Chapter 1 — Return
Shattered not broken
Chapter 1 â Return
It happened on an afternoon much like any other.
The sun was bright, the air soft with warmth, and the great halls of the Rivera familyâs mansion bustled quietly with the rhythm of noble life. Duchess Rivera had just returned from a tea visit, and the Duke was in his study dealing with letters from the capital.
Stella was walking down the grand staircaseâalone.
There had been a book in her hand, half-read, a peaceful expression on her face as if sheâd finally found something interesting to occupy her restless mind. The maids said she looked distracted. Her steps were slow, her eyes unfocused. A light smile played on her lips.
And thenâ
A misstep.
Just one.
Her heel caught the edge of a stair, her balance teetered, and her body twisted as the book slipped from her fingers. No scream, no shout, just a soft gaspâand the sound of her body hitting the polished marble steps, tumbling once, twiceâ
Then stillness.
A thud at the bottom of the staircase.
When the servants rushed to her, she was already unconscious. Blood trailed from her scalp. Her breathing was faint, but steady. The doctor said she had hit her head but there were no signs of internal bleeding. He advised rest. She would wake up in a few days, he said. She was lucky.
Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.
But days passed.
And she didnât wake up.
---
Now, one week laterâ¦
The morning sun broke gently through the curtains of Stellaâs bedroom. Birds chirped somewhere far beyond the window, too distant to disturb the silence within.
A young maid entered with practiced grace, carrying a tray of fresh water, cloths, and a light blanket. Her face was calm, but her hands trembled just slightly. No servant liked coming into this room. The stillness of it felt unnatural. Like time had paused.
She glanced at the bed. Stella lay as she had all weekâunmoving, pale, and delicate.
The maid set the tray down and whispered softly, almost out of habit, âGood morning, Lady Stella.â
No response.
Of course not.
She turned to dust the window frame, her eyes briefly scanning the edge of the bedâand froze.
Her breath caught in her throat.
Stellaâs hair had changed.
Noâtransformed.
Gone was the soft brown hue. In its place was a cascade of stars, each strand shimmering like threads of night. Nebulas drifted faintly in motion, galaxies shimmered and collapsed inside those locks of pure cosmic darkness. It wasnât dyed, or altered, or artificial.
It was impossible.
She backed away slightly, heart pounding. Her mind reeled for a logical explanationâuntil her gaze slowly moved upward.
Stellaâs eyes were open.
The maid gasped without sound.
Her eyes⦠they werenât human anymore. They reflected the infinity of space, stars orbiting within their depths, like she held the cosmos in her gaze. But they werenât piercing or violent. They were... sleepy. Unconcerned.
They stared at the maid with the expression of someone woken too early from a long, satisfying nap.
And yet, the room felt no heavier. There was no pressure. No suffocating presence. No divine aura radiating from the girl who had just returned from the edge of all things.
Because Stella didnât bother to exude anything.
She just blinkedâslow, quietâand then turned over in bed with the ease of someone simply adjusting for comfort. Her voice was soft, lazy, and disinterested, like a noblewoman asked to attend a tea party in the middle of a thunderstorm.
> âUgh⦠I was having a good dream. Letâs pretend you didnât see me awake and try again in... ten hours.â
The maid stood frozen, limbs stiff as carved wood. Only when the blanket fluttered lightly and the sound of Stellaâs soft breathing resumed did she snap out of her shock.
She bolted to the door, nearly slipping in her rush. Her voice cracked as she screamed down the hallway:
> âL-Lady Stella is awake!!â
She didnât look back. Behind her, the room remained as silent and heavy as space itself.
Stella, now complete, now Boundless, let her body sink into the soft mattress. Her thoughts wandered, brushing across memories of galaxies and dying stars, of wars fought with beings beyond shape and sound.
Then... she yawned.
And slept again.