A doll in the twilight hours; the sun fades, it feels its physical body tick down slower, slower, slower...
As the first pinprick stars decorate the night sky, the doll undergoes its nightly metamorphosis. The magic that spurs it, keeps it conscious; now spools out, unwinds... and begins to bleed into the night sky, like a drop of condensation being reunited with a pool.
Once more, emptiness is all the doll's body is -- a shell, pure and true; and its purpose again drifts amongst its sister stars.
Some day, it will find its witch. She is waiting somewhere; in the vast, cold, love-filled void. Perhaps she is the void, and every night the doll, once a star, undergoes its own tiny stellar cycle.
And yet, as the dawn takes the earth once more... the light of sol is the exact same nuclear chain reaction that glimmers and burns behind the doll's wide, amber eyes.
"Until tonight again, Miss."