Starbright: The Complete Series

by Hilary Thompson

  One by one, I stretch my limbs back to their full length, then relax my neck. I think the water covers my ears again, but it is nearly impossible to tell.

  I am a rational person, I think. I will not give in to emotion – especially fear.

  Finally satisfied that my body is intact and in no danger of disappearing, I push my mind to explore this strange new world of nothing.

  Memories begin to scroll gently before my eyes – Father, walking out the door on the day he would die. Aitan, laughing when we were children, before he became so serious. Pasia, holding my hand and urging me to be careful.

  Then finally, Mother. She reaches toward me, and I think my fingers are rising to meet hers. She opens her mouth and says something, but I cannot hear her, only the water tapping at my ear.

  Mother becomes more urgent, gesturing at the blackness around her and screaming soundlessly. And it is then that I realize I’m inside a vision and not a memory.

  Something is wrong in Asphodel.

  I sit up and push at the ceiling of the capsule, where I know the door must be. I yell, but the sound is swallowed by the enclosure of the capsule. Thrashing the water around me, I search the space desperately for an opening, but there is none.

  At some point I bash my head against the wall, and the vision dissolves into a constellation of intensely bright stars. I sink back into the water, pain pulsing in a band across my temples.

  “Mother,” I whisper into the night sky. But she is gone.

  And I fade into the same nothingness that always accompanies a vision, trailing after it like the night sky follows the moon.

  Minutes later, or hours later – who could tell – the water begins to churn slightly, and I hear a distinct plop of something being dropped into the womb from above. A crystal, I realize immediately, as the water goes from a state of nothing to the unmistakable and startling pleasure I’d felt when standing on the crystal pattern for air.

  Suddenly it is as if all of my senses are turned on, rather than off. I am not deprived – I am glutted with sensation.

  A hazy image of Trea forms before me now, and I recognize the rough walls of the hot pool behind her. Her expression is different, though. Lazy and flirtatious, as though we have all the time in the world to develop our love together.

  She grins at me, and I imagine my lips are parting to match.

  Then the water swirls and another plop echoes against my ears.

  The change is instant and agonizing. My muscles, loose from floating and pleasure, cramp and knit into tangles of pain. My chest feels like someone is prying apart my ribs, and my stomach pulses as though my entrails are being dragged away, inch by inch. Sound vibrates through my throat, but the ear coverings keep me from hearing even my own cries.

  The pain continues forever, until I’m certain I’ll die of it, alone in this stupid womb. My entire world, my every thought, focuses on breathing – on finding even scraps of air.

  But gradually, it lessons to a manageable state, then a dull ache. Then there is nothing again, and I drift on the currents of exhaustion and memory. Gradually I manage to relax each twisted muscle again into the black emptiness.

  Have I mastered the first crystal?

  My heart sinks as I feel the process begin to repeat: a drop into the water, a cycle of pleasure, another drop, and a cycle of pain. Then rest. Then again. My body is a string for someone else to pluck at will, and eventually all thought flees, and I am reduced to animal instincts of pain and pleasure. Survival and death.

  I have no idea how many times, or for how long, or even if there was a result. I just focus on breathing.

  The next time I open my eyes, it is to the sight of my own room, at night, with the scent of the ocean winding in through the open window. My whole body feels hollowed out, empty. I press my fingers along my limbs: nothing is missing, and I am dressed in a soft tunic.

  I groan. Was I in that womb an entire day?

  I push up, fighting stiff and sore muscles, and stagger to the window.

  Standing alone at the edge of the ocean is Trea – her back is to me, but I’d know her anywhere.

  She’s dressed in a gown of liquid silver, her red-orange hair hanging loose down her back. As she lifts her arms, I see the fire leap between her palms, forming a line, then a ball, then a circle of light. She handles it easily, fluidly. Without me to help her balance it.

  She doesn’t need me for this anymore, I think.

