I can’t help flashing to one of Mom’s favorite phrases from my childhood—Your teachers are wrong.
“In fact,” he goes on, “you’ve always been the perfect student: You learn from everyone and every situation. You remember things because you’re paying attention. You strive to be better because you respect the people and the world around you.”
He starts striding toward me, his eyes bright and his voice gentle. “In a school that was almost entirely Cancrian, you chose a Sagittarian for your best friend. Of all the potential love interests available, you chose the top-ranked university student to admire and live up to.” His voice dips with heaviness as he says, “I felt you through the Psy when you fought with your friends on Elara and nearly suffocated on the moon’s surface minutes before curfew. I was moved by your resourcefulness and heart and drive to survive.”
Once he’s standing right in front of me he says, “I protected the crystal dome from the power outage when your House fell so that your story wouldn’t end on Elara. I have always been with you, Rho.”
I can’t even blink. Or breathe. Or think.
“I now see that your Cancrian and Ophiuchan heritage—Unity through Nurture—made you uniquely qualified to bind us together,” he goes on, not realizing that I’m barely digesting any of this. “But ultimately, it was your choices that cemented your worthiness. You’re not the first person to have a militant mom—but rather than rebel, you opted to excel at her teachings, and later you continued your own training. When you faced Ophiuchus and he threatened to kill you if you spoke of him, you chose to warn the other Houses anyway. When the Plenum laughed in your face, you chose to go before them again. And again. And again. And now, when the Zodiac has shunned you, when you’ve lost everything that matters to you and I offer to take you to a new universe and give you a supreme amount of power no man has ever had—you choose to save everyone else rather than seize it.”
“I . . . I can’t,” I sputter, only now fully appreciating how insane Aquarius is.
“When you’re as large as I am, Rho, you realize attaching too much meaning to individual members of a species is a downfall. It’s tragic to send so many people to Empyrean so soon, I know, but they’re sacrifices for the evolution of your race. They will all die anyway—we’re just moving up their time lines. The earthlings who settled the Zodiac also left most of their people behind on a dying Earth, and aren’t you better off for it?”
He cups my cheek in his palm for an instant, and I feel the same buzz I’ve felt every time I’ve touched him and Morscerta. It’s not the Barer’s electricity—it’s his Psynergy I’ve always been able to sense.
“The irony is,” he says, his pink eyes bright with warmth, “now at the end of the worlds, I finally love a human. I haven’t felt this way since . . .” He clears his throat but doesn’t look at Ophiuchus. “You are the child I always hoped to lead, but this galaxy can’t appreciate your light. I want to gift you a universe that’s worthy of you.”
My brain is completely blank. Aquarius is out of his mind, and Ophiuchus is dying at my feet. No one is coming to rescue me.
It’s up to me now to save them.
I can’t stop Aquarius with violence, which means meeting him on his own playing field. I have to use my words.
“You say it’s weak of me to attach so much meaning to individual members of my species, but do you know what I find most amazing about humans?”
He quirks his head curiously at my question, and I answer, “How at times a single person, or small group of people, can lift our entire species onto a new rung of evolution. How a single achievement can thrust us all forward in time, and all of a sudden what was unknown is known, and we’re ready for what’s next.
“Like Galileo Sprock’s creation of the first holographic communication, or Tinga Baron’s invention of Abyssthe. Or think of the first Wave, the first Zodai Ring, the first Ephemeris. The social impact of visionaries like Empress Wen, who came up with the axiom Trust Only What You Can Touch; or Sage Huxler, who was the first to coax the other Houses into sharing their secrets with the Zodiax. Sometimes something as seemingly small as a single individual can change the entire course of a species’ future. And that means within each of us lies the potential to be infinite.”
Aquarius is nodding vigorously. “That’s beautiful, Rho. It’s exactly how a leader ought to feel about her people. And that’s why you deserve this.”
