Chapter 20: The Fate That Shouldn’t Exist

Luna stood frozen in the middle of Nova Prime, her breath caught in her throat.

This wasn't her world.

The sky was the wrong shade of blue—deeper, synthetic. The buildings were sleek, metallic, illuminated with neon symbols she didn't recognize. The streets were unnervingly clean, filled with people who moved with too much order, too much precision.

And worst of all—

She couldn't feel the stars.

Panic rose in her chest. The hum of celestial energy—the constant presence she had always felt, the connection to the vast, infinite sky—was gone.

The stars were silent.

Luna swallowed hard. No. No, no, no. This isn't right.

She reached out with her mind, trying to grasp at the constellations, trying to move them like she had before—

Nothing.

Not even a flicker.

The power she had spent her entire life discovering, controlling, fighting for—

Was gone.

Ethan.

She turned sharply, scanning the cityscape. Where was he? He had fallen into the rift with her—hadn't he?

She forced herself to breathe, to think. If this world wasn't hers, then she had to figure out whose it was.

And then—

A voice spoke behind her.

Low. Mechanical. Cold.

"Identification required."

Luna's spine stiffened.

Slowly, she turned.

Standing before her were three figures, clad in sleek black uniforms, their faces obscured by metallic masks with a single glowing red eye in the center.

Not people.

Machines.

They stood unnaturally still, their movements too precise, too inhuman.

Luna's pulse spiked. This isn't right. This isn't right.

The tallest of them stepped forward. "You are an unregistered anomaly. Identify yourself."

Luna's mind raced. Unregistered anomaly?

Before she could respond, the machine's red eye pulsed.

Scanning…

A horrible realization hit her all at once.

This world—this timeline—had no Celestial Order.

Which meant it had no Starborn.

Which meant—

She wasn't supposed to exist here.

Luna's breath hitched.

And then—

The machine's eye flashed.

"Subject confirmed: Starborn Variant."

Luna's stomach dropped.

They knew.

The machine straightened, its voice unnervingly calm. "Directive confirmed. Immediate termination authorized."

Termination.

Luna's blood ran cold.

She didn't have time to think. Didn't have time to plan.

Because in the next second—

They attacked.

The first machine lunged, impossibly fast.

Luna barely dodged, rolling to the side as its metal arm slammed into the ground where she had been standing. The impact cratered the pavement, sending chunks of concrete flying.

She scrambled backward, her instincts screaming for her to call upon her power—

But there was nothing.

No celestial energy.

No shifting stars.

She was powerless.

The second machine moved.

Luna twisted, narrowly avoiding a blade that extended from its arm—a sleek, liquid-metal weapon that shimmered like something alive.

They weren't just machines.

They were assassins.

And they had been waiting for her.

The Ghost of a Forgotten War

Luna ran.

Her legs burned as she sprinted down the eerily perfect streets, past silent bystanders who didn't react—who didn't even look at her.

It was wrong.

Everything about this place was wrong.

The sky. The people. The way the air hummed with something unnatural.

And the machines—

They were hunting her.

She turned a sharp corner, her breath ragged, her thoughts racing. She had to disappear, had to think, had to—

A hand grabbed her wrist.

Luna gasped, ready to fight—

Until she saw who it was.

Ethan.

But not her Ethan.

This Ethan was different.

His face was harder, his eyes colder. His clothes were unfamiliar—black tactical gear, a high-collared coat that looked like it belonged to a soldier in some futuristic war.

And there was a scar cutting across his jawline.

He wasn't surprised to see her.

If anything, he looked… furious.

Before she could speak, he shoved her against a wall, his grip tight.

"Who sent you?" he growled.

Luna's mind reeled. "Ethan, it's—"

"Don't play games with me," he snapped, his voice lower, rougher than she remembered. "Who are you working for? The Council? The Rebellion?"

Luna's pulse pounded. "Ethan, it's me—"

His grip tightened. "That's not possible. Luna Sinclair is dead."

Her heart stopped.

"What?" she whispered.

Ethan's expression darkened.

He didn't recognize her.

In this world…

She was already dead.