The night hummed with power.
Across the capital of Mistral, towers of glass and crystal shimmered against a sky streaked with violet lightning. Hover-rails glided above glowing rivers; enchanted billboards flickered between spells and advertisements. The world pulsed with a quiet rhythm—half technology, half sorcery—beating like a living heart beneath the twin moons.
Tonight, that heart slowed.
Every light in the city dimmed at once, as if holding its breath for the Queen.
From the floating palace suspended above the skyline, a chime rang—a single note that rippled through the air and down to the streets below. It wasn't a sound; it was a summon. Wizards everywhere paused mid-flight, mid-laugh, mid-spell, their eyes glinting with the same silvery call.
The Selection has begun.
The Hall of Stars opened like a flower at midnight. Thousands of floating orbs drifted around its glass dome, mapping constellations from distant worlds. Beneath them, young wizards gathered in silence, their robes woven from living fabric that shimmered with every heartbeat. At the far end stood the Queen—tall, ageless, wrapped in silk and light. Her hair flowed like liquid silver; her eyes carried the calm of galaxies.
When she lifted her staff, the hall brightened. The floating stars realigned into a spinning wheel of light.
"My children of Mistral," she began, her voice smooth as rain over metal. "A thousand years ago, the bridge between worlds was sealed. Yet the stars now whisper of a new awakening. Love—the truest form of magic—calls again."
A low murmur spread through the crowd. They all knew the legend: that every wizard was born with a twin flame somewhere on Earth, a human whose soul balanced their power. Only when they found this destined one would their magic reach its full strength. But few had ever been chosen to seek.
"Tonight," the Queen continued, "three among you will cross worlds to find the one who completes your light. When your hand glows, you will have found them. When your heart trembles, you will know."
She raised her staff. Sparks of blue lightning twisted above her crown.
"Let the stars choose."
Light burst through the hall. It swirled into a cyclone, weaving between the wizards like a living thing. Gasps echoed as names formed in the air—each letter carved from pure energy.
Boog.
Jonk.
Donk.
Then silence—heavy, stunned, electric.
The Queen lowered her staff. The light faded, leaving three figures standing alone in the center.
Boog stepped forward first. He was tall, with hair the color of midnight oil and eyes that glowed faintly gold. His uniform was neat, his expression calm—but the faint tremor in his hand betrayed the storm inside. Everyone knew Boog: top of his class in elemental control, the quiet genius who never sought glory. Yet destiny had pointed at him.
He bowed deeply. "Your Majesty. I will obey."
The Queen smiled gently. "Boog, bearer of lightning—may your heart find its grounding."
Next was Jonk. His red hair shimmered like copper under the crystal lights. He grinned, utterly unbothered, spinning his wand between his fingers. "Guess fate's got taste," he said, earning a few snickers from the crowd. Jonk was the troublemaker, the charmer, the one who had once accidentally turned the academy's clock tower into a giant chicken. And yet—his magic was strong, his heart loyal.
The Queen tilted her head, amused. "Jonk, spirit of flame—may your spark find its mirror."
Last came Donk. His presence was gentle, almost serene. His soft black hair framed eyes that seemed to see through time itself. He carried no wand; his magic flowed through his hands alone. The crowd quieted when he stepped forward, for Donk's power was of healing and empathy—the rarest kind.
He bowed gracefully. "If love calls, I will answer."
The Queen's voice softened. "Donk, healer of hearts—may your light find its reflection."
The ceremony ended with a wave of the Queen's hand. Crystals descended, forming glowing bracelets around each of their wrists. The metal pulsed once, syncing with their heartbeats.
"These will guide you," she said. "When your destined one is near, your hands will glow as the stars once did. Protect them. Cherish them. And remember—Earth does not remember magic as we do. Walk gently."
Boog looked down at the faint light pulsing under his skin. Jonk twirled his wrist, watching the bracelet shimmer. Donk simply smiled at the warmth spreading up his arm.
The Queen turned away, her silhouette fading into the storm of lights.
