by Keary Taylor
I expected an old man with white hair and wrinkles and a bent back.
But the man in the chair doesn’t look a day over thirty-five solars.
His frame is tall and straight. Dark, auburn hair sits a mess atop his head. His lips are thin and wide, and I think those are freckles that line his entire face. His brows are drawn in, but I’m pretty sure he just looks permanently concerned.
“You’re Evander?” I question before I can think to contain my rude question.
“It’s strange, I know,” he says. His voice has an interesting tone to it. It’s just slightly nasally, a touch higher than I expected. And he sounds a little unsure of himself for some reason. “Everyone always expects an old, crooked man. If I am to be cursed by Neron, at least there are a few benefits.”
I had almost forgotten, that the Nero are always in perfect health, because Neron can heal you, and we constantly draw it into ourselves. It can very nearly stop the effects of aging.
Evander Nero is eighty-seven solars old. But he looks far, far from it.
“I’m sorry,” I babble. “I just . . . I’ve heard so many stories, I guess I just had this picture in my head. It’s . . .” I shake my head. I’m not making things any better. “It’s really nice to meet you.”
He offers me a small smile, and it makes me feel a little more at ease. “Why don’t you come in and sit down?”
I’m already in the room, but I’m still lingering by the stairs like I’m going to run away if he sneezes in the wrong way. Awkwardly, I step in and go to sit in the other chair by another window, putting us just three feet apart from one another.
Evander looks at me, but there’s this unfocused look in his eyes. Like he can’t quite find my face.
“Is this the time where you ask me about visions, or if you must kill him?”
My blood turns into ice. My stomach disappears all together, and a crack forms right down the middle of my chest.
“What?” I ask around the huge lump in my throat.
“The visions, then,” Evander concludes, nodding his head as if he’s just figured something out, but I’m still kilometers behind what he just said.
“Ev-”
“You came to ask me if dreams can also be visions of the future,” he says, cutting me off. He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He wears black, from head to toe. His eyes rise up to meet mine, and this time, he seems to actually see me. “You have had a vision of the future already, yes?”
I sit so still in my chair. My emotions are raging through me and I don’t know how to react and my brain can’t think straight to ask the questions I need to get answers to.
But I can answer his question.
“I think so,” I say. I take a breath, and I decide right here: Evander has apparently seen many of my futures. I can—have to be honest with him. “When Valen Nero and I first met on Korpillion, when we touched, I saw something that felt so real I felt devastated when it ended. I . . .” I hesitate. I don’t know how to put it all into words. I want to keep it to myself. Hold it in close. “I’ve never felt anything like that.”
“And what did you see in this vision?” he asks, narrowing his eyes at me slightly.
“I saw us,” I confess, the words coming out in a quiet breath. “I saw us together, I know as husband and wife. We were . . . ruling together. And there was this planet. I don’t know how I know it, but somehow I do: we ruined it together.”
“And your dream, did it feel the same?” Evander asks me. He’s so calm about it. I hate that he’s so calm. Because I feel like a mess. A raging storm with no idea where the shore is anymore.
“Sort of,” I say, my brows furrowing as I force myself to think about it. “It still felt so real. I . . . I fell apart when I woke up and realized none of it was real. I . . . lived it. But, it didn’t make sense, not like the other one did. It had things that just didn’t make sense, like a dream does. And it was like I experienced lunars in just hours. It felt like a dream. But . . . more.”
I look up at Evander again, and he’s studying me in this strange, blank way. I have to remember what Zara said. That he’s odd. But he can’t help it when he’s in a constant state of seeing multiple futures.
“It is possible for Neros to see a version of the future while dreaming,” Evander says. “It usually isn’t a true vision, a true prediction. As you said, they don’t always make sense. We don’t ask questions we normally would, time does not line up in a logical way. But our minds can touch the future when we sleep.”
“If my dream was a vision of the future, Valen Nero will be coming here to Salypso any time now,” I say. My voice quakes. And my heart aches.
I want that. With everything in me, I want to know that he is on his way and that in just a few hours, or even days, he’ll be holding me in his arms.
But I have to remember the last part of the dream. When Cyrillius came. And Valen went with him, and so did I.
“The future may be predicted,” Evander says. “But none of those predictions are ever guaranteed. We always, always have our free will. We can always change it. Every decision we make alters the future by small degrees.”
With his words, he calms my storm, just like that.
I have a choice.
Valen does not know where I am. He is not on his way here. And he won’t come, not unless I ask him to.
That vision won’t come true unless I put it into motion.
My insides are cracking. I feel as if I am fracturing. I’m tearing in half, and I don’t recognize the person who’s left. She’s not a whole person. She’s a tattered quilt, missing big pieces, and she can’t keep anyone warm in this state.
“You asked me if I was here to ask you about visions or if I must kill him,” I say, my voice sounding hollow. I meet his eyes once more. “If it comes to it, I don’t think I can ever be the one who has to do it.”
Evander leans forward and takes my hand in his.
And I get this impression that washes over me. Of light. Of air. Peace.
