Starbright: The Complete Series

by Hilary Thompson

  “I know where to go,” I say, trying to be polite.

  “All candidates are required to have chaperones,” is all she says in answer. On my bed waits the dress I picked for the fire element.

  “Beautiful,” she murmurs, as she helps me zip up the back.

  The dress actually mimics a fire – ash gray and heavy at the bottom, then streaks of blue where the hottest flames would be. Farther up, swathes of red satin, then orange and yellow, and the dress ends with pale yellow and white gauze wrapping my neck and shoulders, just like the smoke would twine in the air.

  She smooths my curls into a sleek bun at the base of my neck, making my face and dress the focus.

  I smile at my reflection. This is not like Choosing Day, when I felt beautiful, but helpless. I do not look gorgeous. I look mature – more sure of myself.

  “Please wait in your room while I change into my own costume,” the woman says. “I’ll be back in less than ten minutes.”

  I sit on the bed obediently, examining the only crystal I have left – the Soul Star. It is cloudier than I remember, looking less like a diamond and more like frozen milk. After so many hours – weeks, even – with these crystals, I wonder just how the diamonds in my temple have affected me over the years.

  When the woman returns, she is dressed in a dove gray silk dress, its cut elegant and modest. She is also wearing a pale, plain mask that hides her entire face.

  “You look like the moon,” I say without thinking.

  She nods. “A servant of the Goddess. Come.”

  “Do I need a mask?”

  “No. Candidates alone are unmasked at the ball.”

  I grimace. So everyone at the ball will be masked except me and the three other candidates. I follow her outside and down a path I’ve never seen, until we reach the edge of the concrete between two buildings. Scrubby grass scratches at my bare feet, then cold sand bulges between my toes.

  We round a corner of rock, and the ocean spreads before me like liquid moonlight. The moon herself seems to be nearly touching the beach.

  The other candidates are already lined up at the water’s edge, and a crowd of Elysians watches them – all in gray, silver, and white gowns or embroidered tunics. All in masks that hide their full faces.

  I spot Hesten and smile at her. She does look gorgeous – her dress fits every curve, then flows out at her calves like a fish’s tail, and the color is a swirling column of orange and rose.

  Kesh is there, too, in a tunic of royal blue satin, embroidered with cresting white and silver waves. Another boy is dressed in the browns of earth, and the last girl wears pale blue and gray, to symbolize air.

  “Citizens of Elysium!”

  I recognize the Prophet’s voice as he steps to the center of the beach, although he, too, wears a smooth, silvery mask.

  “I present to you, the newly Ascended members of Elysium.”

  The people clap, and music begins from somewhere. People begin to fill the beach, dancing, as the Prophet sidles up to me.

  “Well done,” he says quietly. “Earning the Soul Star will be a great sign to the people. They are likely to follow you to the Garden without issue now.”

  I nod, although I’m still not really sure what I did to earn the star. “Should I speak to them tonight?” I ask, remembering my demand to the Sisters that I be allowed to address Elysium as a potential leader.

  “Not tonight. This is a time for celebration, not for talk of humanity ending. I had also hoped Irana would be among the candidates, or that Zarea would have accessed more of her power.”

  I can’t see his face, but I imagine him frowning. “How is Zarea?”

  “She is…a puzzle. She did not do well with the womb at all. She is not in touch with the earth element. In fact, she seems to be most in tune with fire.”

  I grin. “That seems about right, with her temper.”

  “Still,” he sighs. “I worry that she is so far from finding her inner temple that her power will not have time to develop before we need it.”

  I don’t have a chance to question him further, as a new dance begins, and all of us are pulled into the mix. I’m passed from masked person to masked person, whirled around until I’m so dizzy I barely know what to do with my feet. When the song ends, I’m handed a fluted glass of clear liquid – I down it without even thinking.

  Someone hands me another, and I sip more slowly, but the dancing has made me thirsty. Scanning the crowd, I think I pick out Irana – her dancing is much more creative and elegant than anyone else’s. Zarea’s hair is visible, and she stands to the side with what I think is the Lady Thema. They are some of the few not dancing.

