Three people hung themselves by the light of the shooting star. I was not so lucky. I was deep in my cups when the light washed over our village, and the pangs of my parting strands of fate were lost among the feel of my heaving guts as I bent over in a dark alley. When I staggered home, I was none the wiser to the cosmic turmoil.

My blissful stupor did not last long. It could have only been a few hours later when a drunken nightmare blurred into an all-too-real heavy pounding. Moments after my eyes blinked open, my door gave way with a splintering crack.

“Damnit Reg, wake up!” the intruder growled, stomping across the rickety floorboards of my two room shack.

My hand was on my dagger as I lurched upright, blinking in the dark. I had just enough presence of mind to keep from swinging as I recognized the voice of my mentor, Gavol. “Hey! What the hell are you doing? You broke my voidloving door!” I scowled as he reached my bedside.

“It’s not going to matter,” he said, tossing the door handle to the ground. “Get up. Do you really have no idea of what’s happened?”

“Other than you wrecking my door in the middle of the night, no,” I said, rubbing my eyes as I rose to my feet and fumbled for a candle.

He grabbed my wrist, staying my reach. “If you truly don’t know, then hold off on the light.” His voice had gone low and trembled, but his grip was firm as he turned and tugged me across the room. “It's best you see for yourself. Ursus’ eye has fallen, and now Equuleus is lost to shadow.”

Equuleus... lost? My mind was numb as I stumbled after him and out the door, heedless of the frost on the ground as we looked up at the sky. The first hints of dawn were just beginning to creep over the far horizon, but it was still dark enough to make out the stars. I craned my neck and my eyes went wide as they traced the twinkling celestial motes above, the meaning of his words slamming home like falling masonry.

The stellar tableau was achingly familiar, but terrifyingly different. Shoals and swirls of stars painted a mosaic on the canvass of the night, pinpoints of light picking out the details of hooves and hands, claws and fingers, flippers and feet. The celestial menagerie spread from horizon to horizon, engaged in all manner of activity, but my eyes barely glanced at the bulk of it, seeking out one small, unimportant corner of the sky. Unimportant to most, at least.

There, straight above the town’s watchtower but just below the cosmic river, was the root of the trouble. Ursus had indeed retreated several degrees towards the horizon, until he fetched almost up against the Libra below. He still faced his opponent, but where his emerald eye should have burned brightly was empty void, and his muzzle gaped in a silent scream.

Above him, Aquilae now mantled her wings, and the shining pricks of light studding them sparkled brighter, even as dark shadows wreathed her talons. I felt like an icy hand had gripped my spine as my eyes searched in vain for the other Aster that should have graced that patch of sky. My Aster.

When I first drew breath, my lodestar had kindled at the tip of Equuleus’ mane. It wasn’t an anchor point like the eye, but as I grew to manhood I felt that the Aster's mane, flicking back and forth in the stellar wind, suited my own roaming tendencies better than most of the staid du Equu who made up the Aster's body proper. Even with my lodestar’s wandering ways, I instinctively knew where it was, even when it might be hidden by the bulk of the celestial mane or a passing cloud.

Now my breath came fast and ragged as I gaped at the sky. Equuleus had been taken by shadow, and from the keening of my gut, I could tell my lodestar had been quenched with it.

“Void’s blood,” I swore. “What happened?”

Gavol fidgeted, but answered nonetheless. “I didn’t see all of it, but from what I heard, Equuleus was resting while Aquilae menaced him and the Libra, but Ursus had barred the way. It was then that Ursus’ eye broke from the firmament, and fell somewhere to the North. Ursus flinched away and left Equuleus exposed, which was all the opportunity Aquilae needed to bear him down.”

I looked up at the sky again. Tetsudo, the tortoise had had burrowed up from beneath Libra’s pan to join Ursus, and now the two of them were facing down Aquilae.

“It looks like the two of them will protect the Libra and keep the balance between Air and Earth,” Gavol said, squinting up beside me. “But I don’t think he can drive back Aquilae, and Equuleus is completely obscured. I’m sorry.”

