The stars began as pinpricks.
Then they swallowed the sky.
Avi soared higher and higher, the morning mist thinning beneath her beating wings. The clouds parted like pulled silk, revealing the heavens above — not the blue dome Sid knew, but something deeper.
An endless black, glittering with light.
Sid gripped the ridge of Avi's back, trying to hold on to both his balance and his breath.
As they pierced through the edge of the atmosphere, the air thinned, the light warped — and space greeted them with silence.
Sid braced instinctively for cold, for breathlessness, for pressure… but nothing came.
Instead, a strange stillness settled in him.
No chill. No discomfort. Not even the need to adjust.
He blinked. He could still breathe. His skin didn't sting. His body didn't tremble.
It was almost… peaceful.
Avi didn't speak, but her head tilted slightly mid-flight.
Her gaze flicked back — not at the stars, but at Sid.
Something in her eyes sharpened. Not alarm. Just... intrigue.
Her wings shifted subtly, and an invisible ripple of protective energy still wrapped itself around him.
Dante didn't miss it either.
His eyes flicked toward Sid in silence — just once — and lingered for a moment longer than usual.
Then, with a shrug, he leaned back against Avi's neck like nothing had happened.
The world below shrank into a distant marble.
A single glowing orb spinning in a sea of darkness.
Sid stared down, eyes wide. A part of him expected fear. But it didn't come.
"...I'm in space," he whispered.
"Technically," Dante drawled from behind, "you're in between."
Sid turned.
Dante was reclined along Avi's back, hands behind his head, one knee raised casually like they were sunbathing on a hill instead of flying through the void.
"You always look this lazy?" Sid asked.
"No," Dante said. "Sometimes I sleep."
Sid squinted. "Aren't you at least the tiniest bit concerned about floating in space?"
Dante raised an eyebrow. "You're the only mortal here, kid. I'm just waiting for your body to start screaming."
Sid blinked. "...Funny. I feel fine."
Dante didn't respond immediately. His smile faltered — just for a breath. Then it returned, just as crooked.
"Must be beginner's luck," he muttered.
They flew in silence for a while.
The sky around them pulsed with distant rivers of light — energy currents that wove between planets like silver threads through black silk. Other realms floated like lanterns in the deep, some glowing warm, others flickering violently in fractured color.
It wasn't beautiful the way sunsets were.
It was beautiful the way eternity is — quiet, watching, and vast.
Sid leaned forward across Avi's back, mesmerized.
"I didn't think the stars would move," he said.
"They don't," Dante said, eyes closed. "We do."
A small glint flicked through the air.
Sid caught it on instinct — a silver ring, smooth and cold, faintly etched with runes.
"What's this?"
"Spatial ring," Dante replied. "For your junk."
Sid looked down at his awkward bundle of tied-up bags — rations, scrolls, spare clothes, boots.
"You're giving this to me now?"
Dante cracked an eye open. "You looked like a walking shopkeeper. It hurt to watch."
Sid stared at him, stunned. "I've been carrying this since yesterday."
"I know."
"You could've given this to me then."
"I could have," Dante said, stretching his arms behind his head, "but watching you haul that junk all the way into space was… deeply satisfying."
"You're the worst."
"Finally catching on."
With a groan, Sid focused on the ring. His bags shimmered and dissolved into light, vanishing into the spatial pocket. His shoulders relaxed for the first time in hours.
Time passed strangely in space.
There was no day, no night. Only endless dark, scattered with fire. Occasionally, something massive passed them in the distance — creatures, ships, or other ancient beings moving along unseen paths.
And yet, through all of it, Sid remained untouched.
Unshaken.
Not once did the weight of the void press against him.
Not once did fear claw its way in.
Avi glanced back again, but said nothing.
Dante remained still, but his fingers subtly tapped against his own ring — thinking.
The silence between them wasn't awkward.
It was heavy with questions no one asked yet.
Eventually, Sid spoke again. "Where are we headed?"
Dante gave a lazy yawn. "Somewhere dangerous."
"Why?"
"So you can stop being a village boy and start learning how the real universe eats people alive."
Sid sighed. "That's comforting."
Dante grinned without looking. "You'll be fine. Probably."