  A hand appears before me, pulling me back into the music and revolutions. The eyes bore into mine, and I recognize them, but can’t quite think who it is. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I glimpse Irana again, her mask pushed up as she embraces a boy. A glint of metal on his hand catches my attention, but I’m whisked around before I can fully see him.

  “Pacem?” I wonder, craning my neck without results.

  “Yes,” my dance partner says, his voice muffled by the mask. “While you were undergoing the Ascension, the robot boy returned.”

  “What about Lexan?” I ask, all of my attention riveted back on the man holding me. But he simply passes me to another dancer. I stumble a bit, still trying to see Irana.

  “Don’t worry about them. I’m right here,” my new partner says, a smile in his voice.

  Joy rushes my body – I know that voice. “Lexan!” I breathe, but again, I’m passed to another partner before I can react further, and he disappears – so many similar costumes of silver and white and gray.

  I pass the Sisters, and Megara grins wickedly at me. A flash of blood-red eyes, and I’m twirled around again. I fight against the person holding me, but his grip is stronger than it should be. A bit of gray gauze on his mask covers even his eyes, and my stomach begins to churn. Where is Lexan?

  I’m exchanged again, and a soft chuckle reaches my ears from my new partner. “C’mon, Astrea. I thought you wanted to do this.”

  My feet try to stop moving as a memory splashes into my brain – Pallis at the hot pool, overestimating how much I wanted him to kiss me.

  His familiar brown eyes twinkle into mine. “Pallis?” I whisper. It’s impossible, but he lifts the mask a few inches, showing his dark blond hair and a grin I used to find charming.

  “How-how did you get here?”

  “Who cares – just enjoy it,” he grins, shifting the mask back down and twirling me away from him into the grip of yet another partner.

  “You look amazing tonight,” this one says. I blink up at him, his grass-green eyes so familiar.

  I shake my head. “What is going on? Stian? How is this possible?” My brain is hazy from drinking the fizzy clear liquid, and I remember Mother warning me not to drink from the cup.

  Wait, no, that’s a different memory.

  “The stars came out quickly tonight – did you make a wish?” Stian says, gazing down at me. I manage to wrench my hand away, but he just cinches tighter at my waist.

  “Stop it! What is going on?” I demand. What was in that drink I had?

  “Finally!”

  My heart beats double-time as I’m jerked from Stian’s arms and back into Lexan’s. I stare up into his deep-water blue eyes, disbelieving it’s really him.

  “What is going on?” I whisper.

  His eyes widen, then blink as though the world is slowing down. Dark lashes graze the edges of the mask’s eyeholes, and then raise again.

  Revealing darkness.

  Black eyes, rimmed in even thicker lashes. I gasp and begin to struggle, but it’s as though my legs have forgotten how to do anything except dance. My partner nudges his mask up with his shoulder, and I feel as though all the blood has drained to my feet, making them too heavy to move.

  “Hade,” I whisper.

  “Yes, darling. I’ve tried on a few masks tonight, but in the e
nd, it’s really best to be yourself, now isn’t it.”

  He dips me low, his breath hot on my neck, even through the strips of fabric. When we straighten again, I feel hot tears pricking at my eyes. I have no idea what to do.

  “What do you want?” I say, my voice trembling way more than I’d like to admit.

  He smiles, his face shadowed beneath the mask as it rests on his forehead. But I can still see the outline of his full, red lips as he says, “Everything.”

  Suddenly, my body is flooded with energy and fire and my temper rises like an erupting volcano. He will not take this from me!

  Fire bubbles in my veins and erupts from my palms, licking at Hade’s tunic sleeves, and quickly migrating to his entire body.

  The screams are what finally get everyone else’s attention.

  The man before me shimmers with fire as he tears at his mask and burning tunic, and the screams of his agony fill me with panic.

  He is no longer Hade. He’s no-one I even recognize.

  Just a boy, barely older than me.

