Starbright: The Complete Series

by Hilary Thompson

  There is a dark shape at the far end of the boat. Formed, but formless. Made of fog and shadow.

  I take a deep breath to avoid screaming, and I smell the faintest hint of oranges.

  “No,” I whisper, because it’s all I can manage.

  A soft laugh reaches me from the form, which seems to grow and become sharper as I watch it. “Good morning, Astrea,” Hade says, leaning forward just enough so I can see his face in the scant light.

  “Not possible – dreaming,” I mutter, my brain slow to come up with solutions to this new puzzle.

  “You should be glad of my strength. I don’t think you would have made it yesterday. And darling, even though I would love to show you my childhood home, I don’t think either of us are ready for you to die.”

  He shifts closer and his fingers grasp the edge of my tunic, pulling it closed at the neck, where I vaguely remember clawing at the material. His hand lingers at my throat, his palm shifting to cup my cheek.

  “How is this possible?” I ask, afraid to move.

  “Do you think I stay in your cramped little mind all of the time? Don’t be ridiculous. I have much more spacious quarters available to me. Yours is just the one with the best view,” he smiles, withdrawing his hand and smoothing it over his own hair.

  Just then, something bumps my boat from below, sending water sloshing over one edge. I give a little scream of surprise, and peer over the edge. A dark shape is visible somewhere beneath the water.

  I watch it glide beneath me, and I scramble to lean over the other side, where the shape seems even closer.

  A silvery fin pokes above the water.

  “Do something!” I cry, but when I look up, the boat is empty. Hade is gone – if he was ever there in the first place.

  The boat rocks again as the great fish bumps it, and I glimpse a beady eye as it rises closer to the surface.

  Panicked, I shoot a sword of fire directly at the fin, and its flesh sizzles before it vanishes beneath the water. The top of the fin is now blunted and bleeding. I grasp the oar and begin to row frantically in the direction of the rising sun, looking behind me every few strokes as I change sides.

  I only stop rowing when the sun reaches its apex, and I’m no longer certain which way to aim the boat. I haven’t seen any more signs of the fish or of Hade, and I’m just completely over this test, or journey, or path.

  I seize both of the remaining skins. The last one doesn’t say seventh, so maybe I can just drink it right after the other. One way or another, I’ll be done with this craziness.

  I down the sixth skin, and my brain explodes in agony. I know I’m screaming, but I can’t hear the sound over the rushing of my brain liquefying in my skull. All I can do is hang my head between my knees and press hard enough to keep myself in one piece.

  My last thought is a prayer of thanks that Lexan never had to go through this, then my brain gives out, and I collapse, slumped against the hull of the boat.

  In the middle of the night, something jerks me awake, and I open my eyes cautiously, expecting Hade, or the fish returning to take revenge.

  But I see nothing, and there is no sound other than the gentle slapping of the water moving the boat along in increments. I try to call a spark to light the dark around me, but I’m too weak to even use my power. The stars are covered with thick clouds, and the moon is only a blurry light that shows itself in streaks as the weather changes.

  My weakness is pitiful, I realize suddenly. The self-doubt that has plagued me my whole life returns in a sudden rush, and I begin to despair that I will never even make it back to shore alive.

  Why do I even bother turning away Hade’s power?

  This thought spreads itself to every corner of my mind, and although I fear it, it’s beginning to look like a solution. I know I used to fear him, but somehow I don’t anymore.

  I grasp the skin labeled Last, and I tip it to my lips. But it seems empty, and I shake it, confused by the lack of water and the conflicting weight.

  I press the skin, and it sloshes. But again, when I put it to my mouth, nothing comes out. I screw the top back on, cursing the Sisters and their stupid magical water skins.

  I decide to sleep again, since I can’t navigate while these clouds are covering the stars. Just as I settle back in the boat, the air seems to change, and I hear a whooshing sound. It grows to a roar before I locate it – a funnel of water barreling toward my tiny craft.

