"Ace!"

"Sati." He probably didn't hear me, but he always knows when I acknowledge him. We're connected like that.

Save for our gender and garden, we didn't really share much in common: I was light while he was dark; I was quiet while he was talkative; I was an introvert who loves the outdoors while he was an extrovert who would rather stay indoors.

"Sparks, you didn't even miss me?" Sati asks with mock disappointment as he throws his arms around me.

But I did. However, we've only been friends for two centuries, and he was only gone for two years. What could possibly be there to miss?

Normally, he would start rambling about how inexpressive I am and suggest that I bring down the invisible metal wall I seem to have that attracts others as much as it repels those who try to get close.

Not today though. He was as excited to talk as I was eager to listen to his stories.

"Have you heard of shooting stars?" Sati began, surely with no intent to let me answer.

But I have.

While Mirasol — the descendant of our sun; born in Venus, sent to Terra, and now settled in the Meteors' Garden — was altering the belief system of those who remained in the night by teaching them how to wish, we were pouring our efforts in training the young to be careful not to expose any of their weak points to anyone. No matter the distance, anyone can hurt anyone.

After about an hour talking about wishing and prayers heard by sparkling gods that don't exist, he moves on to speak about Mira.

"You should meet her. She's really nice."

The thing is: I've met her before, hiding among nocturnal creatures under dark skies. She's a weed blending in a sea of pristine plants. No one would look twice and think she didn't belong.

"I'm sure you'd get along. She's smart!"

She knows how to get things done, I'll give her that. She knows what she wants – to gain everyone's trust and be the next sun – just like we do.

"She's hardworking."

While we're keeping her from leaving without returning what's rightfully ours, she's working hard to gain light, fire, power —

"She's generous –"

— by giving others a taste of what they think they need, the "wisdom" everyone expects her to impart, knowing they would give her anything she wants in return —

"– and sweet."

— manipulating common folk as her father did, but more efficiently so with the pretty face and the silver tongue she inherited from him.

"She's like you."

I am /nothing/ like her, and I wish I could tell him that, but he seems to be too happy to listen. While she plays the role of an interplanetary educator, I see only a mirror image of a false hero crawling into the spotlight while the one in the legend holds the spotlight himself.

I've been crawling these soils for centuries, gathering every bit of information that could shed light on the truth of the crimes of Solis, planning to use the same light to guide me in every step that fellow Bulbs ask me to make.

They assigned me to teach her a lesson.

Before heading to the Meteors' Garden, I left Sati with them so they could show him every penny she dropped into the river, then perhaps we could talk about Mira again when we travel home together.

She is living proof that not everything from the heavens is a gift. Some of them were thrown out for not being worthy to live there.

~

Save for our gender and garden, we didn't really share much in common. I tend to question everything while Sati is a lot more gullible, though not as innocent as he might seem. I've seen him hurt others, but only because they hurt him first. I'm not as picky. I readily swing a punch at anyone who lays a finger on any of my friends.

I waited patiently, rolling a coin across my fingers. Did Sati recognize any of the coins he was shown before I took this from the pile? The wish this one holds isn't his mentor’s.

Mira recognized me as soon as she saw me, and without hesitation, borrowed a thorn from one of her students, Rosa, and attacked.

"Good to see you again, sunshine," I mocked her as I dodged her first strike.

I let her scratch me, just like I do most targets. They always get lax after that.

She fell in one sweep. Only when my blood splotched her face did I notice that the scratch had been a cut.

I would have made her bleed too, just to be fair, had Rosa not intervened. She ran to Mira and offered a lock of her hair. The thief’s daughter takes it without hesitation, pressing it against her eyes desperately. In moments, Rosa's hair turns red, dyed with my blood and Mira's tears.

“My eyes,” Mira cries. “Make it stop!”

“Well, that was easy.”

“Please, it burns!”

"Must be an honor for you then. /And/ you did it to yourself! You should go show your dad. At least your eyes got to feel what it's like to be a star."

The next day, she was staring at the sun. Whether she followed my advance or was still trying to dry her eyes, I don't know. What matters is that she wasn't hiding in the dark now.

And I no longer have to keep secrets from Sati.

Save for our ranks among the Bulbs, Sati and I don't share much in common: I get thrown outdoors while he's kept indoors, and because of this, I grew dark while he got lighter; I had to be more outspoken while he got to hide beneath his innocent friends' leaves.

I don't mind. At least now, we're on the same side. The closer he is, the better I've got his back.

Wasn't that what he wished for?