by Keary Taylor
“He is,” I say in a breath. I hear the others mutter things of awe and disbelief, but I don’t process them. “Do you know, has he said, who his prophesy is about?”
I don’t realize I’ve risen to my feet until Zara extends a hand out, indicating for me to sit back down.
But my heart is thundering in my ears. My palms are slick with sweat.
I’m not alone.
I’m not one of two Nero in the galaxy.
The prophesy can’t be about me.
“There are endless possibilities when it comes to a Nero’s visions of the future,” she says, and for the first time, there’s a hard edge to her voice. “This is a topic that would be appropriate to discuss at another time.”
No. No. I want to talk about it now. I want to know now.
But the look in her eyes tells me she means it and she’s done talking about this.
“How long will the training take?” My father changes the subject, and I should be grateful for his tact, but I’m still stuck on the prophesy.
Zara looks relieved. “There is no set time. This is not an academy. Ideally, a Nero should have a master their entire life, guiding and teaching them. Nova is twenty-two with no training. Perhaps she will master things quickly, perhaps not. I won’t know until we can do an evaluation.”
Her brown eyes shift to me. “But there is no end to what you could learn, Nova,” she continues. “Nero constantly learn. We evolve. And we do that best around one another. My invitation for you to come to Salypso was not for a certain amount of time. This galaxy is dangerous for us. We need to stay together.”
Forever. Zara’s invitation to come to Salypso was for forever.
“Of course, no one will force you if you do not wish to stay,” she adds, soothing the small spike of fear in the bottom of my stomach.
I sit back in my seat, trying to give air to the massive weight in the room.
“And what about the rest of us?” my father speaks again, so logical when I lose my mind. “We aren’t Nero, we aren’t Bahiri. Do we have to leave if Nova wishes to stay and be trained, or would we be permitted to stay?”
I sit up again at my father’s question. Because their answer changes and defines everything.
If they can’t stay, I’m not staying.
Zara and Tomas look at one another. I try to read their expressions, try to discern what they might be considering.
They are taking a risk in letting us be here. They don’t know anything about us. We could rat them out to Dominion.
But they know I’m a Nero. They need me.
I need them.
“So long as you do not give us a reason to distrust you, you may stay,” Zara says. “For now. We can discuss long term arrangements in the future, once all of you have had a chance to think everything over.”
I let out a little relieved breath and nod with a small smile.
The world grows darker, getting washed in dusk. But the temperatures do not dip. It stays comfortably warm.
“There is only one house on Salypso big enough to accommodate your crew,” Zara says, standing, and as soon as she does, someone steps out from a door half hidden in the greenery and begins clearing the dishes. She’s a small woman, maybe slightly older than myself. She wears the same drab, gray, shapeless clothing Tomas wears. “Luckily for you, it is unoccupied at the moment. You are welcome to take it over. Unless you prefer to lodge in your ship.”
“The house will be appreciated,” my father speaks up with a little smile. He places a hand on my lower back and we all step toward the gate once more.
Zara and Tomas lead us back down the steps, about halfway down, then we hook to the left, to one of the sandy stone structures looking out toward the endless ocean.
“Take the night to consider your options,” Zara says, her hands folded in front of her. Her shoulders are back, her chin held high. She seems so regal, so elegant. Like the Queen of Salypso. “And if you are still here in the morning, breakfast is in the Tabernacle at dawn, and training begins just after.”
I hesitate at the door, surrounded by Reena, Zayne, Edan, and my father, and I nod. With a wish goodnight, Zara and Tomas begin the climb back up the stairs, to the Tabernacle.
I open the door to the house, and we all step inside.
It’s the coziest place I’ve ever been.
The ceilings of the house are low, only a few inches above Zayne’s head, who is the tallest of us. There is no power in the house to be seen. The space is lit by cream-colored candles. The flames flicker, and as the wax begins to melt, the air is scented with the smell of citrus and flowers, just like Zara’s garden.