  The funnel is wider than my boat and reaches endlessly into the sky – my mouth gapes open in terror.

  Is this how I will die?

  As it nears, I realize there is something caught inside the funnel already. A person? Small and slight, with arms caught in an unending upward spiral. Blond hair, straight up into the sky. Tiny feet, seeming to dance across the surface of the water.

  I gulp. Irana is caught inside the funnel. What can I do? There isn’t any way I could possibly save her, is there? I brace myself to be sucked into the vortex as well.

  But then she turns her face toward me and grins.

  Her eyes are black.

  Tendrils of dark fog wind around her arms and neck, then up into her billowing golden hair.

  I swear I can even hear a faint chuckle deep within the rumble of the water.

  And I know – Hade is there. Perhaps Irana has accepted his offer and is using his power to control the funnel. Has the maiden of Peace given in to darkness, so she can control the oceans?

  The funnel veers on its path, turning away from my boat. Far enough away that only the waves can harm me – but even they are strong enough to tip the boat.

  I splash and splutter into the water, flailing to stay afloat as the funnel grows smaller on the horizon. Thankfully, the boat is still upright, and I haul myself inch by inch back into its belly, coughing seawater from my lungs.

  The direness of my situation begins to sink in as the moonlight shines down on me. I still have the last water skin, but the oar is gone. I search the water around me desperately, but I see nothing.

  I have no stars, no oar, and one day’s worth of water.

  Even worse, my friend will likely die at the Sisters’ hands when they judge her, and this, too, is my fault. If I had been strong enough to resist Hade when he died, he might never have found enough strength to enter Irana’s mind.

  I collapse heavily against the thin shell of the boat – if Irana can be compromised, can Lexan be swayed by Hade too?

  NINETEEN

  LEXAN

  February 10, 2067

  Aisa tried to tell me again about her dreams. She claims to have the same dream I have about Mother, but that Mother never pushes any of us.That each of us chooses to jump.

  She also claims she isn’t as young as I think she is, and that she isn’t going anywhere with Charles. I need to find a new hiding place for this journal.

  I still find it impossible to believe that someone so young has accessed the

  Sight in such a way, but Charles has warned me it could happen.

  What will I do if we have conflicting visions about how to help the world?

  From First Leader Lakessa’s personal journal

  Included in Firene’s secret papers

  I’ve been traveling six days alone when I come across signs of people. Ruts in the dirt, remains of campfires, even a lost toy. I’m south of Kedesh and not quite far enough to be near Hebron. Perhaps I’m following the caravans of cleansed people from Tartarus.

  I push myself harder in hopes of meeting people – I need to talk, to laugh, to get outside of my own head. This isolation is nearly as bad as the womb treatment in Elysium.

  Perhaps worse now because I know my visions are true.

  Something really did happen in Asphodel.

  Mother died, because I wasn’t there.

  Aitan, Isa, Brenn, even Trea’s father. All of them were in so much danger, and we just left.

  Up ahead, smoke hovers just above the tree line, and when I call a breeze toward me, I smell the
tang of burning wood. A few soft voices also ride the breeze, and I realize there really are people there in that dense woods.

  I advance quickly, yet carefully, looking for signs of life and danger.

  Just as I near the edge of the trees, a figure bursts into the clearing a hundred yards down. He is ragged and wild, his hair a mess of leaves.

  As he turns in my direction, I seem to telescope in to see his face. Blood runs down his chin, and his eyes are crazed.

  I’ve only ever seen one man look like this, and Trea created him.

  He cackles as he catches me watching him and breaks into a run, an animalistic roar tearing from his open mouth. I barely hesitate before sending an arrow into his heart. Another gallops from the forest, closer than the first. I send him to the ground as well, but the wound isn’t fatal.

  He twists and shouts, writhing on the ground. I creep closer, readying my knife in one hand, keeping my bow in the other.

  “No!” a voice shouts from the trees, and my heart swells: it’s a voice I will always recognize.

  Zarea steps from the shelter of an enormous tree, looking like a goddess of war. Her arrow points at the man’s forehead, hovering just above his skin.

