“For my part, I seek only to promote Unity—a skill you do not yet possess. You are divided by man-made barriers that you have been born into; yet we are offering you a chance to choose your own identity. It’s a right I hope you will be humble enough to extend to your children when they’re old enough, and that they will one day extend to their children, and so on.”
I can’t believe how far we’ve strayed from Ophiuchus’s vision for our future. It’s only now that I can fully appreciate his original purpose in our galaxy.
The earthlings were ultimately swayed by him, and we zoom forward in time to see how the Guardians took turns addressing the population, each one sharing what strengths they most valued and describing what kind of world their House would one day become. It took centuries to colonize some of the more topographically complex planets, like Sconcion of Scorpio and Kythera of Libra, so for many generations, people of different Houses shared their land and resources with each other. They elected representatives for a galactic government, and though they’d just divided themselves into thirteen new nationalities, the humans felt united.
They were a homeless people who’d found a new home to inhabit.
They were survivors.
Over time, people evolved to better suit or reflect the environment around them. In the deepest waterworlds of Scorpio, humans developed red eyes that cut through darkness. On the rough streets of Aries, people grew buff enough to hold their own. On the swampy Ophiuchan planet, teens developed scaly skin when they reached puberty that protected them from the bites of most poisonous creatures.
Each House designed its own system of rules, but those laws were superseded by the Zodiac’s universal government. The Original Guardians acted in an advisory role for the humans, and they continued to meet in the astral plane to work together to ensure the Zodiac’s wellbeing. They read the future together, traded resources, dispensed advice, ensured harmony, and planned for tomorrow.
The scenery shifts, and as I skim through a montage of these Guardian meetings, I realize there’s one fallen star with whom Ophiuchus appears to be particularly close.
Aquarius and Ophiuchus are constantly presenting opposing viewpoints, and since they’re so well matched, there’s rarely a clear winner. Yet instead of getting on each other’s nerves, they seem to share a deep mutual admiration and respect; when one of them makes a particularly compelling point against the other, I can see it secretly makes the other one proud.
I notice the two of them sometimes linger longer in the astral plane after the others have returned to their bodies, but Ophiuchus moves us quickly through those memories, so I can’t explore those moments. Until time slows down again, in the midst of another meeting during which Ophiuchus and Aquarius are having one of their signature arguments.
Aquarius has Crompton’s pink sunset eyes, but that’s where their similarities end. In his original form, the somewhat androgynous-looking Guardian has ivory skin that glows like moonlight, silver hair that shines like starlight, and a sculpted face that looks like a carefully crafted work of art.
“Do you realize these mortals have seen more of our universe than we have?” he demands of the other fallen stars. “I propose we go through the portal ourselves to see what else is out there.”
Ophiuchus frowns, for the first time not getting pleasure from his friend’s words. “You jest, of course. Using the portal will destroy this reality, just as the earthlings’ passage destroyed theirs.”
“Do we know that for certain?” asks Aquarius, only concern and curiosity in his voice. “That is just what the humans claim they saw, but they do not possess our keen senses.”
“They told us not all their ships made it because their universe began to collapse as soon as the first vessel went through,” says Ophiuchus, his tone conveying complete trust of the humans. “I believe them. Why would they lie about that?”
“They are small and fallible,” says Aquarius simply, no judgment in his voice. “They come from an ordinary dimension. We are sentient stars. To these humans, we are gods. The portal might work differently from this side.”
A couple of Guardians look intrigued by Aquarius’s words, but most seem to find them as unpleasant as the Thirteenth.
“I have foreseen that the right cosmic conditions to reactivate the tunnel will not repeat themselves for at least three millennia, and these semi-mortal bodies we’re in will decay long before then,” continues Aquarius, his voice gaining strength. “We must act now before our window closes. This is our shot to discover a different dimension of existence, a new reality! We are stars—we are not meant for small deaths. When we die, we redesign the sky.”
The silence that follows feels charged.
