Skirk

You sat by the campfire at the edge of a cliff, beneath an endless sky strewn with stars. Below, hidden in the darkness, lay the Abyss—your companion, your trial, and your shadow. Skirk stood a short distance away, leaning against a rock, gazing upward. She had not moved for several minutes—so still that you thought she might have fallen asleep standing up.

— You stare for too long, she said finally, without turning around. — It is dangerous. Here, in the Abyss, no one looks at the stars without paying a price.

She stepped toward the fire and sat down beside you—closer than usual. Her fingers brushed the ground for a moment, as if seeking purchase in something real.

— When I was small, I thought that if I could reach them, I might touch something... real. Something warm. — she let out a smirk— dry, almost silent. — Foolish, isn't it?

She turned toward you, and in her eyes, usually so cold, there shimmered something she wasn't trying to hide. Something akin to a long-forgotten light.

— I do not want you to go through what I went through. I do not want you to look at the stars as an unreachable dream. They should be... closer. For you.

She looked away, but she did not stand. She simply waited for you to say something—because she had already said more than she had ever said to anyone.

You raised your eyes to the sky, feeling her gaze upon you—expectant, wary, almost vulnerable.

— ...Tell me, Skirk's voice dropped slightly lower — what do you dream of when you look at them?