  “Where are the others?” she demands. The man only groans and cackles, an odd combination born of madness and pain.

  She steps her boot onto his neck, crushing the wind from his throat. I smell the change in the air – foul and rancid, full of rotten meat. But still he speaks no words.

  So she kills him, loosing her arrow into his eye socket from an arm’s length. Silence reigns in the clearing as the fire crackles in the shadows of the trees beyond.

  Zarea steps toward me, hesitating for a second as she looks over my face. “No wounds?” she asks.

  I raise my eyebrows and shake my head, closing the distance between us. I gather her into my arms, and she lets me, sagging against my shoulders for the briefest of seconds. I breathe in the earthy smell of her hair, tinged with smoke now. Then she straightens and becomes the warrior again.

  I point to the other body. “I just came upon them. I killed the one there.”

  “These are the Lost. It’s what the people have taken to calling them. We think it started in Tartarus. Some of the guards claim they are the souls which Tre judged and found wanting. The ones who started with too much darkness. Unbalanced.”

  “They cannot be saved?” I ask, even knowing the inevitable answer. It’s just as I suspected.

  She shakes her head. “They’re barely human. Flesh-eaters.”

  “How many?”

  “There’s no telling. But as many as we kill, there seem to always be more.” She bends and retrieves her arrow, then mine, wiping them on the grass. I move to the other body and do the same.

  “I’m traveling to Asphodel. We got word that Keirna has…she’s killed my mother and imprisoned my brother,” I say in a rush. Zarea’s face hardens against the pain I know must show in my eyes.

  “I’ll go with you and help you in whatever you need,” she says, and again I see the steel in her. And I want it, selfishly.

  But I smile and reach for her hand. “Thank you, but this is something I need to do for myself. By myself. Besides, you have messengers searching for you as well. You are wanted in Elysium.”

  “Elysium!” she stops and stares at me. “What for?”

  I sigh. There’s so much we don’t know – what can I tell her that will even make sense? “Let’s get somewhere safe and I’ll tell you everything I know. You won’t like it,” I add, making my tone light and teasing, reminiscent of the short time when we allowed the other to be inside our hearts.

  “I’m traveling alone now,” she says. “There is no safe place, save on this side of the arrow.” She pushes her weapons back in their holders.

  “Stian?”

  “He has taken his rightful place as Leader of Hebron.” The pride is evident in her voice. “And he has asked me to marry him.” This statement carries more sadness than pride.

  “You said no,” I guess.

  She nods, gazing into the distance. “I told him I cannot marry him and travel east with Hebron while the fate of so many innocents in our world is still left to creatures such as the Lost. It’s still a point of misunderstanding,” she adds, blushing a bit under my stare.

  “You believe you’re protecting him from losing you,” I say, cutting through her façade, hoping this is still a skill of mine that she appreciates.

  “Yes,” she sighs. Then she grins. “And the distraction of having me in his bed.” But it’s a hollow grin, fast-fading, and I can see how much this position has cost her.

  “Go to Elysium,” I say suddenly. “Speak to the Three Sisters. If you are what we believe-”

  “I am not your lost maiden,” she says, cutting me off with a bitter scowl. “I was not born in Elysium, and my mother’s people never came to me. Abraham is a liar, as usual.”

  “But…they did come,” I say, not understanding. “The Prophet sent them without the Sisters’ knowing – he told me himself. Surely they did not perish on the journey.” Yet even as I say the words, I realize this must be what happened. This must be why the Prophet could never see Zarea in his visions – she was never claimed by anyone in Elysium.

  “Zarea, look at me.” I stop walking and she turns to meet my gaze. “There is a woman in Elysium who looks just like you. She wears a chain made just like yours. These chains are unique to each family. I’ve spoken to her myself, and she was in a relationship with Abraham.” I brush my hand along her arm as she shakes her head in disbelief. “She had a child, Zarea, before she left. She left the child in Hebron. I know it sounds crazy. But she must be your mother.”

