Starbright: The Complete Series
Page 87
I wonder if thunderstorms have always been this strong, or if the elements are indeed gaining strength, as well as frequency. The air and the night bring a chill which reminds me…we are nearing autumn. Only three seasons until the eclipse.
Until the seven minutes of darkness which will somehow decide the world’s future.
TWENTY-SIX
ASTREA
May 9, 2067
I never thought the people I live with could feel so fake, or that the ones in my dreams could feel so real.
From Aisa’s personal journal, saved from before the Cleansing
I begin to trudge back to my room instead of going back to the ball. Tariel assured me the boy would live, but I know I’ve just destroyed all the budding trust the Elysians might have held for me for completing the Ascension Ceremony. I have no desire to dance, and I never want to see a mask again.
But as I near the door of my building, I notice the lights are on in the dining hall. My stomach growls ferociously as I realize I haven’t eaten in more than a day.
There is a group gathered at one of the tables near the self-serve kitchen, talking in low voices. They glance up when I near, and I look down self-consciously at my ball gown, now dirty and wet from lying in the sand, and singed along the sleeves.
I enter the kitchen and fill a plate from what is left. No-one is working behind the counter, and the food is cold. Everyone else must be down by the beach. When I come back out, the group has gone silent. They are all staring at me.
“Hello,” I say, flushing at their intense stares.
Then one rises, pushing her hood back, and I drop my tray. Soup splashes another dirty streak down my skirt, and my roll bounces under a nearby table.
Another vision – another memory. I back into the table behind me, about to bolt from the room, when she speaks.
“Wait! It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you. Do you remember me?”
I manage to nod, my eyes finally taking in the others around the table. If Hade were responsible for this girl’s face, too, I wouldn’t see others I recognize, would I? Surely he can’t conjure more than one at a time.
“From Hebron,” I whisper.
“Yes. I’m Ashta. I helped her escape from Abraham,” she adds for the benefit of her companions. “This is Serah,” she says, gesturing toward a petite girl with dark, wavy hair.
“Your sister...” I say. The one Lexan and I were supposed to rescue. The others look just as familiar – perhaps from the drawings given to us by Kedesh. “I’m-I’m so sorry we couldn’t do more for you in Hade’s palace.”
Serah nods. “I know why. He had your friends prisoner. He had everyone prisoner.”
“Even me,” I say, my fingers drifting to my collarbone, where I can still imagine his breath.
Ashta introduces the other people at the table, but I don’t even register their names.
“How did you get here?” I’m still not completely certain she isn’t made of smoke and the darkness in my mind.
“Lexan and Pacem found us in Tartarus. Pacem brought us here. We only arrived tonight.”
“Are there others from Hebron here?” one of the boys asks.
“No,” I answer. “They went east toward Asphodel, with Stian.”
“And Zarea?” Serah asks.
“Oh – no, she’s here in Elysium. I’m sorry,” I say again.
Just then the door to the dining hall bangs open, and the True Prophet stands silhouetted in the doorway.
“Who are these people?” he demands, his voice uncharacteristically terse. “How did they enter our city?”
“Pacem brought us, from Tartarus,” Ashta begins, her voice sounding young but strong. “He showed us the safest path.”
“They’re from Hebron,” I add. “Please, they’re only eating.”
He comes forward, inspecting each of them with a sternness I’ve never seen. The boys exchange glances, as if wondering how someone so young holds such obvious power.
“Where are the twins?” he asks, coming to stand next to me, facing them.
Serah and Ashta both step forward. It’s then that I notice Ashta’s stump and crude wooden extension have been replaced with a jointed metal piece, the end laced into a boot.
“Your leg!” I say, without thinking. The Prophet glares at the interruption.
“Pacem fixed it,” Ashta says anyways, smiling as she looks down at it.
“You are daughters of Hebron?” the Prophet asks them. They nod.
“Who is your father?”
“We never knew him. Our mother either,” Serah says. “We were raised by our aunt.”
As this detail is revealed, their names slide into their proper places in my mind, and I sit heavily in the chair I’ve been leaning against. The Prophet looks down at me.
“Do you understand now?” he asks.
I nod. “Where is Zarea?”
The party in the dining hall has grown much larger as the story has traveled.
Lady Thema sits between her two lost daughters, with Zarea standing protectively behind her. All of their faces are streaked with tears, although I suspect Zarea is tiring of all the emotion. Her eye catches mine, and I see the caged animal glint in its depths.
I just grin at her, and I swear the floor shakes under my feet.
I grin wider.
The Sisters swing their beady gazes on her, and even the Prophet stops recounting the story of Lady Thema’s first journey to Hebron. Irana smiles and nods at me, then pulls Pacem down to whisper in his ear.
“Your powers have awakened,” the Prophet says to Zarea. “Three sisters…this is why I have never been able to fully see you! I assumed it was because you had not been claimed by Elysium as its star-child. But all along it was because your soul was incomplete.”
“Excuse me?” Zarea says, offense in her voice.
