By night, the clouds covering the sky had cleared, and the almost suffocatingly thick fog was replaced with cool, crisp air. The moon was thin, a tiny silver of a crescent against an impossibly deep sky. Thousands of tiny stars littered stories across the black canvas. Each image had a tale, each star representing a life lost millennia ago.

“It’s like a window to the past,” a soft elven voice murm...

In life, they had been closer. Sister-like, but better. As if they fell from the same meteor.

Now in death they are closer. Their stars so close that to the living there seemed not to be two, but one, dazzling flare.

They were inseparable. Full of life. Full of musings and dreams of another world.

It has been many dreams since they meet again. It seems only fitting that should do so in death.

This...