  The ring of fire grows in size, and tendrils escape into the star-filled sky. They twine up and form shapes, connecting the constellations above her. Trea is creating the zodiac above us, her fire giving life to every creature in the night sky.

  I sink to my knees, exhaustion taking my body’s last strength, confusion overpowering my mind. Just before my eyes sink beneath the windowsill, I think I see Trea walking – gliding – up a staircase of fire that she has created.

  Entering the realm of the Goddess Moon.

  EIGHT

  ASTREA

  Fire untamed, ruling the sky,

  Create stars from sparks, then throw them high.

  Protect me from darkness, that I might live,

  Protect me from shadows, your light to me give.

  From The Book of Ministry, Addendum to Chapter Seven: Prayers

  First Leader Firene, year 2162

  I haven’t seen Lexan in nearly two weeks.

  Hesten and the Sisters still aren’t answering questions. Everyone else still hurries past me, keeping their eyes down. Tisiphone only condescends to assure me Lexan is unharmed, except for the pain of the womb. Which isn’t as reassuring as it should be. If I weren’t so afraid of crossing the Sisters and causing the end of the world, I would have burned us out of here days ago.

  Instead, I’m focusing on obedience and trying my best to complete the path. As I undress for my next test in the womb, I whisper-chant my own made-up version of a prayer of protection.

  Before Tariel exited the room, she described how Lexan is still trapped within his own element of air, his body giving out from exhaustion after each session. And his mind is so weakened from the visions in the womb that he can have no visitors.

  I hope she’s lying about how hard this is on him.

  I think Lexan is probably lying to her about not having any visions, keeping secrets of his own. She’s concerned for him – I can see it in her eyes – but I don’t think it’s because of his role in the prophecy.

  She cares for him.

  I could rip her throat out for insinuating more, but that would make me no better than she is. Her aquamarine and teal streaks may be beautiful signs of purged sin, but there is much more still resting in her heart.

  But I need to forget about Tariel and Lexan. I need to enter the womb without fear in my heart, because today I am scheduled to begin the water path.

  I have a plan to survive it, and I’m desperate for it to work.

  Just before I slip into the water, I open a palm-sized container of coconut oil I found in the bathroom. I can’t take it into the womb – the machine won’t work if there is anything besides a body in there.

  So I scoop the oil directly into my mouth – as much as I can manage – holding it there without swallowing. My tongue curls away from the slick substance, but I force myself not to gag.

  “The womb is ready for you,” Tariel’s voice sounds over the intercom that connects this room to her observation room. She’s taken to staying in there as much as possible, after that second day, when I heated the lid of the capsule so much it burned her fingers.

  I press my lips together as I slip into the water, barely able to tell where its wet begins. I call a bit of heat to my skin – not quite flame – and the water instantly contrasts. The machine catches on quickly though, adjusting even as I make myself comfortable in the small space.

  After reaching up to close the lid, I let the oil dribble out of the corners of my mouth, down my cheeks, and onto the still surface of the water. Hopefully it will
slick enough of the surface for my plan to work.

  Somehow, I made it through the first full set of crystals in the first day, gaining complete access to the fire paths. Tariel claimed I was lucky – that my fire power must be strong to protect me so much.

  But I shut her up when after a few days of rest – basically unconscious rest – I forced myself through the next grouping of crystals, and gained the earth path.

  So far, Tariel has not figured out that my secret has much more to do with my power over fire than she imagined.

  Each time the lid of the womb capsule closes me into blackness, I call my fire, crumbling it into the tiniest of embers to swirl above me.

  I create my own night sky of constellations, just inside the capsule, and it keeps away the blackness of my soul. It keeps away the visions of darkness. Of what I’m pretty sure is Hade, laughing inside my skull. Everything else, I can handle.

  The embers were only strengthened by the fire crystals, and they weren’t affected at all by the earth crystals.

  Water will not be the same. I know the first crystal will drop any second, so I hurry to call my flames. I nearly laugh out loud as they dance across the surface of the water, riding the oil-slicks away from extinction.

