Starbright: The Complete Series

by Hilary Thompson

  I almost wonder if Trea is staying to talk to me, but she gives no indication of even realizing I’m there. Finally I have nothing left to clean, so I leave the room so she can finish her prayers in private. But I don’t go far.

  I decide to wait in the corridor and catch her on her way out. I don’t know what I’ll say, but surely I’ll think of something. Libra charm and all that.

  I wait. And wait. And wait. Maybe she fell asleep.

  I risk it and peek into the room. My heart drops to my knees when I find it empty. There is no way she left the room without me seeing her. Absolutely no way.

  The room is quiet, and the altar candles flicker with my movement as I turn, scanning the small room.

  Empty. Silent.

  I sink to a pew, the blood rushing to my head as the air abandons my lungs. Where did she go?

  Then a tiny noise catches my attention, near the altar. Scratching, maybe.

  Before I can register what is happening, Trea pops from the blank wall behind the altar and freezes, staring directly at me.

  The panic on her face shocks me into a sort of hysterical amusement.

  I step towards her, still not sure what to say. “Hello, Astrea,” I start, cursing myself for not figuring this out better. My voice sounds stiff and formal, like we don’t know each other.

  And we don’t, not really.

  She darts her eyes between the door and me as though she might take off in a dead sprint, and I stupidly reach out to grasp at her arm.

  “I’ll not tell anyone, of course,” I start to reassure her. My fingers begin to slide down the smooth fabric of her tunic and she yanks her arm from my grasp like she thinks I would hold her down.

  She fixes a glare on me and it steals my breath. The hatred I see in her eyes, magnified in the wild candlelight, is so much more than I can take.

  I turn and beat her to the door, confusion and embarrassment and anger crowding my thoughts. I’m struggling not to actually run away from the revulsion I saw in her face.

  The Common Area is dark and cold without the main daylights - I’ve stayed out too long. But the cooler air starts to calm me, and I slow down, giving my brain time to catch up to my fleeing heart.

  I circle the perimeter of the great room, heading towards the corridor leading home, but a steady clicking on the rock floor makes me pause. I shrink further into the shadows, shouldering into the uneven rock walls.

  “Astrea!” A voice pierces the darkness, and all my jumbled emotions focus into one - fear for Trea. My muscles tense as though for a fight.

  I can just barely make out her slight form, bowing to Keirna. They exchange a few words I can’t hear, then Trea moves away, heading straight towards my hiding spot. Keirna doesn’t move until Trea has scrambled past me and down the corridor leading to the Living Quarters.

  Then she, too, begins to walk towards me, her shoes clicking on the rock floor. Nobody but Keirna wears shoes that echo like that.

  As she nears me, I pray for invisibility. There is absolutely no explanation for me to be out like this - it’s late, and I’m supposed to be home.

  She stops about twenty or so feet from me and waits a beat before continuing along the curve of the room, towards the Leadership Complex, where her own home is.

  I’m finally beginning to breathe again when her voice bounces back to me, as clear as if she were standing only inches away.

  “Good night, Lexan. Sleep well.”

  My voice couldn’t answer even if I knew what to say. The blood in my ears is louder than her retreating footsteps, and I can barely focus on the uneven rock floor long enough to find my way home.

  My lungs remain frozen with anxiety until I’ve shut and locked the door behind me. The logical part of me warns that my fear of Keirna is irrational. But the photo of my father hanging next to the door is a reminder that my fear is also very warranted.

  THREE

  October 22, 2066

  Today we put the dreamless herbs in Mother’s tea and all three of us went to see Evangeline. She was angry that we had all left the safe house in a group, but then she admitted she needed to talk with each of us.

  She looked at all of our tea leaves and read the star charts for Clota and Aisa today, too. She nearly fainted when she pieced them all together.

  Together, our three charts show how the end of this world will come about, and how we three sisters will rebuild humankind from the ashes.

