An endless black expanse. Not dark. Darkness implies the presence, or even the existence, of light. No, this void is completely empty of all. Of everything. Nothing exists here. In fact, there is no “here.” This is not a location. It is nothing. Except, it is also everything. Everything exists here. This place is utter absence and also unbridled potential. Such contradictory notions are par for the course—here and not here. Fortunately, it is completely empty, for what a frightening thing it would be if it were not.

  Within that absence…no, without that absence, there is a bubble. This bubble is not visible. Again, there is no light for visibility to exist conceptually. But it is there. A tiny, infinitesimally small point in a completely barren void. No, not in the void. Outside of it. Existing both within and without, surrounded by absence yet completely separated from it. A right angle at a right angle at a right angle at a right angle from the absence that is separate from and also surrounds it.

  Within the veil of that bubble, a field of stars. Or, what looks like stars. Points of light so small and glistening with light. They seem incredibly far away. As though they exist on the surface of the soap bubble that contains them. Perhaps as if someone took a needle and somehow poked little holes in the bubble, and each hole leads to a dimension of pure, radiant light.

  Within the exact center of this sphere of stars rests a small solar system. Although, “system” is perhaps generous. This system contains three things only. A “sun,” a planet, and a hole. This “sun,” for what else could it be, gives out a glorious, pure, white light in all directions. This light has all the hallmarks familiar to stars, but it contains something else. Something more. The light has a certain, metaphorical weight to it. A significance that regular light lacks.

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  This sun’s light washes over a blue and green planet, slowly rotating about itself. It spins lethargically, completely unaware of the infinite nothing just beyond a hair-thin film of soap that separates the space from the cavernous maw of absence—as though in casual disregard for the relentless nothing constantly clawing at the veil.

  The sun’s light washes across the planet and continues on its way in all directions. However, the end journey for the light does not seem to be the veil, the outer film of the bubble. All the light converges on what appears like a tear in the fabric of reality itself. The light swirls around this tear, spinning in a violent frenzy before inevitably falling into the inky black.

  Observers familiar with what other systems look like might compare this void to a black hole. They might also note some strangeness in this system’s construction—for instance, that the sun, planet, and void appear to be perfectly aligned, like they are politely waiting in line, or they might note that while the planet spins, nothing resembling an orbit can be detected from any of the celestial bodies.

  These oddities quickly pass by, though, as within this little, spinning planet, a young girl is about to wake up to a special day. A day she has been preparing for many years—the day when she will perform a special ritual that brings her her first, real friend.