Zitao didn’t remember the stars. 

He’d read about them, of course, but he’d never seen them for himself. His birth happened two hundred years too late for that. Deprived of any memory of the celestial beings, having nothing to go off of save pictures and eye-witness accounts in old books and articles, Zitao managed to forget that there’d ever been anything in the night sky other than the moon. Most of humanity had. At that point, it was common knowledge. The earth went around the sun, the ancient gods had died out long ago, and there were no stars in the sky. 

“Zitao!”

Jolted from his thoughts, Zitao looked up to see Sooyoung running toward him. She had her school books pressed to her chest, and she smiled when she saw him as if she’d been looking forward to meeting up all day. Zitao hoped that wasn’t the case. “Hey,” he replied.

She smiled and tossed her brown curls over one shoulder. “A bunch of us are going up to the old Observatory later. Do you want to come?”

The Observatory. Zitao frowned. “It hasn’t worked for years.”

“Hyoyeon says she can get it to work; she’s really good with technology.”

“I don’t know.”

“Come on,” she pleaded, her eyes sparkling. “All you do is study. You deserve to give yourself a break every once in a while.”

“I don’t have time for breaks, but thanks for the offer.”

Sooyoung’s smile faltered. “Oh, you’re welcome. I guess I’ll see you later, then?”

“Yeah. Later.”

Sooyoung left with her head down and Zitao felt a twinge of guilt in his chest. His friends would’ve counted him lucky to have Choi Sooyoung personally search him out, but Zitao just wasn’t interested in dating. He wasn’t interested in much outside of his studies.

Except, perhaps, the dead sky.

Zitao may have forgotten the stars, but sometimes he looked up at its darkness and wished that he could see those tiny pinpricks of ages-old light. He wished that he knew what had happened to them. He wished he knew what had happened to the earth-like planet and the brave men and women who’d gone out to explore it.

He wished a lot of things nowadays.

The backpack full of schoolbooks he had over one shoulder felt heavier than normal today. Perhaps it was because of the added weight of his tests. Midterms were approaching, and Zitao knew his were going to be tough this year. He wondered sometimes if it was worth it. His love of science and ages-old astronomy had consumed his life since he could remember, but what if that wasn’t what he was meant to do?

What if he was just wasting time?

Zitao shook those thoughts away as he headed off-campus and down the street. He was where he was meant to be, he was sure of it. All his life, there was nothing he’d ever wanted more than to get his degree in Earth Sciences and Archaic Astronomy, and now there he was, with a full-ride scholarship at a prestigious school that would give him what he needed to jump-start his career.

This is my destiny.

Hover lights floated along the sidewalk Zitao headed down, keeping the way lit for any who went down the street at a later hour. Most nights, Zitao preferred to take the tram from school back to his apartment, but tonight he just felt like walking. The gentle blue of the hovering streetlights always calmed him down anyway.

It didn’t take long to get back to his apartment. Once there, he made himself something to eat and sat at his small dining room table, his eyes skimming the pages of his science textbook as he ate. The life he lived was simple, but he didn’t care. His mind was more than occupied with thoughts of far-off galaxies, black holes, singularities, and star cults. 

Star cults.

Zitao flipped to the chapter on them. He’d read it more times than he could count, but he never got tired of it. He didn’t think he ever would.

   I.    Star Cults
       After the initial disappearance of the celestial bodies, humanity kept believing they would one day return. However, as time went on and that became less and less probable, most people accepted the belief that the stars would never return. Our sky was destined to be empty save for the sun and moon for the rest of eternity.
       However, there are those who still do not accept reality. They are the Star Cults. These groups are formed of people who believe that the celestial bodies will return one day, and until that time comes, they worship the sky and bring as many into their churches as possible. 
       Star Cults, while generally harmless, can incite riots and violence with their fanatics …

Zitao stopped reading. The rest of the chapter was annoying gibberish about the politics and rights of Star Cult members, and that wasn’t what interested him. What interested him was their belief in the stars—as if they were more than just celestial bodies and were, perhaps, celestial beings. 

