by Keary Taylor
But suddenly there’s nothing, no air, I suck in for breath, and am engulfed in dark.
Next, there is a blast, as strong as a super nova.
And I open my eyes to find my dark and lonely room on Salypso.
I wake up in the worst mood.
So, it doesn’t help when I walk out of the house and the three Bahiri walking past stop and look at me with wide eyes, maybe slightly fearful. They all dip their heads multiple times, asking if I need anything.
“I’m fine,” I snap. “I really can take care of myself. Can I get you anything?”
I’m being mean. I’m not really intending to do anything for them. But I just want to spit it back in their faces.
“No, Nova Nero,” they say, and they sound absolutely scandalized at the idea. “Please…”
I hold a hand up, giving them a look that I hope conveys to them that I didn’t mean it.
It works. Looking embarrassed, they turn and head up the stairs toward the Tabernacle.
An idea strikes me. Silently, I follow them up the stairs.
I follow them through the entry of the Tabernacle. When they slip into doors to the left, ones I’ve never walked through, I wait a moment before going inside.
I don’t understand the Bahiri. They’ve always been spoken about like they were a religion. But I’ve only seen them as servants to the Nero, which doesn’t sit right with me at all.
I really do want to understand them.
The room we enter is large. Like an assembly hall, but there are no chairs. It’s a wide-open space, with a clean, white marble floor. There are no windows.
Straight ahead, there is a depiction of the Eon galaxy. It’s massive and spans the entire wall. Its surface is painted black, but contains a sandy texture.
Where there should be suns, spread throughout the galaxy, there are glowing blue dots.
Neron.
Someone incredibly skillful must have created this mural. The tiny specks representing the suns of the different solar systems glow brilliantly, despite their tiny size.
It’s beautiful.
It stuns me.
My mouth falls open slightly, looking up at it. Emotion actually pulls at my insides. This is my home. This is our galaxy. Comprised of millions of suns.
And then there’s the Neron.
I feel it calling to me. I feel peace when I just look at it.
All in a row, there are six Bahiri. They kneel before the mural. Some of them look up at it, some have their heads tipped so low their foreheads touch the ground.
Each of them has a leather band around their necks, and at the end of it, is a shard of Neron. They each hold it carefully between their index finger and thumb.
I’ve never noticed any of them wearing these necklaces. If I had to guess, I’d say they must keep them tucked under their gray robes.
As they look up at the mural, as they hold their Neron so reverently, I hear some of them muttering words. I see their lips moving.
Thank you for life.
We pray for safety.
Please bless them with health.
They’re praying. To…the mural? To the Neron in their hands? To the Tabernacle? To the air?
But just then, I get it.
Neron is everywhere. It is in everything.
Neron is life.
Feeling as if I am intruding and wrongfully witnessing something sacred and personal, I slip out the door, leaving the Bahiri to their prayers.
But now I feel a fire lit inside me. I feel a nagging curiosity.
I recall a door upstairs that I have never gone through but have seen many Bahiri walk in and out of.
I silently ascend the stairs. I curl down the moon-shaped hall. I hesitate for a moment with my hand on the door knob.
Maybe I shouldn’t pry. Maybe I should just stay judging them. But that feels wrong. I want to know why. It’s burning in me. I may not understand it, but that doesn’t give me the right to declare it wrong.
I twist the knob and push the door open.
The air is warm and dry in here. And it’s quiet, except for the rustle of paper.
That’s because it’s immediately obvious that this is a library.
Bookshelves stretch from floor to ceiling in the space. It isn’t overly large, maybe the side of a big bedroom. Enough space for two couches and two desks. But the shelves are packed with ancient looking tomes.
Seated at one of the desks is a Bahiri woman I’ve seen before. And across from her, at the other desk, looking right at me, is Tomas.
“Is there something I can help you with, Nova?” he asks. Where the other Bahiri always look at me with awed wonder, he looks at me with concern and wariness.
“I…” I stumble to find words, because I don’t know what to say. I have the sudden overwhelming feeling that I am somewhere I do not belong. “I was just curious…”
He stands and takes two steps toward me. “There is nothing wrong with being curious. It’s how we grow.” He offers me a gentle, controlled smile. “It is okay for you to be here. There is nowhere in the Tabernacle that is forbidden to you. You are a Nero.”
There’s that word. That title. That reverence. It makes my skin crawl.
“What are all these books?” I ask, trying to divert my discomfort and my annoyance.
Tomas’ eyes go to scan the shelves and the thousands of books that line them. “Studies. Accounts of history. Words of wisdom. Journals. Maps. All records recorded and written by either Bahiri or Nero.”
“They must be old,” I say as I take a step further into the room. I take Tomas at his word, that it really is okay for me to be in here. I walk along the shelves. Very few of the books have titles along the spines. Most are leather, worn and tattered. Handmade.
“Most of them are,” Tomas says as he walks along with me. “This is one of the Tabernacle’s most valued possessions. We have protected these texts over the thousands of solars the Bahiri have supported the Nero.”
I come to a row of black notebooks that do not look so old. On the spines, written in silver ink, are the letters EN.
