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The cold desert nights didn't bother the pilgrim—in fact, it reminded him of his home in the northern mountains. What did bother him, however, was the flat, star-filled sky above him. There were no twisting colors or dancing lights to paint the sky's dark canvas, and without it, the stars seemed hollow to him.

He reached into his bag, using the light of his fire to peer inside, and found a small pouch of powder. His dry, weathered hands dipped into the pouch to retrieve a small pinch and cast it into the orange fire. Its light sputtered for a moment before turning a shimmering display of blue, green, and purple.

He pulled his blanket closer and turned his attention upwards once more, watching the now serpentine aurora fill the air above him. For a moment, he felt at home, and a smile crept back across his face.

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