Destiny's Blood by Marie Bilodeau

www.dragonmoonpress.com

Destiny’s Blood Copyright © 2010 Marie Bilodeau Cover Art © 2010 Kari-Ann Anderson All rights reserved. Reproduction or utilization of this work in any form, by any means now known or hereinafter invented, including, but not limited to, xerography, photocopying and recording, and in any known storage and retrieval system, is forbidden without permission from the copyright holder.

ISBN 13 978-1-897492-11-6 Printed and bound in the United States www.dragonmoonpress.com This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Acknowledgments

First of all, I’d like to thank the fine folk of Dragon Moon Press for making Destiny’s Blood all that it could be. Thanks to Gwen Gades for cheerfully accepting the manuscript (and for being a hoot), to Gabrielle Harbowy for her careful edits and mad word-wielding skillz, and to Kari-Ann Anderson for designing the wicked cover.

And of course the story would never have happened without family and friends.

Destiny’s Blood has been in the works since I finished the first tentatively titled manuscript Night Blooms in 2003. Only two scenes from that manuscript made it in the final version of Destiny’s Blood, and my friends and family made the pain of slaughtering the first manuscript bearable and even fun. A big thank you to my brother for many hours of brainstorming and discussing plot ideas and for coming up with feasible ways of destroying solar systems. My mother, Suzanne Desjardins, for always ensuring that I ate properly and regularly during writing sprees. My father, Gilles Bilodeau, and my stepmother, Nicole Caouette, for cheering from afar. The YTBNT — Karen Force, Kerri Elizabeth Gerow, Katherine Graham and Jessica Torrance — for providing countless hours of silliness and inspiration.

Thanks to those who provided writing space and quiet to finish the novel, including Martin Gallant, Doug Force, Greg and Ronda Jo Graham, and Francis Rounding and June Shopian. And to the wicked staff of the Second Cup at Lisgar and Elgin who provided a perfect writing space every morning.

This manuscript wouldn’t have made it to final format without my many test readers which, though many are already thanked above, included the wonderfully

high-heeled Sarah Watts-Rynard, as well as Hubert Chan and Réjean Loyer.

And a big thank you to those in the writing community who provided guidance, encouragement and feedback, including Robert J. Sawyer, Kristine Kathryn Rusch and Anne Perry. They are a few of the fine writers in the community who lend their time, energy and expertise to new and upcoming writers, helping them to harvest their own dreams.

Thanks to those who inspired, encouraged and cheered on, whether they recall it or not: Nicole Soucy, David Kelly, John Saliba, Ida Miller, Trevor Banks and Tasha Currier, Larry Stewart, Brian and Anita Hades, Megan Postin, Laurie Clement, Sean Zio, Kathryn Hunt, Ruthanne Edward, and the many others that I’ll later swear loudly later for having forgotten to include here. A special thanks to Jean-Pierre Giroux for his unfailing enthusiasm for the word “blood.”

Finally, I’d like to acknowledge the tireless contributions of Utnapishim II, known to friends as Utnu, who laboured on this and many other manuscripts until his little digital brain gave out. Your non-Windows ways are deeply missed.

Dedication

To my brother, Jean-Franรงois Bilodeau, who always encouraged me to reach for the stars (and for explaining to me just how bad an idea that was in astronomical terms).

Night Blooms

Part I

Layela had already

Chapter 1

jammed the key in the lock when she noticed that Yoma, her twin sister, was no longer beside her.

Resisting the urge to simply walk into their flower shop and lose the last threads of her dream in the various exotic scents, Layela took a deep, stale breath and turned around.

The night was still thick, the darkness not yet pierced by the weak sun of Collar, but she still easily spotted her sister under a flickering streetlight. Yoma’s features bore the same deep look of indecision that had been etched on her face since she had broken Layela free of the dark vision that had ensnared her dreams.

Darkness. A shiver ran down her spine and Layela wished she could remember more of her vision than just a vague impression of thick tar smothering her mind and clutching her stomach. She tucked her hands into her pockets to ward off the cool night air and walked back towards her sister, one quick step after another falling on the dark, familiar pavement.

She came to a stop beside Yoma, who was looking up towards the sign of their shop. Layela glanced sideways at her, ignored the clinging nausea left behind by the vision and lack of sleep, and forced a smile as she spoke.

“It reads Sunrise Flowers, Yoma. Maybe glasses would be in order?”

“Maybe it should be Sunset Flowers,” Yoma said, so softly that Layela strained to hear.

Destiny’s Blood | 14 “What do you mean?”

Yoma lowered her gaze, focusing on the palm of her right hand, curling her fingers into a fist before flexing them again, her green eyes flickering with indecision.

“Yoma, are you all right?” Layela asked, wishing she could laugh her sister’s behaviour away and dispel the growing queasiness of her stomach.

Too much was at stake now and everything should be going smoothly.

Had she not planned for every eventuality? Wasn’t today supposed to be the start of something new and safe for both of them?

Her sister gazed, eyes unfocused, at the sign. Growing increasingly worried, Layela put her hand on her sister’s arm and whispered her childhood nickname, the same name Layela used to whisper when calling out to her sister after waking from a dark dream.

“Feathers?”

“Some things should end, and others never begin,” Yoma whispered, turning to face Layela, all hesitation vanishing as they locked eyes. A new edge lined her voice as she spoke. “These hands are meant for thieving, Layela, not for cutting flowers!”

“What are you talking about, Yoma?” Layela asked, fighting to keep her hands at her side; they twitched to slap sense into her sister. “You love flowers, too. You’re the one who always stole them for me!”

Yoma looked away and Layela’s stomach somersaulted. She could feel her sister slipping out of her grasp. She struggled silently for the right words to bring her back, but Yoma answered before she could find them.

“I love them because you do,” Yoma said, her voice picking up speed.

“But they aren’t me. You’re finally taken care of. Maybe it’s time I take care of myself, now.”

“What in the forty bloody Solarian Stars do you mean I’m finally taken care of?” Layela’s voice echoed across the empty buildings. “We take care of each other — it’s always been that way. And this,” she said, wildly pointing at the shop, “is the result of that! What do you bloody think we’ve been working so hard to achieve?”

She paused, fighting hard to regain control of her seething anger.

Yoma had pulled stupid stunts before and had always been too stubborn for her own good, but the twins had always supported each other and stuck together. That was how they had survived since they were orphans living on the streets. What game was Yoma playing at now?

“You’re right, Layela. We do always take care of each other.” Layela released a breath she didn’t realize she was holding.

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Layela grinned at Yoma — her sister was coming to her senses. She walked towards the door and opened it, but when she turned around, Yoma was gone, her thief ’s steps too silent for even her sister to hear.

/

The bell chimed as some customers walked out, and Layela couldn’t help but look at the door, in case her sister also happened to wander in at the same time. She sighed when no one else walked in, and focused back on her young customer and the exotic bloom she now held. She began to sing, wishing her heart didn’t feel so heavy.

Rise gentle flower, rise with the rain, Rise my love, dare to bloom again, Shine like the sun, like the light of day, Shine, shine forever, always with me stay.

The Lacile flower’s petals bowed and opened, responding to Layela’s gentle urgings. She whispered the final words, the girl’s look of wonder more beautiful to her than any light produced by the Lacile. She remembered the look of wonder on Yoma’s face, years ago, when she had shown her twin the hidden beauty of the Lacile. Where was Yoma?

