He looked upon the sky, alone and afraid in the darkness of the night. Right above the misty clouds, the light enshrouded in a web came from the brightest of stars. All of them laid there, in their eternal spots, waiting, watching. Some were brighter, other were darker, each glow the witness of their power. The weaker the glow, the harder the stars were to be seen. But deep beneath their light, in their primordial core resided their power, the vitality that once with each passing of the night could expand until their full potential.

He looked upon the weakest of the stars, barely able to bear her own light, the power of the surrounding stars threatening to consume her any moment. With no second thought, he grabbed the star into his hands and looked upon it, hoping for answers. But the light was too weak, unable to guide him on his path. Saddened, he looked upon the other stars, brighter and stronger. Intimidated, he did not reach for the strongest of them, and instead accepted the weaker one.

He continued to look upon his chosen weak star and promised that her glow and light will bloom brighter than the other stars. But his patience proved to be their worst enemy. He begun to river upon her words of hatred and sorrow, blaming, naming, shaming.

The glow flickered, twisted, letting itself manipulated by the hatred. The weak glow barely shined in the hands of words and silence, understanding that he was not the one to set her free. The glow slowly burned inside and begun to fade away with each passing of the night.

Mad and with no hope, he cursed at the weak star and looked upon the stronger ones, reminding her that she was supposed to become brighter than those. As the glow slowly begun to fade, he left behind his promises, his words that once summoned security and hope. He chose the weak star only because it was the nearest, but he never understood what that meant.

He looked upon the broken star, slowly consumed by the darkness of the night, one last curse bestowed upon it. He faced the brightest of stars and decided that the leap of faith was his only option. As he reached the desired star, horror claimed his eyes as the star proved too strong for him. With a last glance towards the weak one, he attempted to call her back, but no response came back, leaving him alone the same way he left her alone.

He looked upon the bright star that slowly consumed him, the echo of his cry reverberating in the distance. Hearing his call, a silver drop fell in the dark void, ignoring. He continued to resist the power of the bright star, once a few nights his eyes glancing towards the star that was once his, regretting.

Eons passed and the bright star slowly consumed him, now only merely a victim of her beauty. As death slowly consumed him, the weaker star begun to transform, her glow stronger than ever. Alone and lost in the twisted darkness, she continued to grow.

When time finally came, he let go of the bright star, all hurt and bruised and desperate reached to catch the nearest star. His hands touched a familiar glow, soft and strong. The glow rapidly moved, avoiding the grabbing hand and hissed in hatred. It was her time to return the favor, not to spit words of hate, but to prove the power that was once weak and small, and now blooming in the dark of the night.