by May Sage
“Star? Star, stay with me. Star!” he shouted, panicked.
He was so fixated on his sister, he didn't notice at first that there was something wrong with his own body. Then, catching a glimpse of his hand, Hart saw that it was trembling. The next instant, his breathing became erratic, hectic, and his own legs gave out.
He fell to the ground, taking Star with him.
“Are we dying?” his sister whispered weakly, her watery eyes on him, and her hand reaching out to take his.
He couldn’t talk; he’d never known pain like this. It was burning and freezing his flesh all at once. His blood was lava and his bones, ice.
No, he wanted to tell her. They weren’t dying. Even then, he knew it. This didn't feel like the end.
It felt like a beginning.
Hart's body was calming down, slowly. He found himself capable of moving a finger. He noticed that they had company. A few people had rushed to them, and were offering their aid, asking if they were alright, reaching out.
He instinctively recoiled from them. He had to get out of here. They both did.
Getting to his feet felt like a herculean task, requiring all his strength, but he managed it, and then, he somehow also found the will to pull Star into his arms.
Family first.
“My sister fainted,” he lied mechanically, saying the first thing that came to mind, to no one in particular. “I'm taking her to the infirmary.”
Star kept her eyes closed, playing along, although she was conscious now.
Ignoring the buzz around them, not answering to any offer of help, he started running.
His feet were heavy at first, as if someone had stuffed his boots with iron. But they were lighter at the next step, and then, lighter again.
“So fast!”
“Holy goddess, have you seen the Alvar boy? Is he training for the galactic contests?”
Slow down, he heard clearly in his head.
It didn't come from his mind; in fact, it wasn't his voice at all. It was Star's.
His sister and he had always understood each other perfectly without needing to communicate out loud, but this was something else.
Something frightening.
And dangerous.
He slowed down as they approached the Academy, walking at a pace that felt excruciatingly slow, to him.
There were closed doors to either side of him, and he could hear what happened on the other side. Not just faint noise muffled by the soundproofed walls, he heard it as clearly as if he'd been inside the classroom.
On the left, finally, one room was silent.
He reached out to open the door and found it locked.
Hart didn't think; he tugged a little harder on the handle.
The door burst open with a crack.
Shit.
Don't freak out. Don't freak out.
He repeated this mantra as he entered the dark empty room. Star jumped to her feet and pulled the door closed.
Then there was silence and darkness.
He found that he liked both.
Time stretched. He was positive that they'd probably missed astrology and maybe even arithmetic, too.
Finally, he spoke.
His mouth didn't move, but he spoke nonetheless, directly to his twin.
"Are you all right?"
Star snorted. "Nothing is going to be right from now, Hart."
He didn't ask her why she thought so.
Their interest in food notwithstanding, Star and Hart were night and day, but they used to have one thing in common: their interest in academia. They were sixteen and fluent in seven languages, most of them from other planets. They were learning an eighth and taking four advanced classes.
One of them covered the subject of metamorphosis. Inward change, molecular reconstruction.
“Various living organisms go through metamorphosis. Plants, insects, and, in some cases, Evris.”
The concept of Evris metamorphosis had made Hart frown and hold his hand up. When the tutor invited him to speak, he'd asked, “We can go through metamorphosis? I'm not certain I understand your meaning.”
“That's quite alright Mister Alvar. At some point during puberty, certain Evris undergo a molecular change and develop terrible abilities. I'm certain you're familiar with their kind.”
Comprehension had lightened up his features then, and he'd let the professor move on to the next subject, disinterested.
“Hart?”
Star spoke out loud now. The tone of her voice was calmer than expected. There was no fear, just resignation.
“Yes?”
“We're mages, aren't we?”
He closed his fists.
Mages.
Dangerous creatures made to murder, pillage, and destroy. Killed on sight, for the good of all.
“Never say these words again. Not to me, not to anyone. You know what they'll do to us if they find out.”
‘They’ was everyone. Their friends, their tutors, Star’s admirers, their own parents.
It used to be “family first,” but now, there only was Star and Hart, against the rest of the known universe.
“Promise me, Star.”
“But what if we are dangerous. What if we hurt people?” She lowered her eyes. “I've always been quick to anger. Maybe it's because that's what we're meant to be. Killers. We should—”
Hart didn't have time for this crap. “If anyone finds out about you, they find out about me, and I die.” He knew he had her there. Star had never cared about her own well-being, her own happiness. His, however, was another matter. “You might as well pull the trigger yourself. Understood?”
Her eyes widened. He saw her shock in the darkness.
“It's you and me, sis. Always.”
Finally, slowly, she nodded. “Okay. You and me.”
Seven
Conquest
Taking over the planet took perhaps three hours; one of their faster jobs.
As was the case in many smaller systems, every place of importance on Zeru was converged in the one ruling city. The insurgents sent various ships to control the outer regions, and the commanders headed to Scavra, the capital.
Evi's squadron had already blown the system’s defensive shields to pieces, while Kai and his light fighters had either destroyed or incapacitated their fleet. The army, air force, and navy on the surface were child's play to mages.
