It flashes by in a single streak against black—the world’s
only evidence of magic. Over in half a second, and the sky turns back to
darkness.
Most
people miss it. They’re too blinded by the city lights, or too caught up in
dream world to notice the spark of wonder above their heads. Those who are
lucky enough to catch that glimpse don’t even see the stardust in their hands;
they brush it off like dirt. They carry on with their lives, oblivious to what
they gave up.
But
some people know. These people are few in numbers, dwindling down as time goes
on, but they still exist. They see the light for what it is. They catch the
stardust, cradle it in their hands, and don’t dare to let it go. They bottle it
up, seal it tight, and wear it around their necks--not as a trophy, but a
symbol.
They
kiss that bottle and make a wish. Because the people who believe, who see the
possibility in a small vial of glitter...
Those
people conquer the world.
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