Chapter 6: The Night the Stars Went Out
Aurora didn't sleep at all.
The last message on her phone — "Tomorrow, don't come back" — replayed in her mind until the words felt carved into her skull.
But of course, she went back.
The next morning, the city was unusually quiet, wrapped in a pale fog that swallowed sound. The world felt muted, like someone had turned down the volume on reality.
When Aurora reached Starlight Café, her stomach twisted. The sign was gone. The lights were off. The door was locked.
She pressed her face against the glass. Inside, everything looked the same — the tables, the paintings, the counter — but a fine layer of silver dust coated the surfaces, shimmering faintly. Like stardust.
She pulled back, heart pounding. "Elias?" she called softly, even though she knew he couldn't hear her.
And then she did hear something. A faint, distant hum. The sound of espresso steam — from inside.
The door clicked. Slowly, it creaked open.
---
The moment Aurora stepped in, the temperature shifted. Warmth, light, the faint scent of caramel and roasted beans — all at once. The world outside disappeared, and she knew instinctively: the café wasn't in Lumina City anymore.
Elias stood behind the counter, back turned, grinding coffee beans that glowed faintly like crushed stars.
"You shouldn't have come back," he said quietly.
"I got your message," she replied, voice trembling. "But I couldn't stay away."
He sighed. "That wasn't me."
Aurora blinked. "What do you mean?"
He turned to face her — and she froze. His eyes weren't their usual warm amber. They were swirling with faint light, galaxies spinning slowly within.
The words caught in her throat. "What… are you?"
Elias stepped closer, and for the first time, the air around him shimmered with energy — not threatening, but ancient. "I'm a memory," he said softly. "A wish someone made long ago. And this café…" he gestured around, "…is where forgotten wishes come to rest."
Aurora shook her head, trying to make sense of it. "You mean this place isn't real?"
"It's real as long as someone remembers it."
Her hands trembled. "So why me? Why can I see it?"
Elias's gaze softened. "Because you wished for something too — something strong enough to open the door."
She swallowed hard. "What did I wish for?"
He smiled sadly. "To find a reason to stay."
---
Aurora's breath caught.
She had moved to Lumina City six months ago — alone, heartbroken, unsure what to do with her art or her life. And one lonely night, she had sat in a café across town, crying over a cup of coffee, whispering to herself:
> "I just want to feel alive again."
That was the night Starlight Café had appeared.
Aurora took a step back, shaking her head. "This is insane."
"I know," Elias said. "But the world is full of impossible things."
Before she could reply, the lights flickered — once, twice — then dimmed completely. The starlight dust on the tables began to swirl, gathering into the shape of a human silhouette.
A voice echoed through the air.
Low. Cold. Familiar.
> "You brought her here again, Elias."
Aurora's blood ran cold. It was the man from yesterday — the one in gray.
He emerged from the swirl of light, his sunglasses gone now, revealing eyes like fractured glass. "You never learn, do you? The café isn't meant to hold mortals."
Elias moved instinctively in front of Aurora. "She's not just any mortal."
The stranger sneered. "They all say that." He raised a hand, and the air around them rippled. The paintings on the walls began to distort — the stars in them dimming, fading one by one.
Aurora grabbed Elias's arm. "What's happening?"
"He's trying to close the café," Elias said, voice taut. "He wants to erase it — and everyone inside."
"But why?"
"Because he believes wishes are dangerous."
The ground trembled. Cups shattered. The golden glow began to drain away, replaced by darkness.
Elias turned to Aurora, gripping her hands tightly. "Listen to me. If this place fades, I'll fade with it."
Her heart stopped. "No."
"You have to go," he said, eyes pleading. "Leave before it's gone. Promise me."
She shook her head fiercely. "I'm not leaving you!"
The man in gray stepped closer. "You can't save him, girl. He's a fragment — a story that's already ending."
Aurora's voice broke. "Then I'll rewrite it."
She tore her hands from Elias's and grabbed her sketchbook. The pages flew open, glowing blindingly bright. She began to draw — her pencil moving faster than her mind.
A door.
A sky full of stars.
A boy with coffee-stained hands and eyes that held galaxies.
Her hand trembled, but she didn't stop. The air shimmered. The stranger shouted something, but his voice was drowned out by a roar of wind and light.
And then — silence.
---
When the light faded, Aurora found herself standing outside, back in the real world. The café was gone. The space where it had stood was just an empty alley, faintly dusted with silver.
Her sketchbook lay open in her hands. On the page was a single drawing: Elias, smiling softly, holding out a cup of coffee that glowed like starlight.
Tears blurred her vision. She whispered, "You said it only exists if someone remembers."
The wind stirred, carrying the faint scent of espresso and caramel.
Somewhere deep in the city, a soft chime echoed — the sound of a café bell.
Aurora smiled through her tears. "Then I'll remember."
And as she turned to leave, she swore she saw it — just for a heartbeat — the faint reflection of Starlight Café in a puddle, its golden light flickering back to life.