Optimism became a galactic trait—and this was Tyrus’s doing as well. He had given the people of the galaxy something of infinitely greater value than a skilled leader: he’d given them an evil to overcome, then he’d let them overcome him. And a citizenry that had vanquished a dictator knew itself capable of any aim it pursued. Such people did not understand injustice as an aspect of the natural order, but as a flaw to be fixed through a community’s efforts.
For the next six years, I was content to watch Tyrus’s legacy reshape the worlds around me. But I had never intended to stay forever. I was only waiting for one more wondrous event.
It came on a warm afternoon, beneath the purple skies of a newly restored Lumina. This was the first of the devastated provinces salvaged after the fall of the Empire. The human remains had long been laid to rest, the toxic fumes of Resolvent Mist at last absorbed. Lumina’s Central Square now bloomed with a profusion of flowers.
Neveni turned to me in the sunlight as I inspected her bower dubiously, examining the flowered arch where she’d stand side by side to join with her husband. She gave a laugh at my confusion. “You’re wondering why plants. No lights.”
“You’re not going to link with electrodes?” I said. “Not even one?” Without them, it didn’t seem like much of a wedding to me.
“You know I’m traditional. I prefer nature. Flowers in hand, flowers overhead…”
I nodded, for she’d delayed their wedding until Lumina at last had its own natural vegetation growing again. I didn’t understand the impulse, but I suppose I didn’t have to. This wasn’t my marriage.
“Anguish doesn’t like electricity either.”
I snorted. “He also doesn’t like insects, but you’ve talked him into planetary life.”
“He talked me into it,” she said, laughing. “Living here was his suggestion.”
Even Gladdic’s role had been an idea of Anguish’s.
That Gladdic had become a vicar surprised us all. But he had explained to me that he’d had too many brushes with death not to wonder about the greater mysteries of the Living Cosmos.
He’d learned enough of Neveni’s older faith to preside over this ancient ritual, but he still looked very nervous and Gladdic-like as he took his place under the bower. The small crowd of newly settled Luminars fell into a respectful, expectant silence. I recognized some faces among them, people who’d resettled from Devil’s Shade when this new colony was formed.
Atmas, fast growing up into a young woman, turned and threw me a vibrant grin. She’d taken well to living under a real sun, on a planet with breezes and an actual sky to gaze upon. I gave her a stern mock frown, for the first strains of music were filling the air. Impishly, she winked and faced front again.
The music was our cue.
I circled around the bank of chairs to retrieve the groom. As we linked arms, I had no need to ask if he was nervous. He was all but vibrating with tension.
“Calm down,” I whispered.
“I am utterly calm,” Anguish said tersely, but he moved as stiffly as a board as we walked toward Neveni’s position beneath the bower. She watched with a broad grin, and I felt Anguish relax as he stared at her.
He became quite relaxed, forgetting all procedure and pulling free of me to seize her and draw her into a kiss.
“Afterward!” Neveni chided, laughing as she pulled free.
They turned together to Gladdic, who led them through the vows and then declared them husband and wife. They kissed again—and this time, Neveni did not step away until a few spoilsports in the audience began to clear their throats.
They had asked me to stay on as their guest after the wedding. It was pleasant, at first, to take a holiday from my usual circuit of speeches and lectures. I was much in demand to talk to students and political groups and philosophers about democracy and sovereignty and the overthrow of tyrants. Lately I had begun to feel as though I had nothing left to teach. The whole of the galaxy now agreed with me. The ancient texts were taught in all classrooms. New voices emerged every day, with ideas I could not have imagined myself. Many others now worked to enrich the same histories and philosophies Tyrus and I had revived. They did not merely enrich the ideas, but expanded upon them, and dreamed up new ones.
After an interlude in the company of the newlyweds, I awoke early one morning with a single thought in my mind: It’s time.
Almost as though they’d anticipated my decision, Neveni and Anguish were already awake. Neveni cast a regretful glance toward the bag slung over my shoulder. “Are you sure about this, Nemesis? We could use your help rebuilding around here.”
I shook my head. “You don’t need me.”
“No,” rumbled Anguish’s voice as he drew an arm about me. “But we want you to stay.”
I smiled at them, these people who had endured and mourned and celebrated and survived so much with me. “Thank you,” I said, not because they’d changed my plan, but because they valued me—not as a legend or liberator, but as a friend.
Yet I had to leave.
Wherever I went now, I became a spectacle: the famous Nemesis Impyrean, once Empress, ultimate liberator of the galaxy from the tyranny of her own husband. There were few places I could go without being hounded by crowds, pursued by holographic artists, chased by reporters.
“I’ll see what you’ve made of Lumina soon enough,” I assured Neveni, and embraced them both… my fellow Diabolic, my brother, and this girl who had been my dearest friend and greatest enemy, too.