My mouth twisted in a grimace, but my heart already knew the truth. Equuleus would not return. Lodestars didn’t rekindle. I couldn’t bear to watch any more and turned to go inside.

Gavol followed me, wringing his hands and speaking quietly, like I was made of glass. “You know what will happen if you stay.”

“Yes, I know,” I growled, finally lighting the candle and collapsing into a chair, cradling my head in my hands. “One darkness damned fluke and now my fate is bleeding from me faster than a pissing racehorse and all your fancy words are just dancing around the fact that in less than a day this whole void sucking town is going to kick me out like I’ve caught the plague.”

I threw my head back and stared at the ceiling, as if my gaze could pierce the heavens. “Like this could be caught, and I didn’t have more to worry about from my new role as a stepping stone to the glorious future that I am no longer a part of.”

Gavol cleared his throat. “Well, you’ve said the main point yourself already. Outside would be safer, as long as you can avoid getting tangled up in someone else’s fate. And it’s not like you’re without experience out in the wild.”

“Yeah, but that was knowing my knots would hold, or game would blunder into my trap when I needed it most, or that the dangerous beasties would look the other way when my trousers were down. You know, all that stuff you helped me train with. And now I’m supposed to be on the other side of that. Trying to survive the snares when everyone else out there has a big damn destiny written for them, and my new role is to bend over or get out of the way.”

“Not everyone,” he said quietly, the tone reminding me of so many of our lessons. “Rocks, plants, lesser animals, all have no destiny. You know that. You’re right about other travelers, but they can be avoided. You have the skills.”

I sighed. “Granted. But hearing I’m on a level playing field with a rock doesn’t help me feel any less like I’ll be carrion by the end of the month.” I drummed my fingers on the side of my leg. “What about the rest of the du Equu?” Even though it was also Earth-aligned, Mistvale was just a village and Equuleus was not one of the major Aster. There were less than half a dozen others that I knew of. “Are there any others left?”

“I only checked on Sigmund and Jade on the way here,” he sighed, aging ten years as his expression fell. “I don’t know what happened to Jade, but Sigmund… Couldn’t bear to be lodeless.”

Lodeless. Hearing the words actually spoken somehow put the matter in another light, and as the thought sank in I realized that the queasiness in my gut was not solely from the fading liquor. I reached into my tunic and drew forth my talisman. It still shone with life, but even now I fancied that I could see the soft, white energy fade a little with each pulse.

Gavol bit his lip and looked away when he saw the light, and I saw his hand go to his own chest reflexively.

My knuckles were white as I replaced my talisman, and my voice was brittle as virgin frost. “What are you so worked up about, Gavol? You’re du Felis, you’ll be fine.”

“You think this is easy for me either?” he cried, pounding his fist into the wall. “You think I like hanging you out to dry? But when your talisman finally gutters out, you’ll be a walking luck-sink. I can’t even go with you without my own influence walking all over you.”

I nodded mutely, watching dust filter down in the candlelight as the wall swayed from his assault. The fated would eat the lodeless alive, without even trying.

“You need to get out of here,” he said, turning from the wall in agitation. “There’s just no other way.”

I nodded once more, but couldn’t find the energy to rise. “I know. But where can I go?”

It had been decades since one of the Aster had fallen, but now my own had. My limbs were leaden, and not just for lack of Equuleus’ boon of strength. Just like that, I’d lost it all. My trade, my inheritance, even my very name. Regis du Equu was dead – I was du Nemo now.

Gavol paced back and forth, the floorboards creaking beneath his boots. After several circuits, he stopped suddenly and whirled towards me, eyes glinting. “What of the star?”

I cocked my head and frowned my confusion at him.

“The fallen one. Ursus’ eye.”

My own eyes widened and my head rose, as a giddy hope sprang up, but I strangled it ruthlessly. “You know that countless others will seek it out. Other lodeless aside, the du Ursu will want it to restore their Aster, while the du Aquil will try to prevent them."

“Be that as it may, it’s still a chance to seize your own fate once more.”

I rose from my chair, finding some energy now that I had a direction besides ‘away.’ “Well. I might as well die going somewhere.”

