The night she found the brooch had been etched into Astrid's mind like a dream she could not wake from.
For days, the memory of that golden light—of that universe unfolding before her eyes—had pursued her even in her sleep. And every time she closed her eyelids, she heard that voice again—her own voice—whispering her name from some unknown corner of her soul.
But more than wonder, what she felt was fear.
Never before had she experienced anything like it. It was as if the entire cosmos had been poured into her mind, demanding that she understand it. Her body still trembled whenever she remembered it, her breathing quickened without reason, and her thoughts tried in vain to find explanations that did not exist.
That was why the decision was simple: she had to get rid of the brooch.
At dawn she returned to the forest and threw it to the ground, intending to break it, as if the golden metal were a threat that had to be buried in oblivion—but she couldn't even crack it.
She threw it into the river, only to find it later on the terrace outside her window.
She buried it in the deepest part of the forest, and discovered it beneath her pillow when she woke up.
No matter the method, the brooch always returned.
At first she thought she was losing her mind. But with time she realized something even more unsettling: the brooch had not chosen her as a mere bearer… it had claimed her. Though she still didn't know why.
Weeks passed.
During that time, Astrid tried to live as if nothing had happened. She continued with her tasks, visited her friends, walked through the fields, and read the same books as always.
But nothing was the same.
That emptiness she had felt all her life—that shadow that had followed her since childhood—was still not completely gone, but it was beginning to fill.
Each time the brooch appeared beside her, something in her chest lit up with a familiar warmth. The memories she had seen—those fragments she could not understand—terrified her, and yet she couldn't help feeling that she also… longed for them. It felt as though those were the memories she had always believed she had lost.
Maybe… this is what I was missing, she would think silently as she looked at it. Maybe… this object can help me understand what it is I lack. Maybe that's why it called to me.
Astrid felt that the brooch had chosen her for a reason—that she had not found it by chance in the forest, that this object was something she was meant to have. Those worlds she had seen—collapsed, flourishing, entire galaxies unfolding—she had glimpsed them for a reason. Now she could think of nothing else but going to those worlds.
She felt it was her responsibility to reach them, a responsibility to help them and save them that she could not explain—but that, like the memories she had always lacked, seemed to come from the deepest part of her being.
After several weeks of doubt, one morning she looked at herself in the mirror and knew she could no longer—and no longer wanted to—keep running.
She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and extended her hand.
The brooch, as if it had been waiting for her, floated gently into her palm. For the first time, instead of fear, Astrid felt calm.
"It's alright," she whispered. "I'll accept you."
And with that decision, her life changed.
The announcement was received with astonishment throughout all of Liraen. Astrid gathered the villagers in the central plaza and, with the brooch fastened to her chest, demonstrated what she could do.
With a simple gesture, she made withered grass bloom.
With a thought, she guided the course of the wind and the clouds.
And when she spread her arms, a rain of shooting stars crossed the daytime sky. But what surprised everyone the most was the ease and familiarity with which Astrid did all of it—as if it were not the first time she had used the brooch. And in truth, Astrid herself was just as surprised.
The murmur of the crowd was a mixture of fear and admiration. Some knelt, others prayed, and others simply watched in silence.
"This brooch, filled with great power, chose me. I still don't know why—but the only thing I do know is the purpose that came with it, and that it was given to me for a reason," Astrid declared firmly. "And I have chosen to accept it. From today onward, I will dedicate my life to protecting this reality—to caring for its worlds and their lives. That will be my purpose."
She spoke those last words while looking at her mother.
And so the young woman who had once feared the weight of that power became its bearer.
Astrid began a journey that took her beyond her village, beyond her world, even beyond her galaxy. She visited worlds in formation, maintained the balance of fragile realities, and resolved conflicts between civilizations that did not even speak the same language.
With every use of the brooch, she became stronger.
And with every use… she remembered more.
At first, they were only sensations: the familiarity of a place she had never seen, the certainty of having spoken words she did not remember saying.
Then came the flashes: fleeting glimpses of battles, of skies in ruin, of a deep pain she could not explain.
They were images that did not belong to her current life… yet they resonated with an intensity that chilled her blood.
Sometimes she could almost feel as if something pierced through her chest, as if she herself were beginning to fade away.
And then, one day, something new appeared.
A word.
A name.
"Elisa."
The first time she heard it, it was barely a whisper in her mind while she meditated in the orbit of a young planet.
The second time, she spoke it aloud without realizing it, as if it had rested on her tongue her entire life.
The third time, hearing it made her heart beat so violently she had to stop to catch her breath.
Elisa…
That name… hurt.
That name… meant something.
But what?
Night fell, and Astrid stood beside a lake on a world without civilization, yet overflowing with vegetation.
She looked at the brooch on her chest, glowing with a soft pulse, almost as if it were breathing.
She looked at her reflection in the water: the same eyes, the same face, the same life she had lived for twenty years.
And yet… everything felt like a lie.
For a second, Astrid saw her reflection distort. For a moment it did not seem as though she were standing on that peaceful and fertile planet, but on one that was completely inhospitable—and once again, a pain shot through her chest.
She stepped back in fright, grabbing her head, and looked around for several seconds, as if trying to confirm that she was still in that calm place.
After a few moments she calmed down and approached the water again, whispering a question that had lingered in her mind for weeks while staring at her reflection—a question that now consumed her completely:
"Who am I…?"
Silence did not answer.
The brooch did not answer.
But somewhere deep within her soul, a forgotten truth was beginning to awaken.