Half My Star

Part 1

In the quiet vacuum between the twin suns, a sanctuary shimmered like a heartbeat—Zamari Prime, city of light and remembrance. Here, every star told a story, and every story had a home.

Aurex stood at the edge of the observation deck, his palms pressed to the glass, gold-orange skin glowing against the black. He had not dreamed in years, but last night, one returned.

He was back on Earth.

Back on that counter.

Back in the kitchen, where Minq held a knife to his head, trembling and furious, as she shouted into a broken phone.

“The only way you’re taking him is if I were to give you half. Cuz this is half my son as well, aight he? —I’m not giving you my son!”

He had felt the cold kiss of the blade. Heard his brother, Jamir, suck his thumb and whimper.

And then—Nae. The knock. The porch. The couch. The light.

And finally, the voice of Ms. May is like sunrise in a world that had only known dusk.

“I gotchu, baby… A’int nothing going to happen. You’re okay.”

That was the moment Aurex learned love wasn’t loud—it was steady.

And now, as a cosmic disturbance in the memory-fields of children echoed across Zamari, he knew he’d have to go back—not to Earth, but to the memory-world itself—to heal what had broken in others… and what was still breaking in himself.

Chapter One: A Rift in the Veil

Aurex tightened the chest clasp of his Heartkeeper suit. Woven from star-silk and woven memory, it shimmered like the surface of a dream just before waking. Across his back lay the sigil of his order: a hand cupped around a burning heart.

He passed through the white arches of the Healing Hall, nodding to Elder Mataya, a wide-eyed woman with skin like dark bronze and a necklace of memory-stones that pulsed with soft light.

“Another child caught in the fold,” she said, handing him a prism sphere. “This one’s name is Femi. Six years old. Her dreams are bleeding into each other. If she loses too much more memory, she could forget her own name.”

Aurex accepted the sphere. Inside, swirling like a storm, were fragments of Femi’s mind—a torn teddy bear, a locked door, the echo of her name being called and never answered.

“I’ll bring her back,” he said.

He always did.

But this time, as he turned toward the portal chamber, something inside him shivered.

Maybe it was a dream from the night before.

Maybe it was the way the sphere pulsed, matching the rhythm of his heartbeat.

Or maybe—just maybe—it was the whisper that followed him into the chamber:

“Not every child gets to come home.”

He stepped into the portal.

The world broke open.

And Aurex fell into light.

Chapter Two: Half the Sky

He landed in a world made of thought—the Fold, where memory became matter, where echoes from a child’s mind shaped the stars.

The first thing he saw was a hallway that stretched forever, lined with closed doors.

He turned slowly, and behind him stood a child, Femi. Barefoot, afraid, holding a teddy bear with one eye sewn shut.

“Are you the angel?” she asked, voice trembling.

Aurex knelt. “No, baby. I’m the one who remembers. And I’m here to help you remember, too.”

But as he reached out, something stirred behind one of the doors. A shadow. A scream muffled by years.

And just like that, he was no longer in Femi’s mind.

He was twelve years old again.

Back in a makeshift shelter under Ms. May’s table, listening to Minq rant through the wall.

Back to nights when thunder meant fists, not storms. Back to mornings when the safest place was in the silence.

He saw Jamir again, small and sleepy, pressed into his side, both boys breathing slowly and shallowly.

Jamir had always followed him—never asked questions, just trusted. Even when Aurex, older by only two years, had to invent courage and direction out of thin air. When they were moved from Ms. May’s to the outer shelters, when food was low, when fear was high, Jamir still believed in him.

One night, in a creaky bunk lit only by the stars outside the broken ceiling, Jamir whispered, “You think we’ll be on another planet one day? One where moms don’t yell and nobody gets left?”

Aurex had answered without thinking. “Yeah. And I’ll build it for you. A place where you don’t have to flinch at night. Where your name don’t echo in empty rooms.”

Back in the Fold, Femi tugged on his sleeve. “Is this yours too?”

He nodded, lips trembling. “Yeah… it is.”

Then the hallway split. One path pulsed with Femi’s fading memories. The other glowed golden-orange, calling to him like a mother never did.

“Which way do we go?” she asked.

Aurex looked at her—really looked. Small, bright, worth saving.

“We go together.”

And he took her hand.

They walked toward the scream.

To be continued..