He turned away from the Veil. He left behind a half-formed protostar, its gases twisting in confusion. For the first time, Starmaker Arvus chose a destination.
He heard the people's prayers, not as words but as vibrations in the dark. A child's lullaby about the sun waking up. An old woman's memory of harvests under a warm sky. A scientist's last equation, scribbled on a wall: What if we are the only ones who ever loved a star? starmaker arvus
Arvus studied the star. It was not built to last—a cobbled-together thing, rich in heavy elements, with a fusion rate like a hiccup. Any proper Starmaker would have scattered it for parts. He turned away from the Veil