A massive couch dominates the central space. It’s a deep purple, like Zara’s dress. A plush rug lines the floor. There are five bedrooms that break off the space. A good-sized kitchen is at the center of the house, and next to it, a dining room with a massive table.
It’s perfect.
When everyone has had a chance to shower—the water is only lukewarm with no water heaters—we gather in the living space, spread between the dining table, the kitchen counter where Edan is putting together random ingredients he finds in the kitchen, and the big purple couch.
“I assume you’ll be staying,” Reena says, breaking right to the heart of what we need to discuss.
“It depends on what you all are doing,” I say, looking around. I meet Zayne’s eyes, who seems overwhelmed. I look at Edan, who doesn’t look up at me because he’s too busy eating, like a ravenous street rat. And I look to my father. “I don’t want to be separated. But I understand that everything about this planet is about me. I can’t just ask all of you to give up your lives.”
I tuck my knees into my chest, wrapping my arms around them. I’m overwhelmed, too, but I can’t let it wash over me. I have to be an adult now. I have to be decisive.
“What do all of you want to do?” I ask.
My father reaches over and takes my hand in his. I meet his gray eyes, and I knew what his answer was going to be before I asked the question.
“My place is with you, Nova,” he says. “From the moment I found you, I decided then. I’m not going anywhere.”
I give him a little smile, forcing my eyes not to well.
I still can’t believe it. He gave up his whole life for me. Walked away from everything he knew. All because he found a toddler in space who needed someone to take care of her.
“I’m not going back to Laziria,” Edan says around a mouthful of food. He meets my eyes with his own eternally tired looking ones. “Don’t think I’ll like any of the Dominion-run planets. I don’t have any credits to get to any other planets. So, unless you want to lend out some credits, guess you’re stuck with me, Nero.”
He gives me a wink before he bites into some kind of fruit, flashing that manic grin of his.
My chest loosens.
I didn’t want him to leave yet, but I didn’t see any reason for him to want to stay.
“I still can’t believe you brought that street rat onto our ship,” Zayne mutters.
“Who you calling a rat?” Edan defends, though it’s more in a sarcastic manner. “I’ve had three whole showers since you met me!”
“We still know absolutely nothing about you,” Zayne barks, looking at him darkly.
“Zayne, Edan stays,” I snap back. “He had my back, I had his. End of discussion. It’s not like I can’t take care of him if he becomes a problem.”
Dark. That was way darker than I meant. But still, Edan raises a callous eyebrow at Zayne, smiles, and bites into his fruit again.
“Well, I’m not leaving with this walking question mark around you,” Zayne states, giving Edan another dark look before his eyes slide back to mine. “You might be a bad cack-she now, but I can’t just do nothing. Even if you and I are over, you’re still family, Nova.”
I cringe. A little. We’ve sorted things out, given it to each other straight. But it’s always going to be just a little complicated when it comes to the t
wo of us.
“I appreciate it,” I say, because what else can I say? “What about you, Reena?”
She looks up at me from where she sits at the dining table. She’s quiet for a moment, and I can practically hear the gears turning in her head. “I think I have a few more things to figure out before I can make that decision. My world was torn apart. I haven’t quite figured out my new place in it yet.”
I nod. “Fair enough.”
Looking around, I see that everyone seems exhausted. It’s been a long day. There’s been so much anticipation and stress and anxiety over the unknown. “Get some rest,” I say. And it doesn’t feel right, because it sounds like a suggestion from a leader, a captain. And I’ve never been either of those things, until we left Korpillion and everything changed. But still, I’m the one that says it. “We’ll look at everything with fresh eyes in the morning.”
Even though I didn’t get more than an hour of sleep last night, I’m walking up the dozens of stairs that rise to the Tabernacle without a falter in my step. The sun hasn’t quite broken over the back side of the island when I stop at the front doors.