She needed — no, she just wanted her sister by her side. This was their accomplishment, and she should be here to see it take flight!

“Does it always do that?” the young girl whispered, as if afraid of frightening the flower into hiding.

Layela knelt beside her, lowering the flower so that the child could fully see it.

“It only blooms once, but it lasts for a long time, if you take care of it and sing to it often.”

Gently the girl touched the petals, a bit of the glowing pollen clinging to her fingers. She looked up at her mother, her small face imploring. Layela struggled back to her feet, still feeling sluggish from the lack of sleep.

“We’ll take it,” the mother said briskly, her foot tapping on the floor.

Layela nodded and carefully wrapped the flower in dark fabrics to preserve its glow. Even the weak sun of this planet could be enough to harm the Lacile, unlike the rest of her flowers. If not for strong lights in the growing rooms and special fertilizers to help promote photosynthesis, she doubted any of her flowers would live.

“Thank you,” Layela said to the last two customers of the day as they left. She smiled as she stood behind the counter, looking at her already depleted stocks. It was a beautiful sight. She had been right, after all.

Destiny’s Blood | 16 Flowers were needed to brighten up the dark, bleak landscape of Collar.

As she looked around and found herself alone with her remaining blooms, her sense of elation was quickly crushed. The twins argued fairly regularly, but Yoma had never before left for so long without first warning Layela. Would Yoma really endanger all of their hard work for the adrenaline rush of thieving? Could she be in trouble?

She locked the shop, closing time having come and gone. Worry and anger strained her every breath. This was supposed to be for both of them. This was their work, years of planning, of sacrificing what little they had gained, and now Yoma decided she didn’t want it anymore?

Granted, Yoma had always been more reckless, but this was ridiculous.

She forced a deep breath into her lungs. Yoma would be fine, and would come back. Layela was only letting worry get the best of her because she was tired from last night’s vision. She released the breath, her anger dissipating and numbness clutching her limbs.

She took another deep breath, trying to coax the more recent vision to her mind, but, as usual, she remembered nothing. Not this vision, nor older ones. She remembered very little about the visions imposed on her years ago, but she did remember how she had felt at the time, afraid and alone. Not fulfilled and secured like she felt now.

“I’m so happy for you, Layl,” the voice came from behind her, and Layela quickly turned around, her mind racing to identify the familiar voice, disappointed it was not her sister’s.

“Josmere,” she said as she spotted the Berganda leaning against a wall, her skin and hair blending in with the surroundings. Her physique was human, but her skin was green, her hair revealed long curled leaves when examined closely enough, and her veins were filled with chlorophyll, not blood. By her simple travelling clothes, brown pants and loose beige shirt, Layela guessed she had just recently returned to Collar.

The day that Yoma left, her best friend happened to show up, after an absence of almost a year? Layela had never believed in coincidences, and this deepened her disbelief. At least Josmere’s appearance proved two things to Layela: that Yoma probably had no intention of giving up her old ways as she had promised Layela she would, and that she was planning something probably stupid and more than likely dangerous.

“I’d have announced my presence sooner, but I was enjoying your singing,” Josmere said with a slight grin, her eyes searching out Layela’s.

“Why don’t I believe your showing up here is a coincidence?” Layela snapped, walking towards the cash register to tally the day’s sales.

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Josmere’s confusion did nothing to calm Layela. “What do you mean, coincidence?”

Layela shook her head, not willing to play along. She used to, when she was younger and more stupid. She had also once convinced herself that her sister would give up thieving, and that her powers of vision could be of use.

But not this time. She wanted nothing to do with whatever scheme they were involved in. She just wanted Josmere to leave and never come again.

To leave her in peace with her flowers and satisfaction, without interference, without intrigue and without illegal activities. Visions tugged at her mind, refusing to show themselves but refusing to stay silent.

“Where’s Yoma?” Josmere finally asked.

Layela looked up, disbelief pulsing through her like venom. But the green eyes looking back at her were sincere and lined with concern. If nothing else, after being tricked so often, Layela had learned how to tell when Josmere and Yoma were lying. They hadn’t always excluded her, after all. Layela had been hurt badly a few years ago, and it had taken her months to recover. Ever since then, her sister and Josmere had been secretive, as though her protection relied on her knowing less.

“What do you mean, you don’t know?” Layela asked, her voice rising.

“She left this morning without a word, and I haven’t seen her since. And now you’re here? Come on, Josmere, you can’t expect me to believe that you don’t know anything about this!”

“I was supposed to meet her here today,” the Berganda responded, her head shaking her loose hair back and forth, intensity dripping from every word. “Here. Now. She’s supposed to be here, Layl.”

“What were you two planning that’s so important?” Layela demanded.

In all of the years that she, her sister and Josmere had survived together, never once had she known Yoma and Josmere to miss a set meeting. It was a practice that had saved their lives on more than one occasion.

Josmere shrugged and focused on some Booknot plants. They were well known for their sentient qualities, and were by far her favourite type of plant life. As a Berganda, Josmere had the ability to communicate telepathically with others from her race and with certain types of plant.

“They’re very happy here,” Josmere said, smiling at the plants. Layela resisted the urge to hit the woman in the back of the head. She had tried that too, once, and had learned that Josmere was not as weak as she looked.

“You can have them, if you’d like,” Layela said, keeping her hands busy rearranging some blue flowers with rotating hearts. “It’s illegal to sell them in these parts, since they’re sentient, but I had to buy them when

Destiny’s Blood | 18 some smugglers brought them in. The poor things needed a lot of care.

Kind of like a Berganda would, were she to be beaten up by her friend.”

Josmere ignored Layela’s sarcastic comment, making Layela even angrier.

“I think they’re fine here,” Josmere looked around the shop some more, her careful steps telling Layela that she was deciding what to do next.

Josmere stopped before some blooms kept in a locked glass case.

“Pomboms? You keep Pomboms in your shop?” Josmere asked, shooting an incredulous look at Layela, who simply shrugged.

“They’re safe enough behind the glass, and in another two nights they won’t be explosive anymore. They’ll bloom beautifully and sell well.”

Josmere shot her a grin and continued looking around. Layela felt her patience dripping faster than the ink from the pen with which she was tallying sales.

Layela sighed. There was no use pushing for information, and if she kept Josmere close, then chances were she would see Yoma again soon.

And then she could beat them both up.

Three loud knocks sounded on the protective outside metal door, scattering her thoughts.

Josmere reacted instinctively and was beside the door in moments, looking through a small window.

“Josmere, we’re not on the streets anymore,” Layela said, annoyed.

“Normal people don’t do that. They open the door.”

“They don’t look friendly to me,” Josmere whispered, backing away out of sight. Layela sighed and opened the door, making sure not to show any hesitation to Josmere. Over. It was over, this life of running and hiding. It was why they had founded Sunrise Flowers — to mark the beginning of a new life. She had never before thought that she might have to pursue her dream alone. She clutched the side of the door, fighting the hollowness in her stomach.

