David stirred, his eyes fluttering open as the first rays of sunlight crept over the horizon. The warm weight of Cuddlebugs nestled against him shifted as he uncurled, stretching his wings with a satisfying pop. He found himself still perched on Claire's back, the massive reptile yawning softly beneath him as he began to stir.

"Rise and shine, sleepyhead," Claire rumbled, her voice already bright and alert. "You missed quite the show last night. The stars were something else."

"Yeah that's the whole problem…” David blinked, memories of his strange dream flickering at the edges of his consciousness. "Did I? Shame. How long was I out?"

"Long enough," Claire chuckled. "The others are already getting started on the telescope."

As if on cue, a loud clang echoed across the compound, followed by Gideon's muffled cursing. David winced, fully awake now.

The next few hours passed in a whirlwind of activity. David found himself playing courier, zipping back and forth with parts clutched in his talons. His ability to fly made him the perfect gofer for smaller pieces, much to his chagrin. Gideon barked orders like a tiny, furry drill sergeant, his paws gesticulating wildly as he directed the operation. Cuddlebugs simply flitted about, chirping happily, unable to assist in any way but still delighted to be involved. They settled over the telescope and watched Gideon work with fascination at the shiny tools he held, and David heard him avidly explaining every step of what he was doing to them when he thought nobody was listening.

Kozlov grunted and strained with the heavy lifting, while Adam and Wally scurried about, clearing space and stabilizing the base. Claire, too large to help directly despite her earlier boasting, kept watch and offered a steady stream of encouragement mixed with sarcastic quips.

"You missed a spot, Kozlov," she called out, grinning as the bear shot her a good-natured glare.

By midday, the telescope was taking shape. Its main body loomed over them, a Frankenstein's monster of salvaged parts and ingenuity. Gideon darted about, making adjustments and muttering to himself in a language that sounded suspiciously like equations.

"Wrench!" he barked suddenly, holding out a paw. David obliged with a quick wing-beat, dropping the tool into Gideon's waiting grasp. "Perfect. Now, if I can just convince this stubborn piece of..."

As the sun climbed higher, David found his thoughts drifting back to his strange dream. The fox-creature's words echoed in his mind, a constant undercurrent to the day's labor.

Crimson stars and cosmic quests, sounds like the title of a bad sci-fi novel. That had to be an Overseer right? That entire thing was way too real…I'm pretty sure I remember most of what they said, and that's not normal for me, really. I can barely remember what I said half the time.

"What's got you smirking?" Claire asked, eyeing him curiously.

David shook his head. "Just imagining what we might see through this thing. Fifty-fifty chance it's either the secrets of the universe or Kozlov's long-lost stash of honey."

Claire snorted, a sound somewhere between amusement and exasperation. "At the rate we're going, we might find out sooner rather than later. Gideon's like a puffball on a mission from God."

Right on cue, Gideon let out a triumphant squeak. "Mirror assembly secured! We're on the final stretch, team!"

A ragged cheer went up, more an expression of relief than excitement. David grinned despite himself, caught up in the moment even as that nagging sense of something tugged at the back of his mind. As the day wore on and the telescope inched closer to completion, David simply couldn't shake the feeling that they were tiptoeing on the edge of... well, something. The air felt charged, like the moment before a thunderstorm when your hair stands on end and you can taste the lightning.

"Where reason fears to tread, bat-boys... uh, lead?" David muttered to himself, fumbling for the right words as he helped Gideon with a final calibration. He gripped the casing tightly as Gideon fixed everything together, wielding his screwdriver like a mighty weapon for someone his size.

Gideon paused, shooting him a quizzical look. "You say something?"

"Just, uh, working on my poetry," David replied with a sheepish grin. "Turns out I'm not the next Shakespaw."

Gideon shook his head, too focused on his work to question David's sudden interest in terrible animal puns. As they worked, David couldn't help but wonder what exactly they were about to unleash upon themselves. Whatever it was, he had a feeling it was going to be one hell of a show, but he was unwilling to back out now.

They'd have warned me if this was dangerous…right? I mean, they were trying to warn me about something, you'd think you'd include a bit about it being lethal. I would anyway. Rules shattering doesn't sound good though, I'll admit. Okay, fine, most of it didn't sound good…

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

As the sun began to dip towards the horizon once more, Gideon stepped back, wiping his brow with a satisfied sigh. "Ladies and gentlemen," he announced, his voice ringing with pride, "I believe we have ourselves a functioning telescope."

The group gathered around, a mix of exhaustion and anticipation on their faces. David's eyes were drawn to the sky, where the first stars were just becoming visible.

David hopped onto Claire's head, nestling into his favorite spot behind her frill. He surveyed the chaos below, their makeshift observatory looking like the lovechild of a junkyard and a mad scientist's lab.

The telescope, an antique behemoth they'd somehow wrestled into submission, loomed over the scene like a drunk giraffe trying to do yoga. The main body, a brass tube that had definitely seen better days, caught the fading light in a way that screamed tetanus hazard. Gideon, in a fit of questionable genius, had cobbled together a Rube Goldberg nightmare of ropes and pulleys that allegedly allowed for adjustments.