Zara stands before them, and I’m pretty sure that’s genuine happiness in her eyes when she sees me. Maybe she really did think I would change my mind and leave Salypso.
“I hope you slept,” she says with a small, controlled smile. In many ways, she reminds me a lot of Reena.
“Hardly at all,” I say honestly as I tuck my hair out of my face.
She smiles, but turns to the doors of the Tabernacle. “Welcome to your new home,” she says as she pulls the door open. “For as long as you like.”
For as white and bright as the building is on the outside, I expected it to be bright and white inside. And maybe it is. All the walls are white, but since it’s still dim outside, it’s dim inside.
A great entry opens up before us, the ceiling rising high, soaring above our heads. A great staircase is toward the back of the building, rising up one flight of steps and then splitting in two directions at a landing.
There is minimal furniture scattered around the entry, simple, all a tone of white or yellow. A great chandelier hangs from the ceiling above our heads, but instead of lights, crystals hang from its golden surface. Blue crystals.
Neron.
And just then, the sun crests the island outside, and light spills in through the massive window in the ceiling the chandelier hangs from.
The entire Tabernacle instantly looks like it is on fire. Blue fire. It dances across every surface, wild and alive and Neron blue.
“It’s incredible,” I breathe as my eyes dart from one space to the next. I understand now why everything is neutral tones. It’s so that they can reflect the Neron when the light hits that chandelier.
“It’s a relic from the planet Ilon, over seven-hundred solars old,” Zara says, looking up at the beautiful piece. “It’s been installed on over sixty planets since then, moved every time we’ve been forced to a new one, when war has threatened it, when planets have died.”
Sixty planets. It’s such a big number I can’t even imagine it.
“This is the grand entry,” Zara says. “And if you’ll follow me, we can go to the dining room.”
She doesn’t wait for me and I have to take quick steps to catch up with her. She’s tall. Taller than me with long legs and a lithe body that’s covered by a different purple dress. I wonder if the color has some specific meaning on Salypso.
We cut through the grand entry and turn right, through a set of tall doors that are twice as tall as I am. And before us, is a room smaller than I expected. There are five large dining tables spread evenly throughout the space.
And at those tables, are dozens of people.
I stop dead in my tracks, my eyes widening, my blood going cold in my hands.
There are a good two dozen people in those plain gray clothes. They look at me with excited eyes, expressions of reverence on their faces.
I startle back a step when two men suddenly drop to their knees and sink their foreheads down to the floor, immediately followed by a woman who mirrors their position.
“I told them not to do that,” Zara says quietly.
I’m sure I’m cringing, unsure and overwhelmed and entirely freaked out.
At one table, separate from all the Bahiri, is a group of normal-looking people. Five of them.
“Everyone,” Zara says, her voice carrying through the entire building, “this is Nova. She has decided to join us here on Salypso. While they obviously may not enter the Tabernacle, she has others who came with her. I hope you will make all of them feel welcome in our home.”
I try to offer a smile, to seem friendly. But I’m not entirely sure I succeed.
The Bahiri are staring at me like I’m their personal savior.
An older woman with streaks of silver in her black hair steps forward and walks right up to me. She gives a dip of her head, not quite meeting my eyes as she gently reaches for my left hand and takes it between her own.
“My name is Oona,” she says with an accent I don’t recognize. “I will be taking care of you and your crew members. It is an honor, Nova Nero.”
“Thank…thank you?” I say. I don’t mean for it to come out as a question, but I find myself looking at Zara, not sure what the protocol is here, how I should be reacting.
Zara just gives that little smile, and Oona gives another quick bow before she releases my hand and takes off. As soon as she leaves, the rest of the Bahiri break off, heading in various directions, but not before each looking back at me at least three times.
“It has been three solars since any other Nero came to Salypso,” Zara explains. “We really thought the rest had been lost to Cyrillius. They are very pleased to learn of your existence.”
Oh.