Before me, there are two simple silhouettes. A man and a woman.
I know it’s me and Valen.
We’re surrounded by celestial light. A feeling flutters through my stomach.
Happiness. Peace. Ease.
“Then you must do whatever it takes to change your fate, Nova Nero,” Evander says. “And his.”
“No,” the word slips from my lips as Evander sits back and releases my hand and the vision vanishes. “No. Please,” I beg through welling eyes. “Let me see it again. Just for a minute longer.”
“It is already gone,” Evander says, shaking his head. “But you have that power, Nova. We all do. With every little decision, we affect the trajectory of the future by leagues.”
As if he has a headache, he leans forward, bracing his head in his hands.
But I’m not finished.
“Your prophesy,” I say, feeling desperate, like time is running out. “You once said a Nero would come and set Neron free. That someone would bring the galaxy back from the edge of destruction. I need you to tell me it isn’t me. I need you to tell me that it’s about Kily or Quinton or Nymiah. Please, tell me it wasn’t about me.”
Evander doesn’t look up, but his voice fills the entire space, clear as day. “It will be whoever is ready. Whoever is willing to fight for it. Whoever is willing to sacrifice.”
Sacrifice.
The word echoes in my skull, over and over.
I stare at him, feeling terrified of the word. Evander might not be saying it again, but it’s the only word that exists in my brain.
I feel the time run out, and I know I need to leave. Evander is obviously consumed by more visions of the future. I can feel the power radiating off him. And pain. Suffering.
So I stand. I tell myself that I need to realize he is just a man. He is a man who’s done incredible things with his life. But right now, I feel sorry for him. He can’t even be in the present. His abilities have consumed him as a person
.
“Thank you,” I say quietly, even though I don’t feel any better. I don’t feel as if I gained much more clarity. But still, I cross the space. I look back just once.
Evander sits bent over in his chair, holding his head, utterly silent and still, trapped in his own mind, in a different time.
He doesn’t respond.
So I walk down the stairs, and seal him in his prison. Alone.
“You need to take a break, Nova, or you’re going to completely burn yourself out,” Kyril calls after me.
“I can handle myself!” I yell, though I don’t look back at him. “I know when I’ve reached my limits. Stop trying to be my father!”
I don’t know if he even hears that last part, but I don’t care.
I don’t need to stop. I don’t need a break. Maybe Quinton is done for the day. Maybe Ronan is tired. Maybe Nymiah is sick of training.
But I am not done.
I have too much to do. Too much to learn.
I stalk down the ridge of the island, out toward what I think of as the northeastern tip. When I reach the edge of the sand and the water, I place my palms down, parallel with the ground. And I don’t hesitate when I step onto the water.
The bottoms of my boots grow damp, but I don’t stop. Using all of my concentration, I keep my palms flat, gathering the Neron in the water beneath my feet, supporting my weight.
It took me three weeks to learn this. I’m still working every day to master it.
But I can forge earth now. I can walk on water. I can move smaller objects to my will.
I’m within a week of catching up to Quinton in skill.
I reach the shore of one of the smaller islands and step out onto the rocky shore. I climb the land, following the ridge. It climbs up sharply, and I trail it, until I reach the rocky ledge of the cliff.
I stand with my toes just an inch from the ledge, and four small rocks break off, bouncing down the face of it until they splash into the ocean.
I take a deep breath, letting my eyes slide closed. I search inside, looking for calm, for peace. It’s best to be calm and peaceful when wielding Neron, that’s what Kyril says, especially when still learning. But that feels impossible these days.
I’ve been a manic cack-she lately, I know that.
Ever since I spoke with Evander, since he told me I could change my future, I’ve thrown myself into training.
I’m up an hour before dawn, working on my own. I’m throwing myself into Zara’s lessons and working hardest during Kyril’s. And I’m pushing myself harder and harder every evening, until I collapse into bed every night.
My crew is getting restless. Their lives are on hold. They have no purpose right now. I can feel how much they want to move on. But they’re stuck here, with me.
I need to learn everything I can, as quickly as I can. But I know it. I know I will not stay on Salypso. I won’t hide out here for my whole life like Zara and Kyril and Evander have.
I have other things I have to do.
I have another destiny than just teaching other Nero.
Standing on the edge of the cliff, I let my soul expand. I let it search. I feel Neron beginning to gather around my hands, a burning and warm and wonderful feeling.
I extend my hands up, sending the Neron out, up, reaching, gathering.
Come, I think. Rise. Collect.
My entire body feels full of fire when I open my eyes. The ground beneath my feet is glowing brilliant blue, and the air is charged and alive, too. But my eyes turn to the sky.
There, just above me, is a dark cloud, where just minutes ago, the sky was clear and blue.
I take a deep breath, drawing more energy into myself. As I breathe in, the dark cloud grows larger. As I breathe out, it becomes blacker.
My hands are trembling, but I force them to stay strong.
I can do this.
I have to do this.
I have to become greater. Better.
