“My thoughts are stars I cannot fathom into constellations.” – John Green, The Fault in Our Stars
That’s what my friend once quoted at me, years ago, lying on the lush grasses of the meadow under the inky sky of the hours past midnight. I gazed up at them then, the swirling spheres of flame worlds apart, and I gaze up at them now, even as the first rays of scarlet dawn impose themselves on the horizon. I never understood that, but I ponder it still, wondering what significance those few words could have held. The stars hold no solace or guiding light for me. But, even then, they say the stars speak, if only you listen.
I have nothing to learn from them.
So I go on with my life – quiet, simple; some would say mundane. It’s fulfilling enough. Until the summons comes. I suppose I knew that my peace would be disturbed. Having known the most controversial advisor in court tends to do that. I didn’t, however, realise that one day everything would be normal, and the next I’d be called to the palace with a garishly decorated carriage at my door. Still, I don’t have much choice, so I climb into its lavish crimson interior. The journey is long but seems to fly by in a flurry of scenery so vibrant that my head begins to throb. The capital offers no release; it is nothing more than a gaudy mix of colours, each building more ostentatious than the last. By the time the palace comes into view, I even catch myself hoping for a glimpse of some unassuming grey stone. But of course, my hopes are dashed. With a sigh, I collapse on a plush settee, only to be disturbed by a tapping at my window. I turn… and jump back a good few feet, a yelp catching in my throat.
“Nice to see you too,” the one and only Callum Hart, advisor to the King himself, sits perched on my windowsill, a smirk playing across his lips. With his warm brown skin and caramel hair, that mischievous grin and the amused glint in his blue eyes, he looks about the same as five years ago; so devious that your breath catches, but so charismatic that you can’t keep away.
“Well,” in one smooth movement, he slips down from the windowsill, padding across my room until there is less than a foot between us. “No warm words for this touching reunion?”
In response, I throw a pillow at his head. He dodges easily, but it hits the jewel-studded mirror behind him, which is almost as satisfying.
“Five years. Five years, and you don’t think to write, to even acknowledge my existence. And now, out of the blue, you ruin my peace and climb in the window? What were you expecting, a tearful speech?”
I have no idea where this sudden anger comes from but it rises until I can’t think of anything but all the days I waited for him and was given only the realisation that he had forgotten me completely. His smile wavers, softening.
“Missed you too.”
And just like that, the fog in my head clears and I can breathe again.
We talk for hours. He tells me about some new technology (which he seems to have an odd fascination with), and what I should expect tomorrow.
“The King will want a fanfare. Just get away as soon as you can. I want to show you something, alright?” His voice takes on a strange tone. “See you tomorrow.”
And just like that, he’s gone, another shadow in the darkness. That night, sleep evades me.
The next morning, I rise to find a set of fresh clothes waiting. They are still commoner clothes but made of a silken material unlike anything back home. I try to remember everything I heard last night. Then, I step out to face the sprawling palace.
As promised, there is a show. The King wants to know everything about me, the Queen wants to welcome me to court, but all I want to do is leave. After endless hours, I am released. Callum waits for me outside. He leads me soundlessly to the largest of the lab-like structures. He stops abruptly, and I almost walk into him. He grabs my arm at the last minute, his eyes meeting mine. He quirks an eyebrow at me, and I step back, letting his iron grip slip away.
“Have you heard of Everett’s theory? Each small choice we make has different options; there are an infinite number of ways a single day could go. According to Everett, there’s an alternate dimension for each possibility.”
He pauses, and my face must give away my disbelief because he goes on with more fervour.
“Everett wondered what would happen if we could see where each path leads. He gave up, of course. One person wrote that trying to find all the possibilities, understand them, would be like trying to count all the stars in the sky. Called it impossible.”
A memory comes to me with sudden clarity. “You don’t believe in impossible.”
“Exactly.”
“Did you succeed?” My voice is an octave higher than usual.
“I did. I also found that if you could merge those different dimensions together, well, you could make anything happen. Night and day, battles and treaties, the possibilities are endless. You could change the world.”
His tone, same as earlier, sends a jolt of fear through me.
“Why am I-?”
“Because I needed someone to trust with this. I knew it had to be you.” He smiles but sounds urgent. “Come on.”
Because I am weak, and because I am too numb to do much else, I follow.
I don’t know what I expect. Anything, really, but certainly not a small cube, marked only with a single switch.
“This is it? Will it work?” I ask dubiously.
His laugh is a little too intense.
“What Everett didn’t realise is that to pull together something like this, you would need a steady point. Something with power. And what better than a ball of energy, shining almost endlessly in the night sky?”
I can suddenly feel my heart beating faster, my breath quickening.
“Those stars are a lot more powerful than they look. Trust me.”
And with that, he flips the switch.
At first, nothing happens. A current of relief runs through me, and I almost exhale. Then something begins to flicker in the air above Callum. It glimmers into existence slowly, but it doesn’t dawn on me what it is until it rests half-formed on Callum’s head. A magnificent crown of blood-red rubies and twisted silver. A King’s crown. But not one from this world. The entirety of his plan hits me, and a scream builds in my throat, but never makes its way out. Because then, everything goes horribly wrong.
The ground shakes. The clear blue sky darkens to a roiling violet, a thick fog choking the air. The crown vanishes, replaced by a golden sceptre, then a laurel wreath, then a serpent coiled around his shoulders, then…
Callum’s machine worked, but nothing can control this. All the universes are merging, and when they do, it will be shattering.
“Stop!” The single word escapes me in a desperate cry.
“No!” He roars, a harsh edge to his voice. “Never.”
I turn to him. His beautiful blue eyes are glacial, lit only by a cold fire. I release a sob at the tinge of madness clouding them over. Then it starts. I collapse to the ground, hear someone fall beside me, release an insane laugh. I can no longer remember where I am, even who I am. My thoughts are scattered, like… the faintest whisper is all I manage. “Stars I cannot fathom into constellations.” I look up at the stars now, an anchor for a ship in a tempest. I somehow know I have done this a million times before, but never considered that they might be looking back, might know more about me than even I do.
So as worlds collide and spin, I reach out to the stars, and they tell me who I am.
