PART ONE​

Chapter 1: Stardust and Storm Clouds

 

Elbie’s world was a tapestry woven from starlight. It wasn’t the dull, everyday light that filtered through dusty windows, but the sharp, glittering kind that pierced the velvety cloak of night. He loved the stars, much more than distant pinpricks, but as vibrant, roaring furnaces, each one a universe unto itself. He loved the planets, those swirling, majestic spheres, some possibly cradling life, others holding secrets in their icy depths. He loved moons, those silent sentinels enslaved in orbit around their seemingly cruel masters, those large enough to be worlds of their own. He loved entire galaxies, those vast, swirling cities of light.

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From the moment he could grasp a crayon, Elbie drew planets, suns, and constellations on every available surface—the walls of his room, the underside of the kitchen table, even the rough bark of the ancient oak tree in their yard that had stood for eons. He wasn't simply scribbling; he was charting courses, mapping undiscovered worlds, and dreaming of journeys beyond the blue.

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He’d been sent to live with his grandfather when he was barely old enough to walk, a tiny, wide-eyed bundle delivered to the doorstep of a weathered cottage nestled deep in the countryside. His grandfather, Lazlo, was a man of stars. Once, he’d been a celebrated astronomer, his name whispered with reverence in the hallowed halls of scientific societies. He wasn’t famous in the way of stage actors or political figures, but in the quiet, profound way of those who dedicate their lives to unraveling the mysteries of the cosmos.

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Lazlo had passed that celestial passion to Elbie like a cherished heirloom. From the very beginning, the boy’s grandfather filled his ears with tales of nebulae and quasars, of comets that streaked across the sky like fiery dragons, and of the mystical, watchful moon that hung like a blazing silver coin in the night.

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Their days were a rhythm of scientific exploration and blissful companionship. Lazlo taught Elbie the names of the stars and the constellations they made up, the phases of the moon, and the calculations to decipher the intricate dance of the planets. They built telescopes from salvaged glass and cardboard tubes, peering into the night sky with wide-eyed wonder. Their nights were a symphony of whispered stories, shared dreams, and the quiet rustle of star charts spread out on the worn wooden table in the attic—their special place called the Observatorium.

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Elbie, with his mop of messy hair the color of burnt-toast, gray eyes, and ruddy cheeks speckled with freckles, was a dreamer. His mind was a vast repository of cosmic wonders. He saw the world not as a fixed, mundane place, but as a launching pad, a stepping stone to the infinite expanse beyond. He could describe the majesty of the mighty hunter Orion’s Nebula, how comets left their glittering tails behind as they streaked across the sky, and the rings of Saturn, each one a delicate ribbon of ice and rock. He knew the red dust storms that raged across Mars, and the way the aurora borealis painted the Earth’s polar skies with shimmering curtains of light.

 

But his absolute favorites among celestial bodies were the planets. There were five in particular that he and his grandfather had long since agreed upon as being the best. First, but last on the list, there was Jupiter, a colossal giant, its swirling storms a testament to its immense power. Then, there was Mercury, a small, resilient world, braving the scorching heat of the sun. Neptune, a distant, icy realm, where it was said diamonds rained from the sky and the winds were the strongest of any planet. Of course, there was Earth, their home, a vibrant blue sphere teeming with life. But his favorite, the most mysterious and alluring, was Pluto, the distant dwarf, a tiny, frozen world at the very edge of the solar system.

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And there was much more Elbie knew about and loved, all things his grandfather had taught him. Among them, mathematics, mechanics, pneumatics, electronics, chemistry. He loved to learn how things worked and had a particular love of engineering and the inventions of motion; Airships, planes, locomotives, ocean-going vessels, and the ever-present automobile.

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Above all that Elbie loved though, and most importantly, was his grandfather. With his silver-streaked hair, spectacles perched on his nose, and a beard that seemed to hold the wisdom of the ages, Elbie saw his grandfather as his guide, his mentor, his fellow traveler in the vast ocean of space.

