There were falling stars this evening, leaving beautiful streaks along the night sky.

  The visibility tonight was unusually sharp. The previous clouds seem to have scattered.

  Every so often, a streak of light would carve through the darkness above, drifting across the sky with brilliance.

  Some fell slowly enough to leave colored trails behind them. By all appearances, it was nothing more than a standard meteor shower.

  Until it wasn’t.

  A fulgent meteor tore over the horizon, threatening to split this portion of the sky into two.

  BOOM.

  Across the continent, across oceans and borders, the deafening boom made it so that whatever was happening on that quiet night became impossible to ignore.

  Near the epicenter, the sound rolled across valleys and cities like thunder trapped in a metal drum.

  On a mountaintop, inside of a conference hall hundreds of thousands of miles away, the heads of various neighboring nations were deep in heated discussions regarding territories, borders, mining rights, the usual arguments that made old men blow air through their long beards.

  Just as one official slammed his palm on the table, an earthquake struck. Glasses rattled and papers shifted.

  The guards outside of the conference hall leapt to their feet as the building groaned.

  Bewilderment and confusion filled the room, as everybody in the room was aware that the official did not send out an attack but instead, the commotion was caused by something else entirely.

  ...

  Elsewhere, somewhere underground in a candlelit chamber, three cloaked figures stood around a stone table carved with mysterious runes.

  One could faintly make out more seats around the table with nobody occupying them, but small arrays of runes dimly lit where the seats were.

  The earthquake affected them, too.

  A crack split the stone table down the middle, sending one of the men stumbling.

  The tallest figure exhaled in annoyance as one of the others, a rather skinny figure, mentioned something about “signs” and “omens” while small fragments of stone rained from the ceiling.

  ...

  In a distant kingdom, a carefree king lounged on his throne while a flustered vassal rambled about taxes or disputes.

  He wasn’t too sure what the man was saying because he wasn’t paying attention, but he was sure that it was something political and boring.

  A gentle tremor rattled dust loose from the ceiling above.

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  The king glanced above, watching flakes of old plaster drift down like snow. “Well...” He murmured, “That’s new.”

  ...

  Far from all these officials, rulers, men in power and hidden threats sat someone who would carry far more weight in the days to come, although he wasn’t aware of it yet.

  Returning to Castaway Island, Unmarked Burial Ground

  Orien lay on his back atop the old tomb in the burial ground, hands behind his head, eyes fixed on the meteor shower.

  His hair was slightly curly, a bit more unruly than usual from the wind and the fight earlier. It sort of looked like a cow had licked his head in a few places.

  His skin carried a tan from helping in the fields now and then, although he liked to pretend that he was more hardworking than he actually was.

  Right now, he was very busy sulking.

  “That monkey, Geno, will eat dirt… Call me a monkey, will you? I’ll show him...” He muttered, balling his fist, “Strength isn’t everything. Mila isn’t the type to be impressed by that.”

  His expression softened, and his gaze unfocused slightly as his memory painted her image in his mind.

  Mila... She had long brown hair, gentle eyes. Not a very extraordinary or flashy girl, but to Orien she was... pretty cute, actually.

  A childhood friend, If he didn’t consider the fact that he slowly started to feel strange around her.

  He began to feel some indescribable emotions towards her in the last year or so, and it was more than he was comfortable talking about.

  Lost in thought, he didn’t notice how quickly the hours slipped by while he watched the meteor shower, nor did he notice that the graveyard grew silent and still.

  One might argue that is how it’s supposed to be, but even the insects and wild animals had grown quiet.

  Then the tremor struck.

  It was noticeable enough to jolt him out of his thoughts. His first instinct was to leap away from the tomb beneath him, heart pounding, convinced it was opening.

  Realistically, of course, tombs didn’t just pop open like that.

  “The hell was that?” He observed his surroundings and began to walk.

  Just as he was about to leave the graveyard, a faint melody floated through the air. It was soft and strange like a lullaby mixed with something energetic as well. Curious despite himself, Orien followed the sound deeper into the cemetery until he stepped into an area slightly removed from the clearing between several old tombstones.

  There, hovering amidst the scattered tombstones, was a wisp. He looked like a cyan floating ball of light, sometimes looking flamelike. Smaller wisps circled it at first like little fireflies, pulsing gently to the rhythm of its tune. The moment Orien stumbled into view, the little ones scattered, vanishing into the night.

  The big one continued emitting its melody, unfazed.

  Orien pointed at it, eyes wide. “What the hell is that?”

  The wisp turned or at least rotated in a way that felt like turning, and replied, its voice aged and but surprisingly polite.

  “I… would very much like the answer to that myself. I feel as though I’ve just woken up after a long slumber. I couldn’t resist sharing my song. This was the last melody I heard before I...” The color of its glow dimmed slightly. “Can you take me away from this place? I feel as though I’ve been here for so long that I cannot quite leave, even though I want to. I’d like to gather my thoughts”

  Orien blinked. “Uh…”

  He wasn’t exactly scared, he was just… uncertain.

  Wisps aren’t supposed to talk, and Wisps certainly don’t play music. Wisps were supposed to be in fairytale books.

  He thought to himself, ‘This is definitely strange... But it's interesting. It doesn’t seem dangerous… Maybe I should hear it out.’

  Finally, Orien cleared his throat, “What’s in it for me?”

  Who would have guessed Orien had a shameless side?

  The wisp flickered indignantly. “Brat, what benefits could I possibly offer you after waking up from... Who knows how long? I will tell you this: I will not lift a finger to help anyone who thinks only of their own gain!” Any inkling of the previous kindness had dissipated.

  Orien frowned and said, “Damn, so you’re a stingy geezer, huh? Fine. Come on then. If you become a burden, I’ll leave you on the roadside!”

  “Humph!”

  The wisp let out something resembling a snort, if glowing orbs could snort. Just like that, the boy befriended the wisp, if you could call it that.

  He didn’t know it yet, but this moment was the beginning of a story that would reshape more than just his quiet life.

  It would reshape the world.

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