CHAPTER ONE - THE STAR THAT CALLED MY NAME

As told by me: Adrian. Collector. Overthinker. Accidental cosmic traveler.

If you had asked me what I expected to happen on a Tuesday night, “being recruited by a tiny astronaut riding a knockoff rocketship” would’ve ranked somewhere between winning the lottery and getting abducted by an alien.

Tuesdays are for sorting inventory.
Maybe ripping open a pack.
Piling up comic stacks.
You know — the usual evidence of my questionable spending habits.

That particular night, my floor was a chaotic collage of penny sleeves, a half-labeled bubble mailer, and a sealed Darkness Ablaze booster box that had been taunting me all week like:
“Open me… open me…”
Dumb box.

I was mid-scan of a freshly opened Japanese booster when the room hummed.

Not the AC humming hum.
Not the fridge doing its weird “I might explode” warm-up.

No.

This was a specific hum.
Like a cosmic tuning fork.
For a brief moment, I felt like a monk discovering inner peace… except with way more cardboard.

A soft blue pulse rippled across my desk, washing over my slabs, comics, and that smug booster box.

I froze, then managed:
“Uh… okay?”

Because that’s my go-to move when supernatural crap happens: polite confusion.

Before I could poke the glowing spot that had developed over my desk, like an idiot in a horror movie, it erupted in a flash of light.
Something rocketed across the room, hit my wall, bounced off my PC, ricocheted off a Pikachu plushie, and skidded face-down onto a stack of bubble mailers.

Silence.

Then a tiny, deeply offended voice muttered:

“Ow. Okay. That was not a soft landing…”

I stood and stared.

A little gloved hand popped up.
Then another.

A miniature astronaut — and I do mean miniature, maybe a foot tall — pulled himself up like he’d just fallen off the world’s worst carnival ride.

His helmet glowed softly.
He dusted himself off, puffed out his tiny chest, and declared with surprising confidence:

“Greetings! I am Astro Adrian, guardian of the Cherished Realms, protector of—WOAH—”

He immediately slipped on a penny sleeve and wiped out.

Hard.

I blinked...
He gave me a thumbs-up from the floor.

“I’m okay! Perfectly fine! Totally intentional!” he said.

Sure, buddy.

I crouched down, trying to process the fact that a Funko-sized astronaut had just crash-landed in my bedroom.

“You… said your name is Adrian?” I asked.

He lifted his visor just enough to reveal big, bright, enthusiastic eyes.

“Yep! That’s me! Astro Adrian! And you’re Adrian, obviously.”

“Obviously.”
I rubbed my face.
“Soooo… why are you here?”

He opened his mouth as if ready to deliver the full cosmic truth.

Then froze.
Scrunched his face.
Pressed a tiny button on his helmet.
And whispered:

“Classified.”

Great.
A mysterious foot-tall astronaut who can’t land a ship and won’t explain why we share a name.

This is fine.

Behind him, something sputtered.

His… ship?
Vehicle?
Hyper-advanced toy?

Whatever it was, it was wedged halfway into my hoodie pocket.
Yes — my pocket.
Meaning he crash-landed into me at some point and I didn’t even notice.

I eased it out.
A tiny rocketship, warm to the touch, buzzing with energy far too techy for something that looked like it belonged in a bargain bin.

“What is this?” I asked.

Astro gasped like I’d just grabbed his firstborn.

“My ship! She’s delicate! Be gentle!”

“She’s smoking,” I pointed out.

“She’s expressive,” he corrected, patting her lovingly.
“Has personality. Doesn’t mean she’s broken.”

The ship sparked and made a noise I can only describe as “angrily dying.”

He sighed.
“Okay… maybe a little broken.”

Before I could ask the nine million questions swirling in my brain, the room lit up again.

Not with chaos this time.
Warm.
Majestic.
Controlled.

A glowing star-shaped portal formed above my desk.
Silent.
Twinkling.
Radiant.

It looked like the birthplace of holofoil.

Astro Adrian stared up at it like a dog hearing a bag of treats shake.

“That,” he whispered, “is the Collector Star.”

I swallowed.
“That’s… a portal?”

“A calling,” he said softly.
“To you.”

“Why me?”
A delightful spike of panic shot through my chest.
“My insomnia’s bad, but I don’t think it’s bad enough to hallucinate interdimensional starlight?”

He pointed to the stack of neatly wrapped comics in the corner — the ones I handle with the care of a brain surgeon.

“Because you protect the things you love,” he said.
“But the galaxy needs you to protect more.”

“Okay,” I said. “Nope. Nope. This isn’t real.”

The portal pulsed — a beacon light that felt like it was rearranging my future without asking permission.

I looked at the portal.
Then at him.
Then back at the portal.

“So what happens if I just… don’t go?”

He shrugged.

“No idea. Nobody’s ever ignored a cosmic summons. Could be fine! Could be disappointing. Could haunt your thoughts forever. Could also cause the fabric of reality to implode.”

“…WHAT?”

“Kidding!”
He paused.
“…mostly.”

He held out his tiny gloved hand.

“Come on,” he said.
“I can’t do this alone.”

Something inside me — maybe the kid who once saved up nickels for a Yu-Gi-Oh! pack, maybe the adult who still believes in stories — reached out and took his hand.

Warmth surged through me.
The portal expanded like it had been waiting for us.

Light filled the room.

As we lifted into the air, cosmic wind swirling, Astro shouted:

“OH! BEFORE I FORGET!”

“What?!” I yelled back.

“You know how we share a name?”

“YES?!”

“I’ll explain later — if we don’t die!”

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN—”

FWOOOOOOSH.

We were gone.

Chapter 2: INTO THE COLLECTORS’ GALAXY - Coming Soon