“You’re not hearing me,” I say, my tone growing exasperated. “At the Tomorrow Party’s ball, you said change is the universe’s only currency and that it’s human hubris holding us back—Plenum politicians who won’t let go of their power. But the flaw you’re most passionately set against in us is the one you’re blind to in yourself. You aren’t growing or evolving because you won’t give up your immortality. You won’t follow your own advice and let go.
“You think you’re the exception to the rule because humanity needs you, and your mission matters so much that you have to stick around to lead us. I bet you even think you’re coming from an altruistic place. But your naked need to survive and see more is as human as it gets. It’s greed. Or do you honestly believe in your heart that you’ve been a better Guardian for us than Ophiuchus might have been?”
In my peripheral vision, I notice the Thirteenth Guardian twisting around to look at us. He seems so pathetically weak that I don’t return his stare. I’ve failed us. I’ve failed the Zodiac.
I drop my gaze to the floor. “You said once that I was only good to you if I wanted this,” I say softly, “and I don’t. So if you’re going to force me like you did Ophiuchus, just know you’ve killed us both. I won’t be that leader you admire anymore, and my light will go out.”
Aquarius is silent for so long that I make myself meet his eyes, and I’m startled by the change that’s come over him.
He looks as defeated as Ophiuchus, his hair less silver than gray, his features sunken in. “Of course,” he says to himself, and his mouth curves into a sad smile. “The right person would refuse, wouldn’t she?”
His gaze pans from me to the Thirteenth Guardian, and he seems to be seeing his legacy in one shining moment of lucidity. “Your parents couldn’t appreciate you or raise you right,” he says to me suddenly, “because you’re a child of the stars. But I’m going to love you the way you deserve.”
He kneels down beside Ophiuchus. “You were right, my love. I couldn’t kill you then. And I can’t kill you now.”
All the air rushes out of me in relief.
I can hardly believe it.
I stopped Aquarius with my words.
He leans over and presses a kiss on Ophiuchus’s forehead, and he stays there a moment, like he’s giving him a blessing. “I’m sorry I was blind,” he says gently. “You were always the star for this job. Unite this species. Take them to new worlds. Give them the hope I couldn’t bring.”
He stands up and faces me. “Killing Ophiuchus on his planet was only the plan because you’re right—I am greedy. I believed humanity would need me forever, so I planned on taking his Star Stone with me through the portal. Only you’ve given me a greater purpose to serve.”
He bends down and presses a kiss on my forehead, and I feel tingly Psynergy come over me, like the stars of the Zodiac have just blessed me.
“I’m doing this for you, Rho. I’m so proud of you, and based on everything I just heard I know more than ever that you will be a great leader who will heal humanity’s wounds. Remember me, and I will always be with you.”
He takes out the Unity Talisman and wraps his hands around it.
His forehead suddenly begins to bulge, and his glow grows so bright that I have to fall back a few paces and shield my eyes.
Then Aquarius falls, his body limp and lifeless, and the Stone explodes into a massive cloud of Psynergy.
The molecules of air around me start jittering, and th
e whole world seems to be undergoing a metaphysical earthquake. I can hardly catch my breath. The sky outside lights up with small flashes, like a whole galaxy of shooting stars, and some part of me feels Aquarius’s soul returning to its rightful place among the stars.
It’s over.
Ophiuchus gasps, and I kneel down beside him. “He’s gone,” I say, my eyes shiny and wide. “We’re okay.”
“No,” he manages to get out. “He just activated the portal.”
33
WHITE MIST FROM THE TALISMAN’S explosion hangs in the air, turning the room into an Aquarian thought tunnel, and I watch someone’s silhouette charge inside.
A Marad soldier armed with a Murmur.
I don’t shield myself or bother fighting now that I know I’ve failed us. In seven days the portal will be fully open, and as soon as the first ship goes through, the Zodiac will be undone.
The soldier rips off their mask.
“Nishi!” I run over and crush her to me in an embrace. “What are you still doing here?”
“I’m not leaving without you,” she says when we pull apart.