Three men stood in the doorway. One, she guessed, was a government official, dressed in an expensive suit with an air to match it, fatigue plastered in the dark rims under his eyes and in the sparse growth of his beard. He jingled keys in his hands. The two others were marked by dark smoky uniforms and a sun symbol. Layela swallowed hard. Solarian soldiers had full jurisdiction on Collar.

She forced herself to keep her ground, her feet aching with the need to back up, to move, to run away. Every encounter she had ever had with Solarian soldiers had not been pleasant.

“Layela Delamores?” the government official asked, flashing his badge

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at her. Layela barely had the time to read his name, Coyal something or other, from the Ministry of Solarian Defence.

She smiled and nodded. She was not a criminal. She was a business owner. A flower shop owner. There was no need to act like anything else.

“May I see your Interplanetary Passport?”

No introduction, no hellos. It seemed like an arrest, but all they wanted was to see her passport, and the soldiers were not holding their guns. Not yet, anyway. Layela walked back towards the counter, her hands in plain sight and every step paced so as not to give the two soldiers any reason to believe she posed a threat. The two soldiers walked into the shop, their footsteps soft but still echoing on the clean floor. They followed her closely, their black and grey uniforms invading her peripheral vision on both sides, and she fought the urge to hunch her back.

Josmere was nowhere in sight, for which Layela was grateful. Although she doubted they would be interested in a petty thief this late in the day, she preferred not to find out.

Carefully, Layela reached into the drawer, pushing aside some papers to reach her digital passport. She recognized it by touch, its smooth cover cool and reassuring.

Yoma had insisted for a long time that they simply acquire fake passports, which would cost them less and be easier. But Layela had argued otherwise. She wanted to begin anew, and the passport was the first step to gaining that freedom. A nice, simple, legal step.

The government official snatched the passport from her hands, and Layela counted her blessings that she had insisted on the legal proceedings.

The man was becoming more annoying with each passing second, like a slowly inflaming bug bite. He made a raw sound in his throat.

“I’m afraid we’ll have to confiscate this,” the man said, his mouth speaking the words regretfully where his eyes only spoke boredom.

Another assignment completed, another day over.

“Why?” Layela asked, stunned.

“You are forbidden from leaving this planet,” the man continued, ignoring her question, jingling his keys again. “You are forbidden from communicating with anyone off-planet, and you are forbidden from doing business on Collar until further notice.”

“What do you mean?” Layela asked, her voice rising, her face and neck flushed with anger. They couldn’t do this! What right did they have to do this? And why?

Yoma. The word sliced through every other thought, her anger growing

Destiny’s Blood | 20 deeper. Her sister had done something. Something stupid and illegal, and they had traced her back to Layela. If her sister wanted to throw everything away, fine, but couldn’t she keep Layela out of it for once?

“I mean that you are basically under arrest, simply not in jail.” He prolonged each syllable, as though he spoke to a child. He even stopped jingling his keys, to ensure she could hear him perfectly. “At least, not until we receive proper reason to put you there.”

“But I’ve done nothing wrong!” Layela’s voice resonated in the shop.

“If I can’t open for business, how am I supposed to pay for it? I need to sell to survive!”

The man simply shrugged, and turned toward the door.

“Wait!” she called after them, walking towards the men. The soldiers blocked her, their hands travelling towards their guns.

She raised her hands to appease them.

“I just need to know why you’re doing this,” she said, trying to keep her voice calm. “I need to know how I can help you clear this up faster.”

The government official didn’t even stop as he called over his shoulder.

“You can’t.”

Backing away, the soldiers exited. As the door closed she could hear the jingling of keys.

Stunned, she didn’t even notice when Josmere came out of the shadows and stood beside her, placing a hand on her shoulder.

“I’m so sorry, Layl,” Josmere said, but Layela barely heard her. She wondered what her sister had done now, and how much it would cost her.

Layela fidgeted with

Chapter 2

the piece of paper. She set it down, grabbed a watering can and walked toward the ferns. The plants were a perfect burgundy and perky, but Layela poured water in their earth regardless. She looked back at the piece of paper. Maybe there was another way.

Water splashed on her foot and she backed up, sighing. I needed to clean the floors anyway.

She set the watering can on the counter, resisted the urge to stay there, and headed to the back, running a hand over Mama Knot’s giant leaves and inventorying the plants in her head. What should she order next?

Did it even matter now? With a firm hand she grabbed the mop and walked back into the store, cleaning her floors carefully. She considered waxing them too, but she knew she was stalling. Instead, she stopped in front of the counter, leaning the mop against it.

The tremble in her fingers threatened to rip the paper when she picked it up, and she forced her hands to steady. She set it down on the counter again, grabbed for the watering can and turned back towards the ferns, only remembering that she had already watered them when she saw the droplets still trickling onto the floor. She set the can down and grabbed the shears instead. Only the Growall plants had the constitution and speedy growth to withstand her current care. She hacked at them, feeling the page tug at her heart.

Destiny’s Blood | 22 We always take care of each other, Layl.

She reached deep within the plant and hacked, her cutters sticky with sap, leaves and orange flowers littering the floor around her feet. Even the Growall couldn’t take much more of this abuse. Layela lowered the cutters to the floor and sat in the middle of the orange blooms, their musky scent filling her nostrils.

Picking one up, she outlined each petal with her fingers, imagining it withering in time. Like so many other things.

“We do always take care of each other, Yoma,” she whispered, anger fading from her as she spoke the words, a mantra she’d repeated since early childhood.

She felt tears well in her eyes as she thought of all the care and dreams that had gone into the forging of Sunrise Flowers, but she thought of her sister, who might be in trouble and in need of help, and the tears were gone as quickly as they had come. Yoma was all she had, really — and Josmere too, though the Berganda had chosen not to follow them in their flower shop endeavour. And this way she knew Sunrise Flowers would still be here, waiting for her and Yoma’s safe return, harbouring their hopes in its old walls and radiant blooms. It’s only temporary, she thought, her feet cold as she donned her old boots. Just temporary.

“I couldn’t find out anything,” Josmere called from the back as she entered through the storage area. “No word on Yoma, no word on why you’re such a hot item right now, nothing at all. But I’m guessing she’s not on Collar anymore. No one could hide that well from me!”

Josmere rounded the corner and stopped. Layela knew how she must look, sitting on the floor and surrounded by her chopped masterpiece.

Raising an eyebrow, the Berganda reached behind the counter and grabbed the broom.

“Don’t take it personally,” Layela said as she stood up, “but I do like taking my frustrations out on plant life.”

Josmere looked at her in shock before her face broke out in a grin.

Although Josmere still seemed to be hiding something from her, Layela had to admit that the familiar face brought her great comfort. Especially considering what she had to do next.

She forced her legs to take her to the counter. Josmere recounted some of her searches as Layela swept; all of them led nowhere, not even to more questions. The Berganda’s voice rose and fell again as her tale took her back through her frustrations.

“I did get you the stuff you asked for,” Josmere said. She threw out

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the rest of the cuttings and, after wiping her hands on her pants, handed Layela a small envelope.

Layela looked inside: a new passport with a fake identity, and identification cards to match. Everything she needed to get off the planet.

“Thanks Josmere,” Layela whispered, pocketing the envelope and picking up the document she had fidgeted with most of the day.

Without a word she handed it to Josmere, who took it without question. The moment it was out of her grasp, Layela wished she could hold it again and fidget with it until it was well worn and illegible.

