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Once upon a time, on a far away planet called Euganea, lived a man with superior intelligence named Azthul. Azthul had learned how to read the sky, and he knew all the stars and constellations by heart. The Euganeans even said he was the best astronomer in the entire universe.
One day, Azthul was sitting by the window of his observatory. His eyes set behind the lens of his giant telescope, he looked at the sky. After a few seconds, he adjusted the focus of the lens and looked again, but all he could see was a black blur. There was an anomaly with the telescope. He scratched his head. Giving it a third try, he looked through the lens again. But nothing had changed. Determined to fix the problem at hand, he moved away from his stool, picked up his tools, and inspected the telescope. Yet after an hour of searching what could have caused the unexplained blur, he came to the conclusion his equipment worked well. He scratched his head again.
He was clueless. Deep lines wrinkled his forehead as he paced back and forth inside his study, feeling a wave of frustration growing inside. He never had a problem reading the sky before. This didn’t make any sense.
Azthul’s birth had been considered a miracle by all on Euganea. He had been called a savior, a prodigy, the only being who could protect the planet from being destroyed by cosmic ray showers. Without his readings, it would be impossible to know when the next shower would hit. Without his knowledge, the planet would die.
Azthul couldn’t fail the Euganeans. They counted on him. They trusted him.
His hands suddenly started shaking and beads of sweat rolled down each side of his face. A knot tightened in his stomach and forced him down on his knees before he vomited on the floor.
For the first time he felt panic. He wiped his lips and stood up, rushing toward the telescope. Readjusting the focus, he looked at the sky one more time but all he saw was this blackness laughing at him. He could even hear the stars singing in unison – Azthul was a fool for believing he could understand them. He had no control over them, no control over anything, he couldn’t even stop the nausea from making him sicker the more he realized how powerless he had become.
He hid his head in his hands and let out a deep breath. Euganea needed him, and he was unable to come to her rescue. What else could he do?