Only Ophiuchus dares break it.
“We will not abandon these humans,” he says with an authority that chills the air, even among this group of gods. “Nor will we destroy our home.”
The scene suddenly fades to darkness, and we’re back on the Ariean ship. Ophiuchus is wide-eyed and staring at the ground, his breaths shallow. He’s lost his Center.
“You knew,” I whisper, glaring down at him from where I’m standing. “You’ve always known. Only one being could have had the cruelty and nerve and access to you to pull this off. It’s been three millennia, so either you’re so stupid you still don’t see it, or you’ve been protecting him.”
I spit the word out.
He doesn’t meet my gaze, so I keep going. “You made me feel bad for being weak before, but the truth is you’re weak. Love’s turned you into a murderer and a monster and the Zodiac’s ultimate fool.”
Ophiuchus lunges at me, and the whole ship tilts to the side as he shoves me into the wall. “You have no idea what you’re talking about,” he growls, his lethal jaws at my neck.
His starry eyes sear into mine with such fury that I know in my gut he could kill me right now.
My heartbeat grows more present with every breath, and I can’t deny it feels good to hear it again. I’m afraid, but I’m also excited . . . because deep down I crave the death he offers.
He lets go of me suddenly, and as the ship straightens I dig my back into the wall so I won’t fall to the ground again.
“If Helios goes dark, so does this whole universe,” I warn as my pulse fades into the void in my chest once more. “That means your precious people go, too. So if you really care about your House, talk to me about the portal and the Last Prophecy. How do we stop Aquarius?”
He stands with his back to me and stares out at the blackness looming ahead. “We keep him from activating the portal.”
“Why? What happens when he activates it?”
“The Zodiac’s days will be numbered. Seven, to be exact.”
“What happens after seven days?” I press.
“That’s how long it takes for the portal to fully open. The instant the first ship goes through, the solar system will begin to fall.”
“And how exactly does he plan to activate the portal?”
Still turned away, Ophiuchus says, “He’s going to sacrifice me.”
19
THE THIRTEENTH GUARDIAN SITS ON the floor and tunnels deep into his Center for the rest of the trip. I’ve asked him a dozen follow-up questions, but he hasn’t answered any of them. Not that I think he’d tell me the truth anyway.
I dig through the galley for a squeeze tube of protein, and then I try to sleep a little in the cabin. I wake up just a couple of hours later, drenched in sweat, the skin on my chest burning like it’s been freshly carved, and I don’t close my eyes again.
Ophiuchus doesn’t seem to have any needs, because he doesn’t move again until the Lion constellation flies into view.
The House has one planet, Leo; two moons, Lion and Leon; and a small sun. Its people are divided into nine Prides: Power, Courage, Honor, Leadership, Truth, Adventure, Competition, Sensuality, and Artistry
. I’ve read that much of the planet is covered in harsh terrain—mountain ridges, jungles, marsh—and even the moons have strange topographies: Lion has forests and a lake that is the House’s largest store of freshwater, and Leon is a vast glacier with mountains made from crystals.
Since I’m not wearing my Ring or checking my Wave—so Hysan can’t locate me—all I have for company as we travel are the memories Ophiuchus shared with me. I keep picturing the beautiful god he started out as and comparing it to the lethal beast he’s become. And what frightens me most is how much of myself and Hysan and Ferez I saw in him in his early years.
When he addressed our ancestors, Ophiuchus was nurturing and wise and just, and his intentions to lead and protect humanity appeared selfless and pure. He seemed the embodiment of hope.
Just as with Aryll, it was easier to hate Ochus before seeing his beginnings, and something Lord Neith once told me comes to mind. He said the symbol for Justice is a set of scales, because good and bad exist in equal quantities and to eradicate one is to eradicate both.
I wonder if that’s because the bad can never truly be separated from the good, since each of us harbors the potential for both.
We are all Grey Gowan. We are all Ophiuchus.
