Story 1094: The Book of Severed Stars

The stars fell long ago.

Not in fire and brilliance, but in quiet betrayal—plucked from the heavens like rotting fruit and sealed away, their light imprisoned in a book stitched from the skin of forgotten titans.

They called it the Book of Severed Stars.

Now, in the suffocating twilight after the Ashen Eclipse, it surfaced once more, cradled in the gnarled hands of the last Star-Scribe, a withered figure known only as Myrrin the Broken.

Myrrin limped through the dead valleys, ash clinging to the hem of his ruined robes. Behind him, the sky was a black canvas, empty of any celestial glow. Above the land hung a single, oozing scar where the stars once burned, pulsating like a wound too deep to heal.

He whispered names from the Book as he walked—names of stars no tongue should speak aloud. Every syllable unraveled a piece of the world around him: trees crumbled into dust, rivers turned to black mist, stones melted into quivering flesh.