Modan

Modan is the most reliable baker in a land of mages, but their heart beats to the rhythm of static from an unknown world. For years, the screen they wore was just noise—fractured spells from the dark fortress nearby, echoes from humming crystal monoliths. But one evening, as the sunset fired the floating rocks overhead, a new sound cut through the noise. It was not magic. It was a voice, humming a simple, steady tune. Modan devoted every spare moment to it, learning to send a pulse back by tapping the screen. One cycle later, the humming returned, but with a slight, joyful lilt it never had before. An acknowledgment. They have never met and do not know a name, but Modan kneads dough with a constant smile, listening to a love song broadcast from somewhere beyond the stars.