I boarded the Alexandria and launched into the sky. Neveni and Anguish shrank away far below me as I was carried into the vivid purple atmosphere. My heart felt full as I looked down at this place where Tyrus had drawn me into his arms, where I had first begun to love as no Diabolic should, and where my destiny had changed irrevocably.
Then I aimed the ship on my course, and blasted off into my future.
48
2,500 YEARS LATER
Tyrus filled his mind with her and closed his eyes, grateful for the darkness awaiting him, for he wanted the image of Nemesis to be the last thing he saw.
His mind had dwelled morbidly upon the journey ahead, into the heart of a black hole. He’d convinced Nemesis he was entirely unafraid, but he had never quite convinced himself. Too many superstitious Helionic beliefs of childhood whispered in the back of his mind that this was the very cruelest fate, to be cast to unending darkness.… True and eternal separation from the divine Cosmos.
His ancestor, Amon von Domitrian, had unwillingly undertaken this same journey centuries before, and as a child, Tyrus had nightmares about such a fate, falling into an unending blackness from which there was no escape or return. Now he tried to remind himself that this was but a matter of physics. Science. This flight into the black hole would seem like mere minutes for him, while in the rest of the galaxy, centuries and millennia would have passed. He would endure but moments of this plunge before he would be crushed.
Nothing prepared him for the sensation of falling, the way his stomach registered the sensation as though he’d dropped off a great cliff. Tyrus’s eyes opened. He’d expected to see only darkness as he passed the event horizon.…
But this was not darkness. Far from it.
Skeins of vivid starlight swirled around him, enveloping him on all sides. It struck him that a black hole was only lightless from the outside. To one who could not see past the event horizon, it looked terrifying. But as his crystalline tomb plunged deeper into the hole, all the light that had been drawn in before him and with him also rippled alongside him, heading toward the same point.
Gazing out through the clear walls of the tomb, Tyrus beheld the most vividly beautiful flexures and configurations of starlight he’d ever seen. The sensation of falling faster and faster thrilled through him, his very soul seeming to swell and expand.
Everything—the entirety of his life—rushed through his mind, each sorrow and terrible moment of his abbreviated years, and above all, the torn sky above Ana
gnoresis.
He had chosen this fate. He had chosen it. He’d made this sacrifice after careful deliberation; it had been the most meaningful use of his existence. Yet tears pricked his eyes as the light rippled faster and faster around him, as together he and the light plunged deeper into the black hole.
Minutes had passed for him, heartbeats. But in the galaxy he’d left, centuries had gone by. Everyone he had known was gone now. Nemesis…
He prayed to whatever powers had created the universe that she’d accepted his fate, that she’d found happiness. It was all decided already, done, finished—centuries ago. Centuries.
In the silence, his thoughts strayed to his father, and for the first time since Anagnoresis, he felt peace when he thought of Arion. He’d sworn to Arion that he’d fix it. And so he had.
On the whole, his life had been kind. His life had been blessed. He’d found her. He’d known Nemesis. How many people knew what it was to love someone as he’d loved her, when she filled his very soul, his every heartbeat? And she loved him in return, and oh stars, how lucky he had been!
“This is not so cruel a fate,” he murmured aloud, gazing upon the ripples of light.
The Helionics had been wrong to think this was a place of darkness, of total remove from the universe. He would be shredded and torn apart soon enough—it was inevitable—but for the moment, he gazed out at the expanse of stardust funneling down alongside him and thought it the most wonderous sight he’d ever seen.
A prickling sensation drew his gaze to his palm.
Tyrus spread his hand and watched the electrode light up beneath his skin, in that same spot his lips had caressed before he’d descended into the tomb. He gazed at it with awe. It ignited as though she were here with him. How?
Then a shadow slid over him as something vast and metallic passed overhead, blotting out the view of the stars.
It was the Alexandria. Its tethers shot out and seized his tomb, jerked him up into the bright bay of a vessel.
For a moment, heart pounding, breathless, he lay stunned by the gravity abruptly pressing him down. And then the lid to his tomb sheared open, and a hand reached down to retrieve him.
Nemesis appeared over him, a figment of light amid the spill of artificial illumination.
“Come with me,” she said.
Was he dreaming?
Her palm touched his, and their twin electrodes crackled.
Still disbelieving, all Tyrus could do was stare. Was he already dead?
If so, death was kind. It was beautiful.
But she felt real as she pulled him to his feet, as she led him down the short corridor of a vessel too ungainly and solid to be some ethereal hallucinated carriage. She led him into a windowed command nexus as their vessel twisted and thrust against the currents of light being sucked into the black hole.
Tyrus seemed to awaken in that moment, and fear struck his heart. “You’re real. You’re here.” He seized her, horror unfolding deep within his being, for she would be trapped here as well. She had followed him into hell and she would not escape. “No. No, you can’t be here! Nemesis, please, tell me you didn’t throw your life away!”
Nemesis trained her beautiful, fierce-eyed gaze on the console before her. “I didn’t. Relax, Tyrus. You’re not the only one who can devise a secret plan.” She touched the controls, her gestures rapid and confident.
