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You watch.
You watch the boulder in the death corridor fall and land directly on top of the Traveler. You listen to the unsettling crunch of bones and watch lightless blood leak out. Tattered pieces of their cloak poke out of the bottom and you ignore the anguished sounds of their party.
Then you feel a familiar tug and the world resets the stage.
The Fighter stands in his usual spot, contemplating a wish he will never make. The Universe is cruel and the Fighter was never one to pursue what he wanted, even through a wish. The Traveler is grappling with their first ever death for so long that the Housemaiden sets off towards the southern meadow. You can feel both their anxiety and insecurity. They feel like a failure and the familiar feeling sits heavy in your stomach. They’re also relieved to be the only one hurt.
You try not to think about the King and Mira. How lucky is it that their party didn’t get hurt? How long would they keep their luck?
You watch the Traveler fumble through his conversation, still panicking. He misses his cues and forgets his lines, the script you knew so well is unfamiliar to him. He changes it slightly, looking pleased when they spare the Housemaiden’s feelings.
It feels wrong to call the Traveler by your name and certainly feels weird to use your title on him, even if he is also a Traveler. You had it first. He’s taken enough from you already.
You hum, examining your lightless hands speckled with stars. You’re either a star or made of them now. And they are a remnant, what was leftover from you after you made your wish and got a new form. The leftovers of a star.
Well, you have an idea.
[So. You should come to the Favor Tree when you get the chance, stardust.]
It’s a cute nickname, despite its heavy meaning. You can tell it startles him. Cute.
It’s still clumsy, but your stardust follows the script with the Fighter better. Tells the pun, doesn’t get touched, asks about the sleepover, and sends him off kindly. The Fighter leaves without a wish or a confession. Yours never confessed either.
The closest you got was being protectef from the King and warm, sweaty hands wrapped around your gloved ones. You remember feeling lightheaded from both.
Too bad for you. The script says the Fighter loves the Traveler. You gave up your role. This stopped being your story. You're just here to help with stage directions. Love belonged to the leads.
Stardust approaches you and you sit up. It’s a new play for you both now. A new role for you and now your old role is filled by an understudy.
You decide your new persona and prepare.
Welcome to the show, stardust.
May they succeed where you cannot.