The village of Lumora floated on a crystal platform, tethered to a dying star. Aiko knelt at her loom, her fingers trembling as she wove threads of light harvested from the star’s core. At sixteen, she was the youngest weaver in a century to spark a new constellation, but today her threads frayed, unraveling into ash. “Focus, Aiko,” her mentor, Elder Vyn, chided, her voice sharp. “The Loom’s weakening. We can’t afford mistakes.”

Aiko bit her lip, ignoring the whispers of other apprentices. She’d always been clumsy with words, but her hands spoke through the threads—until now. As she tried again, a tremor shook the platform. Screams echoed. The sky split, revealing a churning black vortex—a voidstorm. It swallowed the star’s light, pulling Lumora toward oblivion.

Aiko froze, clutching her loom, as Vyn shouted orders to evacuate. Before she could move, a battered starship crashed through the village’s shield, skidding to a halt. A boy her age leapt out, his scarf flapping and goggles glinting. “Name’s Ren,” he grinned, dodging debris. “Heard you folks need a ride.”

“There’s no time!” Aiko stammered, pointing to the voidstorm. “It’s eating everything!”

Ren’s grin faded as he saw the vortex. “That’s no ordinary storm. Grab what you can—we’re leaving.”

Aiko hesitated, her eyes on her loom. It was worthless now, but it held her life’s work. She hauled it onto Ren’s ship, the Stellar Junk, as the platform cracked apart. Villagers scrambled aboard, but Vyn stayed, weaving a barrier to slow the storm. “Go, Aiko!” she yelled. “Find the Celestial Spindle. You’re the only one who can!”

The ship lurched skyward, Vyn’s barrier shattering behind them. Aiko watched, helpless, as Lumora vanished into the void. Ren gripped the controls, dodging tendrils of darkness. “Spindle, huh?” he muttered. “Sounds like a payday.”

“It’s not treasure,” Aiko snapped, her voice finding strength. “It’s the key to fixing the Loom—to saving the stars.”

Ren raised an eyebrow. “Big talk for a kid with a busted loom. Got a plan?”

Aiko didn’t. But as the Junk hurtled into the nebula, she felt a thread in her pocket pulse, glowing faintly. It was hers, woven years ago, and it hadn’t frayed. Maybe Vyn was right. Maybe she could fix this.

Chapter 1: The Thread That Binds

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