With a sigh, Zitao stood and cleared off the table. He needed to sleep.

He went through the motions of getting ready for bed—brushed his teeth, washed his face, changed into pajamas, and so on—thinking of the dead sky and star worshippers. A part of him wished he could have that kind of faith. To be able to believe in something with such adamancy, such determination, had to be empowering, but Zitao couldn’t imagine believing in something so abstract.

The stars were never coming back and he knew that. He’d accepted it a long time ago.

Zitao got in bed and stared up at the ceiling for a little while. This happened most nights. After a day full of studying and very little time to himself, Zitao’s thoughts often ran away in the night, forcing him to chase them down and force them to go to sleep. He could never just settle down and drift off right away.

When he finally did get to sleep, the clock on his bedside table said it was two in the morning, and Zitao’s dreams were not peaceful.

II.     

When the stars left, humanity recoiled from space as if burned by it. The travelers they’d sent out into the galaxy were gone now, along with everything else, and they feared what would happen should they try to send others. So they pulled back, they banned further space explorations, and humanity learned to live on its own again.

To this day, no one knows what happened to those lost astronauts.

Zitao was warm.

He could see light through his closed eyelids, somewhat far-off and yet bright enough to wake him, and he groaned. His alarm clock hadn’t gone off yet; he didn’t need to wake up.

A gentle breeze chased away the warmth and he shuddered, sighing as confusion pulled him into a state of semi-consciousness. He hadn’t left the window open last night, had he? Trying to force himself to wake up now so he could figure out where that breeze had come from, Zitao rolled over. He could smell grass now. He felt it too, tickling his neck.

… What?

Zitao’s eyes flew open and subsequently widened. He was outside, laying in the grass, under the cover of trees. It was nighttime, but everything was awash in the gray illumination of the moon. Panicking a little, Zitao pushed himself to his knees. He had no idea where he was or how he’d gotten there. 

The area around him looked unfamiliar, but it might’ve just been the moonlight’s doing. Everything looked monochromatic in its glow. Wondering if he could deduce the time from the moon’s location in the sky, Zitao looked up, only to go still at what he saw.

Stars.

There were stars.

“Hello?”

Zitao spun around at the voice, surprised.

There was a man behind him, somewhat tall, with shockingly white hair despite his obvious young age and eyes that reflected the stars above. “Where did you come from?” he asked.

Zitao backpedaled, panicking. “I—I don’t … I don’t know where I am.”

“Wait.” The man frowned, stepping forward. “Wait, I know you.”

“Wh-what?”

“We’ve met before. Don’t you remember?”

Zitao stared. He didn’t know what was going on. “No, I … I’ve never met you before. I don’t know where I am and … there are stars in the sky! Stars.” 

“Yes, there generally are stars in the sky at night.”

“No … n-no, there … there aren’t …” Zitao swayed a little on his feet, feeling nauseous. None of this was making sense.

The man looked worried now. “Hey, are you okay?”

The rest of what he said was lost in the background as Zitao felt his body go limp. Then there was nothing, not even the moon or the stars anymore—just darkness.

III.     

For some reason none could explain, the sun and moon remained. 

Without them, the earth would’ve died. Those who pledge themselves to the Star Cults believe that it was the will of the heavens. They say humanity went too far, that they found something they weren’t supposed to find, and that this was their punishment: a dead sky and an empty galaxy. 

Only when they learned to love the universe again would the stars return.

Zitao awoke in his bedroom, gasping for breath and soaked in cold sweat. He was on the floor. The window to his right was shut, as was the door, and Zitao took a moment to lay there and let the panic wear off as he caught his breath. He wasn’t sure what had happened at first, but then he remembered the white-haired man and the stars …

The stars.