“Your soul. Split in three at birth. One,” he points at her. “Two, and three,” he points at Ashta and Serah. “Now you are all here – together and aware of each other for the first time.”
“Do they have powers too?” I ask.
Their faces swivel to me, doubt etched on each. A few in the crowd inch backward, undoubtedly remembering my own display of fire just a few hours earlier.
“Water,” Irana says, standing. She pulls at the water in the glasses in the table, creating a swirl of waves in the air before her. She nods at me.
“Fire,” I say, delivering a controlled flame beneath her display, heating the swirls into coils of steam.
“Lexan is air,” she says, releasing her hold so the steam rises to the ceiling.
“And earth,” the Prophet finishes, sweeping his hand toward Zarea and her sisters.
All three shake their heads.
“Join hands,” I suggest. “When Lexan and I were trying to find my power, touch always seemed to help.”
Zarea narrows her eyes at me. “Yes. I remember.”
I blush, but don’t break her gaze. I have nothing to be ashamed of. Serah looks at her sisters, then takes both of their hands.
“Now what?” Ashta asks.
“Open yourself to your emotions,” Irana says.
Zarea sighs.
“Do it,” Megara bites out, speaking for the first time. Zarea’s eyes widen, then she snaps them shut in deference.
Everyone is silent for several minutes. Nothing.
Ashta is the one who sighs this time. “I don’t have any idea what I’m supposed to do.”
Irana sits beside them and begins to describe her own process. The Prophet sits back to wait, and the Sisters withdraw to whisper to each other. I watch the crowds, an idea forming.
No-one is watching me as I slip out the door and stride to the pool at the end of the concrete river. I bend and drag my hand in the water, gathering several of the small pebbles that rest there.
When Charon tested me, he didn’t waste any time on getting in touch with emotions. He just threw something at me, and I either passed or failed.
“Hey!” I call, and the others turn. Before anyone can react, I hurl the handful of pebbles directly at Zarea’s face.
They stop in midair, hovering inches from her skin.
Then they drop to the floor, clattering as Zarea explodes into curses.
I laugh. “Zarea. Zarea! You did it,” I say, when she pauses to take a breath. I point to the pebbles.
She glares at them, and I see them begin to rattle again, rising from the floor in a swirl of temper. I have enough sense to duck as she grins at me.
“Very good,” Tisiphone says, stepping between us. “Now, it is time to rest. Tomorrow you will all go into the forest to practice. I will not have our city put in danger of your instability,” she adds.
TWENTY-SEVEN
LEXAN
May 21, 2067
Charles and I have made great progress in planning our new city.
We have designed special qualifications for each who wish to enter.
I think that once people start to realize we have a completely safe bunker, we will have plenty of applicants to choose from.
I wish Clota would change her mind about joining us, even though in my heart I know she could never live in a cave.
And once the doors are shut, we will never open again in our lifetime, no matter who knocks.
It will be difficult to endure, but someone has to ensure the survival of the human race.
From First Leader Lakessa’s personal journal
Included in Firene’s secret papers
The morning comes too soon after such a restless night. Puddles are everywhere, though, and Luna laps at them enthusiastically as I rub my eyes and fill a water skin.
We’ve barely gotten out of the deserted city when a flapping above me turns my face up. A glint of metal flashes as a bird circles above us, then spirals down.
Luna skitters away from it, but the bird keeps coming. I stroke her neck and try to hold on, but she just dumps me off and bolts for the distant tree line.
Cursing, I dust myself off. The bird hops on the ground at my feet and I pick it up. The mechanics are a bit rusty, and I wonder how long it’s been flying. A thin crust of salt coats its back.
I retrieve the message.
I’ve just left Elysium. All three maidens are here, but Astrea has failed a test from the Sisters. She claims to be seeing visions of Hade, and Irana had to lie to help her. She will stay with Astrea as much as possible. I will meet you soon.
As much as Pacem has said, he’s left so much out. I crumple the paper in my fist. What does it mean, that Trea failed a test and is seeing Hade? Has he gotten stronger? Has she gotten weaker?
I should be there.
Even as my heart pulls me to Asphodel, I worry that leaving Trea was the wrong decision.
I’ll just have to move faster. I stuff the bird in my pack and break into a light jog, hoping to catch up with Luna. I’ll respond later, when I have to stop for something else.
No matter who I come across now, there isn’t any more time to waste.
TWENTY-EIGHT
ASTREA
June 3, 2067
Charles has finally brought the items I asked for, and I can feel the power in every grain and droplet he provided. Now the sisters from my dreams visit me every night.
I’ll never need Evangeline’s help again, because they give me every secret I ask for.
From Aisa’s personal journal, saved from before the Cleansing
“I don’t even want this power,” Zarea huffs as we tramp into the forest again, the streaks of sunrise still evident between the trees. The weather seems to have slid into an early fall – the morning air is no longer sweltering, but crisp, carrying a sour, briny scent to us.
“This isn’t about what we want. It never has been,” I remind her. “That’s what Stian told me a long time ago.”
