Starbright: The Complete Series

by Hilary Thompson

  “There is a page of Firene’s journal which wasn’t lost, but which I’ve never shown either of you,” she says, and we are immediately silent and alert. “It’s very serious, and you won’t like it, but we’re running out of time.”

  She produces a yellowed scrap of paper from an envelope and places it before me. The writing is a bit faded, but I can still read the coded message. Pasia leans forward too, but she only shakes her head.

  “I don’t remember that code. Read it out loud, Lex.”

  “The story of the spring star and autumn star has recently opened its symbolism to me, by way of a recurring dream,” I read. “Mother, what story is that?”

  “I don’t know, exactly. There are several, but of course Astrea is the spring star because of the Spring Equinox—”

  “And I’m the autumn star,” I finish. Sometimes I have to agree with Trea that these prophecies and stories sound too strange to really be true.

  “Keep going,” Pasia says, kicking me lightly under the table.

  “The spring star is a savior figure. It asked to help the people. But the autumn star is a protector figure. It asked only to help the spring star. When the prophecy is fulfilled, and the maiden of Justice arrives, she will be the savior. The scales of Balance will be her protector, and he must never leave her side, until the prophecy has closed.”

  “Closed?” Pasia asks. I’m more worried about the implication that I will leave Trea someday.

  Mother nods. “That’s a way of saying that the prophecy will be completely fulfilled. Your births were just the beginning of everything. Firene knew that, and she left this for us so we could ensure Astrea’s protection.”

  “How am I supposed to protect her if she won’t even let me near her?” I grumble.

  “There’s more,” Mother answers, quietly. She pulls another sheet from the envelope and pushes it towards me.

  The look in her eyes is the same look I remember from the day Father died.

  My breath grows shallow as I scan the paper and fear courses through my body.

  “What? Tell me!” Pasia demands, her own expression growing fearful as she watches me.

  “It says I have to protect Trea every minute. Until her last. Then I have to let her go.”

  “Okay. Now translate!”

  “It sounds like Trea has to sacrifice herself, and I have to stand back and let it happen,” I say, shoving the paper away. Mother nods her agreement but doesn’t look up. My stomach is rolling like a pot of boiling water. “It says I’m supposed to love her, and protect her with my own life, and then somehow just offer her up to die!”

  I stand up so abruptly that the chair falls over. I don’t pick it up. I just stalk into the next room, my arms shaking with nervous energy.

  How can the stars ask something like this of me? Of Trea? How could the people?

  I feel so betrayed by my own religion. How can I pray to a thing that unfeeling? And suddenly I see the prophecy through Trea’s eyes - a thing. Made by other things. Regardless of how the stories make it sound, the sun and moon and stars were never living, feeling humans like us. They don’t know what it’s like to love, or to lose, and to live with that loss forever.

  “Lexan,” Mother says softly. She stands in the doorway behind me. I stop pacing and stare at her, my fingers tapping a staccato on the wall.

  “Keep your faith in all things hidden. We believe in the stars when we cannot see them. We believe in the sun when it no longer shines for us. And we believe in the universal truth even when it is not shown clearly.”

  These statements, so ingrained in my heart and my religion and my childhood, deflate all the anger and energy from my body. I sink into the couch and look up at my strong mother.

  I wait for her guidance.

  “None of this was ever about what we wanted, Lexan. We are each only part of an immense plan. We can’t even know the whole plan - our brains are too miniscule to contain such knowledge.”

  “But our souls are large enough to contain the faith we need,” I finish, remembering.

  Pasia comes and sits next to me, resting her head on my shoulder. “I’m sorry, little brother. I wish it didn’t have to be you.”

  I hug her close and smile the way she likes me to, with both sides of my mouth.

  “Well, while we’re sharing, I have something too,” I begin, deciding that I really don’t want the sole responsibility for Saloman’s prophecy.

  “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 tell them.

  “A child of right,” says Pasia slowly. “That must be Astrea.”

  I nod. “That’s what I was thinking, too. Right is like justice. And there are certainly many wrongs here.”

  Mother makes a bitter noise and flexes her fingers. “And we certainly don’t have war, while we have too many laws. Where did Saloman think these other children would be? Somewhere on the surface?”

  I shake my head. “He didn’t say. Or wouldn’t. There’s a lot he isn’t telling me. I can see it - he’s afraid of Keirna too. Either that or he has some other agenda.”

  “Perhaps, being a minister, he wants the stars to decide?” Pasia suggests.

  I roll my eyes, but she is probably right. Mother is right that I don’t know the whole plan, but I’m not convinced that I need to sit back and wait either.

  I have a lot of faith, but I’ll be damned if I let something I’ve never seen determine whether Trea and I live or die.

  SIX

  December 28, 2066

  I met a young man today. I meet people each time I sneak out of the safe house, but he is the first one worth mentioning. Charles seems to know everything about everything, and his family has more money than I’ve ever thought possible.

  I was wandering the open market when a young girl pulled me into a private café where he was eating. He told me he knows Evangeline, and that he had been waiting for me to arrive. He has the Sight, just as she does, and he claims to have seen our future in his star charts.

