Zenith

by Sasha Alsberg

  Nor should be pleased.

  But now, as she stood upon the dark remains of her former palace, the only emotion she felt was sorrow. It was as if a gaping wound had opened inside her chest, draining all the happiness from her like a black hole.

  She couldn’t understand why. She should be proud that her weapon was complete, that she and her army could finally take command of the galaxy that had once exiled her system, killing millions of her people and leaving the rest to die slowly and painfully.

  From here, Nor could look around and see all of Nivia. The crumbling capital city surrounded her like a shadow of lives once lived. The ancient buildings, long ago vibrant with color and life, now stood as empty shells, monuments to what they had once been.

  Nor was dressed in a traveling cloak, the dark cloth flowing to the ground like a river of onyx. She smoothed the fabric as she settled down on a broken bit of stone that must once have been a garden bench.

  Some of its former beauty was still evident on the stone, elegantly carved designs that she knew her mother had once loved.

  This was where she used to come and sit with Nor as a child. Where she’d rock her gently in her arms, sing sweet songs to her as she gazed out at the flourishing sea of flora.

  Nor had come to the old palace alone a handful of times over the years, to seek wisdom from its ruins, to gain strength when she was weak. It was easy for her to see past the destruction, to imagine a bright film laid over the entire landscape. To see what once was and pretend she was still a part of it.

  A tiny princess dancing among the smoke lilies, her fingertips grazing the delicate petals as she imagined one day becoming queen.

  Tonight, however, she couldn’t summon that happy image. Nothing soothed the sadness that seemed to grow within her soul—not even the closeness of her old family home.

  Nor looked around the city as if it were the last time she would ever see it. The streets were barren, and the ground rumbled occasionally as a quake hit miles away.

  The planet was hanging on, but not for long.

  The citizens of the capital were all inside their ramshackle homes. The previous night Nor had issued a mandatory curfew for their protection. She wasn’t doubting her plan—hell forbid a ruler who did—but if something went wrong, she knew her planet would be targeted once again. Hiding inside their homes wouldn’t protect her people, she knew, but it would give them a false sense of security.

  Sometimes illusions were better than nothing at all.

  Looking off into the distance, she could see green fog rolling in over the cracked mountains. It drifted toward the city, flowing over the ground like death. One could always see it coming, but the fog took its time arriving.

  Nor was so transfixed by the sight that she almost cried out when warm hands grazed her shoulders from behind.

  “Nhatyla.” Even though Zahn said only one word, his deep voice soothed her.

  “Zahn.” She turned toward him, grasping his hands as if he were an anchor. As if, should she ever let go, she would drift toward the green fog that seemed to be waiting to devour her.

  Zhan looked at their interwoven hands and furrowed his dark brows.

  “What’s wrong, my beautiful Nhatyla?” He brought her hands to his lips, kissing her knuckles, including her gold prosthetic.

  He’d accepted her as she was, from the very start.

  And never once had she tried to compel him to be anything but himself.

  “I don’t know,” Nor said, exhaling a long, deep breath in the hope that it would expel the sadness. “I should be overjoyed that today has finally come. We’ve worked so hard for this moment, Zahn. For years, I’ve imagined it. But now that it’s here, all I feel is anguish.”

  Zhan leveled his gaze at hers as if he saw her soul. She allowed him. It was the only way she was certain she still had one.

  “They would be so proud of you, Nor,” he said, and she knew Zhan was talking about her parents.

  He’d grown up in this crumbling palace beside her, before the bombs went off. A young guard’s son hiding in the shadows, watching her with his knowing eyes.

  She’d never truly noticed him until after the bombs had dropped. Until he had pulled her from the rubble, dust coating his dark hair and skin, blood dripping from his mouth.

  You’ll be okay, Princess, he’d said. A boy of ten, his voice soothing, the only thing she could focus on as the world burned around them. He’d wrapped her mangled hand in his own coat. Shortly after, she lost consciousness from blood loss, and when she’d finally woken, days later in a dark underground bunker, her hand missing, her father dead, Zahn had been there.

  Stay, she’d begged him.

  He had that day, and all the days that followed.

  Her silent strength. Her shoulder to lean on in the shadows, when the pressure of being the queen of a damned world became too much to bear. When her nightmares tried in vain to destroy her.

  A silent tear rolled down her cheek now as she thought of the past. Her father’s bright smile, her mother’s gentle touch. She hadn’t truly known her mother; she had only fragmented memories of a woman who looked just like her.

  Yet, strangely, it was her mother’s voice that visited Nor so often in her dreams. Stranger still that Nor found solace when her mother’s distant voice entered her mind, echoing on that fateful day of Xen Ptera’s destruction.

  I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.

  “Nor,” Zahn said, drawing her back to him now. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

  He sat down beside her on the ruined stone bench.

  “I’m afraid,” she whispered. Her heart clenched, and she wished now more than ever that she could defeat the Unified Systems with her parents by her side. What would Xen Ptera have become if they had survived? If they had all put their strength together and destroyed the worlds beyond as one? “What if I fail?”