  The crystal drops, and I tense with the strange tingling pleasure of a fire crystal.

  Then the first water crystal plinks into the water, and my muscles are instantly spasming in pain. I lock my legs together and twine my arms beneath my back, determined not to thrash around and disturb the oil.

  If I lose the oil, I lose the flame.

  If I lose the flame, Hade can find me.

  The flames flicker a bit, but my plan is working. The agony presses on, and I squeeze my eyes shut against it, though I know that doesn’t help.

  My teeth are grinding and I’m sweating when it happens.

  The last bit of oil is consumed by my fire, and the laughter begins.

  Soft at first, just a whisper in my ear.

  I try to open my eyes, but the pain creates these powerful reflexes, and I’m finally not strong enough.

  Astrea… I hear him whisper in my head.

  Or is it in the air now?

  Darling, you look good in the dark, he says, and I cringe. Of all the visions I’ve had in the past weeks, this is the most real. Either he’s getting stronger, or I’m getting weaker.

  Neither is a good sign.

  Somehow I last through the crazy pain without passing out, and another fire crystal drops into the water, soothing my muscles.

  I can breathe again, but I know it won’t last long.

  Reaching up, I start to push the lid open. I need more oil.

  “Sorry, Trea – you can’t exit in the middle of a cycle,” Tariel’s voice reaches me through the slit I’ve opened. The machine hums and the lid forces closed, despite my frantic pushing.

  Evil witch – she knows I’m struggling, even if she doesn’t realize what I’m struggling against. She would have let Lexan out.

  Actually, maybe that’s why his progress is so much slower.

  But I need to focus: the water is swirling in anticipation of the next crystal, so I brace myself. The fire I call is weak, and it fizzles away as soon as the plop of the water crystal sounds in my ears.

  The darkness is even more complete than the pain. I don’t know if I’m screaming out loud or not, but this is so much worse.

  Just before my mind leaves me for good, I swear I feel his fingers brush across my collarbone. His arms reach around my bare stomach, cinching me tight. His breath whispers along my jawline and swirls into my ears.

  Then the blackness fills me completely, and I’m just gone.

  When I wake, I see souls before me.

  Black, white. A few colors. Blurs of mixing swirls.

  I open my eyes. Same thing. Close my eyes. Same thing.

  “Oh, her eyes!” a voice cries out, nearly a shriek of panic. Shuffling in the room, the swift open and close of doors.

  I sit up and peer around me. I still see souls, but farther away now. I can’t tell if my eyes are open or shut.

  All of our eyes are open now, darling, I hear in my mind.

  Then one of the souls, more white than black, but familiar in its patterning, approaches. A sharp jab in my arm makes me cry out, and I throw up a flame of protection, but it dies as I feel my eyes slide back into my skull and my muscles go limp.

  When I wake again, I see my room, and the blessed warmth of the sun streaming in through the open window. There’s a familiar pressure on my legs though, and as I struggle to pull at the blanket, I see those blasted leg straps from the ship.

  Then I remember, and my hands begin to shake. What did I do? A buzzing begins in the back of my skull.

  “Hesten!” I yell to the empty room. “Tariel! Tisiphone!” I continue to scream names until finally, I hear the doorknob rattling.

  When it opens, Tisiphone is the one who stands before me, fury on her pretty face.

  “Why didn’t you tell us?” she accuses, slamming the door shut behind her. “Hade has been in your mind this whole time, hasn’t he?”

  I nod, tired of lying. Tired of everything, really. “Did I hurt anyone?” I ask weakly.

  “Only Tariel’s pride,” she says, a smile breaking slyly through the anger. Then she sobers and scowls at me again. “But you also proved her right.”

  “She knew?”

  “She suspected you were cheating the machine somehow. Her monitor doesn’t show light, so she couldn’t see your flames. But it shows temperature. My Sisters and I thought it was just your temper,” she continues, her voice flattening as if the anger is too much effort.