“Oh Layl, I can’t!” the Berganda whispered, her eyes widening as she read. The document was a clear contract, stating that she, Layela Delamores, signed over ownership of Sunrise Flowers to Josmere Berganda.

Effective immediately.

“Yes you can, and you have to. It’s only temporary.”

“But I don’t want it. This is yours, not mine,” Josmere said, pushing the piece of paper back towards Layela.

Layela rooted her arms by her side, her fingers forming fists lest they reach out for the document before she could stop them.

“Josmere, I know it isn’t like you to stay so sedentary, but I need you to do this.” Her voice rose with the need to be understood; to convince Josmere, not to mention herself, that this was indeed the right course of action. “I can’t do business right now, and if I don’t make money, then I can’t keep this place up. I have no savings left. Everything is tied into this place.”

Josmere’s eyes held hers. The small creases around them were the only sign of aging the Berganda would ever show.

“Bergandas can’t own businesses in Solarian space,” she whispered, as though afraid her refusal might shatter Layela like fine glass.

“If they wear regulation gloves at all times on Collar, they can.” Layela gave her a thin smile. “It was one of the many reasons we chose this planet, should you ever decide to join us.”

Josmere opened her mouth as though to say something, but then stopped and lowered her eyes. In the throes of her own grief over her flower shop, Layela didn’t care to pursue the matter further. It was time to go.

“Besides,” Layela added with a forced laugh. “You’re a plant, so this should be easy for you, right? Just make sure not to sell yourself.”

Josmere’s frown lessened, and she looked down at the paper again.

“You’re going after Yoma?” she asked without looking up.

“Yes. I need to know what’s happening so I know how to fix it. I’m

Destiny’s Blood | 24 guessing Yoma has the answers I need.” The last words were spoken with more bitterness than she had intended.

Josmere shook her head again, green hair tossing like leaves caught in the wind.

“Josmere,” Layela said, her voice becoming more forceful. As she grabbed the Berganda’s arm, the familiar tingle of Josmere’s powers coursed through her fingers.

Josmere looked up, and Layela was surprised to see uncertainty in the green eyes. It was not a quality she had ever witnessed in the Berganda.

“You’re the only one I trust to do this.” Layela whispered, holding Josmere’s gaze. For all of her faults and secrets, the Berganda had always been loyal to the twins, even when it would have proven wiser to stay away.

“I don’t like this,” Josmere said. “But I’ll do it. Where will you begin your search?”

“I don’t know.” She studied the Berganda closely. “Do you have any ideas?”

Anger flashed across Josmere’s face for a second. “If I did, don’t you think I’d be out there looking? Bones, Layela, you two are my best friends, and if you think I’d endanger Yoma even if she’d beg me to, I wouldn’t! I don’t know what’s going on any more than you!”

Layela studied her friend for a moment, inclined to believe her. She walked behind the counter to pick up her light travel satchel.

“Then I hope my instincts will guide me. That’s usually enough to find her,” she said. Josmere had witnessed enough of the twins’ link over the years not to question it. She busied herself with the satchel so that the Berganda wouldn’t see the lie in her eyes. In the past few years, her link with Yoma had weakened, to the point where Layela had not even felt the direction in which Yoma had headed.

When she dared look at Josmere again, the small bag secured around her shoulder, the contract was on the counter with fresh ink drying at the bottom. Suddenly, Layela’s bag felt heavier.

“I’ll do this, Layl,” Josmere said, her eyes regaining their certainty.

“But if you don’t have luck quickly enough for my liking, I’m coming after you.”

Layela nodded and walked toward the door, trying not to look at the red roses on the right that she had been growing for years, or at the white Lichta flowers that she had bargained three days to acquire. She tried to ignore the musky scent of the Growalls still dancing in the air, and the soft rustle of Mama Knot’s leaves as the large Booknot swayed, agitated

by Layela’s unhappiness and departure.

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The door was smooth and cold to the touch, and she closed it quickly behind her before she could relent and convince herself that her dream, her freedom, her flower shop were more important than her sister. It would be too easy to turn back.

It had been too long a road to Sunrise Flowers for the dream to set in one day.

/

The man stood by the railing, his cloaked body outlined by the setting sun. He did not move, did nothing to draw attention, but Avienne Malavant approached him very warily.

Something about the man’s calm yet ready posture told her that he was a warrior, and probably a dangerous one. Avienne glanced sideways from him and assessed her brother’s appearance. With his black leather pants, loose tunic and vest, he could be just another merchant. But his confident walk and the gun at his waist marked him as something much more dangerous. Not to mention the sword he insisted on strapping to his back, despite Avienne’s teasing and protests. She wished she could tease him now, but despite his casual steps, she could feel tension flowing from him as they approached the stranger.

Why tonight of all nights? Avienne thought, consciously trying to keep her hands steady. Fidgeting would not do.

Her brother walked up to the man, his stride unwavering.

“Beautiful night for a flight, isn’t it?” the man said as soon as the two siblings came within earshot.

Avienne’s pulse accelerated, though she was careful not to show it. So the man knew they were smugglers. He must have been the one who had sent word he wanted to hire them. If not, he certainly had picked an odd phrase to open the conversation. Besides, this was not a place a man came to unless he had some illegal or immoral business to take care of.

“That it is,” her brother Ardin said nonchalantly, leaning casually on the railing beside the man. Avienne stood off to one side, close enough to intervene if necessary. She let her brother do most of the talking on these occasions. It had been her experience that in her line of work, men were taken more seriously. Most men did not like talking business with a woman they would prefer to see in their beds.

The men stood silently and Avienne ran through the possible outcomes of this meeting. The most likely was that they were about to be hired, but being raided or killed also had high probability.

Destiny’s Blood | 26 “Anything we can do for you?” Ardin finally said. Avienne hid a smile.

Her brother had never been patient.

“I need one of the quickest, strongest and most discreet crews in the entire star system to take care of a very important mission. With suitable compensation, of course.”

“You’ve certainly come to the right crew,” Ardin said, pride filling his voice.

“That’s what I was told, and I’ve researched extensively.”

“Good. I’m sure you also found that we’re not the stupidest crew around. We won’t take a suicidal contract just to fill our pockets.”

“I’d expect no less.”

“Then what are we talking about?” Ardin said. Avienne winced at the impatience — worse, curiosity — in her brother’s voice. His decisions were not always the most sensible. Avienne had always blamed it on his sense of adventure and undying curiosity — things that she had hoped he would outgrow when he reached manhood. Too many odd adventures and questionable decisions had since occurred for her to continue to hope.

“A young woman needs protection, although she may not realize it.

You may have to convince her to come with you, and bring her to Lockor for her own good.”

“Kidnapping?” Ardin said, his voice conveying disapproval. There were laws that even smugglers wouldn’t break. Stolen goods were not a problem; stolen people were a different matter entirely.

“Not quite. It’s where she needs to go, she just doesn’t know it yet.”

“Still sounds like kidnapping to me,” Ardin said, looking sideways at the man.

The man shrugged. “You’ll be keeping her safe and protecting her from those who will try to harm her.”

“Who wants to harm her?” Avienne asked, drawing attention to herself.

