp, cautious eyes. But the eyes staring back at him from the mirror on the wall—his own eyes—weren't his. They were darker, almost hollow, like the depth of space itself, and unfamiliar.
"I… I'm… him?"
The realization hit with a crushing weight. He was no longer Kael Adren. He was someone else—Orion, eighteen years old, frail, and already burdened by life. Memories of Earth—the warmth of his parents, the touch of his friends, the life he'd known—flickered behind his mind's eye. Gone. All gone.
And yet… something remained. That strange, lingering instinct. He could still think like Kael, still plan, still remember. That part of him… survived.
Kael—no, Orion—tried to rise. His limbs felt heavy, unresponsive. The small voice from the bed chuckled softly.
"You've been through a lot. Don't push yourself too hard."
Kael ignored it. Questions raced through his mind. Where am I? What is this place? Why am I here? And why… why does my chest feel empty?
It wasn't just a feeling of weakness. It was a void, something essential missing. A strange, gnawing absence. He had heard of Stellar Cores before—in whispered legends, in stories told by wandering travelers. Every being in this galaxy had one: a source of power, a spark of life that shaped their abilities. And yet… he felt nothing. Not a flicker. Not a pulse. Nothing.
He flexed his fingers, testing the limits of this new body. The boy in the mirror—Orion—was thin, almost skeletal, his skin pale from lack of sunlight. A heavy cloak of insignificance seemed to hang over him. Coreless. That's what they'd call me here.
The thought made Kael's stomach twist. Coreless. Weak. Useless.
But Kael wasn't one to accept weakness quietly. Not now. Not ever.
He tried moving again, slower this time, letting his mind adjust to the body. It was clumsy, awkward—but it worked. One step, another, until he stood. Every motion was deliberate, calculated. Every breath, a reminder: I will survive.
A sudden flash of light from the window caught his attention. Twin moons hovered above, casting pale silver rays over the small room. And then—briefly, impossibly—he felt something strange. A memory. Or a fragment of one. A hand reaching, a surge of energy, a life left behind. Earth. His home. The meteor. The child.
And then it was gone.
Kael pressed a hand to his chest, trying to understand the feeling. It wasn't a power—at least, not yet. But it was a whisper. A hint. A promise. Something within him… remembered. Something waited to awaken.
He turned toward the bed, toward the thin boy who had spoken, but the bed was empty. Only the faint sound of the wind outside reminded him that he was truly alone.
And in that moment, Kael Adren made a silent vow:
I will find my power. I will survive. And I will become more than this world expects of me.
Because even in a body that was weak, coreless, and judged by all, the spark of Kael's determination burned brighter than any Stellar Core.
The night outside the window stretched on endlessly. Stars scattered across the sky like shards of hope. Somewhere out there, in the vast galaxy of Aurelia, a destiny waited.
And Kael Adren—reborn as Orion—would reach for it.