Nothing had happened since.

The eclipse was a phenomena that people saw worldwide—even in the farthest reaches of the globe, it had been visible. People raved and banded together, news stations kept up on reports of a growing tension in the people, new members flocked to the Star Cults, but in Zitao’s little college town, nothing much changed.

The students all stayed up-to-date on what was happening, but classes and tests and papers went on as usual. Zitao found the monotony of day-to-day routines sinking back in, and he had not dreamt of the world he now called the “star-world” since the Observatory.

But was it really a dream?

There was a part of him that knew it was something more. He knew it was. But he couldn’t admit it. Even if he did, there was nothing he could do about it. He was just a college student. He didn’t have money or resources or ages-old knowledge, despite his area of study. The most he could do was write down all he saw and heard and hope the pieces would eventually come together.

Outside of that, he was stuck, floundering in still waters as the rest of the world churned around him.

It was extremely frustrating.

Zitao found that after all that had happened, after Wufan and the star-world and the eclipse, it was a lot harder to settle back down into his old routine. He managed, but his mind wandered more often than not. He was afraid his grades would begin to suffer if he didn’t do something about it soon. 

But what?

The Monday after the eclipse, Zitao woke up to the knowledge that he had class and sighed. It was a sunny day. A slight chill had permeated the early September air, and Zitao reveled in it as he slipped on a pair of jeans and a hoodie. He loved the cold. It allowed him to throw on warm, comfy clothes and not care as much about his appearance as he normally did. In winter and autumn, Zitao thrived under piles of coats and oversized sweaters, insulated boots, and steaming cups of coffee.

Despite the thoughts that seemed to forever occupy his mind nowadays, Zitao was able to enjoy his morning commute to campus by way of the crisp air and the clear, blue sky overhead.

The sky may have been dead, but it was still beautiful.

Classes were normal that day—routine, just as usual. Zitao was glad he’d finished all his general studies courses before coming to school. Now he could focus on his major courses without worrying about things like freshman composition and literature, and his college experience was definitely better because of it.

His first class of the day was Theory of the Universe, one of his classes for Archaic Astronomy. It was one of his favorites, and it always made getting up on Mondays worth it.

The professor was already urging people to take their seats when Zitao came in. She was early that morning, which was unusual. Most people counted on her being perpetually ten minutes late. Zitao took his normal spot toward the middle of the room and wondered how many people would get tardy marks that day thanks to Ms. Kim’s sudden schedule change.

As the lecture commenced, a few stragglers came in. None seemed too late, which Zitao figured was good. Perhaps Ms. Kim had been testing them. He shrugged and continued to take notes, forgetting for a moment the eclipse and the star-world as he immersed himself in the class. 

After a while, however, it got harder to keep up.

Ms. Kim tended to speak very fast, and students often asked her to slow down a bit, but today no one had raised the question, which Zitao found odd. His hand was beginning to cramp up from the speed of his writing, and he wished then that the professor allowed computers in her classes. It would be so much easier to type this all out.

Just slow down a little, Zitao thought, Do you want us to pass this class or not?

But he didn’t say it aloud. He wasn’t that assertive. He preferred for others to do the talking, allowing him to sit back and observe. That was his duty in life, he felt. He was an observer.

Then he realized that Ms. Kim had gone quiet.

Zitao raised his head. He hadn’t missed something, had he? What if she’d asked a question? What if she’d aimed it at him? Dammit, of course the one time he hadn’t been paying attention, she—

Wait.

Ms. Kim had gone still at the front of the class, one arm outstretched and her eyes wide. She didn’t appear to be breathing. Worried, Zitao glanced around to see if anyone else had noticed, only to find that all others in the class had gone still too. They sat, hunched over their texts and notebooks, hands poised in note-taking, eyes frozen on the page. No one moved. No one breathed. No one made a sound.

Zitao was the only one moving.