The man did not even bother turning toward her. “Solarian Government. Maybe an assassin or two.”

“Is that all?” Avienne replied sarcastically. “If it’s too dangerous, we can’t do it,” she said, her blood boiling. Ardin tensed as her words bit the air, words he had often used on her. “Our duty is to our own.”

The man turned around slowly and locked eyes with hers. “Remember those words, Avienne Malavant. Remember them well.”

Ice rushed down Avienne’s spine and she fought not to let it show. The man turned back to lean on the railing. So he knew their names, as well.

That did not comfort her.

“Anything else?” Ardin asked.

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“Yes. You must find her quickly, bring her to your ship and get her away from Collar. If you fail to do this, I won’t be able to compensate you.”

Ardin looked off into the spaceport where their ship, the Destiny, was docked. Avienne followed his gaze briefly. Although an old, unidentified model, its dull metal and battle scars were more beautiful to her than any of the newer ships in the port. But still...

Acid sloshed in her stomach and her heart skipped a beat. She forced herself to look away from the old ship and back to the man. Her brother was only second-in-command, so the stakes had to be good for him to accept this mission. He would need to justify his decisions to the captain, a man with a kind heart but little sense of humour when it came to the safety of his ship and crew.

Hopefully this decision is better than the last three missions he decided we should accept, Avienne thought, almost smiling. Her brother’s voice broke through her musings.

“How much are we talking about?”

The man reached inside his cloak. Avienne tensed, her fingers grazing the hilt of one of her throwing knives.

He pulled a pouch free from his cloak. Avienne focused on his other arm in case the pouch was intended to distract them.

Her brother opened the pouch, and she heard his breath catch as he looked inside it. From the corner of her eye, she saw something sparkle.

Lonil diamonds would give off that light.

“This is a down payment. Bring her safely to Lockor and I’ll double it.”

“That’s a king’s ransom!” her brother hissed.

“I know.” the man said, his voice distant.

Ardin shot his sister a quick look. She shrugged and grinned. It had been a while since they had made good money. How difficult could it be to protect one girl and get her safely to her destination?

Her brother smiled. “What do we need to know?”

The docks of

Chapter 3

Harbour Bay were littered with ships, from single pods to large commuter and freight vessels. Located on the remnants of the old bay that had once housed the biggest trading stations, the Harbour Bay docks were the perfect portrait of Collar.

Everyone was simply passing by, all social classes and walks of life mingled without pause, and so many non-natives travelled the streets that a bluehaired Collarian was a rare sight.

Strolling amidst the various merchants pushing their wares and fortunes on the travellers, Layela carefully inspected her surroundings. She was intent on avoiding all Solarian soldiers and surveillance equipment, not wishing to test their determination to keep her on Collar. Thankfully, the nature of Collar did not encourage Solari mingling too closely — the strategically located planet stood at the centre of three major solar systems and relied on trade.

Of course, as with all other trading planets, smuggling had become the norm. The Solarian Government, in a rare show of wisdom, had put very little effort into stopping the illegal trade, just enough to appease the merchants from their other planets. In actuality, the government funded quite a bit of the smuggling, hoping to acquire cheaper merchandise than their own taxes would allow.

Layela navigated the crowded streets and wished she could see green again, could touch a silken petal and smell life blooming around her. But

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Collar’s vegetation was sparse, the darkness too great and the development too dense to allow for any life other than its own. Instead of the carefully chosen blooms of her shop, her senses were now assaulted by hanging meats, ale and sweat. She quickened her pace, hoping to soon find a suitable ship.

The sooner she left the planet and found Yoma, the better.

She spotted a small bar, tucked away from the rest of the merchants, its doors kept closed and its facade uninviting. Perfect. Having grown up on the streets, even though on a different planet, Layela knew how to recognize certain areas. A dark bar where few were invited and even fewer questions were asked probably held the ride she was seeking.

She readjusted her pack and approached the door. Unzipping her coat, she let the pommel of her gun, tied at her waist, show a bit. Weakness and vulnerability would not be assets in this situation. She wished the weapon didn’t feel so heavy, the weight tugging at whispering visions.

Without hesitation, Layela opened the door. Her eyes, already used to the dark landscape of Collar, quickly adjusted to the darker room. She walked to the bar, her head held high but avoiding eye contact. Nobody needed to think she was looking for someone in particular. Too many people in here would take offence to being recognized.

“Something I can do for you, miss?” the barkeeper asked without looking up from the glass he was pouring.

“I’m looking for transport off the planet,” she answered casually.

He looked up and leaned in, foul breath coating her face as he spoke.

“Where to?”

She fought the urge to back away. “Anywhere with a safe landing.” She slit her eyes and took a step closer, trying not to breathe in his stench.

“And no ‘hidden fees.’”

He responded with a gapped smile and an appreciative look down her shirt. Layela’s cheeks felt hot as she straightened her shoulders and forced her shirt to hug her body again. The man’s smile widened, and she swore she could smell his breath escaping through the holes in his teeth.

The door swung open and shed light into the dark room, both Layela and the barkeeper looking back at the intruders, a melee of young scraggly youths laughing heartily and calling for ale. The barkeep ignored them and focused on Layela again, the teasing gone from his eyes.

“Got passport?”

She nodded to him. She did have a passport. It did seem valid, but with the limited time and money Josmere had taken to acquire it, she doubted it had been entered in the databases. That was riskier business, with

Destiny’s Blood | 30 longer delivery time and more expensive work. A legally-run operation would do a background check — something she wanted to avoid.

“Ship leaves in half an hour, through the back,” the barkeeper said, offering her another gapped smile as she tipped him. She walked through the back door, her hand on her gun. Inanimate goods were not the only profitable trade in this area.

The ship was in the next room, on a small landing pad. A boy stood at the door, all grins as he glanced at her passport and accepted her money.

It amounted to most of the proceeds from the first day’s sales, and she cringed. She hoped Josmere could use her talents of persuasion to make up for the loss.

The shuttle seemed to be rusting before her eyes. She held back the urge to touch one of the large corroded spots, for fear the whole thing would crumble. She glanced around the rest of the bay, and sighed when she saw no other shuttle. Runaways can’t be walkers. She walked to the open midship door on the side of the ill-looking vehicle, grabbed both edges of the shuttle’s mouth and hoisted herself up into its stifling warmth.

A tall man was already sitting on a cramped seat, wearing an expensivelooking suit that covered most of his darkly tanned skin — an unmistakable mark of a passer-by through the dark landscapes of Collar. There was nowhere else to go, so she took a seat beside him. His insulted eyes peered at her for a second before lowering again and reading the paper document he adamantly clutched. The ship had no windows and its interior smelled of wet dog. It would be a long trip.

Sweat trickled down her back and she began to wish she had more than one spare shirt. The engines powered up, their thunder roaring in her ears. The shuttle jostled once and Layela gripped the side of her chair to keep from landing on the man beside her.

Bang! Layela’s legs went flying up and she almost followed them, somehow managing to stay on her seat. She gritted her teeth, wishing she had a seat belt to count on.

The man beside her was not so fortunate. His document flew up, but not quite as high as he did. Within a heartbeat, he landed back on the small section of floor, his legs tangled above him.

She would have laughed if she hadn’t been so busy clutching to the seat for her life.

