Stardust and spells

dinner with a star

I didn’t go home right away.

After the concert, I walked.

80,000 people were pouring out of Summer Pulse Arena, screaming his name, posting videos, crying.

And I was walking the other way, with blood under my nose and a headache that felt like someone was splitting my skull open.One spell. Two if you counted the car crash.

That was two years of my life gone. Maybe three.

It was worth it, I told myself.

He was alive.

By the time I got back to Grayhaven at 4AM, Mom was awake. Sitting at the kitchen table with her tea gone cold.

“Where were you?” she asked. Her voice was thin.

“The city,” I said. I couldn’t lie to her face. “There was... an emergency at the diner. They needed me.”

It was the third lie I’d told her this week.

She looked at me for a long time. At the faint glow still on my fingertips that I couldn’t wash off.

Then she just nodded. “Eat something.”

I couldn’t.

The next morning the whole world knew his name.

DAMIAN CROSS ALIVE

FANS DEMAND TO KNOW WHO SAVED HIM

MYSTERY GIRL IN RED HOODIE CAUGHT ON CAMERA

Mara shoved her phone in my face at the diner. “Look! Look! That’s from last night! You can barely see her but she was there!”

The video was shaky. 3 seconds of the concert. The rig wobbling. Then steadying.

And in the crowd, a flash of red.

Me.

My stomach dropped. “It’s probably just a trick of the light.”

“It’s you,” Mara whispered. “Isn’t it?”

I walked out. Left my apron on the hook.

I couldn’t work. Not with 80,000 people now looking for a girl in red.

They found me on day 3.

I was on the roof. 3AM. Trying to refill the jar.

The stars were dim tonight. Or maybe I was.

A car pulled up to the cottage. Black. Tinted windows.

Two men got out. Suits. Earpieces. The kind of men who don’t buy coffee, they own the coffee shop.

“Ms. Vale?” the taller one called up. “Mr. Cross would like to speak with you.”

My blood went cold. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“The concert, Ms. Vale. The car crash. The rig.” He held up a tablet. Freeze-frame of me. Red hoodie. Face turned away. “We’d really prefer to do this without making a scene. Your mother is asleep inside.”

Threat. It was a threat.

I could run. I could jump. I could use magic and be gone.

But the cost. And Mom.

“Fine,” I said. “But not here.”They drove me 2 hours to the city. To a glass tower that had Damian Cross’s face on a billboard 20 stories tall.

Backstage wasn’t glitter. It was white walls, security, and silence.

The men left me in a room with one chair and one window.

And then the door opened.

Damian Cross.

No stage lights. No makeup. Just him.

Hair damp like he’d just showered. Bandage still on his forehead from the crash.

Green eyes. Tired eyes.

He looked at me like he was trying to solve me.

“You’re smaller than I thought,” he said finally.

I didn’t answer. My hands were shaking.

“You saved me. Twice.” He came closer. “The paramedics said the car should’ve gone over the cliff. The crew said the rig should’ve killed me. And both times, you were there.”

“I don’t know what you’re

“Stop.” He cut me off, but not mean. Tired. “I watched the footage 200 times, Selene.”

My name. He knew my name.

“How”

“Because I asked,” he said. “Because when I saw you in the crowd, I felt it. Like someone grabbed my heart and didn’t let go.”

He sat on the edge of the table in front of me. Close enough that I could smell his cologne and the faint scent of rain.

“Are you human?” he asked softly.

The question broke me.

Because no one had ever asked me that.

They asked if I was a witch. A freak. A weapon.

Not human.

“I don’t know anymore,” I whispered.

Damian was quiet for a long time. Then he reached out.

Not to touch me. Just to hold his hand out, palm up.

“Show me,” he said. “Just a little. So I know I’m not crazy.”

The rules. The cost. My mom.

And him. Looking at me like I was the only real thing in his world.

I hated myself for what I did next.

I reached into the jar in my bag. Pulled the tiniest thread of starlight.

It floated from my palm to his. A tiny spark. Like a firefly.

His eyes went wide. “Jesus.”

“It’s nothing,” I lied. “A trick.”

“It’s not nothing.” He closed his hand around the light and it disappeared into his skin.

And for half a second, the tiredness in his face was gone. He looked alive. Young. Free.

Then he frowned. “Why do you look like that?”

“Like what?"

“Like it hurt you.”

I stood up fast. “I should go.”

“Wait.” He grabbed my wrist. Gently. “Don’t. Please.”

