The Man Who Spoke to Stars

They thought they were ready to fight.

Fists clenched. Eyes locked. Breathing steady.

Until…

A figure appeared before both teams—tall, cloaked in a shimmering robe that pulsed like it held the entire night sky. No footsteps. Just presence.

Then he spoke—not with threat, not with arrogance—but reverence.

"By God's grace… the heavens gifted me with the control of this space. I am grateful… and honored.

O creation of God—aid me in this fight.

Spatium huius mundi."

The ground shook—soft at first. Then stronger.

And suddenly… the ceiling split apart like a veil being torn by light.

Above them? Not sky.

Space.

Not the space they knew. Not stars they recognized.

The constellations were different—strange symbols forming shapes their minds couldn't name. The aurora danced in violet and cyan across a sky they couldn't understand.

It wasn't Earth.

It wasn't home.

The man raised his hands and smiled—not wickedly, but almost as if he missed them.

"Welcome," he said, looking straight at Mira.

She didn't speak. Just stared.

And something in her chest went still.

Lucien, on the other path, heard the same word.

"Welcome," he said again, voice echoing from everywhere and nowhere.

Jonas actually shut up.

Krane didn't reach for his weapon.

Dave, Elias, Mira—none of them moved.

They were ready to fight.

But something in this place… something in him… made that feel small. Like rage and fear didn't belong here.

For once, both teams agreed—violence wasn't necessary.

It wasn't weakness.

It was awe.

Lucien lowered her stance. Mira took a step closer.

Elias whispered, "Where are we?"

And the man—who hadn't blinked once—answered without speaking.

You are standing in a place untouched by time,

Where war does not win,

Where grief becomes light.