I have no idea what to say about that.
All that remains in the room are the five people wearing normal clothes, looking at me with hesitance and expectancy.
A man with sandy blond hair, a shadow of facial hair, and pale blue eyes, stands and crosses the space. He brings up his hand, extending it toward me.
Hesitantly, I take it, shaking it.
“It’s nice to meet you, Nova,” he says in a voice much smoother than I expected. “I’m Kyril.”
The tightness in my chest loosens a bit. This was a normal reaction. No bowing, no looking at me with reverence.
“Nice to meet you, too,” I say, my voice quiet and hesitant.
“Kyril is the other instructor here,” Zara says.
“Only because I’m the next oldest,” Kyril says, letting a little bit of a smile crack through. It’s kind of nice, actually. His teeth are crooked, but it makes him seem softer. Normal. “You turn twenty solars and suddenly Zara expects you to start sharing what you know with the kids.”
“How old are you?”
I don’t know why that was the question I asked, but it blurts out.
He chuckles at my awkwardness, but graciously answers my question. “I just turned thirty-one solars last week.”
I wouldn’t have guessed he was that old. He’s just a little older than Reena.
“Oldest student ever,” I say, joking at my expense. “I’m just starting at primary age when I should be teaching.”
“I’m sure you’ll catch up quick,” Kyril says with a wink and a smile.
I think I’m going to like him. He’s not so uptight, not as intimidating as Zara.
“Nova, these are your classmates,” Zara says, indicating the others sitting and watching everything from the table. “This is Nymiah, who is very close to being ready to teach.”
The girl—woman she indicates looks just a few solars younger than me. She has tight curly black hair, dark features, a delicate frame. She’s absolutely beautiful. I give a nod in her direction, an acknowledgement.
“And Quinton and Ronan,” Zara says, indicating the two boys sitting beside Nymiah. I’d guess they’re around fifteen and nine solars old. “And K
ily.”
The last is a young girl with blonde hair and a narrow face. She can’t be more than eight solars.
“It’s nice to meet you all,” I say, feeling overwhelmed and out of place.
“You really made it off Korpillion just before Dominion took over?”
It’s Quinton who speaks up, a look of awe and excitement on his face.
I nod. “Dominion was actually there before I even got off the planet. Everything started going mad as soon as they arrived. I saw…I saw some pretty terrible things before we escaped.”
I feel a warm, heavy hand on my shoulder and turn to see Kyril standing at my side with a sympathetic expression on his face.
“You’re safe here,” he says. “Dominion will never find this planet. You can relax here.”
“Relax?” someone huffs in an annoyed way. I look over to see Nymiah. “She’s twenty-two. She has solars of catching up to do. I don’t think there’s going to be any relaxing in her near future.”
“I’m not afraid to work,” I say, annoyance biting into my words. I don’t like this girl insulting me. I’m still older than her. “I’ll do whatever it takes to catch up.”
I feel Zara’s eyes on me and look over to see the approving look on her face.
“Come with me, then,” she says, holding her chin high.
I don’t look back at the other students as I follow Zara out the doors of the dining room. She starts up those elegant stairs and I follow her without a word.
“You handled yourself well,” she says as we rise. We crest the second floor, which is set up in half-moon shape with doors leading off in every direction. We start up toward the third floor. “Nymiah is testy but I suspect she feels a little threatened. She has always been the oldest girl here. She is so close to being able to teach. She is close to your age—nineteen. She’ll soften as she gets to know you.”
“I seem to have that effect on other women,” I say before I can think it through. “They typically don’t like me.”
“I suspect they feel threatened,” Zara says as we step out on the third floor. Straight ahead, she opens a door. We enter what looks like an atrium. There are flowers and plants. Straight ahead, there is a solid wall of windows, looking out. “You are beautiful. Your presence is intimidating. You are confident. You know who you are, Nova, and to other women, that can sometimes come off as intimidating.”