His skin was warm. And for a second, I didn’t feel the headache.

I felt... steady.

“Come to dinner with me,” he said. “No cameras. No suits. Just us. I need to understand what you are. And I think... I think I need to thank you properly.”

It was a bad idea.

The worst idea

I should’ve said no.

“I’ll send a car at 8,” he said when I didn’t answer.

I nodded once. Then I ran.

I was halfway home when my phone buzzed.

Unknown number.

8 PM. Black car. Wear the red hoodie. D

I stared at it.

And in my bag, the jar flickered.

For the first time in 19 years, I wanted to use the magic.

Not to survive.

To impress him.

That scared me more than the hunters.

he black car showed up at 7:55.

Right on time. Like Damian.

I almost didn’t get in.

Mom was asleep. The bills were still unpaid. The jar on my windowsill was half empty.

And I was about to have dinner with the most famous person on the planet... wearing the same red hoodie from the concert.

The driver didn’t talk. He just drove me 2 hours back to the city, to a restaurant on a rooftop with no name on the door.

Damian was already there.

No bodyguards at the table. Just him. White shirt, sleeves rolled up. Hair still damp.

He stood when he saw me.

“You came,” he said. Like he didn’t expect

“You said 8,” I said. Dumb. That was all I could think of.

He smiled. And God, that smile wasn’t on any billboard. It was smaller. Real.

“Sit.”

We didn’t talk about the crash. Or the concert. Or the magic.

Not at first.

He asked about the diner. About Grayhaven. About my mom.

He remembered I said her name was Eliana.

“I’m sorry she’s sick,” he said. “Really.”

"Thanks.” I picked at my food. I couldn’t eat. “Why did you bring me here?”

“Because I needed to see if you were real,” he said simply. “TV makes people fake. But you... you looked at me like I was a person. Not a product.

My chest hurt. “I’m not good, Damian.”

“Call me D. Only my team calls me Damian.”

He leaned forward. “And I don’t think you’re bad. I think you’re scared.”

He wasn’t wrong

Halfway through dinner, his phone buzzed. Again. And again.

He ignored it. “They want me to do 3 interviews tomorrow. And a livestream. And a new single drops Friday.”

“Must be nice,” I said before I could stop myself. “Being wanted.”

He flinched. “It’s not nice. It’s exhausting. Everyone wants a piece of me. Except you.”

“I’m not everyone,” I whispered.

“No,” he said. His eyes dropped to my hands. To the faint scar on my knuckles where the starlight had burned me. “You’re not.”

The air got thick.

He reached across the table. Didn’t touch me. Just left his hand there. An offer.

I should’ve left.

Instead I whispered, “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t make me like you.”

He laughed softly. “Too late.”

After dinner he walked me to the car.

The city was quiet. Just us and the stars above.

“I want to help you,” he said suddenly. “With your mom. The bills. Whatever you need.”

“I don’t take charity.”

“It’s not charity.” He looked frustrated. “It’s... I owe you my life. Twice.”

“You don’t owe me anything.”

But I was lying. I wanted it. I wanted the weight off my chest.

“What if we made a deal?” he said. “You come work with me. Not as a singer. As... my assistant. My person. I pay you well. You help me stay sane. And I help you.”

It sounded perfect? ,Too perfect.

“What’s the catch?”

He hesitated. “No catch. Just... don’t disappear on me again.”

The car came. He opened the door for me.

Right before I got in, he said, “The red hoodie looks good on you.”

I drove home with my heart pounding.

At 3AM I was on the roof again.

But this time I wasn’t refilling the jar.

I was staring at it.

40,000. By Friday.

One spell could do it. One little nudge. A lottery number. A “random” donation in my mom’s name.

It would cost me.

But Damian offered to pay. That was the right way.

And yet...

I held my hand over the jar.

The starlight inside swirled faster. Like it knew.

Just once, I told myself. Just to cover this month. Then I’ll stop.

The light jumped to my palm. Warm. Addictive.

It felt like power. Like control. Like I wasn’t helpless anymore.

I was about to cast it when my phone lit up.

*Unknown: We saw you leave the restaurant. We know what you are, Star-Weaver. Hand her over, or we take your mother. V

Mr. Voss.

The light in my hand sputtered out.

Cold shot through me

They knew.

And they had my address.

I looked down at Grayhaven. At my cottage. At my mom sleeping inside.

I’d wanted to use magic to save her.

Now magic was the reason she was in danger.