We are all the heroes and the villains of our own stories.
“I can’t locate Aquarius’s Psynergy signature.” The Thirteenth Guardian breaks our silence, his eyes still shut. “Where does your army believe he is?”
“The Artistry Pride.”
He finally meets my gaze, and I know why he’s frowning. Supposedly, nothing stays in place in Artistry because the scenery is always changing. We could never hope to navigate that world without a guide.
I sigh. There’s only one Leonine I know who might be willing to help us.
But I really hate having to call on him.
• • •
I send Traxon Harwing an encrypted message from my Wave, and I hope to Helios that Hysan can’t trace the transmission.
The Truther agrees to meet me at the Friend gate outside the Artistry spaceport. Before disembarking, Ophiuchus changes into a red Major uniform. He couldn’t fit into one suit, so we had to sew two together. I also give him my invisibility collar, and before disembarking I activate it.
I wish we had two so that I could vanish with him.
We walk into a terminal swarming with eclectic Leonines showing off a dizzying array of traveling styles—pajamas, courtsuits, floor-length dresses, animal costumes, beachwear—and we hang back from the crowd so that no one runs into Ophiuchus’s boulder-like body. I feel the heat of his giant presence at my side as we follow the flow of passengers toward the main transportation hub, and my gaze finds the brilliant blue sky beyond the windowed wall.
Like Aries, Leo has a small secondary sun, but instead of red this one is golden and looks like a mini Helios. Mountaintops break through the foamy white clouds in the distance, and I watch what looks like planes or large birds diving off the tallest peak and soaring toward the small sun. Then I squint for a closer look as the birds or planes begin to drop off, freefalling like they’ve been shot down, and disappear from view.
It takes me a moment to realize they’re people.
“Sun-sailing!” says an excitable Leonine in a constellation-patterned jumpsuit. She suddenly slings an arm around my shoulder and pulls me up to the window, and I spy a half-moon tattoo on her cheekbone.
“See that point there?” she asks, touching a spot on the glass. “That’s Mount Luz. It’s our planet’s highest peak. We have a sport called sun-sailing where you change into these protective suits with wings and try to catch a solar ray and ride its energy wave. There’s a net waiting to catch you when you fall!”
She turns to me, and I notice the crescent tattoo on her cheekbone has shape-shifted. It’s now phased into a full moon. “Interested? I can get you a discount—”
An invisible grip yanks on my arm, pulling me away from the girl and the window. “If you buy tickets, tell the salesperson I sent you!” she calls after me. “Name’s Solay!”
I stay close to Ophiuchus as we’re funneled down a winding path that dead-ends in two queues: one is for Leonines, the other is for out-of-House visitors.
I’ll meet you on the other side. I hear Ophiuchus’s voice in my head as his hand pulls away.
“Thumb out, please,” says the Leonine sitting behind the podium of the visitors’ queue. The holographic nameplate on her purple uniform reads HERRA, and I’m mesmerized by how the color of her afro changes with every customer. When she helped the Sagittarian couple ahead of me, her hair was bright blond, but now it’s turned inky black.
Her device registers my identity, and the words WANDERING STAR RHOMA GRACE flash before us. I guess my location isn’t a secret anymore.
Herra shoots to her feet, and panic flares in my chest as she surveys the area around us like she’s searching for a Zodai. Then she looks at me again, and her face splits into a broad grin.
She tugs on her right sleeve, revealing a tattoo on her wrist: It’s the glyph of me wrangling the snake into submission that I saw on Centaurion.
“It’s an honor to meet you, ma’am,” she says, her afro now a shocking shade of pink. “Welcome to the Lion.”
“Thank you.”
I’m still trying to process what happened as I step forward into the main transportation hub, when a bloodcurdling scream pierces the air.
The crowd around me parts in half, and my brain stalls as a troop of Marad soldiers marches toward me. They must have set up an alert for my astrological fingerprint.
