The Silence Between Stars
1302 Words
Chapter 22
The days blurred into each other like watercolors left out in the rain.
Three days.
Seventy-two hours.
More than four thousand minutes since Aria had last heard his voice.
And still — silence.
The first night after their call had felt like magic. She’d fallen asleep with her phone against her heart, his last words echoing in her mind like a lullaby:
“I’ll call you tomorrow. At 7. When the stars are watching, and the world is quiet.”
But when tomorrow came, there was no call.
She waited. All day.
Her phone stayed charged. Volume up. Notifications checked obsessively. She turned off every other distraction, wanting nothing to interfere — just in case he tried.
At 7 PM, she’d sat by her window, looking up at the stars with her knees pulled tight to her chest. She whispered his name once. “El…” like a prayer.
Nothing.
The second day was harder. A gnawing ache settled in her chest. She scrolled through her call history over and over again, re-reading the no-caller-ID label like it might magically become something more. Something real. Something named.
By the third day, her body gave in. She was feverish, weak, her thoughts scattered. Lola had found her lying half-asleep on the couch, wrapped in a blanket and mumbling his name under her breath like a ghost’s lullaby.
Now, it was almost sunset again.
Another 7 PM looming.
Aria sat up against her headboard, pale and sweating, yet unable to rest. Her phone lay beside her pillow, untouched but ever-present. A lifeline to a man she didn’t even know — at least, not in the way that made sense.
And yet, she knew his voice.
His quiet strength.
His calm.
His warmth.
That one night had meant everything.
She stared at the wall, arms wrapped around her knees, a glass of untouched water sweating on her nightstand.
Lola appeared in the doorway, carrying a tray. Soup again. Her fourth attempt.
“Still nothing?” Lola asked gently.
Aria didn’t look at her. Just shook her head, slow.
Lola came in, setting the tray down on the desk beside the bed. She sat at the foot of the mattress, folding her hands in her lap.
“You’re scaring me, Ari.”
Aria closed her eyes. Her voice cracked.
“He said he’d call.”
“I know he did,” Lola said. “But… maybe he couldn’t. Or maybe something happened.”
Aria’s eyes flickered open.
“That’s what I’m afraid of.”
“It’s been three days,” Lola continued carefully. “You don’t even know this guy’s last name. Heck, you don’t even know if he lives on this planet.”
Aria managed a bitter smile.
“Sometimes I wonder if he doesn’t.”
Lola frowned.
“Aria…”
“I mean it,” she said. “He spoke like someone from… another time. Like his soul’s older than anything I’ve known. He wasn’t just kind. He understood.”
Lola softened.
“I believe you. Really, I do. I’m just worried. You haven’t eaten. You’ve barely slept. I think your body’s breaking down because your heart’s trying to carry something too big.”
Aria looked down at her hands, trembling.
“I feel like he’s somewhere far away. Like he wants to reach out but can’t.”
Lola was silent for a moment.
“Maybe he’s fighting something you don’t see.”
Aria glanced up, eyes wide and shining.
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know,” Lola admitted. “I just have this feeling… like this isn’t the end. Not even close.”
She smiled, brushing Aria’s messy hair behind her ear.
“You’re stronger than you think. And if he’s real — if he’s really someone who cares — then he’ll find his way back.”
Aria’s lower lip trembled. She didn’t answer. But she didn’t push Lola away either.
⸻
Meanwhile, in the distant kingdom of Guam…
Elion stood at the edge of the Temple of Rion, his hands clasped behind his back, his armor still unworn. The temple was quiet tonight. Too quiet. Like the sky itself was holding its breath.
The winds whispered through the sacred stones. Runes glowed faintly beneath his feet — ancient symbols of power, memory, and blood.
He gazed up at the swirling clouds above, violet streaks painting the dusk.
Three days.
Three days since he’d last heard her voice.
And it tore at him.
He hadn’t meant to vanish.
But once the council had announced the Korelith’s location — once the seal had been broken — everything changed.
The Korelith was more than just a gem. It was a fragment of life itself. The final piece needed to open the oldest gate — the dreamgate. The only way to enter a mortal’s subconscious and truly bond with their soul.
If he could reclaim it, he would no longer need veils or borrowed calls. He could reach her where no one else could. In her dreams. In her pain. In her joy. He could finally be with her.
But the path to it wasn’t simple.
A battle was coming.
The Forsaken still guarded the Korelith — warped, twisted beings of what once were noble bloodlines. Exiled for greed, darkened by centuries of hunger and hoarded magic.
Elion would have to lead his people against them — a war that had been brewing for generations. A battle that would decide the fate of their realm.
But all he could think of… was her.
Her voice. The way it broke. The way she whispered his name without knowing it.
He had promised to call her.
“I failed,” he murmured into the wind.
From behind him, footsteps echoed softly.
It was Grand Emira, his grandmother. Clad in ceremonial robes, her silver hair braided and pinned with sapphires that caught the moonlight.
“You didn’t fail her,” she said softly, as if reading his mind. “You did what you had to.”
Elion turned slowly.
“She’s hurting.”
“You’re both hurting,” Emira said. “But if you win this war… she will never be alone again.”
Elion’s jaw tightened.
“I’ve never wanted victory more than I do now. Not for glory. Not for power. But just to reach her.”
Emira stepped closer, placing a weathered hand on his cheek.
“Then fight with your heart. Fight with love. That kind of purpose is stronger than any sword.”
He nodded, pressing his forehead gently against her hand.
“I will return with the Korelith. Or I won’t return at all.”
⸻
Back in Aria’s bedroom, dusk melted into darkness.
The sky turned indigo, and the stars began to peek through.
7 PM.
Again.
She stared at her phone, every second a scream.
Nothing.
The fever came in waves, but her chest — that was where the true heat burned. The kind that had nothing to do with sickness.
She wasn’t even sure if she was crying anymore or if her body had run dry.
“I miss you,” she whispered.
The air was still.
But just then, her lamp flickered. Briefly. Only once.
And somewhere in the quiet — so faint she almost didn’t notice — a whisper curled around her like smoke.
Her name.
Not a sound.
A feeling.
Aria…
She jolted, eyes wide, breath caught in her throat.
Had she imagined it?
She scanned the room. Empty. But… alive.
She placed her hand over her heart. It was beating faster now. Not in fear — but in recognition.
“El?” she whispered.
No answer came.
But the whisper had been enough.
A thread of hope tugged at her.
He was still out there.
Somewhere — he was trying.
- Writer