He stood, panicked. It was as if someone had just pressed the pause button on the universe, but it hadn’t affected him, and Zitao’s thoughts went back to the eclipse. He wasn’t sure, but he had a feeling this was connected. Everything was connected. He just couldn’t see the strings that connected them.

After the initial shock wore off, Zitao began to wonder if the other classrooms were like this. What if the whole world had paused? 

The whole world, save for him. 

Feeling a bit detached, Zitao leaned over to his neighbor—a guy named Baekhyun he’d talked to a few times—and waved a hand in front of his face. No movement. No reaction whatsoever. Baekhyun just sat there, unaware of the situation. Zitao wondered what would happen if he hit the guy.

Then time resumed.

Like a tidal wave crashing down upon him, or a gunshot going off in a silent room, there was noise and movement again. Ms. Kim continued on, the students around him responded, and it was like nothing had ever happened. Like time had never taken a breath and stopped for a moment.

“Mr. Huang?”

Zitao started. Everyone’s eyes were suddenly on him, including the teacher’s. That was when he realized he was still standing and he wondered how it had looked to the others. Had he seemed to teleport from sitting to standing? Had he fizzed out of existence for a moment? But Ms. Kim didn’t seem surprised—at least, not surprised enough had Zitao done any of those things. She just looked expectant.

“Did you need something?” she asked.

Zitao felt his face heat up. “Sorry, uh … I just need to use the bathroom. I’m not feeling too well.”

He rushed out of the classroom without another word, glad that he didn’t require permission to leave. College, 1. High school, -30. The bathroom seemed like the only logical place to go in that moment. He needed to refocus and still his thoughts. He needed to figure out what had just happened.

When he got there, he splashed a handful of cold water on his face, taking a moment to catch his breath as he stared at himself in the mirror.

What just happened?

He knew it was real. He hadn’t been dreaming. It still didn’t make any sense to him, though. Time couldn’t just stop like that, not without a reason, but again, Zitao couldn’t connect the dots.

For some reason, whatever happened … I was exempt from it.

Something in his mind clicked then, and Zitao’s eyes widened.

Or maybe I was the cause of it.

He rewound the course of events in his head. Right before the time-stop, he’d been wishing the teacher would slow down because she was talking too fast for him to keep up. Then mere moments after he’d thought that, it had happened—Ms. Kim hadn’t slowed down, though, she’d stopped completely, as had the rest of the classroom. 

And only Zitao hadn’t been affected.

Wait, wait, he told himself, if I was the cause of this, then was I the cause of that … that dream before? He’d thought of the stars that night before going to bed and wished he could see them, and when he woke up, he saw stars. Then the next day, in the Observatory, he’d thought of Wufan and the star-world, and lo and behold he’d arrived there.

And the eclipse … he didn’t think he’d triggered that, but he knew it was connected to him somehow. It meant something. Something important.

Zitao glanced at his watch. He had two classes after his Theory of the Universe class, which still had twenty minutes left, but he hadn’t used any skips so far. He could afford to miss just this once.

But I need to get my things.

For a moment, he wondered if it was worth walking back into class to get his things and then walking back out. He could always just fake being sick and say he needed to return home. That was an option. Zitao would feel bad for lying to a teacher, but it was necessary in this case.

His mind made up, Zitao washed his hands and walked back to class, feigning sickness as he grabbed his bag and notebook and left. Ms. Kim told him to get better soon, as did a few others from the class. Zitao promised he would, thanked the professor, and left.

But not before he noticed Baekhyun staring at him, something indecipherable in his eyes.

A little unnerved by the scrutiny, Zitao hurried off. Baekhyun had looked curious—suspicious, even—and it worried him. Had Baekhyun seen through his lie about being sick? Or maybe he’d been somewhat aware during the time-stop. Maybe he knew it had happened, and maybe he knew that Zitao was the cause.