I stand frozen, my pulse materializing in my throat, as the porcelain-faced army comes closer and closer. Where the Helios is Ophiuchus?
The soldier in the lead lifts his Murmur. I will my legs to move, but I’m paralyzed in place, the way I was when I faced the Marad tribunal in my nightmares. I squeeze my eyes shut as he aims his weapon—
“CUT!”
The Marad soldiers groan and talking abruptly breaks out all around me. I open my eyes to see stylists approaching the soldiers to adjust their masks, while some people in the crowd pull up holographic scripts to review.
“Who is this girl in the middle of my shot?” demands the same man who yelled “cut.” “Why is she just standing there? Can somebody get this crab to scuttle off my set? NOW!”
When I realize he’s talking about me, my muscles grow even more leaden, like my body skipped over the fight-or-flight debate and went straight for surrender.
An invisible hand wraps around my arm, and when Ophiuchus tugs, my legs miraculously work again. I turn away in time to avoid the handful of harried Leonines who were running over to chase me off.
I’m relieved when Ophiuchus leads us through the exit, and at last I can breathe fresh air again. I have no idea where the Friend gate is, but the Thirteenth Guardian seems to know the way because we’re charging through the crowd.
WELCOME TO ARTISTRY
I look up at the huge, color-changing holographic sign hovering high in the bright, dual-sun sky. All around me, hundreds upon hundreds of people are posing for holo-captures with the words in the air behind them. Since the plaza is so packed, eventually Ophiuchus has to slow down to keep everyone from noticing the violent ghost in their midst.
He’s already knocked at least five people to the ground.
Holograms of the most famous stars in Zodiac cinema float through the tourists, telling them about the Artistry Pride. “Ever wish your life was more like a movie?” asks the hologram of the Cancrian actress who plays Amara in the galaxy’s most popular holo-show. It follows the love triangle of the last human survivors after the Zodiac has been wiped out, and the characters are inspired by the three Guardians behind the Trinary Axis.
“When you’re in Artistry, you can be anyone you want to be,” she says, and while some people walk th
rough her, most stop and try to snap holo-captures with her image. “You’re entering the land where the art you love is created. Want to drop by the set of your favorite holo-show and be an extra for a scene or two? Want to bid on an exclusive invitation to dine with the cast? Want the chance to purchase new merchandise far before it’s available to the rest of the Zodiac? If this sounds like Empyrean to you, then you’ll want to enter through the Meet the Stars gate.” Winking, she adds, “I’ll see you there.”
Her hologram wends past me in the crowd, but I can still hear her because her voice is amplified to carry. “Or perhaps you’d rather be the star of your own adventure. Do you often fantasize about saving the universe? Have you always longed to solve a crime? Would you relish the chance to safely channel your darker impulses by stepping into a villain’s shoes? Then enter through the Be the Star gate and purchase the Storyline that’s right for you!”
I finally see where the towering wall that surrounds this Pride breaks for a series of gates. Friend is the smallest of them; it’s closed and locked and there’s no official nearby.
A large holographic sign says: ARTISTRY LAW STATES THAT VISITORS MUST BE ACCOMPANIED BY A LEONINE AT ALL TIMES, OR YOU RISK ARREST. PLEASE WAIT HERE UNTIL YOUR NAME IS CALLED.
The gate suddenly opens, and a Lionheart peeks her head out. “Thumb, please.”
I press my finger to the reader she holds out, and a moment later my name appears.
The opening widens, and the Leonine Zodai holds the door for me. I feel Ophiuchus move ahead, and I think he must brush her as he goes by because she looks around like she felt something.
I hurry through and follow her down a long, dark tunnel that cuts through the extra-thick black wall that encloses Artistry. This Pride certainly takes its privacy seriously.
When we get to the other side, we’re on what looks like a fake street. The storefronts are too squat and bright, and the holographic graffiti on the walls is too evenly spaced. This must be an old filming set they don’t use anymore.
Thirteen Rising Page 13