Kai Lor Hora often seemed like a reasonable person when they conversed, discussed the fate of their worlds, or were just hanging out while listening to music, but when he fought, he was someone else, something else.
A beast.
He wore his white and red mask, but Hart would have sworn that underneath the metal protection, the Evris was smiling as his blade cut through exosuits. He’d often heard him laugh with glee as he danced around his enemies. With one hand extended, manipulating more energy than any one individual should be able to, Kai immobilized a dozen enemies, and with the other, he swung the fyriron sword he'd handcrafted himself in the depths of the Haimo forges. Hart had seen him in the middle of dozens of battles, and each time, he seemed darker, colder, faster, more powerful.
Sometimes, Hart was envious of their leader, but then he remembered. They hadn't been molded in the same sort of cast, from the very start.
Kai had been raised on the mineral planet; crafting weapons had been his first trade as a child. At nine years of age, Hart had played games, chased his sister on the beach, and enjoyed his childhood. Meanwhile, Kai had slaved away on a bitterly cold planet, from dawn to dusk, fearing for his safety every day, every night. It was no wonder that they’d grown into very different sorts of males. Hart might have had it harder than most, but he hadn’t struggled to exist from the moment he’d been born.
Hart listened in to the battle through his communicator. Kai led the attack on the ground, taking the city from the outside. When Hart felt his considerable presence draw near, he finally got up from the floor of his cell and pushed the door open aga
in.
Wilm had left some time ago, smart boy that he was. Hart waltzed out. Outside the dungeon, there were a few drones set up to prevent prisoners from leaving, should they somehow manage to get out of their cells. Small, circular surveillance robots fitted with a few weapons.
They shot stun blasts his way; Hart lifted his hand, erecting a protective shield in front of him, and then waved almost lazily. The four machines’ red power lights went out and they fell to the floor, making little noise.
Drones were easy. The soldiers upstairs might prove a little more of a challenge, given the fact that Hart wasn't armed or protected. He wore a simple, long coat; it made sense to come to a politic meeting without weapons.
“Don't play the hero,” his sister's voice warned him. “No one needs you right now, Kai's team will be at the door in a few minutes.”
“And they'll find the building protected by a force field, as well as a good hundred soldiers waiting for them. What then, sister?”
They both knew what would happen. The mages would throw energy blasts at the building until their defenses imploded, plunging it all into darkness, confusing the soldiers, and then picking them off one by one.
And there might be—would be—casualties. There always were. War was no playtime.
Hart heard Star's sigh from where she was observing the assault, all the way inside Kai's command ship.
“That's about the spoiled brat, right? You want to keep your promise. Make sure she and her siblings don't get hurt in the crossfire.”
Hart made no answer; he didn't need to. Star knew him too well.
“Fine. Just don't get yourself hurt over something stupid like that. I won't heal you if you do.”
She was, of course, lying.
All mages have the ability to manipulate energy, and various skills could be acquired if they cared to practice them. In addition to that, some among them had also been born with specific gifts.
Hart had heard that there were seers, able to predict the future and visualize long, forgotten pasts. He knew that some were incredibly powerful psychics. Hart could hear Star's thoughts unless she guarded them against him, and he could also send his own thoughts to another mage, like most of their kind, but the best psychics were able to push against mental shields and read protected thoughts.
Then there was the likes of Kai, who was apt in almost every kind of magic.
From the very beginning, Star had been a healer. Her energy was in reviving plants, healing cuts, mending broken bones all around her, whether she wished to or not, in their early days. She'd had to cut herself off from people so that no one noticed it until she'd learned to control it.
Whenever Hart had so much as a slight bruise, she couldn't help herself from fixing it.
Hart had no such skills. His strength was of a very different nature.
He took the elevator to the first floor, where most of the building’s enforcers were gathered. When the elevator's doors opened, dozens and dozens of spooked soldiers—lances at hand, staring at the main entrance, shivering under their exosuits—turned to Hart.
He stepped out, hands in his pockets, relaxed. He swept the room in one glance, assessing threats. He found none. No strong spirit, no one with a warrior’s aura, no mage.
“I have a question for you all. You don't need to answer it; not to me. But ask yourself; what are you protecting? Is it worth the price you’re paying?”
He didn't raise his voice, but being the son of two politicians, Hart had long ago acquired the skill of speaking clearly, with authority and purpose. All heard him.
“Are you protecting the king barricaded in his rooms as we speak? The king who didn't send you out in the street to take care of the weak, the young, the helpless. Or are you protecting his ideal? A world where only he may keep his hair as long as he wishes, when every person I saw outside these walls had recently been forced to shave theirs. A world where only he and his spawn may wear gold. A world where some are born to rule, and others to follow, serve, or die at their leisure. A world that will never protect you, your children, or your families.”
One soldier bit the hook. “So what, you're saying you'd protect us?”
Hart chuckled. “Not quite. I'm saying that if you remain here, I will break your bones, starting with your legs, then your hands, your arms. I’m saying you will suffer, needlessly, and without reason. Barbaric, I know, but it's actually preferable to what would happen if my people come through those doors. You'll have to take my word for it.”