Zitao glanced out the window. Above, the sky was black and empty, lightening a bit with the rising of the sun, and he sighed. A dream, he realized, not sure if he was relieved or disappointed by the revelation. It was just a dream.

At that point, he knew it was no use to try and get back to sleep, so he got up and made some coffee, busying himself with catching up on the news and making a quick breakfast. There was nothing interesting going on in the world that day, or at least nothing new. The headlines were the same as always—sports, politics, and crime. Zitao never saw much variety there.

Giving up on the news, he picked up one of his history textbooks and skimmed some of the pages as he ate. The sun had just started to peek over the horizon, turning the sky yellow and red. Zitao watched it for a moment and frowned. 

Sooyoung had invited him to the Observatory the day before. Zitao had declined because he had too much to do, but now …

Hyoyeon says she can get it to work; she’s really good with technology.

Zitao finished eating, grabbed his coat, and left.

The September morning air was chilly, biting at his cheeks and nose as he headed out of the apartment complex and down the street. He was thankful it was a Saturday, otherwise he would’ve had to go to class and sit through lectures without really listening to them, and that would not have been conducive to his studies.

Not when all he could think about was the Observatory.

He wasn’t sure why it was at the forefront of his mind all of a sudden. It was insistent too, unwilling to leave him be, and Zitao wondered if the weird dream he’d had the night before was the reason why. It had just been a dream, of course, but still it lingered in his mind, vivid and unrelenting.

I was reading about star cults and stuff right before I went to bed, so of course I dreamt of stars, he reasoned.

He didn’t have an explanation for the man in the dream, though. Zitao knew that everyone you saw in your dreams was someone you’d seen at some point in your life—even only in passing—but he was sure he would’ve remembered meeting a man with hair white as snow, a man no older than him. 

He was sure he would’ve remembered a man whose eyes reflected the light of far-off universes.

Zitao shook his head, bringing himself back down to earth. His mother always said he got lost in the clouds too often. Majoring in ancient sciences won’t help with that, she said when she heard what he was studying. Your head won’t be able to take it! It’ll be so full of all these fanciful dreams that you’ll just float off one day, into the sky.

Sometimes, Zitao wished he could float away.

A gust of wind kicked up, cutting through his coat and making him shudder. Zitao shoved his hands in his pockets and kept walking. The Observatory wasn’t far. It was just past his campus, over the crest of a hill. Everything around it was abandoned. In comparison to the hustle and bustle of Zitao’s university campus and the town it resided in, the Observatory and the area surrounding it was a ghost town.

Zitao saw it then.

Large and dome-shaped, the Observatory was an abandoned relic from a time before the sky went dark. People used to use it to give presentations of the heavens and show how they all worked together, orbiting each other. It was also used to track the movement of the planets and other celestial bodies, but the old microscope that jutted from the top of the dome had lost its usefulness long ago, and now the Observatory was nothing more than a skeleton whispering of stars long-lost.

Zitao paused in front of it and imagined he could hear the remnants of those whispers. Then he jerked himself from his fantasies and continued on. 

A rusted door around the side of the Observatory was how he got in, for the place wasn’t locked up. Anything that could’ve been considered useful or valuable had been taken when the place was abandoned. No one cared for the old place anymore, as was made obvious by the dust and dirt littering the floor, the rust on the walls, and the steady sound of water dripping somewhere in the background.

Zitao stepped over a few rotted boards that had fallen from the ceiling and frowned. The dust settled on the floor had been disturbed in a few places. He bet that was from Sooyoung and her friends.

I wonder if they really got it to work.

The area of the Observatory that had been used for the presentation of the heavens—the planetarium, as people called it back then—was upstairs, in the domed portion of the building. Zitao decided to head that way. He felt like something important was about to happen, but he didn’t know what. Even if Sooyoung and her friends had gotten the telescope or the planetarium to work again, it wouldn’t amount to anything. There were no stars left to be observed.

But still, Zitao went, as if pulled by some greater purpose.

