Somewhere between dreaming and unconsciousness, a slender figure stood watching a sky full of the beautiful curved lines of the Milky Way. It was a place between the known world and the infinite universe.
“So beautiful,” sighed Magna, a slender figure more faery than human, and more spirit than faery. It was the only word she could use to describe the beautiful cosmos.
It was in an alternative reality that Magna traveled. Each celestial body she looked at shimmered with the glimmer and shine of moonlight. Each star spoke to her in a chorus of happiness as she touched them, and watched them twinkle.
She looked below. Lying on the grass was a small creature. His form shimmered with the sparkles of the starlight below and the moonlight from above. He was just a child – a boy, about eight or nine years old. His skin was a pale shade of silver that looked weathered from the far glare of light, and expression was as curious as his stare. He was looking up at the starlit sky.
Magna appeared and hovered in the air near the child. His stare landed on her. “Do you dream of the stars?” she asked him.
The child’s gaze widened with disbelief. “Yes.” He paused and as she watched, puzzled at the wonder in his eyes, he spoke “but how do they make those lines?”
Magna watched her, but she didn’t speak. She didn’t answer him.
“Ages ago, they started talking to me,” he said with a smile, “but I am still not sure.”
“You are not yet ready to know,” Magna said as she swayed her small frame in the breeze from the starlight.
The child looked confused at her, and Magna found that she understood. Magna was disappointed in him.
“The stars talk to you still?” the child whispered with disbelief.
“Yes.”
“Every night?”
“Every night.”
“What do they say to you?”
“You will have to wait.”
“But I want to hear.”
“When you are ready.”
“I’m already ready.”
“Sure, you are sure.”
“When will I be ready then?”
Magna tugged her loose dress towards her and drew her slender form closer, and the child followed. He watched the curve of her face with eyes as wide as he could manage. Her enchantment spread as her dress moved, casting her in a bright glimmer of shimmering white faery-light. “You are almost ready,” she whispered, and the child grinned like a small faery on a carnival ride.
Magna smiled at the child and the glimmer of light she exuded. “I am your muse, your guide, your guide on the path of ecstasy and magic.”
“Exist?”
“Yes. Exist.”
“Is that all of the magic?”
Magna laughed. “I am not entirely sure what you are referring to, but there are certainly more parts to the magic.” She leaned in close to the boy. Her eyes were more white than silver, with small glimmers of iridescent silver that seemed to dance. Magna examined the child. “You are wise,” she said and this time, her words had more weight than confidence or desire. She kissed him and again, Magna laughed. “I like kissing you.”
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