  I want to believe her. We all just want the war to stop before everything everywhere is destroyed.

  But I’m still too scared of this. I don’t understand it.

  from First Leader Lakessa’s private journal

  included in Firene’s secret papers

  “What are you reading?” I ask Mother as I join her at the breakfast table. She passes the butter for my bread without me asking, and I smile when her eyes meet mine.

  “Lakessa’s journals again. I keep feeling like there’s something I’ve missed. We know so much, yet really we know next to nothing about what you and Trea need to do.”

  “Maybe there is more - in Firene’s lost journal,” I answer, stating the obvious. Of course there’s more. And it’s lost.

  Mother nods, absently flipping through the loose pages that were torn from a smaller journal. The edges are frayed and the paper is fragile - over one hundred years old now.

  “I can’t help but notice Lakessa was about the same age as you and Trea are when all of these entries about saving the world started. That can’t be a coincidence.”

  “The stars teach us that nothing is coincidence, Mother. You know that.” I use my stern minister voice and she smiles, her deep blue eyes laughing a bit. It feels so good to make her smile.

  “Has Head Minister Saloman given you any new tasks lately?” She changes the subject, tucking the stolen pages back into their envelope.

  I shake my head. Saloman is known for giving the ministry students strange jobs to do and archaic puzzles to solve.

  “But Counselor Sanfred gave me one yesterday,” I add. “He wants me to try and become friends with Trea before Choosing Day. He said I should start just by being around, so she gets used to me. He makes me sound like a dangerous wild animal,” I laugh, making my fingers into claws that scrape against Mother’s arm.

  She laughs, and the sound makes my chest tight for a moment.

  “That’s a good idea,” she agrees. “Trea is a stubborn girl, but I’m sure some of what she feels is just fear of what she doesn’t know. She’s being asked to give up every intimate part of her life to a partnership with you, and she doesn’t really know you at all. Many girls and boys in arranged partnerships go through that. Her own parents were similar, if I remember.”

  I frown, thinking of the love my parents shared. Father always said he loved her from the first moment they spoke, and they were together over a year even before their Choosing Day.

  “Well, I guess I should go. Today is my private lesson with Saloman, and you know how he is about punctuality.”

  “Be careful, Lex. I love you,” Mother smiles, placing her hand over mine on the table.

  “Love you too,” I say, flipping my hand over and squeezing her slim fingers in mine.

  * * *

  “Let me ask you something, boy,” Saloman says with a grin. “What do you really want?”

  “Want? From what?” I’m helping him stack books on the new shelves in his office while the older students practice reading horoscopes in the library.

  “From your future. The prophecy. Your partnership to that wonderful, wild girl who is a constant thorn in my partner’s side. Has anyone ever asked you that?”

  “No,” I answer honestly. When you’re the second half of a prophecy like this one, nobody tends to care about your opinion on the matter.

  “So,” he smiles again, the skin around his eyes crinkling, “what do you really want?”

  I have to take a few minutes, and he graciously allows me to think. “I guess I want harmony.
That’s what Libras need, right? Balance and agreement with others?”

  “Don’t ask me. What do you really want?”

  “Why are you asking me this?” I can’t help but be frustrated, especially so soon after the difficult conversation with Counselor Sanfred. Right now I just really want everyone to stop talking about Trea and me, or the lack of Trea and me.

  “I’m asking because it matters. You need to know yourself before you can guide the spiritual paths of others. Think about what you want. Then think about whether or not you’ll get it, and how you’ll deal with the success or disappointment. Then you can learn to deal with the sort of demands that ministers deal with every day.”

  “I want my family to be proud of me. They’re excited that we’re part of Asphodel’s future, just like Firene was part of its past. I want Trea to be happy with me and with what we’re doing for the city.”

  “Good, good. But what do you want?”

  “I’m telling you!”

  “No, you’re telling me what a good Libra would need to achieve happiness and stability. You are most certainly not telling me what you - as an individual person - wants.”