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Their cottage was a haven of books, star charts, and half-finished inventions and was a world unto itself. The scent of old paper mingled with the faint floral aroma of the special tea Grandfather brewed, a concoction that, he claimed, sharpened the mind and cleared the vision for astronomical observation.

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One particularly dreary Tuesday, the sky hung heavy with the occasional bout of rain. A thick, gray blanket obscured the sun, and the air was thick with the scent of damp earth. Elbie, perched on a stool in the kitchen, was meticulously sketching the Andromeda Galaxy, his brow furrowed in concentration. His grandfather Lazlo was busy at the old observatory and astronomy lab located in the hills on the other side of town and wouldn’t be home until late. So it was the rhythmic drumming of raindrops against the windowpane that was Elbie’s only companion, a soothing counterpoint to the quiet hum of his activity. But as the late afternoon wore on and evening approached, a different sound pierced the stillness—the unmistakable crunch of gravel beneath heavy tires.

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Elbie glanced out the window. A dark, boxy vehicle was making its way up the long, muddy lane that led to their cottage. It was the sheriff’s car, its black paint gleaming wetly in the gloom. Following closely behind was another dark vehicle, one that Elbie didn’t recognize.

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A knot of unease tightened in Elbie’s stomach. It had been awhile since he’d seen Sheriff Tucker. Not since … Well, Elbie didn’t want to think about that. In any case, however, Elbie suspected something was wrong. The sheriff didn’t come calling unless something was wrong.

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Both cars stopped in front of the cottage, their engines sputtering and dying. Sheriff Tucker, a tall, broad-bellied man with a weathered face and a stern expression, climbed out, his heavy boots crushing the ground. He adjusted his hat, then strode toward the porch, his footsteps heavy and deliberate.

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Elbie’s heart pounded in his chest. He watched Sheriff Tucker approach the front door, the man’s gaze fixed on the cottage, his expression grim. Elbie could almost hear his grandfather’s voice as it so often said, Something’s amiss.

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The sheriff reached the porch, his hand hovering over the door frame. He hesitated for a moment, then knocked, three sharp, authoritative raps that echoed through the quiet cottage.

Elbie walked to the door, his footsteps slow and measured, silently reassuring himself that everything was okay. He opened the door, his gaze meeting the sheriff’s.

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“Evenin’, Sheriff Tucker,” Elbie said, his voice calm and steady. “What can I do for you?”

 

The sheriff’s gaze swept past the boy and into the house before settling back on Elbie.

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“Elbie,” he began, his voice heavy with a somber tone. “Young man, I’m afraid I have some bad news.”

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A cold dread washed over Elbie. He knew, instinctively, that whatever the sheriff was about to say would shatter the quiet rhythm of their lives.

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“It’s about your Grandfather,” Sheriff Tucker said slowly, clearly struggling to find his words, “We have reason to believe … We think that … I’m sorry, but your grandfather is deceased.”

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Elbie gasped, his hand slowly rising to his mouth. He felt the world shift, the floor tilting beneath his feet. Deceased? Grandfather? No. It couldn’t be true.

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“Deceased?” Elbie repeated, his voice barely a whisper. “But ... how?”

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“We found some … There was an explosion at the old observatory, up on Hilltop. We found some personal effects in the rubble. It looks like … an accident,” the sheriff said, his eyes filled with a sad pity.

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Elbie felt a wave of dizziness wash over him. His blank stare fell on the half-finished sketch of the Andromeda Galaxy on the table, a splash of vibrant color in the suddenly gray room. His grandfather, gone? Grandfather had been helping him with drawing the spiral arms just yesterday. The man who had taught him everything, who had filled his world with starlight, was gone?

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The rain continued to fall, a relentless pitter-pattering that seemed to echo the pounding of Elbie’s heart. The cozy cottage, once a haven of warmth and wonder, suddenly felt cold and empty like the vacuum of deep space. Sheriff Tucker continued to speak, but his words were lost in the fog of Elbie’s disbelief.

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His grandfather, the man who had shown him the stars, was now among them.

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