I close my eyes again, pushing myself even further. I feel the temperature around me rise, heated by the Neron I pull to my location, because Neron is energy.
I open my eyes, and a bolt of lightning streaks from the sky, races down the face of the cliff, and strikes the sand down at the water’s edge.
I startle, but I don’t ease my grip on the storm cloud I’ve managed to form. Clenching my jaw, I press harder, calling even more Neron, raising the temperature.
And in just a split second, I feel it. The bolt beginning to form. So, I release the cloud, and I throw my hands out, mentally gripping the lightning.
And I push everything I have into it. My life. My soul.
In the blink of an eye, it happens, and I know I’m capable of anything.
The lightning implodes, streaking out across the sky in every direction, stretching as far as my eyes can see, illuminating the entire world in brilliant, white light.
And then I collapse to the ground.
My heart is racing as the maid sets the veil in my hair, the very last touch. She straightens it, letting its shimmery form cascade down my back.
I look at myself in the mirror, marveling over the piece of craftsmanship I’m wearing. The red dress hugs my form in all the right places before fanning out just below my hips. Neron infused threads give the entire piece a luminous glow. Waves of fabric cascade behind me, fanning out just below my exposed back.
My face has been given a touch of makeup, accentuating my natural features, but accompanied by a black band across my eyes.
“It is time, my Lady,” a woman says from the door behind me.
Once more, my heart leaps into my throat and sweat breaks out onto my palms.
But a smile pulls on my lips.
It’s time. Finally.
I follow her to the door, and we step out into a hall. Silently, I follow her through it.
Just the two of us.
Everyone I hoped would be here, isn’t. None of them.
I’m here, alone.
But not alone.
Today, two become one, in all the legal ways.
Ahead, there’s a door. Big and grand, it soars four stories high. Two guards wait there, watching me in my dress as I approach.
“Smile,” the woman says when we pause on this side of the door for a moment. “The entire galaxy is watching.”
She offers me her own smile and gently, she places something in my hands.
A black crown.
I cradle it gently in my hands before me. And I do smile.
It’s real.
Because as the guards open the doors, and I step through alone, I see him.
My eyes don’t go anywhere else. Immediately they lock on him.
There are thousands of people gathered to witness the event. The most exciting one in all our history.
The marriage of two Nero, joining in union.
There are cameras everywhere. There are diplomats and the galaxy’s most important kings and queens and presidents. I’d suspect Arden Black is even here somewhere, among the masses.
But all I see is Valen.
A smile splits my face as I look at him standing down at the end of this long aisle. He stands so tall and so proud and so above everyone else in the hall.
He, too, wears red, a suit that’s regal and severe. Held in his own hands is another black crown.
I love the look in his eyes as I walk toward him. I love the depth and the passion. I love the life in him.
I love the power that I can feel gathering in the hall. I love the energy that naturally draws to us when we’re together.
The room grows brighter as Neron floods into it. Everything is cast in a blue glow.
Closer and closer I walk, balancing the crown at chest height, carrying it carefully. Ten feet away. Eight. Five.
And everything in me falls still as I step up onto the platform, and stand before the man I love more than anything else in this galaxy.
Valen, I whisper in my mind.
Nova, he answers me in a way
that no one but the two of us can hear.
I love you, I confess.
I love only you, he breaths into my soul.
I don’t hear the thousands that surround us. I don’t hear the subtle hum all the cameras are creating. I don’t feel the pressure of an entire galaxy full of eyes watching me.
I’m here. With him.
Cyrillius speaks words, but I don’t really hear them. Things about promises and love and power and destiny.
I keep looking into Valen’s Neron blue eyes. I let this feeling of completeness wash through me. I smile at his wandering eyes. I look at his lips, knowing how they’re going to taste later. I’m looking at the veins in his hands, imagine all the places on my body they’re going to explore.
“Do you swear your self to him, for the rest of forever?” Cyrillius asks, and thankfully I grasp his words, just in time.
“I swear myself to you, Valen,” I promise, never breaking eye contact as I seal myself to him, taking half a step closer to him.
“Do you swear yourself to her, for the rest of forever?” Cyrillius says the words to Valen.
“I swear every part of myself to you, Nova,” Valen deepens the promise. The heat in his eyes intensifies and he, too, comes half a step closer.
“Then I declare you sworn together, Lord and Lady Nero,” Cyrillius declares.
Together, we both raise our arms, and in a synchronized movement, we place the crowns on one another’s heads.
And his hands drop to the sides of my neck and my hands go to his chest, and it’s the most natural thing in the entire galaxy when my lips meet his and his consume mine.
I’ve never, ever been happier.
Together. Man and wife. Forever and always. Married to the man I will always love.
“Nova.”
I take in a quick breath, startled at the voice.
“Nova, wake up!”
Hands grip my upper arms, shaking me, and with a gasping breath, my eyes fly open.
The ceiling above me is dim. The air is cooler than it was just a moment ago, and it’s quiet. So quiet.
And there are no lips on mine. No hands cradling either side of my neck. There is no crown on my head, no beautiful dress filling the space.