The planetarium wasn’t in as bad a state of repair as the rest of the Observatory, interestingly enough. Though it didn’t take much thought to know why.

Most of humanity didn’t want reminders of what had been, of all they’d lost. Most wanted to forget the stars ever existed so the pain of their departure would seem less real. It was why the Star Cults were discredited as fanatics and psychos. It was why people blanched at the idea of Zitao studying ancient astronomy, because they hated reminders.

It was why a piece of innovation as beautiful as the Observatory had been left to rot in a cemetery of abandoned buildings.

Zitao wondered for a moment what it had looked like in its glory days. He closed his eyes, imagining it bustling with people—parents toting their children along, classes on field trips, tourists and foreigners and locals who’d memorized the tour but went anyway—all of them struck by the beauty of the stars, by the vastness of the universe.

The image was so real in his head, Zitao could almost hear the people around him. 

Wait …

He actually could hear them. That wasn’t him imagining things. Zitao opened his eyes, his breath catching in his chest when he saw he was in what looked like a city street. Around him, the sidewalks were packed with people—talking, walking, laughing. 

Then he looked up, and the sky was alive.

It was daytime. The sun was directly overhead, yet he could see stars above him—millions of stars, and planets too. They hung there as if they’d never left, some of them close enough to touch, and Zitao stared. He stared so hard he forgot he was surrounded by a crowd. It was only when someone ran into him, nearly knocking him over, that he realized he should move.

There was a library across the street. Zitao felt relief spread through him. Libraries are safe. He headed toward it, trying his best not to think too hard about what was going on. He’d convinced himself he was just dreaming again. Maybe I passed out in the Observatory and just forgot. Yeah, that's what happened. I’m dreaming.

The interior of the library was amazing. It was even bigger than the one at his university, sporting towering ceilings with skylights at the top; soft, yellowed lights that gave the place a warm feel; big, comfy chairs; and tiled floors layered with fine, soft rugs Zitao knew would feel amazing on his bare feet. Awed, almost forgetting that he had no idea where he was, Zitao gazed at everything with wide-eyes as he walked toward the library’s front desk. Then he remembered and he shook his head. Dreaming, he reminded himself.

But some part of him, deep down, wanted to believe he wasn’t.

“May I help you?”

Zitao looked up. It was the librarian at the circulation desk who’d spoken, but he wasn’t a stranger. It was the same man from before. The one with hair as white as the light of far-off stars. He smiled at Zitao, recognition in his gaze.

“Hello again,” he said, “I didn’t realize it was you at first. Are you going to disappear on me again?”

Zitao blinked. “Disappear?”

“This is the third time we’ve met. Both previous times, you’ve just up and disappeared on me. Literally. Are you a User?”

“I … I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t you remember?”

“I’m dreaming.”

The man laughed. “Right, of course. I just hope I’m not.”

Zitao stared. Is he … flirting? “Um … where am I?”

“You’re dreaming, right? Why do you care?”

“Just tell me where I am.”

“Central Tian Nu Library.”

“… Tian Nu?”

“Yep.”

Zitao put a hand to his head. “Okay, now I know I’m dreaming.”

“My name’s Wufan, by the way. I figure since this is our third meeting, I should introduce myself.”

“Third meeting?” Zitao echoed. “I’ve … I’ve only met you twice.”

“What’s your name?”

“Huang Zitao. I’ve only met you twice," he said again. "This can’t be our third meeting.”

Wufan sighed. “You know, I’m starting to feel like I’m the only sane person in this conversation.”

Zitao was going to say something else, was going to insist that he was the sane one, when suddenly the library fizzed out—like a bad channel on an old TV set. One minute it was there and Zitao was talking to a white-haired librarian named Wufan, then the next he was standing in the Observatory again. Nothing had changed, save that it was a lot darker than before.

Zitao did not move.

He wasn’t collapsed on the ground. He didn’t feel groggy, not like he normally did when he woke up. It was as if he’d just stepped out of one scene and into another. It was as if he hadn’t been dreaming at all.

