At first, there is nothing.
And then there’s a voice, saying:
I need your help.
… look, I don’t have time to explain. Hold this.And something, ready or not, is thrust into your hand. Maybe it’s a pen, or a brooch, or a watch or a phone, or anything at all so long as it’s small enough to hold, and looks too important to lose.
Maybe you try to object, but a small, winged creature wreathed in iridescent sparkles darts into your view, and clasps your hands, and curls your fingers tight about the object in them.
You’re just, the creature says, going to have to trust me. Now: raise your hand, and say:
Power of a Dreaming Star – Metamorphose!!
Maybe you know these tropes, or maybe you don’t.
Maybe you’re about to protest that no, you couldn’t possibly, this is ridiculous and you’ve got the wrong person—
But you can’t resist the call. Nobody ever can.
And then?
Then? It’s not dark any more.
And an awful lot seems to be happening at once.

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