  He claims we will meet many more times before the world ends, and that we will be together after that, in a new world.

  I laughed at him, but he only offered me ice cream, and smiled. That knowing smile is why I will sneak out to see him again soon.

  from First Leader Lakessa’s private journal

  included in Firene’s secret papers

  My brain stays muddled until Community History the next day, when Trea actually asks Teacher Renata a question, instead of sulking silently through class.

  Everyone swivels to stare at her and she looks more than a little uncomfortable. “Since Lakessa was born on the Spring Equinox, is that why all First Leaders must be born then?”

  It’s simple but insightful, and Renata actually smiles, which I don’t think she’s ever done at Trea. “Yes, we only allow First Leaders to come from those children, like yourself, born on that most special of days. It is a way to honor First Leader Lakessa.”

  I can’t help but narrow my eyes. There wasn’t much worth honoring in the way Lakessa ran Asphodel, although most people don’t know this anymore. Firene’s secret papers tell quite a different story than our history books.

  So, because I can get away with asking what Trea really wants to know, I say, “But isn’t it a little egotistical, to say only people who are just like you can be First Leader? I mean, didn’t First Leader Lakessa write pretty much all of our rules about leaders?”

  I feel Trea cut her eyes back to me, but she looks away before I can connect.

  Renata’s mouth turns down a little, as though I’ve hurt her feelings by criticizing our esteemed First Leader. “Well, Lexan, that is somewhat accurate. I can see you’ve discussed the matter with Pasia. But First Leader Lakessa did not write all the laws by herself. I imagine there was quite a team of leaders who helped.”

  “Who were they?
” Trea demands, not even raising her hand.

  Renata flushes and glares at the papers she’s trying to stack. “I’m sure their names are recorded somewhere, but the only one who comes to mind is Head Minister Charles, Lakessa’s partner. I know they worked together closely to create Asphodel. They are, after all, our founders. Which brings me back to my original question of the memorial.” She turns her glare on Trea, who doesn’t flinch a bit.

  I smile to myself, wondering at her audacity with teachers. Not just teachers - everyone. She isn’t even afraid of Keirna.

  I notice Renata has paused and is smiling at me. I have no idea what she’s just said, so I just smile back.

  “And so this year,” she continues, “Choosing Day will celebrate the fulfillment of that prophecy. Now, take out your notes from yesterday, and we’ll add to them.”

  I start to thumb through my notebook, but then I see Trea turn around. Her gaze meets mine straight on, like she was looking for me.

  My heart speeds up and I feel my breathing get shallower, like her very stare is sucking oxygen away from me.

  And then she smiles, like she’s trying to make nice.

  I can’t help it - she looks so uncomfortable making this small gesture. So I wink at her. Because I just wish we could stop taking all of this so seriously. Maybe if our lives weren’t all prophecies and pledges and promises of death, we could actually figure out a way to be friends.

  Winking was apparently not a good idea, because Trea just scowls at me and huffs back around in her chair. I sigh and start taking more endless notes on Choosing Day, writing automatically as Renata drones on.

  * * *

  Friday morning Saloman has me practicing my horoscope reading with the two older ministry students, since I’m the only one from my own class. They’re just a year older than me: Wynton is a Libra, and Willow is a Pisces like Saloman - the only two signs allowed to choose ministry.

  Willow moves the metal hands of her jointed rules across Saloman’s large woven star chart as Wynton scribes the order of the ten names - sun, moon, and the eight planets our people have never seen. I can’t help but watch their practiced movements with envy - not only are they easy friends, they both have demonstrated the true sight, as well as the blind, trusting belief that I often lack in my own ministry training.

  Saloman enters and inspects their work, pointing out a few discrepancies, but I have a hard time focusing. All I can think about is the last time I was here in his office and the prophecy he made. I want to press him further on its meaning, but I can’t even mention it unless we are alone.

  He seems to sense my need, as he sends the others to the library to continue their work.

  “What would you like to know?” He says as soon as the door has shut behind Wynton.

  I’m startled at first by his bluntness, although I shouldn’t be. Saloman can read people as well as he can read the star charts.

  “Where are the other two children from?” I ask, watching him carefully. He holds my gaze, then shakes his head.

  “I don’t know. But I do know that when Asphodel was formed, two other cities were formed. Three cities—”

  “Three children,” I finish, nodding. “But what if those cities have died out already, like our history says?”

  He smiles. “History is written by people. People aren’t always honest with others, or with themselves.”

  “So you’re saying our books are lies?” I can’t hide my anger, and I don’t even try.

  “No. I’m saying none of us has been outside in a hundred years. Who knows what’s out there. But I’ve seen cities and outlying groups in my dreams since I was a child. I don’t believe Asphodel is alone out there.”

  “And neither does First Leader Keirna?”

  He smiles again, but with sadness. “No. She doesn’t.”

  I run my fingers along the lines of the woven star charts still carpeting the desk. Nobody knows what to expect from the outside world, and fear of the unknown can make people desperate.

  “Have you decided what you’ll do when Astrea leaves?” He asks after a few minutes of silence.