The crowd bowed, and the Hall of Stars filled again with whispers—some envious, some awed.
Hours later, high above the sleeping city, the three chosen wizards stood before the Celestial Gate—a vast ring of light hovering over a pool of mirrored water. Around them, technicians and spell engineers worked side by side, adjusting runes and calibrating coordinates.
"This is it," Jonk said, adjusting his backpack—a very un-wizardly item filled with snacks and spell-scrolls. "Earth. I wonder if their food's as good as people say."
Boog barely looked at him. "You're thinking about food when we're about to cross dimensions?"
"Hey," Jonk shrugged. "Even destiny needs dinner."
Donk chuckled quietly. "You'll fit right in with humans, Jonk."
Boog sighed, though a faint smile threatened the edge of his calm. He turned toward the Gate, where the shimmering surface rippled with images of another world—skyscrapers, traffic lights, neon signs, rain-soaked streets.
It was beautiful. Ordinary. Terrifying.
"Do you think it'll hurt?" Donk asked softly.
"The crossing?" Boog asked. "No. But finding them… maybe."
Jonk glanced at his glowing bracelet. "When my hand lights up, I'm kissing whoever's in front of me. No questions."
Boog shot him a glare. "That's harassment."
"Not if it's fate."
Donk laughed again, the sound light and pure.
The portal flickered. A voice from the control station called out, "Coordinates stable. Gate ready for transit!"
The Queen appeared once more, her image projected through light. "My sons," she said, "you walk a path no map can show. Trust your hearts. And remember—love may save you, but it may also test you."
One by one, they approached the Gate.
Boog went first, his hand brushing the surface—it felt like touching time itself. His bracelet glowed faintly, as though recognizing the world beyond.
Then Jonk, grinning to the last second. "See you on the other side, Your Majesty!"
And finally Donk, whose eyes lingered on the Queen. "Thank you—for believing in love."
With that, he stepped forward.
The Gate flared white, swallowing them whole.
Falling.
That's what it felt like.
The world spun around them—colors bleeding into sound, gravity melting into light. They saw flashes of oceans, cities, laughter, pain. Echoes of millions of human hearts beating at once. Then, one by one, they were scattered—three streaks of light across the sky, descending like falling stars.
Somewhere on Earth, three people would soon look up and make a wish.
Boog landed first. Rain kissed his face before his eyes even opened. He was lying on wet pavement, surrounded by flashing signs and the roar of traffic. The smell of oil, smoke, and street food filled the air.
"Bangkok," he whispered, recognizing the skyline from his studies. "I'm… here."
He lifted his hand. The bracelet flickered once, faint but alive. Somewhere in this city, his other half breathed.
Jonk's arrival was less graceful. He crashed into a stack of cardboard boxes behind a café, groaning. "Ugh. So much for a dramatic landing."
A stray cat stared at him, unimpressed.
"Don't look at me like that," he muttered, dusting himself off. "You try falling from the sky and see how good you look."
The cat meowed once and walked away.
"Yeah, fine. Be that way."
Then he noticed his bracelet pulsing faintly red. His grin returned. "Well, hello fate."
Donk awoke to sunlight. He was in a quiet garden behind a hospital, the scent of flowers wrapping around him. Birds chirped softly in the morning air.
He sat up slowly, touching his chest. His bracelet glowed a gentle white, matching the color of the hospital walls beyond the trees.
"Here?" he murmured. "My lover is here?"
For a moment, peace filled him—then curiosity.
He stood, brushing dirt from his sleeves, eyes soft with wonder.
Back in Mistral, the Queen watched through a floating crystal, her expression unreadable. Around her, the Hall of Stars dimmed, leaving only three points of light glowing in the vast darkness—one gold, one red, one white.
"Find them," she whispered into the silence. "Before the darkness finds you first."
The storm outside deepened. Far below, on Earth, three humans unknowingly carried a spark that belonged to another world—each heartbeat calling, quietly, to the stars.
And somewhere among them, hands were waiting to glow.
To be continued…