Zitao brushed those thoughts away, scoffing internally as he left the building and headed toward the tram station. He was getting too far ahead of himself. Baekhyun hadn’t seen anything. He’d probably just been wondering if Zitao was okay, or maybe he’d been worried that Zitao had gotten him “sick.” Either way, Zitao didn’t care.

He needed to get home. He had a lot of research to do.

IV.     

Most blame the loss of the stars on humanity.

Even those not involved in the Star Cults blame it on their own race. They say we went too far, and we neglected the earth in doing so. This is our punishment for treading in territory we were not meant to tread, for defiling the heavens, for thinking far too much of ourselves.

We are not gods.

Zitao didn’t know what it was.

Time had started to obey him. When he commanded it to stop, it stopped. When he commanded it to slow, it slowed. He’d even convinced it to rewind a few times. Some pieces of the puzzle started to fit together then. If he could manipulate time, that explained what happened in the classroom the day before. 

It did not, however, explain the star-world or Wufan.

At that point, Zitao had gotten past not believing. He was clearly watching himself control time. It would be pointless and stupid and anti-productive to question this now, after all that had happened, but he still wondered at the how and the why.

Everything is connected, Zitao thought. He sat at the kitchen table in his apartment, staring at the clock on the far wall and forcing it to turn back every few seconds. The eclipse, the star-world, Wufan, my powers … I know they’re all connected. I just don’t know how.

Again, the strings evaded his notice.

Frustrated, Zitao gave up on the clock and stood. When he’d gone to the star-world before, it had been because he’d thought about it. The first time had been a little less specific—he’d just read about the Star Cults before he’d gone to bed, influencing his thoughts which then took him to someplace with stars. That was the only explanation that made sense. 

The second time, he’d been in the Observatory and he’d thought about the star-world itself that time, along with the white-haired man he now knew as Wufan. That explained why he’d gone there again and then ended up running into Wufan, even though the odds of that were infinitesimal.

If I think about it hard enough now, will I go back?

Zitao glanced at the TV he’d left on in his living room. It was on the news. They were talking about the Star Cults again. 

It’s worth a shot.

He tried as he had before, by imagining the world first. He imagined the sky—alive and well—the stars and the streets and the people. He imagined the library and its soaring ceiling. He imagined Wufan and the crispness of the air and Wufan. The world began to fade out in the background, and the sound of the TV in his apartment dimmed. Then it was gone altogether.

Zitao opened his eyes.

It was dark, wherever he was. Very dark. He could see what looked like a window across the room from him, so he headed toward it, an odd sense of foreboding in the pit of his stomach. He felt like he was someplace he shouldn’t be.

The window offered a view of an urban street below. It looked like a city—the same city from before, perhaps? The star-world’s city? Zitao attempted to look up, craning his neck to see if he could make out the sky above, but before he could get a good glimpse of it, something grabbed the collar of his shirt and wrenched him back.

Zitao cried out in surprise, the sound cut off as he tripped over something and landed on what felt like a bed. Then someone was on top of him. Zitao struggled, but they pinned him down and put a hand over his mouth. He whimpered in fear. This is not good. He tried to use his powers again—throw himself back to his own world—but he couldn’t get himself to focus long enough to get them to work.

He was helpless.

“Who are you?” the person above him demanded. “Why did you break into my apartment?”

Zitao’s eyes widened. Apartment?

The man pulled his hand away, allowing him to speak. “Answer me.”

“I-I’m sorry!” Zitao gasped. “I didn’t know where I was! I just—”

“Zitao?”

Startled, Zitao froze. “… W-Wufan?”

“Yeah, it’s me.” Wufan leaned closer so the light from the window fell across his face. Zitao still couldn’t see him all that well, but he could tell that it was, in fact, Wufan.

So it worked then. My powers took me to him.

“What are you doing here?” Wufan asked. “And how did you get into my apartment?”

Zitao swallowed hard. “You, uh … may not believe me.”

“Try me.”

“I can control time.”

Wufan’s eyes widened. “You are a User.”

