Urian. From heaven. A fitting name for the youngest star. Or maybe he wasn’t. It is hard to say, being as endless as the night. He used to explore the night sky, staying out as long as he was allowed, daring to dance along the edges of the sun’s rise. Even when he could not take her brilliance anymore, he peeked out from behind the Night’s voluminous gowns, watching the world below. Over the eons, he found his little nook in the sky, nestled proudly in his spot. Every day, a new game, a new thing to look at. Even from this cozy area, every day was something new. New life, new beginnings, new ends.
Eternity is beautiful.
Eternity is lonely.
Star light, star bright,
First star I see tonight,
I wish I may, I wish I might,
Have the wish I wish tonight.
Sometimes, Urian granted the wishes. If he could, that is. Sometimes, it was not in the stars, they would not allow it. But sometimes, they aligned with Urian, made a wish come true. It didn’t happen often, but it did happen. At first, he wanted to grant all the wishes, let all the hopes and dreams come alive, dazzling with their splendid colors, soaring as far and wide as their wishers would let them.
But.
Some dreams are just not meant to be. And sadly, Urian realized, that must be.
Eternity is beautiful.
Eternity is lonely.
It was unfair to bring light to some and not others. So he would bring light to none. And so he slept. The worlds changed, the stars danced, and Urian slept. It was an eternity to some, and a blink to others, but for however long it truly was, Urian slumbered. He would have stayed away if not for a soft murmur, a sound that somehow reached his little nook despite all others, much louder, far more impressive sounds, having failed. It was a call to him, not a wish cast randomly to the sky, a special wish just to him. A sweet song, so familiar, yet altogether new.
Star light, star bright
The star I see every night
I wish I may, I wish I might,
See you again tomorrow night.
Urian blinked down at the soft murmur, the delicate wisp of a little girl, perched on her window sill. She leaned so far out that she would have tumbled into the heavens if not for the glass separating her from the stars. She gazed right at him, and he blushed a gentle glow, his light pulsing in time with his heart. The little murmur smiled at the stronger shine, thinking it was for her.
It was.
A glimmer of light not unlike his own, nestled in her own nook of pastels and pillows, lace and softness.
She was beautiful.
She was lonely.
For this little murmur, he would shine once more. He would be her star. Urian stretched his arms, brushing the tips of his fingers against a fellow star as he did so. “Are you leaving, Urian?” the old star questioned, yawning from his chosen spot.
“Not leaving, Grandpapa, only flying,” the little light answered.
And he flew. Faster and faster, tripping over the celestial bodies, kicking a path of stardust behind him, shooting across her sky. As he flew, Urian heard wishes. Big wishes, small wishes, world-changing wishes, simple wishes, prayers, and pleas, cascading down. Like thoughts, he pushed them away, waiting for one, little murmur, for he was her star, her light in the night.
“I wish for a sunny day.”
That. That was an excellent wish. Idle no longer, slumber forgotten, Urian worked to grant the little murmur’s wish. The Clouds were easy to herd around, rumbling and bumping into on another. The Wind did not mind a break and sighed in relief as Urian rounded up the flock. Urian laughed as the breeze tickled his sides, and brushed across his face, nipping his nose with a kiss, before the Wind took over her flock, bustling and bursting with rain. He ran after her and whispered in her ear. A breathy laugh and a promise in return for his actions, the Wind moved on with her storm. As she floated past the Sun, she begged a favor, pointing toward the little star, running back to his nook, awaiting the night. The Sun winked and waited for her part, for the Clouds to cease their crying.
The little murmur enjoyed a clear day, finished with the most dazzling rainbow.
Urian sparked with delight. This. This was an excellent wish.
And so every night was the same. A sweet song, so familiar, yet altogether new.
Star light, star bright
The star I see every night
I wish I may, I wish I might,
See you again tomorrow night.
And a wish. Always something small, something pure, something that made him want to fall. Every night, he shot across the sky, waiting for her to wish upon him, wish upon this shooting star. Every day, it was a new task, a new wish to grant, and when accomplished, he waited to see her reaction, to see his little murmur’s smile, her light intermingling with his, so bright and brilliant.
And so the star grew with the little murmur, her star, her light in the night. Time stood still, yet passed so quickly over the years. The other stars warned Urian: “Too many wishes. You cannot grant them all. Not all wishes can come true. Stop, little one, you’ll burn out. You cannot finish them all. You belong to no one.”
But the old star stopped their rumblings. “Let him shine as brightly as he can, for as long as he can. He is becoming.”
“Becoming what, Grandpapa?”
The old star just twinkled softly, settling back in his place.
The little murmur developed into a wonderful young woman. Urian developed into an extraordinary star. And still every night, it was the same.
Until it wasn’t.
A sad song, so familiar, yet all together new and terrible. Broken with sobs, drenched in tears, raw with hurt.
Star light, star bright
The star that is my shining knight
I wish I may, I wish I might,
Forget this hurt I feel tonight.
Star light, star bright
Star whose my love does ignite
I wish I may, I do invite,
To stay with me, I ask forthright.
“I wish for a friend.”
As the tear that fell hit her own of pastels and pillows, lace and softness, sadness and hurt, Urian’s light dimmed. He leaned so far out that he would have tumbled from the heavens, if not for the glass separating her from the stars. Confusion darkening his brilliance, muddling with his light, he turned to the old star. “I thought I granted this wish a long time ago, Grandpapa?”
“You did, child.”
“Then what did I do wrong?”
“Little one, you did everything right, everything you could. You had not yet become.” The old star engulfed Urian with his warmth, rocking him in the heavens. “What did you wish to become, little star?” Only a moment’s pause before he whispered in the old star’s ear. Tilting Urian’s chin up, the old star kissed his forehead.
And Urian fell from the heavens.
It was his wish. To become not her star, her light in the night, but to become one.
The other stars clustered around the old star. “Grandpapa, how could you let him lose his light just so? He will never shine again.”
The old star just twinkled softly, settling back in his place. “Urian will always shine. He is simply sharing his light with another. And that is the most brilliant and dazzling light of all.”
They are eternity.
They are beautiful.
They will never be lonely again.
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