“It’s too late!” I say, shaking my head. “He’s done it—Aquarius killed himself with Ophiuchus’s Talisman and activated the portal.” Her face pales, and her eyes grow glassy. “It’s over—”
“No, it isn’t,” she says, hope coursing through her voice. “We’ll find a way to close it. We always find a way. But we have to get out of here now, before Blaze—”
“What about me?” asks the white-haired Leonine, cutting through the rapidly dissipating mist. “Nice outfit,” he tells Nishi, a sardonic smile on his face. “I didn’t think you wore anything that wasn’t couture—”
He notices Aquarius’s body lying beside Ophiuchus.
“What—”
He runs over to Aquarius’s side, shaking him. “No, no, no,” he moans, and soon sobs choke his words. “How—why—what happened?”
He whirls on me, and Nishi instinctively raises her Murmur and points it at his chest.
“He killed himself,” I say, “and he activated the portal. Blaze, if you know how to undo it, you have to tell us.”
But he doesn’t seem to be listening. “He . . . he killed himself?”
The Leonine’s explosive russet eyes are far from the conversation, far from logical thought. “Then it was a sacrifice. . . . He did it for a reason.”
He focuses on me again, and a new emotion begins to line his face. It looks a lot like hate.
“You. This is your fault. I did everything he wanted, I’m a better speaker than you, I’m much more like him—and yet he chose you.”
“Blaze, whatever he made you think or feel, it wasn’t real,” I say, too ashamed to admit that I’ll miss the way he made me feel sometimes, too.
“Let’s go, Rho,” says Nishi, but I’m looking at the Thirteenth Guardian, who is too weak to move on his own. Do I abandon him here?
Blaze turns his back to us, and he drops down beside Aquarius again. Since he doesn’t seem intent on stopping us, I say, “Let’s grab Ophiuchus. We can carry him out together.”
“You can leave alone, right now, with your lives,” warns Blaze, twisting his neck to look up at us, “but if you try to take Ophiuchus, this place will be surrounded by Marad in seconds, and you’ll never make it out.”
“Fine,” I say, eager to get Nishi out of here. My only priority is that she survives. “We’re going.” I grab her arm and pull, but she doesn’t budge.
“No.”
I turn to her in alarm. “Nish, come on!”
But she’s watching Blaze with a calculating look. “The portal’s already open. Why do you need Ophiuchus?”
“I’m going to count to ten,” says Blaze steadily, taking a step closer to us even though Nishi’s still pointing her Murmur at him. “If you’re not gone, I will sound the alarm through the Psy, and you’ll never get out again.”
My heart catapults into my throat. “Nish, please, let’s go, we’ll worry about him later—”
“He’s how we close the portal, isn’t he?” she asks Blaze, her reasoning outspeeding mine as usual. “If it takes a star to open it, then logically it must take a star to close it.”
I look at Blaze’s hands—he’s not wearing his Ring. Aquarius was careful about limiting access to the Psy from his stronghold. “I think you’re bluffing,” I say, now taking Nishi’s side. “I don’t think you have a way of calling out to everyone. And since the plan was for you guys to take off now to Black Moon, I’m fairly certain most people are already on their way—”
Blaze lunges at Nishi, knocking the Murmur from her grip. They both fall to the ground, and the cylindrical weapon clatters away from them. His hands wrap around Nishi’s neck, and I grab his shoulder and try pulling him off my best friend, but he’s too strong.
I run for the weapon instead, and then I swing it across his head. There’s a loud thwack as it cracks against his skull, and he instantly crumbles into a heap on the floor.
I help Nishi to her feet. “Stellar,” she says, breathless but smiling.
I return the grin, and we run to Ophiuchus, who seems to be regaining some of his energy. We each lift one of his arms and manage to pull him to his feet.
“Where do we go?” I ask.
Just then, an engine’s deafening roar rumbles through the crystal room, and Nishi and I duck to the ground, dropping Ophiuchus with us, and we cover our faces as the wall farthest from us shatters. When we look up again, the nose of a familiar bullet-ship has blasted through it.