They did not, in fact, take his word for it, sadly. Hart sighed as the first lance was thrown his way, before lifting his hand, pushing a suitable amount of energy to stop it in midair.
The soldiers gasped. Why, Hart wondered. Didn't they know he was a mage? This was the kind of skill the youngest, least experienced among them had mastered; being impressed by it was laughable.
But he could guess that they’d never seen any kind of magic at all. Witnessing power first hand was probably a different thing.
Now that he had their attention, he tried again. “Step down. Deactivate your exosuits, put your weapons on the floor. You shall not be armed.”
Three seconds passed when the first soldier dropped his lance and retracted the nanotech suit off his limbs. Within the next minute, another twenty followed suit. The others kept theirs firmly in hand.
Unfortunately for those who wanted to test him, see if he was bluffing, Hart was a male of his word.
He closed his eyes, and curled his fists, reaching deep inside himself. The screams started, accompanied with the sound of bones shattering and breaking. Hart wasn't cruel, he did his best to ensure that the damage could be reversed, but while working on such a large crowd, he had to concentrate to make his blows accurate. When he opened his eyes, three dozen soldiers were on the floor, crying, writhing, holding their broken limbs.
One twin could heal; the other had been given the power to destroy. Strange that it was he, the most level-headed of the two—and the one who didn’t actually want to destroy things most of the time—who'd ended up being the lethal one. And at the same time, not strange at all. Star had a temper; if such power had rested in her hands, it would have been chaos. Hart seldom made use of it.
He crossed the entry hall, shoving his hands back in his pockets, ignoring the soldiers until he found a short, skinny one still standing, in simple gear, without his exosuit. One of those he hadn’t harmed.
“You. Open the door.”
He had to give the boy some credit. Instead of obeying right away, he glanced towards another soldier, with decorations on his sleeves, no doubt his squadron leader. It was one of the males still writhing and growling on the floor. He nodded, and the boy ran toward the control panel next to the slim, tall, pointed door of the tower. He entered a few commands, deactivating the tower’s shields and opening it.
On the other side of the door, walking ahead of a few dozen soldiers, there were seven mages. The most notable one, standing right in the middle, was a head taller than anyone else, and wore a familiar mask. At his left, right next to his flank, there was a blue-white wolf fitted with an exosuit, its mouth full of dripping blood. Sky. Hart had known the beast for nine years and he didn’t doubt that if he’d ever looked at Kai the wrong way, or moved to strike him, she would have jumped at him and ripped his throat out without an instant of hesitation.
Kai Lor removed his helmet. His hair was all over the place and a strange glint lit up his eyes.
Kai truly shone at war. Hart respected the fact that he didn’t hide his predilection for action under pretenses.
“Now here's a sight to be seen. A coat has joined the fight, friends.” Kai had taken to calling politicians ‘coats’. Glancing behind Hart, the leader lifted a brow. “Good work, Alvar. Your method may seem a little crude, but at least it limits casualties.”
Against a greater number, Kai generally pushed them back using his energy; skulls had shattered against walls, some died on impact, others had
suffered from internal bleeding. Hart didn’t mess up. He didn't shove power at people; he felt every part of their organism and could opt to affect a specific area without touching the rest. Star’s gift was exactly the same, except for the fact that she could only mend, while Hart was just able to break.
“I figured I'd save us all some time. Come on in. I need to debrief you.”
Kai nodded, and waved him forward, inviting him to walk with him.
He didn't ask where he was supposed to go, confidently strolling inside the royal tower like he owned it. He practically did now.
Hart wasn't sure how he was supposed to say that he'd made a deal without Kai's knowledge or authorization. Kai wasn't much of an authoritarian but they had elected him as their leader.
“Their ruler is a halfwit, mostly surrounded by other simpletons, but there are complications.”
“A wife?” Kai guessed.
Good question; he hadn't seen or heard of a queen or consort. “Not that I know of. Children, though. The heir is a young boy. There are also three older daughters.”
Something in his tone must have changed because Kai turned sharply to the left, before smiling knowingly.
“Handsome daughters, if they're worth mentioning.”
Hart couldn't deny it. “I suppose. I've not spoken to two of them. The third came to me after her father threw me in a cell. Offered to get me out.”
“Sweet of her.” Kai laughed. “What did she want?”
“Her sibling's safety. She never mentioned herself.”
The leader’s expression now displayed no amusement; he was intrigued, just like Hart had been.
Hart wasn’t sure what to make of this. The ladies certainly liked Kai. Hart chased the unexpected and inappropriate wave of envy.
“And she wasn't attempting to manipulate you.”
Hart shook his head. “No.” He didn’t hesitate. Then, awkwardly, knowing that he’d overstepped his boundaries, he added, “I was so bold as to ensure her that her brother and sisters would come to no harm.”
Slowly, Kai nodded. “And they shan’t.” They walked in the elevator. “Where is their throne room?“