  My temples are starting to throb. But then an idea pops in my head, and it’s a ridiculous one, but I say it anyways. “I just want to be loved.”

  “Ah. And there it is,” Saloman smiles widely and claps my shoulders. “This is how I know you will make a good minister, Lexan, despite your fears of the opposite. You know the truth inside of what everyone wants - to be loved. To feel important. To know that they matter.”

  He is very nearly describing the effects of my secret power, and this edges my nerves just a bit - as far as I know, only Sanfred and my family knows about the strange ability I gained from my injection as an infant. But being partnered to Keirna must surely mean that Saloman has access to this sort of information.

  I’ve never feared Saloman’s connection to Keirna before, but perhaps I should.

  “Since this is what you want, you can now empathize with your congregation when they also want the same.”

  I sigh as I place the last book on the shelf, still hoping to shift the subject away from Trea. “I still can’t see myself with a congregation. It seems off, somehow. I don’t know that I would have been a good Leader, but being a minister doesn’t seem right either.”

  Aitan’s choice barred me from choosing the other Libran occupation, so minister was really my only choice. In other words, I had no choice. Usually I don’t bother worrying about this, but all of the stress on Choosing Day and Trea’s animosity is starting to wear on me.

  It would be nice if I had a say in some of my own life.

  Saloman’s back is to me, and I watch him carefully for his reaction. I’ve never stated my aversion to ministry so clearly before. Even though I told him my fears when we first began our lessons, he has always had faith that I will make a great minister, and I just need to learn more. That’s been nearly a year now, and I’ve completed half of my initiate training.

  But he’s been quiet a moment too long for it to be a casual reaction.

  “Head Minister?” I say finally, because something about his body doesn’t seem right. His back is too stiff, and his head is lolling to one side. I push around the table so I can see him, and his eyes are wide, but blank and misted.

  Like something has left his body. Or perhaps joined it.

  “Head Minister Saloman?” I ask again, my voice sounding small in the quiet office. His head swings towards me, but his eyes aren’t focused at all. His mouth hangs open slightly, and there’s even a bit of drool on his lower lip.

  I debate whether to run for a doctor.

  “There will come three,” he abruptly intones, his voice so low and raspy I have to lean closer to hear. “A child of peace, born in a place of war. A child of right, born in a place of many wrongs. A child of lawfulness, born in a place with no laws. These three will defeat the Fates and lead us to the Garden.”

  I wait, my breath stalled in my lungs. I’ve never witnessed a prophecy. I have no idea what to do or what to avoid. His eyes are still clouded with mist and he sways a bit before his chair. But I have to ask. “What garden?”

  His body startles a little, and I flinch, hoping I haven’t done something wrong by asking a question during a trance. Is there a protocol for these things?

  “The Garden is our home. Each will tend the Garden with their talent. It is necessary to cultivate our Garden.”

  A shudder passes through him and he starts to topple forward. I lunge, catching his shoulders just before he falls. I push him back into the chair behind him, and his body folds into the seat, suddenly very small. My whole body is shaking with the shock of seeing a spirit come, and stay, and then go.

  Saloman shakes his head slowly, as though clearing it of a fog. His eyes gradually grow blue again, and he looks at me blankly.

  “What were you saying, boy? I think I must have fallen asleep somehow.” He sounds old and fragile, such a contrast to the strong presence he had only a few moments ago.

  “You…you had a vision, Head Minister. I think you were in a trance.”

  “A trance? Well, then. That’s great! What did I say?” He perks up a little at this, as though it is not the strangest thing that’s ever happened to him. And maybe it’s not.

  Maybe I’ll get these visions one day, when I’m a minister. Styx, I hope not. A chill ripples through my body at the thought of having my mind taken over by a spirit I can’t see or hear or even remember.

  “Well? Tell me what I said!”

  So I repeat it to him, stumbling over the delivery of the prophecy, although I’m pretty sure I’ll always remember the words.