Equinox can’t fit inside the hall, but a round escape capsule disengages from its side and shoots inside, hovering beside Nishi and me. Hysan must be controlling its flight.
Gusts of wind blow more shards of crystal into the air, and I shout at Nishi, “Get in!”
“Ophiuchus first!” she shouts back, and we each pull one of his arms around our shoulders and drag him into the capsule. It looks like it’ll barely fit the three of us, but we’ll make it work. He seems to be growing heavier as I shove him through the opening, but I push harder, using all my strength, until he’s in. Then I wheel around to tell Nishi she’s next.
But Blaze has her in a one-armed headlock, one side of his head bleeding.
His other hand is holding the Murmur.
“Step inside that pod, and she dies.”
“Okay,” I say, walking away from the capsule. “I’ll go with you anywhere you want. Just let her go.”
“I don’t want you,” he spits out. “Or her. I want him. Bring him out of there, and you two can go.”
“Rho, DON’T DO IT!” cries Nishi. “Remember, this isn’t about us, it’s about the Zodiac—”
Blaze’s hand muffles Nishi’s mouth, cutting off the rest of her words. “What’s it going to be, Rho?”
“I’ll do it!” I say, my heart going too fast to give me any space to think or breathe. “I’ll get him out! Just, please—don’t hurt her. You can have Ophiuchus, okay?” I look into Nishi’s sparkling amber eyes. “Nish, it’s going to be fine. We’ll find another way. I promise.”
I poke my head inside the capsule. “Get out here,” I command Ophiuchus, but he doesn’t move. I can’t even tell if he’s conscious anymore. So I step into the pod and go around him to shove him out—but the moment I cross the threshold, a glass door comes crashing down, sealing me inside and muffling every sound.
“NO!” I shout, pounding on the glass, my voice too loud in this small chamber. “Let me out! HYSAN, LET ME OUT!”
Blaze throws Nishi away from him, and she stumbles to the floor. Then he raises the Murmur at me and shoots blue light at the ship, but it does nothing.
The pod begins to rise into the air, and I’m pounding desperately against the glass, my throat raw, my fingers clawing at every button to try to open the door again. Bu
t the capsule just keeps going higher, and I look down in despair as my best friend watches me go.
Maybe Blaze won’t hurt her. After all, she’s his only leverage. Maybe he’ll reach out and offer a trade.
I’m still hitting every button in sight, and suddenly, the glass door slides down.
I shout in triumph. “Blaze, it worked! Don’t hurt her!”
“Push him out!” he demands.
The pod is hovering in midair, but Ophiuchus is tall enough that it’s just a small jump for him. I turn and tug on his arm. “Please, you have to go,” I beg him.
“Rho.”
I look down to see Nishi staring up at me, with Blaze behind her, his weapon aimed at her head, executioner-style.
“This is my choice,” she says, tears streaming down her cheeks. “You risked the Zodiac’s fate for me once already. Don’t put that on me again.”
“Nishi, please—I can’t live without you,” I say, yanking again on Ophiuchus’s arm. But he’s as immovable as stone.
“You’re better than this,” she says strongly, fighting against her tears. “I told the Zodiac to Trust in Guardian Rho. Don’t make me a liar.”
For a second that feels timeless, we watch each other, and deep down I know it’s the last time I’m seeing my sister. And I hate them all for making me choose a murderer over an angel. None of their souls are worth this price. She’s too good for us.
Though my throat’s shrinking, I get out my last words to her. “You’re my everything, Nish.”
And despite the terror in her amber eyes, she manages a small smile. “I’ll save you a seat in Empyrean.”
Then she spins around to face Blaze, who’s just realized what’s happening. He swings the Murmur from her to me, but before he can shoot, she tackles him.
“NISHI!” I scream, but the glass door is closing again on its own, and the capsule is rising once more.