ASTREYA

Astreya sat alone in her domain.

The sun she had shaped still hung above the horizon, casting soft gold over grass that never wilted. Trees rustled in the breeze, their shadows stretching long across the quiet earth.

In the center of it all, the observation disk hovered above the soil, wide as a table and smooth as still water. Its surface shimmered faintly, holding secrets within its depths.

And there it was again. Earth.

Smoke curled from the edges of a ruined city where something massive had torn through, leaving nothing but rubble and fire in its wake. Amid the wreckage, the girl was still alive. Bruised, bloodied, limping, but alive.

Astreya reached toward the disk, calling up the system overlay.

Another window slid open beside it.

The girl had paused beside an older man slumped against a fragment of shattered concrete, his breathing shallow, his ribs visibly broken.

Replaying pieces of the fight, the disk showed how the girl and the older man, Somchai, had fought together. They moved like they understood each other.

While the girl struck from the sides, Somchai had drawn the ogre's attention, holding the line as his body broke in the process. 

They should have won.

Then something had answered the ogre.

Sigils ignited across its body. Green flame burst outward in a sudden pulse, rising from a symbol that hadn’t been there before. Rather than burning like normal heat, it hissed and clung, spreading along the creature's skin in slow lines. The fire twisted the ogre's body, reinforcing it, reshaping its movements.Then it opened its mouth.

What came wasn't natural breath. 

A wave of green flame roared from the ogre's mouth, spreading wide and thick, scorching the cracked pavement and curling in twisting tendrils like living smoke. Beyond mere fire, the heat burned with a corrosive unnatural intensity that seared as it spread.

Within the blaze, a slender thread of light pulsed. A fiery filament wove through the chaos like a vein of emerald fire. It shimmered with strange vitality, moving deliberately along the ogre’s sinews and bones, binding and empowering.

Narrowing her eyes, Astreya leaned closer to the disk, watching the thread pulse with steady rhythm. Something about it reminded her of a pattern, a signature.

She whispered to the orb.

“That thread is like the one I saw before. The contract. A tether, a link. It binds the ogre to a Constellation.”

Shimmering faintly in response, the orb's surface rippled as it replied,

“To the Constellation who forged it, this bond may be no more than a game. A casual amusement. Power wielded like a toy.”

Astreya considered the orb’s words carefully.
“Constellations gain strength not just from contracts, but from fame, influence, and feats,” she murmured. “Celestial Credits flow from these sources, fueling their power.”

Pulsing gently, the orb continued,
“The more Celestial Credits a Constellation has, the more power they can lend. It is a cycle of growth and control.”

Again the orb's surface shimmered, rippling with quiet amusement.

“Still, for some Constellations, these bonds are less about necessity and more about entertainment. A game played with mortal lives as pieces on a board.”

Its light flickered, as if savoring the thought.

“Power wielded lightly, contracts formed for sport or curiosity rather than cause. A pastime for those who view the various worlds as a stage.”

The orb’s glow dimmed slightly, a shadow flickering beneath its surface.

“Some Constellations watch mortals struggle and agonize not with concern, but with detached curiosity. Every wound, every desperate breath, every flicker of hope or despair is a note in their endless game.”

It pulsed with a cold rhythm, almost indifferent.

“To them, suffering is spectacle, pain is strategy, and mortality a fleeting toy to be manipulated for amusement.”

 Astreya stared at the girl below. Blood crusted her side. Her steps faltered, uneven.
A single word of encouragement might have helped. A whisper. A light. A sign.

She raised her hand over the observation disk.
“System. Can I speak to her?”

The disk shimmered. A new overlay unfurled.

Astreya froze.
Two hundred fifty Celestial Credits… just to send a message?

Her gaze narrowed.
"That’s absurd. That’s almost a third of everything I have."

The orb pulsed, gently unimpressed.
“Even divine words are not free.”

It shimmered, casting soft ripples across the observation disk.
“Outside your domain, every interaction is measured. Communication, Sponsorship, Manifestation, all draw from your pool of Celestial Credits.”

A second pulse. Slower.
“To influence the living is to bend the weave of causality. The system ensures balance. If every Constellation shouted freely, mortal minds would splinter under the noise.”

She leaned back, lips pressed tight in thought.

“And once they’re contracted?”

The orb shimmered, then answered in calm, measured cadence:

“A Contract forms a tether—not just of power, but of presence. Once bound, a mortal may enter your domain… if permitted.”
“The strength of this connection determines how deep they may reach.”

Its light pulsed once. A slow ripple.

“With sufficient Celestial Credits invested… and enough will on both ends… a mortal may cross into your domain, speak with you directly, and witness even fragments of your divinity.”
“But only from within the domain. Not while walking their world.”

Astreya nodded slowly, piecing the implications together.

“So if they’re outside…?”

The orb’s tone remained neutral, informative:

“Outside your domain, communication is restricted to sanctioned methods—messages, dreams, visions, symbols. All filtered through the system. All with cost.”
“Some Constellations favor text-constructs: system-shaped faces, flickering expressions of amusement, irritation, or approval. It is… expressive. Efficient.”

A brief pause.

“But still not free.”

The observation disk quieted.

Only the soft rustle of wind-stirred leaves filled Astreya's domain, distant from the chaos playing out below.

The girl had collapsed to one knee. Somchai was still breathing, barely. Blood pooled beneath him in a slow, steady bloom.

Astreya exhaled through her nose. “And there are those who call this a game.”

Behind her, the orb waited.

The girl was not strong. Not yet.

But she'd endured.

Bruised. Bloody. Unbroken.

And in the moment that counted most, she had turned toward the fire.

Not away.

Astreya lifted her hand again. Slowly. Deliberately.

“I’ll pay,” she said.