  I stumble to my knees as someone breaks from the crowd and tackles the boy into the ocean water. The flames sizzle out, and his moans gradually give way to whimpers. Several men run to bring blankets and a gurney, and they wrap him gently, rushing him away from the beach.

  I’m still slumped in the sand when the crowd turns to me.

  “She’s evil!”

  “…come to destroy us all…”

  Their voices grow louder, roaring in my ears, and all I can do is kneel, hands spread out for them to take me.

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper.

  “So am I,” Tisiphone says, bending down before me. “I truly wish you had passed that test.”

  She moves away, and I see Alecta watching me, her eyes filmed with dark red. Megara pulls at her, and I gasp as her bones seem to flicker beneath her white skin – darkness in her very skeleton.

  “Test,” I repeat, my voice weak.

  Test. The word echoes in my mind.

  “It was Hade!” I cry, desperation forcing me to my feet. The crowd backs away in one motion, like the tide withdrawing from the sand.

  Tisiphone turns back to look at me, her eyes narrowed.

  “Hade made me hallucinate! I thought it was him, taken flesh…” My voice falters and dies out as the Sisters advance on me.

  “Explain yourself,” Megara hisses.

  “He…he sometimes makes me hallucinate. I thought I saw Pacem.”

  “Pacem is here,” Alecta sneers, and a figure breaks from the crowd. Pacem walks slowly forward, Irana trailing behind him. Neither looks as though they want to come any closer, and I pray it’s the Sisters they fear. Not me.

  “And Lexan?” I ask, a new hope swelling in my chest.

  “Not Lexan,” Pacem says, and I nearly crumple again as that hope bursts painfully. “I brought back some survivors. He went on. I’m leaving again in the morning to meet him. We’ll go on to Asphodel.”

  If Lexan wasn’t here, then obviously Pallis and Stian weren’t either. “It was Hade,” I repeat in a whisper.

  “I saw him too,” Irana says, and all three Sisters whirl on her. She cowers against Pacem, but doesn’t look away from their eyes, which still flicker like blood in candlelight. I’m gaping at her. How could she have possibly seen his face? But Styx, I hope she did.

  “We will investigate this further,” Tisiphone says. “Irana, Astrea, come with us. The rest of you – the boy will be fine. Now celebrate!” she demands. The crowd doesn’t move or speak until we have left the beach.

  Pacem trails us, along with the Prophet, and we all enter the Temple of the Goddess.

  “Irana, if you are lying, your own test will be that much more difficult. Even a pure heart can become filthy and tainted by dishonesty.” Megara’s words cause Irana to tremble, but she says nothing.

  “Tell us what happened,” Alecta tells me.

  I tell the story, of how each partner seemed to be a different memory, until eventually Hade stood before me.

  “When he showed his face, I lost control. I know I’ve done horrible things…but I’ve done so much good here. I couldn’t let him take a solid form and destroy our work!”

  The Sisters glance at each other, communicating without words.

  “This was indeed a test,” the Prophet says finally, seeming to tire of their silence. “The Furies will test you many times before the eclipse. And you, Irana. And Zarea as well. You must not lose control of your anger. You must not hurt the innocent. You must judge equally and fairly.”

  “But I didn’t know–”

  “She couldn’t have known,” Irana says. “Lord Hadeon has lived in her mind since his body was sheared from his conscience. Tonight, he took advantage of your test to choose a new body.”

  The Prophet’s eyebrows draw together. “It is possible, I suppose. Although there is no record of him ever having chosen a body in that manner.”

  He beckons to the Sisters and the four of them draw into a tight circle, murmuring.

  Irana catches my eye.

  I think they really believe me. Her voice appears in my mind, and I nearly fall off my bench, my eyes wide. She curves her lips in a tiny smile, which vanishes as soon as the Sisters turn back to us.

  “Very well, Astrea. We will count this test as neither a pass nor a fail. Expect another,” Alecta says.

  “If I might ask, what exactly were you testing?” I ask, unable to stop myself.

  “I don’t think I will tell you that just yet,” she answers. The phrasing turns my stomach, reminding me again of Hade.