  “More like stubborn will to live,” I say, and it’s nearly a whisper. I let my body fall back into the pillow.

  “Still, it is rare for us to be tricked. My Sisters are not pleased. And now there is the issue of the womb – I don’t see how you can use it to finish your path. The darkness will just make Hade stronger.”

  “There’s another way?” I ask in surprise, suspicion winding its way into my brain.

  “Of course there is. You didn’t think we put everyone through that, did you?” Her laughter tinkles in such a pleasant way, but I just want to burn the building down. Maybe all the buildings.

  “Why would you put us through that?” I manage instead.

  “It’s the quickest way, and usually the only way for outsiders. Although, to be honest, we’ve never put anyone through the process this quickly. Usually it takes months. We begin with merely crystal dust, gradually working up to the full-size crystals you started with.”

  I snort. Lucky they didn’t kill us. “Lexan’s okay?”

  She sighs. “Yes. He’s still not doing well on the path, though. Something is holding him back. The Prophet has spent many hours in meditation, but we have no answers yet.”

  “What are the other ways to follow the path?” I ask.

  “There are many, but they are such long processes. Years, Trea. Years we don’t have.” She considers me for a long moment. “What do your memories of Hade look like? Or are they visions?”

  “They are definitely not memories – he says things he never told me. And I…I feel his fingers. And his breath, on my skin,” I’m nearly stuttering, shivering away from the remembered feeling.

  Tisiphone is staring at me in alarm, eyes huge. “He speaks to you? He has voice and body?”

  I nod. “It’s like he’s there but not there. Like a ghost.”

  “This is so much worse than I had imagined,” she says, and bolts from the room without another word.

  I call her name a few times, but there is only silence in the room. Styx.

  Not knowing what else to do, I begin the arduous task of unstrapping my legs. There are even more buckles this time, and they’re fixed much tighter.

  I’ve almost finished, though, when the doors burst open, revealing the True Prophet and Tisiphone. He looks back at her. “You may stay outside. Please. Astrea will
not harm me.”

  He pulls the room’s one chair next to the bed so we are nearly eye level. “Tisiphone has told me of your visions of Hade. I had seen something similar in my own visions, but I believed them to be the strong memories induced by the process of the womb and the strength of the crystals’ pain.”

  I shake my head. “These are more than memories. I don’t know how it’s possible.”

  “Tell me again how he died.”

  I close my eyes briefly, needing to rest them but afraid to see darkness. “I tried to set him on fire. That did nothing but burn away his robes. But I grabbed a knife – Irana said it was the knife of Diké – and threw it into his chest. He just…died.”

  The Prophet narrows his eyes. “So you just found that knife lying there? It wasn’t yours?”

  “No.”

  He mutters under his breath, making me very uneasy. Then he pulls a slim volume from his pocket and drops it on my bed. “You must read this. Then perhaps you will understand the danger we are in. Do not allow anyone else to see it.”

  I reach for the book, but his hand scoots it just out of range.

  “There is more, isn’t there,” he demands, his eyes boring down on me.

  “Yes,” I say in a squeak, faltering under his uncharacteristic anger. “After Hade died, I couldn’t see his soul leave his body. But then when I happened to look up, it was there at the ceiling – swirling in a huge mass. Like a cloud of Hade,” I say, nearly giggling in the bizarre fear that creeps across my shoulders.

  “You must not listen to him!” the Prophet cries, jumping up so he is much closer, his nose nearly touching mine. The book falls to the floor as he shakes my shoulders. “You must defeat him! Or you will never defeat the Three Sisters…and all will be lost.”

  His eyes are desperate and wild, and my heart is pounding double-time. “But I thought I passed my test with him – with them – in Tartarus!”

  “Not even close,” he whispers. “That was just to assure ourselves you were indeed the vessel. Once you finish the path, you will be tested to determine if that vessel has indeed been filled with the powers of the goddess of Justice. Astrea, you cannot fail.”