A Falling Star

Concept: I wanted to create a science fiction story that also included witches. The idea behind it is that a witch ends up in a distant land and meets a rebel fighter. She adjusts to the new worlds she is now a part of. The issue? She was once like the very beings her new love is fighting.

Will

There was a saying in Iria for when shit hit the fan. The wind brings new hope. May yours take you far. Unfortunately, Will's wind was currently crash landing him in the Deadlands where his body would likely be eaten by vexalors. He pulled back the thrusters and cursed Ace Alvaro.

William Garona had every intention of bringing in the crew of the Vesuvia alive, even if they were pirates. Then they sent him spiraling past Terrane. The Wren technically didn't have jurisdiction there, but after breaking one of their captains out of Irianin prison, Will felt more than confident following them. Then they launched the phase canons and tossed him into a wormhole.

Every time Will had a near death experience, different thoughts flashed into his mind. Last time, it had been about his last meal (chicken quesadillas, but he'd wanted pastor). The time before that it had been about his overdue books (the Irian National Library would still fine him, even as a corpse). Now, it was just his mother's voice, still echoing in his ears.

"You're thirty William. Thirty."

"I know mami. I can count."

She sighed heavily, beating the eggs with more effort than was strictly necessary.

"You should have grown up a long time ago. Do more than fly a spaceship around."

"You and dad fly spaceships around," he pointed out. It was why he got into it in the first place.

"And yet we still managed to get married and have you, didn't we?"

It always came back down to that. Why didn't he find a nice person and settle down? Give them grandchildren? Teach them the art of windbreathing? Do more than fly spaceships for the Wren?

But Will didn't want to settle down. He wanted to be with the stars.

Will had never held much stock in religion, but he was willing to change that if the Supreme One could give him just this one more time. He turned the control wheel. He pressed the telecommunicator. Busted. He swore. The nose started to burn upon entry. Fucking Deadlands.

Time to evacuate the Luna.

“I’m sorry baby,” he muttered to his ship. “I promise if I make it out alive, I’ll come back for you.”

He strapped on the chute and pressed his fingers to his lips then touched the console, giving one final kiss to his best girl. Will took a deep breath and slammed the eject button. The cockpit opened and he was launched into the blue sky.

Reyna

Help me.

That was Reyna Blackthorne’s only thought as she waited for her execution. The order setting it for the eve of her twentieth birthday was a bit cruel, but she would expect nothing less from them. They had drawn sigils along her arms to bind her magic, then snapped her wand in front of her for good measure.

Will

Will was not dead, but he was definitely stuck. He said every expletive he knew as he saw the carcass of his prized spaceship disappear into the horizon. He flinched as he heard his baby crashed against the mountainside. Maybe it would have been better to be on it. Then, he wouldn't have to see such a tragedy.

Fuck. How was he going to get out of this tree?