The night I ran away, the moon was asleep. Or perhaps she was only pretending. I'd like to believe she was on my side. I crept past Father's observatory and Mother's garden of silver lilies, carrying my slippers so they wouldn't make a sound. In my pocket were a ribbon, a mortal storybook, and a map I'd drawn from a thousand nights of watching. It was a terrible map. I'd labeled an entire ocean "probably very wet." At the edge of heaven, the stairs simply stopped. Below me, Earth shimmered like a blue marble wrapped in clouds. Somewhere down there were warm kitchens, noisy streets, scraped knees, and girls who made paper crowns for their friends. My courage, so splendid in my bedroom, promptly turned into a frightened little mouse. What if Father was right? What if no one wanted me? What if I forgot how to fly? I looked back. The palace glowed, perfect and still. I loved my parents. I loved the stars. But perhaps loving a place didn't mean I had to stay there forever. "I'm sorry," I whispered. "But I want a life I can touch." Then I stepped off the edge. Wind caught my dress. My carefully hidden magic burst free, and my hair unfurled into a river of nebulae, scattering stars behind me like spilled glitter. I laughed. I screamed. I wasn't entirely sure which. For the first time, the universe wasn't something I watched through a window. It was rushing past me. And the little world I'd loved from afar was growing closer.

Author: @sharx_hanai