  “You won’t,” Zahn said. He chuckled, the sound out of place in this ruined land. “Do you remember what you said to me once?”

  “I’ve said a lot of things,” Nor admitted.

  He tugged playfully at her hair. “When you were twelve, you took me to the highest room of your tower.”

  “To see if we could find the stars,” Nor said, remembering that night. She’d finally fully healed from the explosions. It was her father’s birthday, and she wanted to honor him by searching for his favorite constellation.

  “When we got up there, the sky was so thick with fog that we couldn’t see them at all,” Zahn said. “You threw a fit that drew the attention of the entire palace. And then, once Darai came up to calm you down, you ended up standing with your back to the glass, the entire planet as your backdrop as you gave a speech worthy of a queen.”

  Nor smiled at that. She’d been so young then, so rash. “What does this have to do with my fear of what’s to come?”

  He kissed her cheek and chuckled again, his breath hot on her face. “You stood there all by yourself, your chin high, and you told the entire palace staff that someday you’d give them back the stars. ‘They’ll be so bright, you’ll hardly be able to look upon them.’”

  He pulled back to watch her closely. His eyes shone with all the love in the world. She felt it deep within her, a soothing tincture that touched her soul. “You will, Nhatyla. You’ll give us all back the stars and more.”

  A tear slipped down her cheek.

  He kissed it away.

  He was too good for her.

  Too pure.

  “This is the fulfillment of your promise to your parents. To your people,” Zahn said, taking her hand in his again. “Ever since we were young, I have seen you mourn your losses, but at the same time, you grow from them. Vengeance has been a driving force in your life, and now that it is within your grasp, you’re left feeling empty. But not for long, my queen. There are plenty of ways to fill t
he gap.” He pulled her into his strong embrace. His heart beat to the rhythm of hers as he whispered, “This part of your life may be coming to an end, but a whole new adventure is starting.”

  “And what of your future?” Nor asked, gazing at him. “What will you do, Zahn Volknapp?”

  She could nearly taste him on her lips as he drew closer.

  “You are my future,” he whispered. “I will follow you, from this world and to all the others beyond. I’ll be there by your side as the people bow before you and sing your name.”

  He nipped her ear with his teeth.

  Lust tumbled through her.

  “And in the quiet moments, when we are alone,” Zahn whispered, drawing her ever closer, until she was on his lap, his mouth against her lips, “I will bow to you, too, my queen.”

  “What about now?” she asked.

  In that moment, she could feel the sadness slowly leaving her body, power taking its place.

  “Now?” Zahn echoed.

  His lips moved down her neck, igniting a fire inside of her.

  “Now, my queen, I think I am tired of words.”

  Chapter Seventy-Three

  * * *

  ANDROMA

  THE NIGHT SKY was more beautiful than Andi ever remembered it being. It lay over the land like a blanket of stars, and on a night like this, crisp and clear, she could make out the nebula that surrounded the system. It was a wash of pinks, light and dark, with stars accenting it like delicate jewelry.

  Growing up, Andi’s mother frequently told her tales of how the galaxy had formed. There were once ancient Night Spirits that lived in the darkness, feeding off the truest of evils. Their counterparts, known as the Light Bearers, kept the darkness at bay. They brought hope back to the worlds they watched over, restoring tranquility to the universe. It was always black and white between the two entities, until one day, everything changed.

  A Light Bearer fell in love with a Night Spirit, a unity that was never meant to be, thus creating a cataclysmic event that changed the course of life.

  Their love created a monstrous black hole, something so dangerous and untouchable that it was seen as evil incarnate—until the galaxy started to form around the beast.

  But the galaxy wasn’t the only thing to form from their union. It also gave way to the creation of the Godstars, all-knowing beings with the power to give and take, the perfect mixture of darkness and light.

  “It shows us that everyone has a balancing act teetering in their souls,” Andi’s mother had told her. “We all stand in harmony between the two. It is up to you which side becomes stronger.”

  Andi thought often about this story, and wondered if it was possible to be as good as the Light Bringers, but also shaded in the darkness of the Night Spirits. She felt as if a war was always going on within her, both sides constantly fighting one another, no matter how hard she tried to keep both at bay.

  Tonight in that room with her father, Andi had felt the Night Spirit within her take a hold.

  As she walked, Andi took in the view that spread out from the Cortas estate. The distant shine of the city far below, with its glass spires and rigid, straight-backed citizens. Every plant and blade of grass across the planet had an iridescent glow, as if lit from within. From the skies above Arcardius, the shimmering flora made the planet look ethereal, as if the Godstars themselves resided here.

  Arcardius was the first planet inhabited by the Ancients hundreds of thousands of years ago, and many believed that the Godstars must have given the settlers this gift to welcome them to their new home. But whatever the reason, Andi was grateful for it. She didn’t want to be in the presence of darkness after everything that had happened. She needed to clear her mind of all that had been clogging it since the beginning of the rescue job.

  Andi ran her fingers over the moonlit roses. Huge groups of them had been placed around the pathway that led deeper into the gardens. She watched as a flutterwing darted past her, leaving a trail of sparkling pollen in its wake.

