Hello?

Is anyone there?

If you are, I need your help.

My name is Nova Star. I was born on the night of the Starfall, when silver flames rained from the heavens, draping the world in their glow. They say those born beneath its light are different. Special.

Or cursed.

I have always been different.

My fur glows like moonlight, my eyes shimmer like stardust. The other foxes—they kept their distance. At first, they only whispered. Then the whispers turned to stares. Then to silence. Then to fear.

But my parents never feared me.

To them, I was magic. A miracle. They told me I was meant for something greater. And for a while, that was enough.

Until the night I lost them.

It all began with a story.

An old tale, passed down in hushed voices—about a lost artifact buried in the roots of Graystone Mountain. A compass, unlike any other, that did not point north but to the one thing you needed most.

No one had ever found it.

But the whispers said it would call to the right paws.

And one cold evening, as the sky darkened to twilight, I heard it. A hum, deep beneath the earth, like the echo of a heartbeat.

I dug.

The soil gave way easily, as if it had been waiting for me. My claws scraped against something smooth and cool. I pulled it free—a tarnished brass compass, its glass face swirling with shifting symbols.

Then, the needle moved.

Not steady, not pointing, but dancing, tracing impossible shapes in the air, as if it had a mind of its own.

And then...a voice.

"Unlock the worlds within."

The air quivered. The ground trembled. The compass pulsed in my paw, its glow seeping into my fur.

A circle of light erupted around me.
Then, a roar.

The earth split open beneath my feet, and I fell...

Wind howled in my ears. I clawed at nothing, tumbling through a void of swirling stars. My breath came in ragged gasps as I fought to hold on.

Then I saw them.

My parents.

They were running toward me, their faces frozen in horror.

I reached for them. "Help me!"

For a single, breathless moment, our eyes locked.

Then...the portal swallowed me whole.

The last thing I saw was my mother’s paw grasping for mine—too late.

I woke up gasping.

The air pressed against my lungs—thick, foreign, wrong.

My fur was damp with mist. My limbs felt heavy, as if I had been dragged through an ocean of magic.

Around me, trees loomed impossibly high, their twisted branches whispering in voices I did not understand.

I looked up.

The stars. They were unfamiliar.

I called for my parents.

No answer.

The ground beneath me shifted, as if it were alive. My breath hitched. Then, from the corner of my eye I noticed movement.

A shadow, flickering in the glass of the compass. Watching.

I spun around, heart hammering.

And that’s when I saw them.

A great owl perched on a gnarled branch, his golden eyes holding the weight of the universe.

The Sage.

Beside him, a turtle moved slow but sure, as if time itself bent to his will.

The Quiet One.

They studied me in silence. I studied them back.

Then the owl spoke.

"You are lost," The Sage said.

I swallowed hard. "I need to get home."

The Quiet One tilted his head. "Few who come here ever do."

But they took me in. They became my guides.

For seven days, we searched for a way home. We poured over the Last Magical Map, bartered with goblins in the Market of Lost Things, and peered through the Multiverse Telescope, searching for my world amidst an infinity of stars.

And then, disaster struck.

On the seventh night, The Quiet One—clumsy as ever—knocked the compass into the Sorcerer’s Cauldron.

The water hissed. Magic crackled.

And slowly, hidden words surfaced from the depths:

"Every seventh night, a new path unfolds."

A silence fell.

The Sage’s feathers ruffled. The Quiet One said nothing.

Then I felt it...

A pulling sensation, deep in my chest.

I gasped. “What’s happening?”

The Sage closed his eyes. “You are bound to the cycle now.”

My stomach dropped. “What cycle?”

His voice was quiet. “The cycle of the lost.”

I looked down at the compass. The words burned in my mind like a prophecy.

This wasn’t a key home.

It was a curse.

Every seven nights, the portal will open. It will rip me away again. To another world. Another place. Always searching. Always leaving.

And tonight was the night.

The pressure in my chest grew unbearable. I clung to my friends, begging the stars, the trees, the very magic of the world to let me stay.

But magic does not bargain. It never does.
And so, The Sage and The Quiet One gave me one final gift.

A spell.

A simple, fragile enchantment to leave pieces of myself behind, even as I was torn away.

“Make one in each world before you leave,” The Sage said. “A piece of you will stay, even when you cannot.”

They called it a SticKit.

The portal began to glow, silver light creeping up my paws, pulling me toward another unknown world.

I had a choice.

I could fight it. Destroy the compass. End this now.

But then...what if my parents were out there?

What if the next world was the one that led me home?

Tears burned my eyes. I turned to my friends, my voice breaking.

"I don't want to go."

“Nova, let me tell you something few ever say out loud,” The Sage said as he wiped my tears away.

“Everyone talks about chasing dreams, but they rarely tell you how lonely that chase can feel. How heavy each step becomes when the path ahead is foggy, and the path behind is filled with moments that nearly broke you. No one tells you that perseverance isn’t glamorous—it’s quiet. It’s often unseen. It’s choosing to move forward when every part of you wants to give up.

Hope isn’t this shining, untouchable light that never flickers. It’s fragile. Some days, it’s just a whisper. A flicker in the dark. And yet, that flicker is enough. Enough to guide your next step, even if you can’t see where the road leads.

There will be days when you wonder why you started. When the weight of trying, of failing, of searching, feels unbearable. But listen to me—keep going. Not because the journey will suddenly become easy, but because every step you take is proof that you are stronger than the uncertainty around you.

You don’t need to have all the answers today. You don’t need to see the finish line right now. What you need is to take one more step. Just one. And then another.

People believe strength is never falling. That’s a lie. Strength is falling a thousand times and choosing to rise again, even when no one is watching. Especially when no one is watching.

Remember this: You are not lost because the path is unclear. You are lost only when you stop moving. Let hope be your compass, not because it guarantees an easy journey, but because it promises you that the journey is worth it.

One step at a time, Nova. That’s all it takes. Even when the world feels uncertain, even when fear grips your heart—one step is enough.”

The Quiet One lowered his head. The Sage simply nodded.

"The wind does not choose where it blows, but the bird may still choose where to land,” The Quiet One said. “The stars may guide, but they do not bind. You can still find them.”

“But first, leave your mark," yelled The Sage.

I gritted my teeth. Raised my paw. And pressed the first SticKit into their soil.

Magic shimmered around it, anchoring a tiny part of me to this world.

Then, with a final pulse of silver light...I was gone.

And so, this is where you come in.

The Sage believes the compass responds to creativity and imagination. The more stories and worlds we create together, the stronger the signal grows, and the closer I get to finding my way home.

So, before the compass begins to glow again, before my world blurs and pulls me away, I have one last request:

Will you be my friend?

Will you help me create these worlds?

If you said yes, then grab your SticKit, take a moment, and imagine a world with me.

Stay creative,

Nova Star.