Zitao hesitated. “You believe me? Wait, what’s a User?”

“Someone with special powers. I knew you were one of them the first time I met you. That explains so much.”

“It does?”

“Yeah. It explains everything, actually.” Wufan was close—a little too close. Zitao squirmed where he was pinned beneath the taller male.

“Um … can you get off me now?”

“Oh, sorry.”

Wufan stood and Zitao sat up, taking a moment to catch his breath. That had been quite a scare.

“I haven’t met many other Users,” Wufan said.

Zitao looked over at him. His eyes had adjusted to the darkness now, but it was still hard to make everything out—especially Wufan. He was like a shadow among shadows. “Are you a User, then?”

“I am.”

“What can you do?”

Wufan shrugged. “Fly.”

Zitao wondered what that was like for a moment. “That’s why the fact that I can control time doesn’t startle you?”

“It would be silly if it did.”

“True.” Zitao sighed. He hadn’t expected this—he hadn’t expected Wufan to be so receptive, nor had he expected conversation between them to be so easy. It wasn’t awkward or stunted at all. “Um, I think I can jump dimensions too, though.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m here.”

Wufan sat down on the edge of the bed a little ways from him. “So you finally realized that you weren’t dreaming, huh?”

“Well, I kind of had to, but I mean there’s no other way I could be here than if I had the ability to jump dimensions on top of manipulating time.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because the sky is alive here.”

Wufan hesitated. “… The sky?”

“Where I’m from, the sky is dead. There are no stars. There haven’t been for a long time. But here, there are stars and planets and all manner of things in the heavens. They’re alive and well, so there’s no way I could still be in my own world. This has to be a separate dimension. Maybe even a parallel universe.”

“You seem pretty sure about this.”

Zitao shrugged. “I’ve done my research.” An odd sound reached his ears then. It sounded like his phone ringing, but that didn’t make any sense. He knew he’d left it back in his apartment on earth. “… Do you hear that?”

“Hear what?” Wufan straightened, listening.

Zitao heard his phone ring again. “That.”

“I don’t hear anything.”

Zitao turned around. “You don’t—?”

Then he was back in his apartment.

For a few moments, Zitao stood still, shocked by how fast he’d switched from one world to the next. It took him a while for it to sink in. I’m back on earth. That meant the sky outside was dead, he had classes the next morning, and Wufan wasn’t there.

Wufan wasn’t there.

“Reports are rolling in now,” the newscaster on Zitao’s TV said. He glanced at it, surprised that it was still on. He must not have been gone long. Or perhaps he’d returned to the exact moment that he’d left. 

“Not just tens or hundreds, but thousands,” the newscaster continued, “And all of them tell the same story—people with … abilities, for lack of a better world, have started to pop up since the eclipse. People whose abilities seem to be tied to the eclipse’s genesis.”

Zitao went still.

“As far as we can tell, these videos have not been tampered with in any way.”

The screen then showed a shaky clip, most likely filmed on a phone camera, of a man walking into a flaming building and then walking out with survivors in his arms. The next clip showed a man lifting a score of cars into the air with nothing but a flick of his wrist. And yet another showed someone who could appear and disappear at will.

“People are calling them the chosen empowered,” the newscaster said as the camera moved back to her, “Is this what the Star Cults were talking about before? Is it possible that perhaps they were right all along? Hopefully, we will find out as this story continues. This is the evening six news, bringing you news from around—”

Zitao shut the TV off.

To him, it felt as if the world had been upended. He liked for things to be solid and expected. He liked routine and familiarity, he liked knowing that his own world was one way and that it would always be that way to him. 

Now that it had all been thrown off-balance, he didn’t know how to feel. On the one hand, he was glad for what he now accepted to be his powers because they allowed him to travel across dimensions. They allowed him to see Wufan. On the other hand, he had no idea what was going to happen anymore.

And he wasn’t sure if that excited or terrified him.