Darken the Stars(4)

“You seem to be out of options,” he says, but he doesn’t make any move to kiss me again. He just studies me as if I’m a mermaid washed up on the shore.

My mind whispers, Don’t stay . . . I hope for the Sea of Stars to swallow me up. “There’s one option you haven’t thought of, Kyon,” I reply. I concentrate, wishing for sweet oblivion. Escape. A tear slips from my eye as I whisper, “Trey.”





CHAPTER 2

LISTEN TO YOU BREATHING

I’m violently ripped away from myself. My consciousness leaves my body. Hovering above me for a moment, I see Kyon holding my cold, lifeless form. He notices the change in me immediately. He knows I’m no longer there. Shaking me in anger, he growls when I don’t open my eyes. “Kricket,” he snarls, knowing somehow that I’m still here. He pulls my lifeless body up from the sand, gripping my shoulders; he shelters my wet body from the pull of the sea.

My attention wanes from Kyon because I’m everywhere and nowhere; woven in the air with only one thought: Trey. I become a compass needle searching for north. In no time, I’m miles high, scorched by heat even when I’m bathed in darkness that only the light of the Etharian moons relieves.

I travel over the water. It glows beneath me with an ancient, iridescent fire. A galaxy of stars burn beneath its surface, but the Sea of Stars doesn’t last. I flash forward, crossing over cities I’ve never been to before, past mountains and wilderness that harbor herds of creatures for which I have no names. In the moonlight, the abandoned husk of the City of Amster slouches. I recognize it from the time that I had traveled through the restricted area with Trey on my way to Rafe. It sits in a valley and grows haphazardly into the horizon. Waves of decrepit buildings crest the landscape in currents.

What I know of this city is that a plague called Black Math decimated it more than a thousand years ago. Ancient walls that were built up to the clouds are crumbling now. The wind whistles through their broken windows, echoing low, sorrowful moans.

I arrive at a dust-covered junction where buildings meet to form a triangle. Abandoned vehicles line the streets. Weathered by time, they resemble the skeletons of decaying beasts. No one stirs to disturb the quiet of the rusting boneyard.

I lurch sideways, being tugged to marble steps in front of a gothic, gray stone structure. I move like a ghost through the tangle of vine and vegetation that clings to the twisted stone railings. I don’t use the entryway ahead, but instead surge through the solid wall as lightning into a metal rod. Dust-covered marble floors inlaid with gold greet me on the other side. Above me, cathedral ceilings with fresco paintings of elaborate detail spreads out as if they were tattoos on an aging sailor. Their fading colors still portray the beauty of a bygone era.

Movement draws my attention. Around me, soldiers like matchstick men with fiery eyes and thin, well-honed bodies keep watch at strategic points. They’re ready to take fire and give it. Clad in feather-light high-polymer vests, they’re heavily armed with sophisticated weaponry. Their sharp eyes look right through me, invisible as I am, not being of their time but, rather, days behind them.

This building is a gateway, I think. They’re defending something.

I don’t remain with them, but lurch through grand cathedral-like chambers until I pass through the outer wall onto a raised stone terrace. Outside once more, my whole perspective changes in an instant. It’s an oasis in a wasteland of decay. Gone are the dilapidated shell buildings; they’re replaced by a small, sparsely lit city. It’s concealed under an iridescent dome, which rises into the night sky.

I’m drawn down the stone steps with a swift yank. Lamps hover on either side of the walkways near grassy thoroughfares. I ghost-move by the floating lights that resemble elaborate Aries’ heads. Its wrought-iron horns coil around its ears. Passing beneath one, I see that light shines out from the bleating ram’s mouth.

My attention shifts to the buildings. They’ve been patched up with repurposed items. One of the majestic gothic-style edifices has an awning made from the blade of huge turbine windmills that used to generate power for the ancient city. Sturdy, herringbone-etched columns, bearded by leafy vines, holds it up. Another building clearly had a domed capital at one time, but now it has a flat metal roof with wicked-looking aircraft crouching on its brow.

A pair of hovercycles power up and take off. Quiet and stealthy, the cycles draw closer. I note the riders are the same type of matchstick men whom I saw when I first entered this city. They drive slowly, patrolling the empty thoroughfare with just the low hum of their vehicles to mark their progression.