  “Three…” he repeats, tapping his thumb to the pads of his fingers, each in turn. Then back again.

  He reaches for a pen and writes a shorthand note about the prophecy in the margin of his prayer book, next to tonight’s scheduled message. Then he scribbles at it, and finally he tears it from the page, leaving a ragged hole and colorless indentations on the next page. He rolls the scrap of paper into a tiny tube.

  “Do you think Trea is one of the children? And I’m another?” I ask. Who could be a third?

  He taps the pen to his lips for a moment. “No. I think the three must be born in three separate places.”

  “Like where?” I know I’m prying - Asphodel officially teaches that there is nothing left of the old world. That the outside world is empty of human life. Recovering. Waiting for us to simply take back what is ours. But as Head Minister and partner to our First Leader, Saloman surely knows more of what is truly beyond Asphodel.

  Saloman meets my eyes for a long moment before sighing and shaking his head. “I don’t think I’ll tell you yet. I’m afraid that telling you would put you in even more danger. Hearing this prophecy would seal your fate with Keirna, even if she weren’t already planning possible accidental deaths for you.”

  “What?” I bite the word out - the man is talking of his partner and my murder way too calmly. And if he knows she’s planning to kill me, why hasn’t he told me before this? Even more, why hasn’t he tried to stop her? My lungs are pulsing with too much air, then too little.

  Saloman waves at me like I should just calm down. “Yes, yes, Keirna is convinced Astrea will not need to replace her. I’ve prayed for a different outcome, but I don’t think Astrea is very safe here in Asphodel. Which means you aren’t either.”

  “But if you know what she’s planning, why don’t you stop her?” I’m pacing the small room, my toes hitting the walls far too quickly. Suddenly I feel even more trapped than if I were just sitting, like no matter what I do, the outcome will be the same.

  “Keirna is my First Leader too. And she will reap her rewards one day. We reap what we sow, Lexan. Remember that. Keirna knows this, and still she sows death. Who am I to judge? That task is for Astrea, isn’t it.” He actually giggles a bit at his macabre joke, sounding like a small child. “And you’ll be there to make
sure her judgment is balanced and right.”

  I manage to hold his eyes for a moment, allowing these words to burrow through my wild-eyed stress and nest in my heart.

  He’s right. Even though we rarely talk of the reality of the prophecy, Saloman has assured me that it is quite literal. Trea is meant to exact judgment on our people, and those we find in the outside world.

  And I’m meant to help her find the balance between those punishments and rewards.

  We are quiet together for a long time. Saloman writes for a while in his journal and I pretend to study my prayer book while I repeat the words of the garden prophecy to myself, committing them to permanent memory. The class period is nearly over when he turns and fixes me in his cool stare once more.

  “What will you do when Astrea decides to leave?”

  “Leave what? Me?”

  “No. Asphodel. When she decides to leave, or when it becomes necessary for her to leave, you must respond quickly. You won’t survive without her, Lexan. Astrea is part of you, as you are part of her. The lady of Justice is nothing but destruction without her scales to balance her judgment. And scales are useless with nothing to measure.”

  “So you’re telling me I’m in immediate danger from the prophecy? Or maybe from other people?” I need to clarify if he’s talking his regular mumbo-jumbo, or trying to clue me in to one of Keirna’s impending plans.

  “Either. Both. You must stay with her always, even if she does not know you are there. Even if she does not want you there. That is your biggest concern, Lexan. Protect her, so she can protect all of us.”

  “Yes, Head Minister.” And I know this is the most serious assignment he’s ever given me.

  “And Lexan. Keep this a secret. These truths are more dangerous than anything - even Keirna.”

  I nod, slinging my bag over my shoulder and leaving his office for my next class. I let my feet follow the path mechanically because my brain is too busy thinking and connecting and categorizing.

  Everyone has secrets, and some are worse than others. But my family is no stranger to dangerous secrets. I need to talk with Mother, and Pasia and Aitan.