the best night

Lyra Dune had always thought her life was small. Not bad, not sad—just… small. She lived in a quiet house on the edge of a sleepy town where everything moved slowly. Even the clouds seemed to stretch themselves across the sky as if they had nowhere to go. Her days were always the same. Wake up early. Feed the chickens. Water the garden. Collect eggs. And sit at the window in the evening, staring at the stars that she always called by name. “There’s Vega,” she whispered, pointing to a bright one. “Altair. And… that little one? That one is mine.” It wasn’t the biggest star. It wasn’t the brightest. But it twinkled just enough, lonely and tiny, that Lyra liked to think it belonged to her alone. Some nights, she dreamed of catching it, holding it in her hands. She imagined it glowing in her palm, warm and alive. Other nights, she wished it would fall to Earth so she could finally see it up close. Little did she know… one night, it would. --- It was a cool autumn evening. The kind where the air smells faintly of earth and smoke from faraway chimneys. Lyra had finished her chores and was sitting on the porch steps, rocking slowly. The sky above was deep blue-black, speckled with stars like sugar crystals. And then… something moved. A streak of white fire tore across the sky. At first, Lyra thought it was lightning, even though the clouds were calm. But there was no thunder. No rain. Only a soft humming sound, almost like a deep breath from the universe itself. Her heart raced. That… that’s not a plane. Not a meteor. Maybe… maybe it’s my star. The streak grew closer, brighter. It cut across the sky and landed somewhere behind her garden with a soft thud. The ground trembled slightly under her feet, and her watering can tipped over, spilling water in a small puddle. Lyra froze. Slowly, she walked toward the garden. And there it was. Not a rock. Not metal. Not even fire. A small, glowing sphere lay between the rows of her garden cabbages. It pulsed gently, like a heartbeat. Its light was soft and warm, and it smelled faintly sweet, like burnt sugar and rain. Lyra crouched down. “What… are you?” she whispered. The sphere pulsed again. Once. Twice. And then, it expanded. Slowly at first, then faster, until the entire garden was wrapped in ribbons of light. The air trembled. Pebbles and leaves floated upward, swirling around her. Even the cabbages lifted slightly from their soil. Before she could blink, the light reached out like hands and pulled her in. “Wait! No! I—” But it was too late. Lyra felt herself lifting off the ground, weightless, spinning gently through a tunnel of silver and gold ribbons. The last thing she saw before the garden disappeared was the cabbages drifting upward like tiny green clouds. And then… nothing but stars. --- When Lyra opened her eyes, she was no longer in her garden. Above her stretched a sky of colors she didn’t even have names for: deep violet, sparkling gold, and soft pinks that rippled like waves. Stars floated nearby, enormous and close enough to see shimmer and spark. She looked down. The ground beneath her was silver, glowing faintly under her feet. It wasn’t solid like Earth. It seemed alive, like it was breathing beneath her. Ridges and craters stretched endlessly. Mist glowed pale blue, curling through the valleys. Lyra gasped. “I… I’m… on the moon?” she whispered. It wasn’t the gray, dead moon she had learned about in school. No, this moon was alive. The air shimmered. Rivers of light flowed along the craters. Lanterns floated from rocks into the sky, moving gently as though carried by invisible hands. And then she noticed movement. From a distance, something white and fluffy hopped across the silver hills. Then another. And another. Soon, Lyra realized they were moon bunnies. Small, glowing creatures with fur that reflected the soft light. They hopped gracefully, long ears twitching, tiny hammers in their paws. They were pounding something white in big stone bowls — over and over, thump-thump-thump. Each strike sent puffs of sparkling dust into the air. Lyra crouched, holding her breath. “Rabbits… on the moon?” The smallest one stopped and tilted its head. Its eyes glowed softly. Then, surprisingly, it hopped toward her, sniffing at her shoes. Lyra giggled. “Hello there.” It chirped back in its own way and tapped her finger gently. Warmth spread up her arm. The sensation was soft, gentle… comforting. Before she could say more, a soft whirring sound came from behind a rock. Lyra turned. Standing there, partially hidden, was a tall, slender robot. Its face was a smooth mask with golden eyes glowing softly. “You are… not from this world,” it said in a calm, deliberate voice. Lyra blinked. “You think?” The robot stepped forward. “No one has come here for a thousand lunar cycles. They say… you followed the fallen one.” Lyra pointed to the crater she had appeared in. “The star? I just touched it. And… then I was here.” The robot’s eyes dimmed slightly. “If true… then the Star Gate has chosen you.” Lyra frowned. “Star… Gate?” “The Gate that connects lost places,” the robot said. Its voice was quiet and reverent. “It has been closed for ages. Perhaps… it opened for a reason.” --- Lyra turned back toward the bunnies. One of them hopped onto her foot, tugging gently at her pants. Another squeaked and pointed toward the horizon, where a massive golden planet hovered just above the moon’s edge. Lyra’s eyes widened. “That’s… not Earth.” “No,” said the robot. “That is Lunaris’s twin — home of the Star Gardens. You may find answers there.” Lyra swallowed hard. Curiosity filled her chest. She had wanted adventure once, dreaming of stars and wonders beyond her little town. Now, the universe had answered. “Okay,” she said, steadying herself. “Then we go to the Star Gardens.” The robot inclined its head. “I am AX-4N. Not ‘robot.’” Lyra squinted. “Axan?” “…Close enough.” The bunnies cheered softly, thumping their little hammers in celebration. Some hopped onto her bag, carrying starlight rice cakes wrapped in leaves. Lyra laughed softly. “Are you… giving me food?” “They are offerings,” said Axan. “For the traveler.” Lyra clutched her bag tighter. A day ago, her world had been small, quiet, boring. Now it was endless. Now it was alive. --- They began walking across the silver plains. Every step made a soft ringing sound, like the moon itself was made of crystal. The air smelled faintly sweet and metallic. The bunnies hopped alongside her, carrying their cakes, while Axan floated beside her, silently scanning the horizon. “Where do we start?” Lyra asked. “The Lunar Stream,” said Axan, pointing toward a glowing river of light that twisted skyward. “It will carry us to the Star Gardens.” Lyra hesitated. “We… float up it?” “Yes,” said Axan. “Do not fear. The stars rarely let go of those who touch them.” Taking a deep breath, Lyra stepped into the glowing river. Weight vanished instantly. She felt light, untethered, floating as the bunnies clung gently to her shoulders. The silver plains shrank below her. The golden planet above grew larger. Colors swirled around them. Light shimmered in patterns she could almost understand, though they were beyond words. “This… is amazing,” Lyra whispered. Axan nodded. “You have been chosen to restore what was lost. The star you touched… it must return home.” Lyra’s heart thumped. “I… I can do that?” “You will learn,” said Axan. “The universe has waited for someone brave enough to touch the fallen star.” The light river carried them higher, across craters, through clouds of stardust, and past glowing floating islands. Lyra felt her lungs fill with air that tasted like dreams. Her eyes could not see enough. Everywhere she looked, there was something new. Creatures with translucent wings danced on invisible currents. Crystals hummed. Rivers flowed upward and downward at once. Lyra laughed aloud. “I… I didn’t know the universe could be like this!” Axan said nothing, only let her take it in. The bunnies squeaked happily, pounding their starlight cakes in rhythm as if celebrating her joy.