  I don’t look at him when I answer. “Yes.”

  “Good. I’ll see you on Monday.”

  I nod and gather my books, blinking back the panic that fights me every time I allow myself to think this might all be real.

  When I arrive in our classroom, Anan is announcing to everyone that Dian, the girl he’s been after, has accepted his promise for Choosing Day. I clap him on the back in congratulations, truly happy. Isa smiles a little as she listens, and I’m glad to see there seem to be no lingering feelings between them. The partnering process sometimes leaves someone out, and I was worried about Anan after she decided to choose Dalen.

  Renata enters and the class starts off innocently enough, with a brief discussion of how the vocations were initially divided between each astrological sign, limiting how many choices each individual has. We learn parts of this same history each year, progressing gradually towards an analysis of the effectiveness of the system. Most students assume it is effective, and only approach the topic from that angle.

  But today is different, and I can sense it in the air before it starts - an uncomfortable warmth. “Has anyone ever been born under the wrong sign?” Trea asks, and the room goes silent.

  “No!” Renata barks out, too quickly. “Of-of course not! How could that even be possible?”

  I’m not satisfied with her brush-off answer, and I doubt Trea is either. But scanning the room, I can tell nobody else is interested now that Renata has moved back to her notes. They probably just thought Trea would get in trouble for such a question - my classmates would never dream that there might be another answer.

  But I know it’s possible, even if this knowledge makes me a hypocrite in my ministry.

  Mother and Father told me once how they pushed Aitan into the world too quickly, not even knowing he was a boy, hoping he would be the baby to begin the prophecy. They believe that this resulted in his being born under the wrong sign, and I believe it’s made him into the person he is now. Part Aries. Part Pisces.

  Half fire and half water, and wholly at odds with himself.

  They’ve never admitted to doing the same with Pasia or me, but I’m sure there are other stories like Aitan’s.

  I notice Trea is watching me, and I try to smooth the frown from my face. She actually looks concerned, and I can’t help but wonder what that means. Does she know something too, and that’s why she asked such a risky question? Or is it possible that she might actually care about something I’m feeling - even in the smallest way?

  As the day stretches on forever, I find surprising bright spots in smiles from Trea. Something is changing in her attitude towards me, and I have no idea why.

  * * *

  The next morning I get to sleep a little later before heading to the Ministration Room to help Saloman prepare for the monthly Gathering. He gives me a list of supplies to gather and a stack of papers to hand copy, then disappears into his office to write his ministration.

  The day is long but blessedly free from conflict and questions - I find the relief of solitude in my list of chores, and I embrace the quiet around me.

  When I finally make it home, Mother already has dinner ready. We chat about the day’s preparations, but I can tell something is bothering her. I stop talking for a few minutes to give her time to open up.

  “I need to tell you something, but I don’t want you to be angry,” Mother says, her eyes fixed on her fingers.

  “What is it?” I ask, biting into my bread to ignore the tight feeling in my lungs.

  “I talked to Trea today when she was helping with the Growing Rooms. I asked her to help you.”

  “Help me?” I almost laugh, the opposite of Mother’s expectation. “Why would she want to help me, and with what?”

  “I asked her to help you train. She’s been meeting with Brenn after regular training. I want you to have that too. Lex, yo
u need to know as much as you can. As many fighting styles and weapons as we have access to. There’s a conflict coming. Danger. I can sense it. I dream of it every night, like I used to dream of your father’s death.”

  “Mother—”

  “No, Lexan. You need this. Not just for self-defense. But I’ve seen how you’re slipping.” She pauses for a brief moment and I lose my breath completely when her eyes flick up to mine, then away. “You’re retreating back into your depression. And I can’t pull you out this time. I’m not strong enough anymore.”

  I turn away from her, trying to shove my hurt back inside the black place I keep locked at all times. Still, I know it’s just as difficult for Mother to say it as it is for me to hear it.

  I can’t go back to that place, and she’s right: lately I’ve noticed how I can see it again in the corner of my mind, every time I close my eyes. An open door, with a sucking wind tunnel just on the other side. If I get too close one day, I could be yanked inside and lost again, like I was several years ago.

  Father and Mother and Sanfred pulled me back to sanity then, and eventually we discovered that the unbearable emotions were directly tied to my secret power manifesting itself. Sanfred experimented with gradually lowering my medications, and Father and Mother helped me practice my power every day. Even so, it was the worst year of my life.

  I can’t go through that again.

  “Okay. I’ll do it.” I tap my fingers on the table without rhythm.

  “Good, because I also found Brenn today and asked him to help,” Mother says, smiling up me now, with a soft look in her eyes. “You’ll start Monday.”

  I sigh and run my hands through my hair. Trea is not going to be happy about this.

  SEVEN

  January 15, 2067

  Charles asked me to meet him in the market today, and he brought his solar car. I’ve never ridden in one before - it’s so quiet that I felt like I wasn’t even moving. But we drove a long way before stopping on an abandoned road in the middle of the cold forest. I probably should have been scared, but Charles makes me feel safe no matter what is happening.