“Evander’s prophesies,” Tomas explains.
At the words, goosebumps flash over my skin, and I swear my hair lifts on end.
What futures must be told in those books? What kind of darkness is inked onto the pages? Is there any hope for the future written in them?
“Have you read them all?” I ask, moving along because the books of prophesy are making me uncomfortable.
“No,” he answers, shaking his head. “Some of the texts are for the Nero only. Some are in languages long forgotten. Some are too old to be touched any longer.”
I nod my head. Some of that makes sense to me, other parts still make me cringe.
People are just people. We all have different strengths. Different abilities.
“Do you consider your life happy, Tomas?” I ask as I round the end of the shelves. “Does being what you are give you satisfaction?”
I meet his green eyes, begging him to tell me the truth.
“We find satisfaction where our hearts lie,” he says after a few moments of hesitation. “My heart has always held wonder at the galaxy, the universe. I have always revered the way I feel when I hold Neron, when I consider the miraculous things it can do. If you are asking if I am happy being aide to those who were blessed by the galaxy to understand the wonder that is Neron, my answer is yes, Nova.”
I see it in his eyes, he means every word. He is happy. He loves everything there is to being a Bahiri.
I can hardly comprehend that kind of devotion.
“Thank you for explaining it to me,” I say, folding my arms around myself. I take a step backward, back toward the door. “I’m sorry for interrupting your day.”
“You are welcome to interrupt me any time, Nova Nero,” he says, calm and serene.
I step out the door with my heart racing in my chest.
I don’t understand. Not really.
“There you are,�
�� a young voice says. It’s Ronan. He’s leading the entire class up the stairs to a classroom, followed by Zara.
“You’re late,” she says, but it comes out as a bit of a surprised question.
“I’m sorry,” I say, blinking twice, trying to clear the confusion from my brain. Without another word, I join my classmates, and head in for another day of training.
Spirit. That is the main difference between any human in the galaxy and a Nero. Our spirits have the ability to connect with Neron. Our bodies know how to channel our spirits. We know how to blend the two.
Mind and spirit and Neron.
It’s like working a muscle. The more you exercise it, the stronger it gets.
The more I train my spirit and my mind, the better I can wield Neron.
While Zara and Kyril understand that something must be done to stop Dominion, I have not convinced them I can do anything about it. But they humor me. They let me imagine, wish, hope. They wish with me, but they do not believe, that anyone can kill Cyrillius.
He has no heirs, and that is the way it has worked for the past four centuries. Father passes down to son or daughter. They become worse than the leader before them.
We have to kill Cyrillius. We have to cut off the head.
My teachers increase my training. Another hour in the morning and another hour in the evening. Nymiah takes over teaching the younger children, and Zara and Kyril spend seventy-five percent of their day teaching me one on one.
I surpass Quinton in ability. I’m days away from catching up to Nymiah.
“I did not like your fire when you first began this,” Zara confesses as she watches me move The Corsair with Neron. It rises into the air and I move it from one side of the Tabernacle to the other. “I thought you were ignorant and rash,” she says. “You are not prepared, and you never will be. I still think you will die doing what you are trying to do. But I see now, you have fire. You have determination. If, and I mean that as a big if, solars down the road, if anyone can come up with a way to end the terror the galaxy has endured for the last four hundred solars, it is you, Nova Ainsley.”
The next evening, after I’ve finished creating Neron arrows and blasting them at targets a hundred yards away, I walk into the dining room in the Tabernacle to grab a snack. Nymiah watches me from one of the dining tables, alone.
“You’re really going to try to take Dominion on by yourself?”
I pause, the fresh fruit at my lips.
She’s hardly spoken four words to me since I arrived.
“I am,” I say, meeting her warm, brown eyes.
“You know to get to Cyrillius, you’re going to have to go through his Nero,” she says, looking me up and down like she can read my abilities from my skin. “You really think you’re strong enough to take him out, too?”
She has no idea what she’s really asking. She has no idea what that idea means to me.
So she has no idea why I don’t answer her question. Why I turn and walk away without a word.
“I feel like you’re hiding something,” Zayne says that night after everyone else has gone to bed.
I don’t look over at him, even though he’s just sitting to the side of me at the dining table. We’re playing a card game, and I’m losing, because I don’t play cards, and I’m not paying very close attention.
“I told you, I’m still figuring it all out,” I say, placing a card down. It’s one that loses me the game.
“You aren’t like that though, Nova,” he says with the shake of his head as he takes the whole stack, winning. “You’re a planner. You think the numbers through. You don’t normally take a step without knowing where you’re heading.”
“This thing is huge,” I say, folding my arms on the table. “Give me a little leeway if it takes me a while to figure out the plan.”
I feel his eyes on me, and the thoughts rolling through his head. And I feel bad. Once, Zayne was my best friend. My only friend. On Korpillion, my circle was so small that it was actually a triangle.
But everything has changed. Our lives are a constant state of change now.
I feel him becoming a smaller and smaller part of my life every day.
“You’ll know everything when the time is right,” I say. Movement catches my eye, and I see Edan standing in the hallway that leads toward the bedrooms. He nods his head, an indication that he needs me.
