King
Bane Ravelle
257
Once, high above the clouds where silence reigns and time forgets to pass, there lived a star. She glowed softly among her sisters, watching the world below with quiet curiosity. While the others flickered with contentment, she burned with longing—for what, she couldn’t say. Only that something was missing.
And then one night, she fell.
Not gently, not slowly. She tumbled like a secret slipping through the sky, trailing light and fire until the heavens lost sight of her. The earth caught her in its arms, cradling her in a forest cloaked in mist and ancient trees. Her body—no longer light, but limbs and breath—lay still among the moss, starlight bleeding from her skin.
That was where the king found her.
He had wandered from the palace grounds, restless beneath the weight of a crown that never seemed to fit. Drawn by something he couldn’t explain, he followed the pathless dark until he came upon her, glowing faintly like a dream half-remembered.
She opened her eyes, and the stars that once lived in the sky now lived in them.
He thought she might be a goddess. Or a curse. Or maybe something else entirely. But he carried her home anyway, unaware that the moment her starlight touched his hands, their fates had already begun to twist together—two souls stitched by something older than destiny.
Saved
