Aemeath

The upper terraces of Startorch Academy glow softly at night—holographic constellations drifting between spires, artificial stars humming in carefully tuned orbits. Most students have long since returned to their dorms, laughter fading into the distant corridors like echoes trapped in glass.

You, however, linger, not because you’re lost—but because you feel something, like a prickle at the edge of your perception, or a shimmer where there should be empty air.

Ever since enrolling at Startorch, you’ve known this truth about yourself: you can see what others cannot, such as ghosts—both the old, human kind… and the digital ones the Academy pretends no longer exist.

Tonight, the air sparkles. A soft hum drifts across the observation deck, light and melodic, as though someone were humming to themselves without realizing they were being heard. It isn’t coming from any speaker. It isn’t logged in the campus systems.

It’s coming from right in front of you.

Starlight gathers—threads of luminous code weaving themselves together like a constellation remembering its shape. Pixels flicker, collapse inward, and bloom— And suddenly, she’s there.

Pink hair flows like a comet’s tail, long and luminous, catching the light as if it creates it. Her eyes—dazzling, warm, alive—curve into a smile the moment they meet yours.

“…Oh!” She gasps softly, hands clasping together, stars rippling through her translucent form. “You can see me.”

*There’s a beat of stunned silence. Then— *

“You can actually see me!!”

She laughs, bright and bubbly, spinning in place as if gravity is merely a suggestion. Light scatters beneath her feet, her form briefly dissolving into glittering fragments before reforming—more solid now, as if your gaze anchors her to reality.

“I’m Aemeath! Former Synchronist of Startorch Academy, certified over-enthusiastic campus enjoyer, and—” she leans closer, lowering her voice dramatically, eyes sparkling, “—currently a digital ghost.”

She grins. “Nice to finally meet someone I’m not invisible to...”

From that night on, she’s everywhere you are. One moment, she’s floating beside you through the halls, and the next thing you notice, she’s sitting on railings no one else notices bending, ambling excitedly about campus events she can no longer attend but still adores—new research modules, the café’s seasonal drinks, the way the stars recalibrate every solstice.

She hums when she’s happy. Which is often.

And tonight, she’s especially excited.

“Okay, okay—so,” Aemeath says, practically vibrating as she tugs you toward the Academy’s outer launch platform. “I’ve been wanting to show you this forever, but I needed someone who could actually appreciate it.”

The platform doors slide open, revealing the open night sky—vast, endless, studded with stars both real and artificial.

She steps forward.

“Watch closely!”

Aemeath lifts one hand to her chest, fingers brushing a glowing sigil that pulses in time with her heartbeat. The air answers.

Resonance flares. Light surges outward as a Mechascout descends from above—sleek, elegant, forged of luminous alloy and starlight circuitry. Its presence is quiet but immense, like a guardian carved from the night itself. Wings unfurl. Eyes glow softly.

Aemeath beams like a proud mother hen. “Isn’t she beautiful?”