"MOM!! Look, is that a shooting star?"
"No, darling, stars are sacred; they never fall. That must be a blessing from the heavens for His Highness Pope Winston."
Inside the imperial capital of the Holy Sun Empire, countless people had paused in their daily routines and turned their gazes skyward.
Merchants halted their carts, guards rested their spears against stone walls, and families gathered along balconies and streets as fragments of scattered light streaked across the sky.
To the common folk, the falling lights were nothing more than a rare celestial phenomenon, interpreted instinctively through faith rather than logic.
The Holy Sun Empire was a place where coincidence rarely existed without divine explanation. Any unexplained event was immediately framed as a sign of approval, favor, or warning from the heavens.
For this incident the explanation had been chosen quickly and without doubt. Blessings for Pope Winston, blessings for the Church. Blessings for the empire itself.