The ship bucked violently, shuddered and groaned—and shot directly into the pitch black that for a moment he thought was the depths of the black hole itself… and then he realized was hyperspace. Hyperspace!
Light could not escape a black hole, but perhaps none before had been reckless, mad, or desperate enough to try leaping into hyperspace from beyond the event horizon of a black hole. A wild laugh escaped him, and then they jolted back out into standard space, slowing to drift serenely amid an infinite array of distant stars, the black hole far behind them.
Nemesis reached her hand up to caress his hair, and said, “Did you really think I’d let you perish that way, my love?”
Amazement washed through Tyrus. He caught her in his arms, grappling for understanding. He touched her beautiful face, stroked his fingers through the bright current of her hair. “I still think I am dreaming. You flew into a black hole for me. What if you hadn’t been able to escape?”
“Then we would be together until the end of the universe,” Nemesis murmured. “But it seems instead we’ll simply share the rest of our lives.” She turned her face into his hand, her gaze as direct and clear as ever, her smile dazzling, perhaps a touch gleeful. I spent several years waiting for the right gravital window. I’ve seen what has become of the new republics. I’m satisfied with their direction. It’s time to leave. I told you there was another way.”
Wonder flooded his heart. Wonder and gratitude. His gaze dropped to their crackling, interlinked palms. This was how she’d found him—by their shared connection. “Why,” he realized after a moment, “we must be so far in the future.”
“Everyone we knew is long gone. The Empire, Tyrus von Domitrian, Nemesis Impyrean—all a distant memory.”
Tyrus framed her face in his hands, drinking in the sight of her. He knew she must be a beautiful hallucination. He drew her into his arms. Their lips met, and his heart seemed to turn over in his chest. “It’s you,” he whispered against her mouth. It was Nemesis… offering him another chance at existence.
“You will not be an Emperor, I will not be an Empress. We go into something totally unknown,” she murmured. “Are you ready for it?”
He laughed into her hair, laughter that verged oddly on a sob. Hearing it, she lifted her head, and he answered her questioning frown with a deep, loving kiss.
Joy, true joy, was too complex for a single sound.
But a single word would do. Was he ready? “Always.”
They set off through currents of starlight, leaving the curvature of darkness and the distant past far behind them.
They had created a new future. Now they would live in it.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
My first thanks is to my readers! I did not intend to make you wait so long after such a cliff-hanger—but I hope it paid off! Thank you for sticking with my characters, and especially thanks to those of you who have been with me since the beginning. It’s been a wonderful journey.
My next thanks is to Justin Chanda! I tremble to think of how this book might have turned out if I’d been working with anyone less patient, skilled, and discerning. I’ve been confident every book I’ve produced is the best possible work I could have created, and thanks to you, that is still the case with The Nemesis. I owe you a debt for that. And to Alyza, for being there every step of the way! And to the whole team at Simon & Schuster for supporting me.
To Holly Root, my fabulous agent, and Dana Spector.
To Meredith, Mom, Dad, Rob, Betsey, Sophia, Grace, Madeleine, and Stella—love you all!
To Jessica and the Persoffs, and Jamie and the Hattens. Todd, Jackie, Lesley, Yae, and all the Illinois crew.
Thanks to Jessica Carlson, for being a wonderful roommate during a tough year.
To Space Camp folks—especially Nicole Wagnon, Morgan Collins, KJ Oliver, Jeff Mazza, Amber Wright, Dillon Spicer, Cody Rieman, Celeste Hird, Matt Jones, and Chris Gorman. Thanks for a great year!
Thanks to Robert Graves, who wrote I, Claudius and inspired Tyrus + this YA sci-fi take on that story. I hope I did it justice!
And last but not least, thank you so much to the booksellers, children’s librarians, and bloggers who have passed on word of the Diabolic series to readers! I couldn’t do this without your support.
More from this Series
The Diabolic
Book 1
The Empress
Book 2
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
S. J. KINCAID is the New York Times bestselling author of The Diabolic and The Empress. She originally wanted to be an astronaut, but a dearth of mathematical skills made her turn her interest to
science fiction instead. Her debut novel, Insignia, was shortlisted for the Waterstones Children’s Book Prize. Its sequels, Vortex and Catalyst, have received stars from Kirkus Reviews and Booklist. She’s chronically restless and has lived in California, Alabama, New Hampshire, Oregon, Illinois, and Scotland, with no signs of staying in one place anytime soon. Visit her at sjkincaid.com.
Visit us at simonandschuster.com/teen
www.SimonandSchuster.com/Authors/S-J-Kincaid
Simon & Schuster Books for Young Readers
Simon & Schuster, New York
ALSO BY S. J. KINCAID
THE DIABOLIC TRILOGY
The Diabolic
The Empress
THE INSIGNIA TRILOGY
Insignia
Vortex
Catalyst
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This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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