“That’s the spirit,” he said with a smile that was happier than his eyes. “You pack. Let me check around about that star.”

It didn’t take me long to pack. The du Equu had a close affinity with the Earth – we had been strong, surefooted, and masters of rope. I was unusual in not choosing an agrarian path; though Equuleus’ boon did not encompass directly the martial or hunting spheres, I still found myself well suited to a life in the wilds. As such, my gear was well maintained and quick to hand.

Just over half a candlemark later, Gavol had returned, bearing a sheaf of hastily scrawled notes that he fanned out over my rough desk.

“You’re packed.”

“Of course.”

“Good. I checked with several of the guards and got their impressions, but even better, Kell was in the observatory and saw it all. The eye fell almost due north, and she estimates it landed less than two hundred leagues away.”

My mouth twisted into something too wry to be a smile, and my laugh was drier than the scouring sands. “That's two to three weeks of trekking in the deep wilds. Just possible enough for someone with nothing to lose to make the attempt.”

“But Mistvale is one of the northernmost settlements. Starting from here, you’ll have a leg up on everyone else.”

I nodded. “Exactly. Hence ‘just possible.’ It’s still suicide, though, and you know it. Even if I have a head start, Orion’s spear, Lupus’ nose, or any of the hundreds of boons that I’ll be up against will more than even the scales. I’ll just end up delivering these notes to someone who ‘deserves’ the star more.” My expression lost a shade of its bitterness. “But thank you all the same.”

He nodded, eyes shining wetly, but he wouldn’t raise his head as he passed over the papers. I leaned over and gripped his hand, hard.

“It’s only the truth, Gavol. My story may be ending soon, but I can still appreciate your sentiment.” I let his hand go and swept the papers up. Hefting my pack, I gave the room one last, careful check. The silence drew out until at last I turned and strode from my former abode without a second glance.

The sun was just beginning to peek above the horizon as I neared the palisade. The gates creaked open at my approach and stayed that way, but the looks the guards gave me made it clear that I would not easily pass again.

I made my way across the open ground to the outermost ditch, but as I crossed it, a shadow detached itself from the forest and strode towards me, resolving into a heavyset man with long, wild hair. Even on the open gravel path, his dark leathers seemed to cling to the forest gloom, but he smiled at my approach.

“Reg. I was hoping you would make an appearance today.”

“Stuff it, Teller. You know I want nothing to do with you or your kind.”

He clucked his tongue. “Reg, I know we’ve had our differences in the past, but you’re an intelligent man. You must realize just how the situation has changed – you’re dark constellation now. You’re one of us.”

If looks could kill, I would have gained or claimed a bounty just then. Not that it would have mattered much. “Just because I’m du Nemo doesn’t mean I’m going to turn black. I don’t want anything to do with you, void hugger.”

His smile remained, though it cooled a degree. “Easy there, sport. You’ve had a rough night so I’ll cut you some slack, but don’t push it. You’ll change your tune soon enough once your well runs dry. Good luck out there – try not to use it up all at once.”

I grimaced and bit back an acid remark, maintaining a stony silence as I brushed past him and stalked into the undergrowth.

I stuck to the game trails and natural pathways, avoiding the main roads as best I could. The first night was among the hardest I’d experienced. I found a small clearing among the upland pines and lay a careful fire. The weather was fair as I lay out in a small clearing and stared up at the stars. The last glow from my talisman flickered out, and the Aster cavorted above as I cried myself to sleep.

The next day dawned clear as well, and I pushed on, checking my compass and the notes. It was at least two weeks ahead, and I would have to forage at least some food along the way before the end of it.

Though my talisman was an inert lump against my chest, I prayed for my luck to hold. Maybe the other seekers wouldn’t start close enough. Maybe they’d take a different path. Maybe I could maintain some sort of lead. Maybe, maybe, maybe. I could only hope.

I crossed a flooded stream, and then quickly climbed a tangle of brush on the other side. Maybe this won’t be so bad after all, I thought, cresting the ridge with a spring in my step.

I saw the snare too late.

Live by the rope, die by the rope, I guess.