  Her feet led her down a few more paths lined with flowers and resting flutterwings that looked like little fairies in the hue of the plants’ glow. Even with no planned destination, her feet seemed to have a mind of their own, because she suddenly found herself in the middle of a small clearing. In front of her was one of the miniature floating rocks that dotted the skies of the planet.

  This one had a small waterfall streaming from its edge into a pool below. Surrounding the perimeter were huge Gajuai flowers, their petals growing over one another to create a natural patchwork pattern.

  “A wonder, isn’t it?” a voice asked behind her. Andi jumped and cursed herself for letting someone sneak up on her.

  This planet, and its illusion of safety, was making her lose her touch.

  She hardly recognized Valen now that he was cleaned up. His brown hair was cropped short and, skinny as he was, it made his strong jaw more pronounced. Everything about his once-soft face was now hard edges. No doubt, with some more meat on his bones, he would be striking.

  The boy she remembered from years ago had now become a man.

  Damaged as he must be on the inside, at least his physical wounds would heal. The awful things he had experienced at the hands of Xen Ptera would hopefully become a distant memory, as well, and more bearable with time.

  “You’re looking better,” Andi said as he approached her, his hazel eyes burning through the darkness like embers. He held a portable easel in his arms, along with a silver box that Andi recognized as his old kit of paints.

  “Thanks,” he said. “Mother and I installed this garden shortly after the trial, in honor of Kalee.”

  Andi didn’t know how to feel about that revelation. Suddenly the garden around her seemed to darken. She’d felt called here, as if she’d needed this place.

  Maybe Kalee’s ghost truly was alive, following her through the Cortas estate. Still, Andi didn’t feel as if she deserved to be in Kalee’s garden.

  “I should go,” Andi said. “You probably want to spend some time here alone.”

  “Actually,” Valen said, as she turned to leave, “I was going to paint the gardens. But it would be nice to have a living subject to paint. And to talk to someone who won’t try to coddle me. Believe it or not, Mother is so afraid to leave me alone, she nearly followed me into the bathroom earlier.”

  Andi almost laughed as she imagined Merella fussing over her now-grown son. She couldn’t imagine the relief she must feel now that Valen had returned.

  Andi paused for a moment. “Did you want to paint me?”

  Valen nodded. “The way the moonlight catches the metal on your cheekbones and the purple in your hair. It’s colors like these, with dimension and depth, that I’ve missed.”

  “You used to paint Kalee,” Andi said.

  Valen nodded. “She loved being the center of attention. She was always so different from me in that respect.” He pointed past Andi, to the edge of the clear pool. “You could sit there. On the rock.”

  Neither of them spoke at first as she sat down, the cool rock beneath her. Valen set up his easel, placing a blank canvas on it, his motions practiced and full of ease. He unlocked his box of paints, setting them out one by one before he dipped his brush into the first, a soft white the color of her hair. It was peaceful, this silence between them, and the trickle of the waterfall beyond.

  “I’ve missed this,” Valen said.

  “I can tell.”

  He looked content as his brush slid across the canvas, his eyes flitting back to her every so often. “Someday, I’d like to paint every landscape in Mirabel,” he said.

  Andi smiled. “I’d like to visit them all.”

  She thought of her room on the Marauder. All the images of the many corners of Mirabel scattered across the glass walls.

  They were silent again for a while as Valen worked.
As Andi allowed herself to simply sit for a time. To rest in the moment.

  “Do you want to see something neat?” Valen asked suddenly, his gaze now fixed on hers. There was a fleck of red paint on his cheek. It reminded Andi of the Valen she’d once known, before everything changed. “That is, if it’s still there... I could use a break.” He looked at his paint-stained hands.

  “Sure, I guess so.” Andi shrugged her shoulders. She smiled as she added, “As long as it’s not Jumping Mud.”

  Valen laughed. “I’m still not sorry about that.”

  Years ago, Valen had brought Andi and Kalee to a garden similar to this one and talked the girls into touching a pile of brackish sludge. It turned out the sludge was nicknamed Jumping Mud by the local kids because some microorganism within caused it to explode in their faces. The two girls had marched back to Kalee’s room covered in filth, fuming as they traded fantasies about getting revenge on her older brother.

  Hesitantly, Andi agreed, and she followed Valen to the opposite side of the pond.

  A small, floating staircase led to the top of the gravarock.

  “Kalee used to wish she could climb up to one of the rocks instead of being flown there,” Valen explained. “In a weird way, this is for her.” He looked over his shoulder at Andi as he began to climb. “Come on.”

  The stairs stopped at the top of the rock, and Valen led the way onto its surface. A soft layer of glowing green moss had grown there, soft as a blanket. Valen and Andi settled down on it, side by side.

  “This used to be the only place I wanted to spend my days,” Valen said.

  Andi let her gaze drift over the view before her. It was enchanting. Everything was glowing, fields of light from the garden below mixing with the blue and red of the moons above. It all melted into a soft purple.

  “I’ve missed this,” Andi admitted.

  “Me, too. While I was in Lunamere, I almost forgot what this place looked like.”