The music drifted through the bustling streets of the capital, stirring a sense of curiosity in those who heard it. People went about their daily routines, and nothing seemed out of the ordinary. A large crowd had gathered around the fountain in Charing Cross Square. Though this spot was a popular tourist attraction, admired for its stunning neo-Gothic architecture, today, for once, the crowd was not gathered to marvel at the beauty of the place.


    Beside the fountain in the heart of the square stood a striking young woman. Yet her presence... simply didn’t belong in the scene of everyday life. The wind caught her almost-white, pearl blonde hair as she adjusted the top hat perched on her head, her hands encased in black silk gloves. After brushing the stray strands from her face, the artwork across her skin became impossible to ignore. From her cheekbones to her eyebrows, silver glitter, speckled with tiny stars, adorned her features. Her knee-length black trousers diverted attention from the otherwise refined elegance of her blazer.


    No matter how you looked at it, there seemed to be no rhyme or reason for her appearance. And yet, the crowd couldn’t tear their eyes away from her. It was as if they stood in the deepest darkness, entranced by the sole beautiful and mysterious source of light.


    The music box on the small wooden cart beside her spun in a circle, its inviting melody drifting across the square.


    "Lundenbuhr wakes up to the sound of the bells from St Elisabeth’s Tower. The fisherman fishes, the baker bakes, and some believe that the opening of the shops and the market square is magical. As mysterious as the night and as loud as thunder. But nothing... nothing is more powerful than the starlight of the night. The stars shining brightly in the sky above us“.


    Or perhaps it was her soft, melodious voice, laced with a gentle singing quality, that held the crowd spellbound. No one questioned what was happening. For some, it felt like the most natural thing in the world. A broad smile played at the corners of her rosy lips as she beckoned the people closer.


    "Come closer! Don’t be shy! Have courage! Dare!"


    At first, the crowd hesitated, but as the first brave souls edged nearer, the others followed suit. No one knew whether they had fallen under the woman’s charm or simply yielded to their own curiosity. There was no answer, and yet no one seemed to be looking for one.


    "My friends, have you ever wondered what lies behind the mystery of the stars?"


    Eyes drifted around, and a hush fell over the crowd. Her smile grew ever so slightly.


    "I can’t tell you. But perhaps I can help you understand. So let me tell you a story. And, as is so often the case, it begins with a hero


    Where do they come from?


    What do they look like?


    What can they do?


    What is their name?


    Who are they?


    Justified questions! I agree with all of you! But, my friends, you must understand that true heroes have neither a face nor a name.


    In fact, no one remembers the hero himself, only his deeds. They are like the small piece of chocolate your neighbour gave you when you were a child. You remember the taste and the warmth it brought, but you don’t recall what it looked like or what it was called.


    The night was bright as our hero made his entrance. Loud, almost inaudible screams echoed from every corner, leaving a dazzling sound in the ear. It was like a catchy tune that lingers in your mind, even in the quietest moments. A tune that sends a chill down your spine and leaves you with goosebumps.This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    The hero clutched the most important object in his life to his chest. Its presence seemed out of place, stark against the harsh surroundings. How could something so peaceful, so calm, and so gentle exist in a place like this? Another scream pierced the air. Gunshots rang out, and an uncomfortable silence descended upon the room. The hero held his breath, the stillness so dense it felt as though it might suffocate him. But it was nothing compared to the rancid stench of iron, so overpowering it brought tears to his eyes and made him feel as though he might vomit at any moment.


    All the streets seemed the same that night. The colour red had never been so bitterly repulsive beneath the moonlight. From that moment on, it would remain the colour he despised most. For it would forever remind him of that night. The hero closed his eyes and drew a deep breath. Just before doubt could overwhelm him, he felt something warm. His eyes opened, and as he looked down, a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. It was remarkable how something so small and innocent could bring a smile to his face in such a dark place.


    His mind was made up. He ran as fast and as silently as he could. It was difficult to climb with the object in his arms, but somehow he managed. Unlocking the window in front of him was the easy part. He carefully slipped into the second-floor apartment, placing the object gently on the sofa in the middle of the room. The hero fixed his gaze on the object before him, as if he knew he would never see it again. From his pocket, he drew a letter and placed it beside the object. He lingered for a final moment before climbing out of the window and vanishing into the red night


    Screams echoed from all sides, followed by gunshots that silenced everything. There was no turning back. His legs ached with exhaustion, but he knew he had no choice but to keep running. No matter how drained he felt, he couldn’t stop. The entire scene felt like the backdrop to a never-ending nightmare.


    “There! One of them!” a man shouted. His breath hitched for a moment, and the hero knew this was the moment to give everything he had. He ran—faster and faster—through the streets, littered with bodies. The twisted, contorted faces of the dead made him question whether they had ever truly been alive. Adrenaline coursed through his veins, and his own breathing became a distant echo. His heart pounded faster, a relentless drumbeat in his chest.


    Exhaustion and stress gnawed at him, but he couldn’t afford to stop. He kept running.


    Before him appeared a river. Never had something seemed so close and yet so impossibly far. With one final burst of energy, he pushed himself harder, faster. A loud shot rang out, and he fell forward. At first, the hero couldn’t understand what had hit him. But as the searing pain spread through his leg, he began to realise. Through gritted teeth, he looked ahead and saw his bracelet had fallen from his pocket. Slowly, he stretched out his arm, reaching desperately for it. Footsteps approached, and a sudden chill ran down his spine.


    When he looked up, the reason for the cold became clear. Eyes, void of any warmth or compassion, were fixed on him. They flared with a cold intensity when they spotted the bracelet.


    But the flame in the man’s eyes was not warmth; it was pure hatred.


    “I know what it is,” the man said in a cold, serious tone. “So tell me. Where is it?”


    The hero’s breath trembled, but his lips remained firmly shut. He gripped the bracelet tightly in his hand. The man’s patience was wearing thin. Pain shot through his stomach, and it wasn’t long before another kick followed.


    “Answer me!” the man shouted. “Where is it?! Where is the baby?” Another kick landed when he stayed silent.


    Eventually, his body grew so numb that it seemed he could no longer feel anything. But he didn’t care. No matter how many times the question was asked, he would never give the answer.


    The metallic taste of blood filled his mouth, and he spat it out. Fatigue and exhaustion flooded over him. With the last of his strength, he forced himself to look up at the man’s furious face. The words that followed were a blur. His vision distorted, and he struggled to stay conscious. The final thing he remembered before everything went dark was her face.


    And so, our hero was silenced forever. For you must understand that true heroes do not survive their heroic deeds. The world was changed forever after that night".


    The crank turned, and the music gently brought the crowd back to earth. “Ahh, ahh! What are those long faces for? Our story is far from over! But before it continues, I have a riddle for you, my friends. Guess if you can. For the stars are shining brightly in the sky above us…”


    “What is good and what is bad?


    Who is a hero and who is a villain?


    What is faith?


    What is enmity and what is friendship?


    What is love and what is hatred?


    For the stars, they shine and shine, shine, shine. Shine brightly in the sky above us".