  The four of them file out of the temple, leaving me with Irana and Pacem.

  “So you didn’t see him?” I whisper.

  She shakes her head. “I’m sorry, Trea. All I saw was that boy’s face…”

  TWENTY-FIVE

  LEXAN

  April 17, 2067

  Charles and I have been visiting Evangeline nearly each time we meet.

  She’s teaching us so much about the zodiac. Of course, Charles already knew quite a bit, but she gave us several books to read.

  My favorite is a sort of history book, with evidence of predictions from famous astrologers – prophecies, really – of all the major world events. Even this civil war. What bother me most is that if the stars can so accurately predict the future, why doesn’t anybody listen?

  From First Leader Lakessa’s personal journal

  Included in Firene’s secret papers

  As I make my way back to the road, I hear another noise ahead. Wondering if it might be the group of young people changing their minds and coming back, I quicken my steps. But what I find is even better.

  Horses.

  A herd is passing through, perhaps looking for the same water I just left. I stand still and they mill around me, unthreatened by my appearance.

  I walk next to them, looking for one I might convince to carry me. They follow their senses directly to the river, and while they drink, I approach one which is pale gray, nearly white, with darker gray dapples, just like the face of the full moon. Laying my hand upon her back, I stroke the hair with my fingers. I reach into my pack and draw out some sweet dried fruit I’ve been rationing.

  The horse snuffs at it, then nibbles it from my palm. She drinks deeply, then rubs her back against a nearby tree. I follow her, keeping a hand on her back. She swings her head around to my face, and I watch her study me.

  I’ve never communicated with an animal before, but I try sending her thoughts of calm. She grows more still and swivels her ears, as though listening to my voice in her head.

  Then she angles her body toward me, showing me her length. I step onto a nearby rock and throw a leg over her side. She shimmies a few feet away from the water but doesn’t shake me off.

  Her head swings around, and I tuck my legs back as far as I can, hoping she isn’t planning on biting at me. But she just seems to survey me again, then she turns and ambles back toward the road where I found
her.

  Once in the open, she breaks into a run, and I hunker down and squeeze my knees, fisting her mane and trying desperately not to slide off her slick back. She needs little direction, and although I check my map a few times as best I can, she seems to know exactly where the bends in the road are, and when we need to slow for a decision.

  “Can I call you Luna?” I ask, rubbing her neck as we detour from the road to a shallow pool. She also knows where the water is, and the thicker patches of scrubby grasses that grow periodically amidst the endless rock.

  When I slide to the ground, she snuffs at my hand, butting her head against my chest when she realizes I don’t have any more fruit.

  “Sorry,” I say, my voice seeming too loud in the great desert spread before and behind us.

  Dusk grows nearer and still she is content to gallop across the dirt that has blown over most of the faded black road. Pacem and I had discussed the possibility of my going faster on a horse, but it’s impossible to plan for that kind of luck.

  Luna slows to a walk and whinnies, tossing her head.

  “What is it?” I ask, resting one hand on my bow. There isn’t any noise or movement that I can detect, but she dances in a semi-circle, ears pricked.

  Only seconds later, I begin to sense what she does.

  A storm is coming. The sky darkening behind us isn’t just from the sun setting – rainclouds swell to the west and south. Thunder cracks in the distance, and Luna skitters back into a run. I have no more control over where she’s headed – all I can do is put my head down and hold on with every finger, knee, and toe.

  Rounding a curve in the road, she skids to a stop before a row of crumbling buildings. These are bigger than any I’ve seen since leaving Tartarus, but they obviously haven’t been occupied since before the Cleansing. I hop down, keeping hold of her mane in the hopes that she’ll let me guide her through a nearby doorway. The building is empty inside – an echoing, open space. Part of the roof has fallen through, but there is enough dry space for us to last out the storm, I think.

  We huddle in the corner, me whispering to her as the sky grows dark almost instantly, and rain begins to pelt the metal roof. Claps of thunder rattle the roof with barely a break, and lightning shocks us into daylight every few seconds.