In the distance, there is a golden glow in the shape of a young man. The illuminated figure dances around, hops in the air, then catches orbs of light that had tried to escape him—orbs he traps like little fireflies into a lantern, hung high at the top of a staff he keeps slung over his back.

He is a rarity that I have only heard about in passing: a Hunter Of Hearts.

I know that I should stay away. I have no business interacting with him in any way whatsoever. But I’m curious. After all, I always deliver what he catches. And this is the first time I’ve ever seen one of his kind in person. I wonder, if all the souls I’ve returned to this world in the past, were from his hunts.

How many Hunters are out there, anyway? Does he know?

And, why is he here?

As a million questions rush through my mind, I spin around myself until the stars grant me a transparent body filled with constellations, that resembles my own back in the waking world. I only ever use this form to grab the mirror at the end of my shifts, in order to turn back before the sun rises. But, I figure it will be useful here, if I at least want to try having a conversation with this mysterious, yet kindred stranger. “H-Hello?” I call out, hoping with all my heart that it will sound all right, and proper.

I haven’t used my voice in years, let alone in this dimension—who knows if it’ll work.

Maybe, he won’t even hear me, and we will both move on with our long lives without ever meeting again.

“Who is it?” his voice is rougher, and sharper around its edges than I expected it to be. If my heart was still in my chest right now, it would have likely skipped a beat.

The Hunter Of Hearts finishes up with capturing his last prey. He does not hurry. It is like he has all the time in the world, before he turns around to face me.

“Oh.” He lets out a sound of acknowledgement upon laying his gaze on my figure. I cannot say whether he seems pleased or annoyed. But, soon, he is raising his staff, that he slams against the rooftop of an apartment building. There is a sharp sound that flies through the air, one that would have likely been inaudible to ordinary, human ears. The warm, golden glow that had previously enveloped the Hunter dissipates, revealing a form similar to mine—opaque, filled with stars, trails of moonlight, ever-evolving constellations.

“Hello,” he shows me a curt, rather polite nod; considering our circumstances, he really does not need to hold onto his manners.

Interesting, I think.

“A Weaver Of Starlight?” he asks me. And relief settles in my hands that had been shaking with anticipation, for it seems, he is just as curious as I.

I tilt my chin downward. “Yes, Hunter Of Hearts,” I whisper.

It is pleasant to speak again, an odd normalcy that I hadn’t tasted in centuries, and I am almost surprised that words still work the way they used to, when I last used them on a small, abandoned kitten in the streets of Milan—one that I could not help but lead to the doorstep of a family, who had been wishing for a cat.

I smile at the memory, even though that kitten is likely long gone by now.

The young man chuckles. “So, you’ve heard of us,” he tells me, in a sly tone, that finds me gulping.

I shift against my feet, as I descend onto the rooftop, so that we are on equal footing now—even if this is merely an illusion, considering we could both sink down into the building, should we ever have the urge. “Only enough to know that I release what you have caught into the wild, Hunter.”

He cocks his head to the side and sighs, and I cannot believe the nonchalance of our interactions despite our predicament; it brings me back to the day before I died. “Do you always do this?” he asks me.

And I frown, even if my eyebrows are gone. “Do what?”

The young man motions to the world around us, still dark, still empty. “Slack on the job,” he provides.

My jaw drops. I let out an audible gasp. Perhaps, I should be offended by his remarks, yet I can only feel thankful for the reminder—time passes quicker here, in this world stuck between dusk and dawn. I cannot fall behind.

I mustn’t.

I show the young man a cheeky grin. “I’ll race you,” I say, and before he has any time to reply to my taunt, I look up to the sky, and summon the warmth of the universe again with a quick, gesture of my hand.

I should get started.

Celestial matter envelopes me in no less than a minute—whatever that means, here—and soon, I am rising again, losing my limbs, becoming nothing, and everything all at once.

There are many souls to deliver and place in their rightful locations tonight. Thankfully, most will be amnesic, forgetting all about what it was like to be inside a Comet’s stomach. They will not recall being churned into wandering, universal dust that catches in the Starlight, with some having bizarre dreams about the experience that they will write off as a nightmare. Nothing more.

Nothing less.

The work is tedious and long.