Had all that actually happened?

No. There was no way it could have. There was no way he had stepped through reality as if it were a door and found himself in a different world, a world with stars and other planets above his head, a world where the sky was alive with light and life.

A world where Wufan existed.

The sound of his phone buzzing in his pocket made Zitao jump. After the still silence of the Observatory, it was a slap to the face. Breathless, he dug the phone from his pocket, surprised to see his mother’s number flashing across the screen. “Mom?” he answered, his bewilderment clear in his voice.

“Have you seen the sky?”

“The sky?”

“Yes. Have you seen it?”

“I, uh … no. Did something happen?”

“Go look at the sky, Zitao.”

“Mom—”

“Go look at it.”

Unsettled by the tone in her voice, Zitao obeyed, stepping over the debris littered across the Observatory’s floor so he could get outside. When he stepped through the front doors and into the chill evening air, he was startled by the darkness. It had been early morning when he’d first gone to the Observatory. Had he really lost that much time? It hadn’t seemed like that long. 

Then Zitao looked up.

After years of studying earth sciences and archaic astronomy, he’d thought he’d seen it all, but lately it seemed as though the sky surprised him every time he saw it. Overhead, the sky was an odd color of gray-blue. The stars were still gone. But that was not what drew his attention.

It was the sun.

The sun and the moon.

Now Zitao knew why it was dark. The sun had been blocked, completely, by the face of the moon moving in front of it. 

“Do you see it?” his mom asked.

Zitao had forgotten he still had his phone to his ear. “Yeah,” he mumbled, “Yeah, I see it.”

It was an eclipse. A total solar eclipse. There had been legends of them, stories of times when the moon encompassed the sun and all went dark for a few moments even in mid-day, but they had been unheard of since the stars had left—as if the whole universe had been thrown off-balance since their departure.

But now, there Zitao was, staring up at the first eclipse in nearly two hundred years.

“It’s all over the news,” his mom continued, “People everywhere are freaking out, Zitao. The Star Cultists are saying the stars are coming back. They said something about the ‘chosen empowered’ too.”

Zitao felt something arc through him. “The chosen empowered?”

“Yeah. A bunch of nonsense, as usual—”

“What else did they say, mom?”

“Why do you care?” She paused. “You’re not … thinking of joining them are you?”

“No. No, of course not. I just need to know for research. For one of my school papers. I have to look into this stuff, you know?” Zitao cringed. He hated lying to her, but he had to know what the Star Cultists said.

“Well, their leader was on TV again, you know. He said the appearance of a total solar eclipse after so long meant that it was almost time. He said “the Chosen empowered have awoken. The stars will soon return,” or something like that.”

Zitao looked up at the sky, at the solar eclipse, and frowned. It hurt his eyes if he looked for too long. “Is that all?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. Thanks, mom. I, uh … I should go now. I have a lot of studying to do.”

“Alright, honey. Be safe.”

“I will. Love you.”

Zitao hung up.

His mind was whirling, cut loose from all strings as he tried to figure out what was going on. First he’d had that weird dream last night he wasn’t so sure was a dream anymore, then the whole encounter at the Observatory, and now a solar eclipse. He didn’t want to think too much of it, but something told him that all these things were connected.

Once is chance. Twice is coincidence. Three times is a pattern.

And whatever was going on, it involved him.

Zitao glanced up at the sky again. The eclipse was still there, but it was fading now as the moon began to move. The world around him lightened, and Zitao had to avert his gaze before long so he didn’t stare straight into the sun, but that didn’t stop him from thinking. 

The eclipse was important. He knew it was, even if he had no idea what it meant. Zitao pocketed his phone and shoved his hands in his pockets. They were numb with cold; he hadn’t noticed until now.

Maybe the Star Cults were right.

The eclipse ended then. Zitao could still see the moon, but it was outshined by the sun.

Maybe the stars are coming back.