She braced for the second take-off attempt, the noise ringing in her ears.

The shuttle shot forward, throwing Layela against the back of the seat and trapping her there as it picked up speed, her sweat-riddled shirt plastered to

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her back. She managed to move her head just enough to see the man still scrunched on the floor, his tanned features more green than brown.

She forced her eyes to stare forward at the dim metal wall, wondering how soon before they cleared the atmosphere and, hopefully, received a moment’s reprieve from the various laws of physics tugging at their bodies.

The shuttle jostled and the lights flickered, and Layela closed her eyes. The ship was small and with few supplies, so they would likely not be going far. Anator, Grimsvll, Rockt...Layela listed the nearby planets she was aware of, forcing her mind to go over the few details she knew of them. Her first priority would be to get aboard another ship and go...go where?

Her arms ached from clutching her seat and her legs were shaking from the exertion. She forced her laboured breath and tense muscles to relax a bit. Her instincts would guide her. Surely they would. Just because they hadn’t worked of late, it didn’t mean they wouldn’t now. Maybe she had simply been too occupied with all the details of opening the shop and had not paid enough attention to her connection with her sister. Guilt tugged at her for a moment. Maybe if she hadn’t been so absorbed, she would have spotted Yoma’s discontent and been able to prevent all of this.

The shuttle slanted forward and Layela wrestled with her muscles, raising her tired legs just enough to catch the wall and keep herself from flying forward. The man rolled on the floor. Although she couldn’t hear anything over the roar of the engines, she could see that he was moaning.

She was starting to fear she would never hear anything again.

The shuttle dropped again and the lights flickered, and Layela swore she heard, even over the engines, a blast from outside. The shuttle rocked and tilted, descending in a rapid nose dive that forced Layela to completely rely on her outstretched legs to keep from faceplanting on the dirty metal wall. This time she distinctly heard two blasts.

Was someone shooting at them? Layela forced herself to inhale the heavy, stale air. Another blast. She was certain they were under attack.

The blood drained from her face and she grasped the seat harder, wishing she could do something — anything but sit and hang on for dear life.

Had she picked a shuttle from a warring faction? Was the man beside her hunted? She wanted to scream at her own carelessness. Her worry for her flower shop and her sister had made her act too rashly.

The shuttle buckled again and landed with a crunch, bouncing Layela on the seat and knocking her teeth together. The engines powered down and their deafening sound ended. Her ears still tingled from the noise and she barely heard the man’s swear as he climbed back into his seat, a

Destiny’s Blood | 32 look of deep insult on his green face.

She allowed herself a moment to breathe, trying to steady her heart.

Her fingers felt numb and cold with the fear of imminent death. She would throttle Yoma as soon as she saw her. It would be a fitting greeting.

A few minutes passed. Layela strained her ringing ears, but the walls were too thick for her to hear any sound aside from her own ragged breathing. She sat back against her seat, hoping her tension would drain.

The businessman beside her held his document with shaking hands, a strange but comforting company.

She looked back, but there was nothing there to see except more metal.

She just wanted to be off Collar, towards some mystery planet, so that she could beat her sister up. Was that not a simple enough wish?

The door opened beside her, and she barely had the time to gasp before two Solarian soldiers boarded and grabbed both her and the businessman.

Fingers dug into her arms as she was dragged out and thrown against the hull of the ship, the side of her face hitting the cool surface with a force great enough to split the skin at her hairline. Warm blood trickled down her temple.

Her gun was quickly removed, as well as the knife in her boot. The businessman beside her whimpered as they searched him for weapons.

“Layela Delamores,” the soldier said, his voice young underneath a gasmask as grey as the rest of his uniform. “You are under arrest for attempting to leave Collar illegally.”

Metal cuffs bit deep into the skin of her wrists. Before she could regain her bearings, she was in a shuttle, buttressed by two soldiers, flying towards what she guessed was one of Collar’s many detention centres.

How had they found her? Did they have every smuggler on alert for a reward? Did they question Josmere? Were they watching the flower shop?

Questions assaulted her like a thousand needle pricks. Each small, but together more than she could handle.

The only thing of which she was now certain was that she had gravely underestimated her current importance to the Solarian Government.

/

“Very quaint,” Avienne grinned. The old, dull concrete building was a silent warrior against weather and the passing of time.

“I can’t believe it’s a flower girl,” Ardin replied, shaking his head. “I just can’t believe that a little flower girl would be worth so much!”

Avienne laughed and slapped her brother on the back. She was enjoying

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this mission. If the flower girl came willingly, she could maybe stock up on supplies afterwards. They could use a few choice items for the long journey ahead, and with the down payment, they could afford them.

She repressed a grin and looked sternly at her brother. “Ardin, it’s not just any flower girl. She’s a business owner!”

Ardin opened his mouth to reply, but closed it again and examined her closely.

Sweetly, she looked at him and smiled. “What?”

“What are you so happy about? You didn’t even want to come.”

She bent in and he jerked back as she kissed his cheek, sending her into ripples of laughter again. “You’re too suspicious, Ardin! It’s a nice day, and we’ve actually got some money, and if we finish this simple job, we can get more. It’s great!”

“It would be greater if Cailan allowed us to use more of the money to finish the mission, and if I believed this actually made you happy.”

Avienne looked at the front of the shop, crisscrossing metal bars protecting the beautiful blooms inside. She sighed and shook her head.

“It does make me happy, because maybe we’ll have heat and fresh food again, and maybe we’ll actually open some of the extra rooms again. And maybe this little flower girl will be grateful to us and help us revive our gardens. That would be nice, too.”

Ardin merely grunted in reply, making Avienne grin. She wished she could explain more to him, but feared that he wouldn’t understand.

Maybe she could use her share of the profits to travel a bit, without the Destiny. Maybe she didn’t need to stay on the ancient ship with its ancient crew. And maybe, just maybe, her brother would choose to follow her, where they could have a home built of materials other than metal, metal as empty within as the space it protected the crew from.

Maybe.

“I hope this is worth it,” Ardin mumbled as he opened the door, and Avienne followed, smiling as dozens of scents soothed her senses. She wished she could comfort her brother, whose main concern was that this would lead to kidnapping. And Ardin, a man whose practicality was only challenged by romantic dreams of heroism, would not easily accept such behaviour from himself.

That’s why I’m here, she thought, resisting the urge to flip one of her knives. It wouldn’t do to let anyone know that she was armed with more than the one protective bullet allowed on Collar.

The shop was fairly busy, which surprised Avienne. Two customers

Destiny’s Blood | 34 milled by some large orange flowers, three more where some pink blooms seemed to glow.

Ardin looked around, and Avienne linked arms with him, satisfied at his slight groan. She dragged him towards some multi-coloured flowers, wondering if the strong honey smell emanated from them.

“May I help you?” a voice chimed behind them, and Avienne hoped victory stayed from her eyes. This was going to be too easy. All they had to do now was convince the little flower girl to come with them, or use a bit of force if necessary. That would have to be her contribution, of course! She fought her growing smile as she and Ardin turned around, holding back a curse as they came face to face with a Berganda.

“Are you the owner?” Ardin spat out in surprise. Avienne winced.