“Don’t use his crap with me,” she retorts. “I don’t even take it from him, and he shares my bed.” Serah and Ashta exchange amused glances, and Irana giggles, flushing a bit.
I just roll my eyes. But I smile at Irana, relieved to see her smiling again. Pacem’s rushed departure hasn’t left her quite as depressed this time; perhaps knowing he made it back to her once gives her hope that he can find her again.
I force myself to push away any worries about Lexan as we begin to practice. Zarea has gradually grown used to the idea that she does indeed have some draw over the earth, and once she accepted its reality, she began to learn much more quickly.
Serah and Ashta have almost no power on their own, but when the three of them are together, holding hands, the collective power is much stronger.
Too many hours later, I’m wiping the sweat out of my eyes and marveling at how the early afternoon is completely different from the early morning. “I wish the weather would decide if it’s summer or winter.”
“You have no idea what winter even is,” Zarea snorts, though taking her concentration from the mound of dirt before her causes some of it to crumble back to its natural state: flat. She curses and starts over.
“Some of the people were telling me it’s never before fluctuated this much between cool and warm,” Irana shrugs, spraying a fine mist of water in my direction. I close my eyes and grin, basking in its cooling effect.
“The elements rebelling again,” Zarea grumbles, pausing to tuck a curl back into her braid.
“Hello, my daughters,” Lady Thema’s voice rings out among the trees. She delights in those words, and even Zarea can’t hide the smiles of happiness they bring. I tend to miss my own mother more when Thema is around, but I’m so thankful Zarea found hers.
The Prophet follows her into the clearing where we’ve been practicing each day since the discovery of Serah and Ashta.
He bends to study their work – together, Zarea, Serah, and Ashta have been creating a knee-high hill. The process is slow and painstaking – they hold hands and concentrate on the loose dirt at our feet, and a handful of it rolls up the side of the miniature hill, flattening when it reaches the plateau at the top.
Lady Thema is watching with a proud grin, but the Prophet is frowning.
“Your powers are very weak. Especially for three people,” he says.
Zarea glares, but doesn’t take her eyes away from her task this time.
“Is it the emotion, maybe?” I ask. “My powers increased when I tapped into grief over the loss of my mother.”
“I have seen enough loss to move entire mountains then,” Serah says, her voice soft. “All of us have.”
The Prophet circles, watching from all angles. “There is one part of my visions regarding the maidens that I cannot reconcile,” he says, almost to himself. “There are not five, or six. There are three. Plus Lexan, who contains the necessary fourth element. Why would the gods split the power over the earth into thirds?”
He sighs, pressing his fingers to his temples and frowning deeply. Lady Thema rests a consoling hand on his shoulder. “Perhaps prayer, your Grace. Let us go again to the Temple of the Goddess and ask for her guidance.”
The Prophet grumbles something under his breath and I can’t help but grin. Of course, I don’t want him to be frustrated. But it’s nice to know that at least I’m not the only one who has no clue what I’m doing sometimes.
“Is it time for lunch yet?” Ashta complains as her side of the mound fractures and slides back to the ground, dissolving in a heap of dust.
“At least this connection to the ground seems to make me a better fighter,” Zarea says thoughtfully as we walk back.
“And probably a better protector,” Irana adds, pushing open the curtain and dropping into her chair.
“Have you made a plan to move everyone to the Garden?” Ashta asks the Prophet as we settle at the table for our customary meal of clear vegetable soup and yeasty bread.
He nods, surprising me. “Elysium will soon travel to Asphodel, just as Hebron and Tartarus are now doin
g. We hope to have all the western peoples gathered in the caves for the winter.”
I stay silent – even having a solid plan is a new development, and it’s a relief to have someone else assuming command. I certainly don’t want to plan and organize a way for several thousand people to be rounded up and packed into caravans that will travel across the entire land.
The Prophet continues, “Captain Javan estimates we will need to leave Elysium within the month, to be certain of reaching Asphodel before the snows. Once the spring thaw begins, we can begin to search for the Garden.”
“You still don’t know where it is?” Zarea asks, her eyes wide.
He smiles, unfazed by her rude tone. “Lexan and I have both had visions, but the gods are often imprecise. It is up to us to interpret the signs.”
She huffs in evident disbelief, but only stuffs another bite of roll into her mouth.
A young girl hesitantly pulls the curtain back just then, and holds up one of Pacem’s birds – the first we’ve gotten since he left after the Ascension Ball. Irana snatches it before anyone else can react, twisting eagerly at its parts to get at the message inside.
She reads the scroll of paper to herself, then hands it to me. The Prophet watches with interest, but he doesn’t demand the paper, the way one of the Sisters would. “Pacem hasn’t reached Lexan yet, but so far he’s found all of Lexan’s markings along the route they laid out. If all goes well, they should be reunited in a few days.”
“And in Asphodel in a few weeks,” I murmur, skimming the words. They could reach Asphodel about the same time we are leaving Elysium – before, even, if their progress is good.
“Will Lexan be able to win back your people?” Irana asks. Her question is innocent enough, but it flips my stomach.