The world of Elaria was nothing like the Earth Siska once knew.
She had awakened in a soft bed draped with gauzy silks, sunlight dancing through stained-glass windows, painting her skin with warm hues. The room smelled faintly of lavender and old parchment, and the air held a magic she could not describe—a humming vibration, like the world itself breathed with her.
It had only been three days since she awoke in this strange new land, and yet, her memories of Earth felt like remnants of a distant dream. Her name was still Siska, but her body had changed. She was younger—perhaps around ten—and her reflection revealed delicate features framed by silvery white hair and luminous blue eyes that glowed faintly in the dark. It was as if the stars themselves had whispered a new identity into her soul.
The people who found her had called her "Child of the Starfall."
They claimed she had appeared during the annual Festival of Light, descending from the sky in a beam of shimmering radiance near the sacred tree of Lumeris. The village elders believed it was a sign from the old gods—an omen of change, perhaps even salvation. Despite their fear and reverence, they had shown her kindness.
And yet, as she sat by the windowsill in her new room, watching the villagers gather flowers and string lanterns for the evening's celebration, a strange heaviness pressed on her chest.
"Who am I supposed to be in this world?" she whispered.
There was a knock at the door. A boy about her age peeked in, his face freckled, his hair tousled like he had just run through a field of wind. He held a wooden staff, roughly carved but sturdy.
"Hey," he said, grinning. "The elder wants to see you at the glade. Says it's urgent."
Siska turned. "Why?"
The boy shrugged. "Something about the tree glowing again. He thinks it's calling for you."
She followed him silently, her bare feet padding across stone paths warm from the sun. As they reached the forest glade, the sounds of the village faded behind them, replaced by the rustling of leaves and a soft, echoing hum—like a voice she couldn't quite hear.
The sacred tree stood tall and ancient at the center of the glade, its bark shimmering with veins of silver light. Its massive roots stretched into the earth like sleeping dragons. The air here was different—thicker, charged with something primal.
The elder, a tall, wiry man with long grey braids and robes stitched with starlight patterns, stood with his back to them, murmuring incantations in a language Siska didn't recognize.
When he turned, his pale eyes fixed on her.
"Child of the Starfall," he said solemnly. "The tree has spoken again."
Siska's heart fluttered. "What did it say?"
"That your arrival was not a mistake. That you carry within you a light long forgotten. A spark of the First Flame."
The boy beside her stared. "She's… one of the Flameborn?"
The elder nodded. "Perhaps. Or something even rarer."
Siska didn't understand, but something within her stirred at the words. A warmth deep in her chest, as if a sleeping star was beginning to wake.
The elder approached, placing a hand on her forehead. "Close your eyes."
She obeyed. At first, there was only darkness.
Then—light. Blinding, golden light.
She saw visions—fragments of a past not her own. Warriors of light clashing with creatures born from shadow. A palace in the sky crumbling to ash. A woman with her face—older, regal, eyes burning like fire—standing atop a mountain, surrounded by armies chanting her name.
"Sylaria."
The name echoed in her mind like a bell. The woman—was that… her?
The vision ended abruptly. Siska gasped, her knees buckling.
The elder caught her.
"You have inherited her essence," he whispered. "You are her echo."
"I don't understand," she said, trembling. "Who is Sylaria?"
"She was the last Starborn Queen of Elaria," the elder said. "A warrior, a protector… and the bearer of the Eternal Flame. She disappeared over a thousand years ago, and now, the Flame has found a new vessel."
Siska shook her head. "I'm not a queen. I'm not anyone. I was just… I was just a girl from Earth."
The elder knelt to her level, his gaze piercing.
"You are more than you believe."
That night, as the Festival of Light began anew, Siska stood on the edge of the village square, watching lanterns drift into the sky like glowing spirits. The villagers danced and laughed, but she felt like a storm waiting to burst.
She wasn't ready for destiny. She didn't even know what it meant to belong here.
As the music faded and stars filled the heavens, Siska looked up—and for the first time, the stars blinked back.
A single thought echoed in her heart:
I will find my purpose.
And so began the path of the girl who fell from the stars.