The Berganda’s smile did not falter, but Avienne saw something dangerous cross her green eyes. She looked down, seeing the regulation gloves safely secured. She had heard what those of the Berganda race could do with their touch, and did not intend to die at the hands of one.

“I’m sorry for my brother’s rudeness,” Avienne said, all smiles. “We’d just heard of a particular young woman gifted with plants.” Avienne glanced at the Berganda and gave a short, sweet laugh. “Although, I guess you would be great with them, too.”

The Berganda seemed to relax a little, but her smile was too unmoving, too frozen, for Avienne to let her defences down. She let her right hand fall casually at her side, where she hid a throwing knife at the belt of her pants, without a pause in her speech. The Berganda was either fooled or enjoying Avienne’s performance, and so she continued.

“What was her name? Lale Dem…no, more like Layla Moras?”

“Layela Delamores,” Ardin said bluntly. Avienne wanted to hit him.

“I guess that’s it,” Avienne said, hearing the strain in her own voice.

The Berganda’s eyes lit up at the name.

“She used to work here,” the Berganda said, her voice adopting the same sing-song quality as Avienne’s. “But she left to find rare Collarian flowers with her sisters Lale and Layla.”

Avienne groaned. The little Berganda was having fun with them.

“Excuse me,” the Berganda said, leaving them and turning her attention her customers. When the last three filed out with their colourful purchases, their glances sternly avoiding the siblings, the Berganda followed them, her gloved hands locking the door and lowering the blinds.

“Now then,” the Berganda said, turning around, freeing her slender left hand from the worn leather glove. And then the right.

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The Berganda observed them closely, her calculating eyes taking in every detail, leaving nothing for granted. Avienne flipped out one of her knives and spun it in the air, catching it without breaking eye contact with the Berganda.

“Who are you, and what do you want with Layela?” the Berganda said, no hint of fear in her voice. Not a good sign.

Ardin shook his head and sighed, looking down at his comm link, where Avienne could see a silent text flashing. “We just want to get her to safety, that’s all.”

The Berganda smirked. “I’m sure you do. You certainly look like the hero types.”

Avienne gritted her teeth, knowing Ardin would not take kindly to that. She glanced towards her brother, who simply kept shaking his head.

“Come on, Avienne. We’ve no business left here.”

Without a second glance he unlocked the door and walked out, leaving Avienne and the Berganda to face each other. Avienne shrugged and flipped her knife once before making it vanish again within her clothing.

The Berganda seemed to hesitate, but accepted Avienne’s show of peace and whipped her gloves back on.

The Berganda seemed to relax a bit. “What do you really want with Layela?”

Avienne shrugged. “Like my brother said, to protect her. But we don’t know anything else.” Then she added under her breath, “Except that if we don’t find her, we don’t get our profit.”

The Berganda called out as Avienne pulled the door open, “Better give up on your pay, then.”

Avienne paused and looked back. “Not the most positive thinker, are you?”

The Berganda gave her a half smile. “For a Berganda, I’m actually quite positive.” She brought her hand up and left it lingering there, the implication of her gloved hand unmistakable.

“Right. Time to go,” Avienne said. “Thanks. It’s a beautiful shop!”

“I’ll let Layela know that when I see her next,” the Berganda called as the door closed behind Avienne, who grinned. Like the Berganda had any intention of leading them to her friend. A good bait, though.

“I never knew Bergandas to be loyal to anyone but their own,” Avienne said as she joined her brother by the side of the building.

“Speaking of being loyal to our own, Lang’s in jail.”

Avienne groaned. “Again?” Lang was not one of their original crew, but he’d been working with them for a few years.

Ardin’s jaw was set in a stubborn line. A look Avienne knew all too well.

Destiny’s Blood | 36 “Come on, Ardin,” Avienne pleaded. “He might get sent to a mining colony this time, and he’s too soft. He wouldn’t even last a day. We can’t let him rot there.”

Ardin began walking, but Avienne refused to follow. “If you don’t get him out, I will, Ardin.”

At those words, her brother did stop. “We’ll have to break him out, unless you intend on paying the fee on his head.”

“Why? How big is it?” Avienne asked. Ardin merely shook his head.

“So we break him out. How hard could that be, with the right distraction?” She smiled and winked as she walked passed him, back towards their shuttle.

He groaned again, and she laughed.

“Let’s get Lang, and then we’ll try getting this Layela one more time before we leave the planet. Maybe we can convince the Berganda to tell us her whereabouts.” She ran her finger along the smooth pommel of her gun. With just one bullet per gun allowed on this little planet, it could be a bit of a challenge.

Her brother shook his head and didn’t answer, but he would go along with her. She was certain of it.

Avienne looked back at the flower shop one last time and spied the Berganda in the window, watering some flowers. For someone whose friend was in apparent danger, she certainly didn’t seem very concerned.

/

Layela leaned her head against the window, watching the dark landscape of Collar spread below, her heart thudding as she wondered what fate awaited her. It was not the first time she had been arrested because of Yoma, and it would not be the first time she would neither talk nor beg.

Still, her skin tingled with fear at the thought of the pain that might soon follow. Her eyes and throat felt dry, and she wished that she could have some water. Her arms and wrists ached, firmly secured behind her, her hands numb from the tight cuffs. She closed her eyes, fighting back the memories. These were soldiers, men with laws they had to obey, she repeated in her mind. This was not some ill-fated capture by security guards who held no respect for law or life.

She would be fine. She was no longer on Thalos IV. Her breathing calmed, her mind slowed and she reopened her eyes.

The shuttle was approaching an ugly grey building, “Gullwing Detention

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Centre” marked above the shuttle port’s entry.

“Time to go,” the guard said with a half-grin as the shuttle landed. The doors opened and Layela was shoved into the dimly lit metal bay.

She gritted her teeth as fingers dug into her arms, the two guards well armed and well muscled. They followed the yellow-lit corridors, marking the path to the judgment rooms. Soon she would learn what she was accused of. But then, the guards veered off into another corridor lighted in unfamiliar green. Layela felt her gut turn. They were no longer heading for the judgment rooms, as by law they should be.

“Where are you taking me?” she asked, her voice cracking.

She bit back a cry of pain when they answered by digging their fingers so deep she thought her bones would break.

“I have the right to fair judgment,” Layela said, her voice gaining strength.

Her answer came swiftly as a blow to the back of her head that sent white spots rushing into her vision. She staggered and fought to regain her senses, or at least keep her footing as they pushed her forward.

A guard grabbed her arm and wheeled her around, grinning wildly at his captive. His face loomed over hers. Layela quickly brought up her knee and made contact, and the guard was down and moaning.

The quick movement made her dizzy and she took one step back to gain her bearing, but another guard kicked her down. She landed hard on her side and back, the cuffs biting deeper into her wrists. Warm blood pooled in her hand.

She raised her legs and kicked, satisfied with a connecting crunch.

Quickly, she pushed herself up, as much as she could with her hands still bound. Before she could get up and run, an arm locked around her neck and pulled her to her feet.

She would have gasped if she could breathe, but no sound could escape her. The guard choked her a second longer and then threw her into a small metal room. The door shut behind her, the air suffocating, and memories assaulted her — memories of another small room, alone with her nightmares and her pain.

She bit back a scream and pushed herself to a sitting position, her arms aching, her wrists bleeding, and fought the urge to cry.

