The room smelled like old ink and velvet dust.
High arched windows spilled golden morning light across a regal mahogany desk and shelves so tall they disappeared into ceiling shadows. Books of worn leather and glowing glyphs lined the walls, their titles dancing with shifting runes. The fireplace crackled gently behind them, more out of courtesy than necessity, and a large portrait of a woman with a crown of stars watched over the room with mournful grace.
Jess and Troy sat side by side on a wide velvet couch, their hands unconsciously intertwined, knuckles brushing. Their clothes—loaned school uniforms—hung oddly on their frames. The stiff cotton collars, the polished shoes, the strange synthetic material of their socks... it all felt alien.
Yet the warmth of each other's touch was grounding.
Their minds were still spinning from the hours before.
One moment, they had perished in fire. The next, they were breathing again—in a place that echoed with humming metal, voices over strange devices, and glass panels that moved like water.
They'd been found underground, in a vast corridor called New Venice Station, surrounded by graffiti and glowing machines. A man in a dark-blue uniform had screamed upon finding them. After some confusion and awkward shouting about nudity, dates, and "system windows," the man called in a report.
Now here they were, in the Star Academy of England, inside the Headmaster's Office—a place more like a royal study than a school.
Outside the thick oaken door, muffled voices rang out.
"I swear, Headmaster, I found them naked! Right in New Venice Station!" said a man's voice—nervous, flustered. "And when I found them, they came up to me, asking about the date and what year it was—about the system window! Like they didn't even know where they were!"
"What do you mean by they asked about this world?" asked another voice—cooler, female, clipped with a tinge of aristocracy.
"They asked me what the world's like," said the first man again, voice dropping to disbelief. "As if they came from the 17th or 18th century…"
A pause.
Then, laughter—rich and amused.
"Best way to find out," came the voice of the Headmaster, calm and indulgent, "is to ask."
The old door creaked open with ceremonial drama.
In stepped a tall man, somewhere in his sixties, with a long silver beard and gentle eyes behind golden-rimmed glasses. His hair was tied back with a leather cord, and his robes—yes, actual robes—trailed behind him like smoke.
"Clyde, Rubin," he said with a kind smile, "good work. Back to your posts."
A man in a security uniform and a prim assistant with a datapad nodded and vanished behind the closing door.
Now it was just the three of them.
Jess looked up, her storm-gray eyes sharp despite the softness of her features. Troy sat straight, hands on his lap, his gaze focused like a drawn bow.
The headmaster rounded the desk and sat heavily in his leather chair, fingers steepled beneath his chin.
"My name is Archie Jaipur," he said. "Headmaster of Star Academy. And you two... are a mystery."
He smiled. Not cruelly, but with honest curiosity.
"Let's start simple. Where are you from?"
Jess answered before Troy could speak, her voice clear. "Salem, sir."
Archie raised an eyebrow. "Oh, yeah? Then tell me… what year do you think this is?"
Troy answered without hesitation, "We died in 1734, sir."
Archie blinked slowly.
"So you're saying… you two are from 1734, and you died?"
"Yes, sir," Jess said. "We were burned on the stake."
Archie paused, leaning back in his chair.
"And your names?"
"Jess," she said.
"Troy," he followed.
"Last names?"
Jess hesitated. "We weren't allowed to say them. Our fathers thought we were… disgraces."
Archie squinted slightly.
"Your father… was gay?"
Troy snorted softly. "No, sir. We're lovers, not siblings."
There was a beat of silence.
Archie blinked again.
"Oh. Damn it," he muttered under his breath, "you're so alike I just assumed..."
Jess chuckled. "It's alright. After we were burned, a goddess blessed us."
"A goddess, you say?" Archie said, interest sharpening.
"Yes," Jess said. "She told us our love was the purest she'd ever seen. And then she… she gave her life. Sent us here."
Archie leaned forward. "What was her name?"
Troy replied, voice reverent, "We believe her name was Harp. Goddess of Love."
At that, Archie's demeanor changed. His face grew somber.
He reached under his desk and pulled out a thick, leather-bound tome. The cover shimmered with silver inlaid symbols. He opened it slowly, flipping through pages until he landed on one with a glowing, moving illustration—an image of a woman in robes woven of starlight.
Jess and Troy gasped in unison.
"That's her," Jess whispered. "That's… Harp."
Underneath the image, glowing text read:
Harp - Deceased.
Final Blessing Given: 5 Hours Ago.
Archie Jaipur closed the book gently.
"She was too pure a goddess for this world," he said softly. "Didn't play the games the other constellations play. She never demanded loyalty, only offered love. And you two…"
He looked at them like they were relics from another time. No—treasures.
"You're her last Starborn. The final children of Harp. Her last light."
Jess's hand gripped Troy's.
"Don't think of it as a curse," Archie continued. "She chose you. She gave you something no one else will ever have. You're not just Starborn… you're her legacy."
There was silence. The fireplace crackled.
"Now," Archie said, clapping his hands, "how old are you two?"
"Seventeen," they answered together.
"Fantastic," he beamed. "You both qualify for enrollment at Star Academy. Of course, given your... historical upbringing, we'll need to get you caught up."
Jess tilted her head. "A proper education…"
"Indeed," Archie said, chuckling. "We'll give you a crash course on everything from arithmetic to planetary warfare. Think of it as your personal renaissance."
He stood and gestured to a screen embedded in his desk. It flickered to life, showing star maps, constellation profiles, system data windows, and ranked students.
"We'll start with literacy, basic technology, and then introduce you to your powers. You may be unranked, but you've been touched by a fallen goddess. You've already awakened. Most students spend years training to reach what you now have instinctively."
Troy frowned slightly. "Sir, what… exactly is this place? This world?"
Archie smiled.
"This is Earth. Or rather, what's left of it. It's the 21st century, though not the one your historians could've predicted. Gates to other realms opened about seventy years ago. With them came the System, and with the System came power—granted by the stars, the constellations, the forgotten gods."
He paused, letting that settle.
"Those chosen by the stars are called Starborn. They grow in power through training, combat, understanding their deity's domain, and forging their own legends. The higher your connection, the greater your blessings."
"And us?" Jess asked.
Archie looked them over again.
"You two… You're Requiem-Blessed. The last blessing of a goddess who broke the rules for love. That kind of power is unknown. You'll draw attention. Envy. Even danger."
He moved to the fireplace, tossing a piece of glowing wood into the flame. It burst with a lavender hue.
"But here, you'll be protected. I'll train you myself. And you'll make friends your age. Maybe even a few enemies. But no more stakes. No more flames. Only growth."
Jess stood, pulling Troy up with her.
She bowed.
"Thank you, Headmaster."
Troy followed, his voice quieter but steady. "We'll learn everything. For her. For each other."
Archie smiled and clapped his hands.
"Stone," he muttered, "you really are from the 1700s."
Then, more warmly: "Don't worry. We'll get you settled. Just think of yourselves as my children."
And for the first time since arriving in this strange new world, Jess and Troy smiled.
Not in memory.
But in hope.