  I see the hope in her eyes, even as it’s shadowed and pushed aside by doubt.

  So I do the only other thing I can to hopefully convince her. I lie. Or at least, I embellish the truth with what I hope is the meaning of the prophecy.

  “Look. I haven’t had the chance to tell Trea this yet, but I’ve seen you in a vision. The first time, I couldn’t tell who it was standing with Trea and Irana. But then I kept having the same vision. Over and over.” I try and fail to suppress a shudder as the memory of the womb washes over my mind again.

  At least my visions became crystallized then – instead of hazy, they became as clear as memories.

  She stares at me. “I don’t have the kind of power you do.”

  “How do you know?” I ask, and she shifts her eyes away. A realization strikes me – a memory of Stian in Hade’s throne room, and how Zarea’s bellowing literally shook the room. “You do have power! I think I’ve even seen it – and you’ve felt it. Haven’t you?”

  She still won’t answer, but it is her silence which responds for her. Zarea – who smells of earth because she is of the earth.

  “If you’re the third maiden, you would have power over the earth,” I whisper. “You can make the ground shake, can’t you?”

  She shakes her head frantically, denying my statement. “I can’t. I can’t! I’ve felt a…a connection…my whole life, but I can’t do what you do.”

  “But you have,” I say, still remembering how Hade’s throne room shook so violently that the floor cracked. “Maybe you just need to be triggered. Like Trea had to be, at first.”

  “I don’t want to go through all that emotional junk, Lex,” she says firmly. “But I’ve always trusted you,” she says, reaching for my hand again. “So if you think I have some kind of power, just give me a few lessons on how to reach it. I’ll figure out the rest on my own.”

  I still don’t think she believes me – she’s just agreeing to stop me from talking about it. We walk through the trees, into the clearing where she stayed the previous night. There are several trees with low branches, and we climb into them.

  “It’s easier to spot the Lost from here. They’re really fast, but loud. Sometimes I can even take them out with an arrow before they smell me.”

  I settle into a crook n
ext to hers and offer her some dried meat and fruit from my pack. She snatches it and eats in huge gulps for several minutes.

  “What exactly happened in Hebron? Why did you leave?” I say, offering her more food and a skin of water.

  She sighs and chews in silence a few more minutes, grief etching over her face. I know Abraham had many shortcomings – the man was basically a tyrant. But he was her father, and he helped shape her into the fierce warrior she is now.

  And if Stian is Hebron’s leader, that can only mean Abraham is dead.

  Finally she begins to tell me the story.

  “When we arrived in Hebron, Caine was in training to take my father’s place, even though he should have been killed for failing his Hero’s Mission. Abraham claimed it would be a peaceful change – usually new leaders have to fight for their spot, but Abraham wasn’t ready to die. Then Stian made a formal claim to his Hero’s Recompense. The reward for finding Tre.”

  “The one where he gets the Tribe and the girl?” I smile, trying to lighten the mood. She just rolls her eyes, still not amused at being a prize in a game played by her father.

  “They’re all idiots,” she grins, although the smile barely reaches her eyes. “So Caine made a claim too, because of course he captured us…”

  “And they had to fight it out,” I guess.

  She nods. “Stian killed Caine. If was a fair fight, and most of the people were actually happy about the result. Caine would have made a vicious leader. But Abraham still denied his claim. Stubborn old man…”

  The night is upon us now, and we pause to listen to a cracking somewhere below on the forest floor. A raccoon wanders past our tree a few seconds later. Zarea fingers an arrow, eyeing it, then shrugs and watches it waddle away.

  “I would have killed Abraham myself if he attacked Stian, and I think he knew it. But I started staying in Stian’s tent at night,” she smiles. “That made him mad. He called a council meeting and proposed to banish Stian, based on him threatening to kill the current leader and actually killing the heir. The council members knew it was wrong, and they argued for hours. Finally they broke for the night. When we woke up the next morning, Abraham was dead.”