So I stand from the table, knowing I’m leaving Zayne angry and feeling a little ignored, betrayed, and abandoned.
I can’t hold everything.
I can’t do it all; make everyone happy.
I’m not even going to try.
Edan goes back into his bedroom, and I know he’s going to slip out his window and meet me at the cliffs.
I go right out the front door.
There is no wind tonight, but the sky overhead is dark and heavy with clouds. It’s going to start raining any time. Through the grass, I catch up to Edan quickly, though neither of us says a word until we reach the cliffs.
“Any more visions?” he asks as he folds his arms over his chest.
I shrug. “Not since the one about the wedding. I did slip into one of his dreams, but it didn’t really make much sense. Just us together.”
Edan nods. He’s been trying to help me dissect them, to figure out what moves to make in the future. There has to be a way we can use them to our advantage.
“Any traces of him yet?” I ask.
“That’s why I asked you to come out. There’s a new episode from Arden.” He pulls out his own set of audobuds from his pocket. We turn, sitting on the edge of the cliff and he hands me one. I slip it into my ear, and he plays the spacecast from his own connect-link.
“Well, I guess we can count Korpillion as officially taken over,” Arden’s voice comes through clear and angry. “They exported fifty million kilos of Neron off the planet yesterday. And as soon as the transporters took off to the distribution hubs with it, Cyrillius left the planet, aboard The Dominion, and is halfway back to Isroth.”
I swear under my breath and shake my head.
It’s done.
My home planet is just another cog in Dominion’s inner workings.
“With no new planets to take over and no one stepping out of line right now, I’d suspect Cyrillius will stay on his gutted and cursed planet for a while. He’ll cozy up with his Kinduri and maybe spend some time trying to track down that weapons manufacturer. If you haven’t heard yet, he’s now tripled the reward for her capture.”
“Holy slag, Nova,” Edan swears, tapping pause. “This…this goes beyond just being a fan of your work. He… Cyrillius needs you for something.”
I shake my head. “What could he possibly want me for?” I say. “It just doesn’t make any sense. If he wanted a Neron sword, I’m sure he could find another person to do it for him. And for less credits.”
“Is there any chance he knows you’re a Nero?” Edan asks, his eyes boring into me. “This would make more sense if he knew.”
My gaze turns out over the ocean, but I’m wracking my brain, thinking over any possibilities. “The only people who saw me do anything on Korpillion were Valen and Reena. And neither of them would have said anything.”
“You’re putting a lot of trust in Valen,” Edan says. “You know, considering he’s thought of as the second most evil person in the galaxy.”
I shake my head, glaring darkly at him. “You don’t understand,” I say as my fingers curl into fists in the grass. “The things we’ve seen. Everything we’ve felt. I’ve felt his conflict. He wouldn’t do that to me.”
Edan keeps looking at me for a long minute, trying to decide if he can take my word for it.
“I can’t think of another reason why Cyrillius wants you so bad,” he says simply and presses play again.
“I don’t know where you are, masked girl, but I pray that you’ve built some serious artillery to keep yourself safe,” Arden Black says with seriousness.
I can make all kinds o
f weapons. But I don’t need them anymore. I can create them, pull them right out of the air, just the same as Valen.
“In other news, there’s still no word where the last Nero is,” Arden moves on. “It’s now been well over a lunar since he was last seen. Speculation is flying around the galaxy. That he’s dead. That he’s abandoned Cyrillius. That he’s off somewhere building his own army to take over. That he’s disappeared to the Frozen Kingdom and is planning something there.”
My eyes widen and Edan and I look at each other at the same time.
What…what if?
“Do you think?” Edan asks.
I shake my head. “I don’t know,” I answer honestly. “He knows about it, he told me himself. He’s been there before.”
It’s my true home. Where I was born. My father found me floating in space just a league from the planet, engulfed in Neron.
I shake my head. “There’s no reason for him to be there. No one can get anywhere close to the planet. He can’t do anything there. There’s…there’s no way.”
Edan doesn’t say anything, and I can feel it, he’s mulling it over, the implications if Valen really were there, and what he could possibly do with that much Neron.
“I don’t know about all of you,” Arden says right into my ear. “But I’m getting a little tired. A little burned out. I’m starting to feel like this spacecast is pointless. Nothing and no one makes a difference. Maybe it’s time we stop hoping. Maybe it’s time that we just accept that this is the galaxy we live in, and that nothing is ever going to change.”
Her words chill me as she signs off.
Never, never has Arden sounded so hopeless. Never has her fighting spirit dimmed.
But I feel it. It’s the way the entire galaxy feels. We’re all tired. We’re all getting so used to the way things are.
I feel that light flickering throughout the galaxy. I feel that hope dim.
“It’s time we come up with a real, solid plan,” I say out loud, even though I don’t have a clue what that plan is.
“You’re quite demanding, considering who you are,” Zara says, sounding thoroughly annoyed. She sits in the dim light of Evander’s living quarters, totally unbothered by him. He’s laying flat on the floor, staring up at the ceiling, but he certainly isn’t seeing it’s white surface.