David was pretty sure at least three of those ropes were just for show.

Kozlov's bear-strength had been put to the test lifting the base of the thing onto what David strongly suspected was some sort of weapons mount from one of the abandoned vehicles scattered about, though he had no idea how they managed to remove it. The base wobbled in a way that suggested it was held together by hope, spit, and maybe a prayer or two.

Around the telescope's feet, a precarious fortress of crates and scavenged junk formed a platform that looked about as stable as a house of cards in a hurricane. The primary mirror, miraculously intact, sat at the base like the world's most fragile crown jewel, protected by what appeared to be an old tarp they'd found somewhere.

At the business end, the eyepiece awaited, a jumble of lenses that Gideon had fussed over for hours. David had caught him talking to the lenses at one point, which was either dedication or the first sign of madness.

Maybe both.

The entire area looked like it had been hit by a tornado with a vendetta against tidiness. Tools lay scattered about, many bearing the distinct marks of improvised use by beings not designed for delicate mechanical work. One wrench had what were unmistakably tooth marks from when Wally had tried to be ‘helpful.’

If ‘held together by sheer willpower’ had a physical form, this would be it. But hey, it’s standing. Mostly. That's something, right? Honestly I'm starting to get a little nervous now…

"Hey, Claire. Mind if I take a break up here?" David asked, his eyes still roaming over their creation. She rumbled in agreement and stomped around to the side of the entire contraption to get a better look at something that had gotten her interest as he decided how best to bring up his dream without sounding totally insane.

David took a deep breath after a few moments, steeling himself before he began. "Claire, I need to tell you something important. Last night, I had this weird dream, and I think... I think one of the Overseers was messing with me."

Claire's head tilted slightly, nearly dislodging David from his perch. Her voice was low and cautious. "An Overseer? Are you sure?"

"No," David admitted, "but it felt different from a regular dream. There was this creature, like a fox but with multiple tails. Its fur kept shifting colors, and it had this strange symbol on its forehead."

Claire hummed thoughtfully, a deep rumble that David felt through her scales. "That doesn't sound like Omega, except the symbol thing. What did this... fox-thing say?"

"That's the thing," David said, his wings twitching nervously. "It spoke in riddles. Stuff about 'crimson stars in night's dark veil' and 'when the trickster winks, the hydra blinks.' It mentioned rules being broken and favors being traded."

Claire's body tensed beneath him. "Rules being broken? That... doesn't sound good. Did it say anything else?"

David nodded, even though Claire couldn't see him. "Yeah, something about 'the eye of storms' and 'the hydra's gaze.' And it kept hinting at quests and great favor. But the weirdest part was how it ended. It said, 'Where reason falters, jesters reign, their crown of truth both gift and bane.'"

Claire's massive form tensed beneath David, her scales shifting uncomfortably. She let out a low, rumbling growl that vibrated through her entire body, causing David to grip her frill tighter to keep his balance.

"Damn it, David," she muttered, her tail twitching irritably. "Can't you just have normal dreams about falling or showing up to school naked like everyone else?"

She shook her head slightly, careful not to dislodge her passenger. "This is trouble. And not the fun kind of trouble you can just bite until it goes away, either."

Claire's eyes narrowed as she scanned the horizon, as if expecting some invisible trickster to materialize at any moment. "Why is it always you?" she grumbled. "I swear, you're a magnet for David-level weirdness."

Her claws dug into the ground, leaving deep furrows in the rust-colored soil. "We need to be careful," she said, her voice low and tense. "Whatever game these Overseers are playing, I don't like us being the pawns."

"I know," David sighed. "But what does it mean? And why me?"

Claire shook her head slightly. "I don't know. But if an Overseer is involved, it can't be a simple coincidence that we're setting up this telescope now. Maybe we're supposed to see something specific."

David's ears perked up. "The crimson star! The dream mentioned that specifically. You don't think..."

"That whatever we're about to see through that telescope is connected to your dream? It's possible," Claire admitted. "But David, we need to be careful."

David nodded, a chill running down his spine despite the warm evening air. "So what do we do?"

Claire was quiet for a moment, considering. "For now, we watch and wait. We'll use the telescope as planned, but we keep our eyes open for anything unusual. And David?"

"Yeah?"

"No more keeping secrets, okay? If anything else strange happens, dreams, visions, weird feelings– you tell me immediately. We're in this together, remember?"

David felt a wave of relief wash over him. "Thanks, Claire. You're a good friend."

As they turned their attention back to the telescope and the others, David couldn't shake the feeling that they were standing on the edge of something out of their pay grade. And as the first stars began to twinkle in the darkening sky, David found himself searching for a hint of crimson among them.

Great. I'm going to develop trust issues with the entire universe. As if being turned into a flying nightmare wasn't enough of an identity crisis.

Spooky, ever helpful, chose that moment to start growling at the constellations.

Oh, for— Spooky, it's just the sky. What, you think Orion's going to climb down and pick a fight? Why can't you just be a normal voice in my head and tell me to burn things or something?

As Spooky continued his celestial stand-off, David resigned himself to another night of weirdness. After all, why break his streak now?