A young child stared up at the stars, looking at the patterns they made in the sky.

"Find any new constellations?" A soft voice asked.

Magolor shook his head, then pointed up at the brightest star in the sky.

"I want to go there."

Francisca laughed, "Maybe one day, just maybe."

"Will you come with me?"

She looked down at her little brother, and smiled, "We all will, I promise."

Over time, that promise seemed more and more unlikely.