She’s in there

Chapter 4

like you asked, Colonel,” the guard said, and failed to salute him properly. Dunkat felt some of his elation teeter at the guard’s carelessness, but chose to ignore him. Proper military training was not necessary for prison guards.

Not that the military itself bred discipline.

“Dismissed,” Dunkat merely said, and the two guards left, a few crude comments spoken when they foolishly believed he was out of earshot.

They could think whatever they wanted about what he would do with the girl, but to speak of it was suicide. He would make sure they learned some discipline before his departure.

But for now, he had to keep his goal in mind. Too much lay at stake to be distracted by the stupidity of an insignificant few. Alone in the corridor, facing the door where his prize lay within, Dunkat allowed himself a rare moment of self-indulgence. He smiled, closing his eyes and breathing deeply. He felt the book of his life quiver at the thought of closing its darkest chapter, while opening its greatest one.

Had he not chosen to believe long ago that the immortality of the soul was just a story to make bearable the injustices of this world, Dunkat might have felt his father’s presence near him. But he was gone, and nothing remained of him except Dunkat himself. That was enough.

He opened his eyes, the muscles of his face regaining their familiar position as he dropped the smile. In one quick swoop, he crossed the

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threshold before any more thoughts assailed him.

The room was well lit, like everything else in this metal prison, but even had it been dark, even if only shadows dwelt here, he would have known her as she stood defiantly before him. He knew her for who and what she was.

Her eyes, dark, deep blue, captured the light and refused to release it. Her hair, spilling around her high cheekbones, was so dark a brown it would appear black. And even if none of those features leapt out, he firmly believed that her look and stance would have given her away. He was even pleased to see that whatever fear she might feel was kept locked away, not revealed in even the faintest movement.

“How old are you, Layela?” He asked softly, like an old friend would.

Maybe he could gain her trust, and discover what she knew.

He held her eyes, and she refused to break contact with his. The only sign of intimidation came when she lowered her head slightly, and suddenly her cheekbones did not seem as high, nor her stance as straight.

The light seemed to even reveal some of the fear in her eyes.

In the silence that followed his question, Dunkat felt for one moment that he might have been mistaken. For one instant the doubt lingered, but then she moved again, slightly, and the light caught her eyes again and stayed there, held within, and he knew that she was the one.

He smiled and took a deep breath. She mustn’t yet be twenty. The perfect age.

“Don’t be afraid,” he repeated, his voice losing none of its thick softness. “I just need to know a few things about you and your family.”

At the mention of family, her eyes slit just a bit and he knew he had hit a sore spot. He could feel victory within his grasp.

“If you tell me what you know,” he said, taking an eager step forward.

“I’ll let you go.” The lie came easily, unravelling like silk from his tongue.

She stood her ground as he came nearer, and still refused to speak. But now he could feel it. He could sense the fear, the anxiety, the hatred. Her eyes gleamed with a mix of them, and he could feel them coat him like warm honey.

He would break her.

/

Layela stood her ground. Military training electrified every movement of the tall, imposing man before her. His eyes were cold, his deep voice low and sickening, and he kept moving closer.

Destiny’s Blood | 40 Her heart beat into her ears, and she fought the urge to breathe deeply through her mouth. He seemed fascinated with her eyes, and although their night blue colour often gained her unwanted attention, never before had anyone been fixated by them.

“Tell me about your family, Layela.” His voice broke through the sound of her heart. “I know your last name isn’t Delamores.”

She jerked a little, and his eyes flashed with victory. How did this man know so much? What else did he know? And how could have found out about…her heart skipped a beat, then two, and the rush in her ears was all she could hear.

Only Yoma knew that was not her name. Even though it was the name that the two siblings shared, it had not been given to them at birth, but rather by an old woman who had died when they were very young. The name was all she had left them, and so had begun their journey on the streets. Memories of the old woman’s peculiar incense soothed her mind before the man’s voice slapped her back to the present.

“Being forthcoming will save you,” the man said, the light of victory ever-present in his eyes. Never tell others anything, the sisters had once vowed, and since then only Josmere had ever won their trust.

She could feel his breath on her face now, cold sweat trickling down her back.

Did this man have Yoma? He was too close, and she bit her tongue, refusing to even ask the question for fear of revealing something he did not know. The cold metal wall was near her back but her feet stayed their ground, fighting the urge to lean against it, knowing it would do no good. Whoever this man was, she guessed from his bearing and uniform that he was important enough to do pretty much as he pleased with her.

“Tell me who you were protecting, Layela.” She dug her nails into her palms. “Tell me who you were protecting years ago, at Thalos IV, that even a Kilita could not draw the information from you.”

Her head came up and her eyes met his so closely their noses almost touched. She sealed her lips and slit her eyes, determined to bear what would come, recognizing the need for control in his features. How had he found out? Her mind raced frantically. Could the Kilita have reported her? He wouldn’t have, not with his illegal use of his powers, so even if he knew who she was...If he had used his powers, she would have been easy enough to find, having insisted on using her own name for Sunrise Flowers, regardless of Yoma’s objections.

Yoma, why did you leave me?

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Her breath was coming faster, and she knew she was betraying her fear. Still, she met his eyes and said nothing. If she began talking now, she might not be able to stop herself.

“I will show you no leniency,” the man said, his words not laced with madness or loss, but with the cold detachment of necessity. She could hear her sister joking about stiff military training.

He punched her hard in the chin, snapping her neck back. The force was so strong it threw her off her feet, banging her into the wall and onto the floor, ripping away the memory of her sister’s laughter and leaving only a loud ringing in her ears.

She tried to get up, but her arms were still bound behind her, her muscles screaming in protest. She bit down on her lip to stop a moan from escaping, and turned to her side to at least try to push herself back up. The door opened again, and she forced herself to rise faster, to face whatever was to come, but dizziness and nausea crashed into her in thick waves. Leaning her head down against the cold metal floor, she closed her eyes and fought to remain conscious. Her battered mind raced to find an idea, an escape, a moment of reprieve.

“Is this her, Chief?” she heard the colonel ask, and forced her eyes to open. The new arrival was looking at her intently, his orange-rimmed pupils giving away his origin, his stocky build announcing his sheer strength. It took only a second for her tired mind to recognize him, to remember the days she had spent in his grasp before he had managed to break her. She had thought she would never recover. It had been days before her sister had found her again, killing those responsible — all of them, save for the man with the ether, who was already gone.

It had been days of breaking, and months of healing before she could speak and move again. By then, Josmere and Yoma were used to sheltering her, to keeping secrets from her and leaving her in the dark. For her own protection.

A moan did escape her lips then, and she found the strength in her weary muscles to at least push herself up to a seated position. The handcuffs bit deep into her wrists, and her fingers worked frantically at pulling a pin free from the cuff of her jacket. With numb fingers she worked on the lock as the two men looked down at her — one with victory, and the other with hunger akin to lust in his orange eyes.

She felt the lock give way and her right hand was free.

“I need to know about her past, her family, her allies,” the colonel said, and the Kilita nodded.

Destiny’s Blood | 42 “I can try,” he answered, his voice hoarse and thick. “But the last time, I couldn’t control it. I just unleashed her powers. And even then, the results were debatable.”

Layela narrowed her eyes as hatred renewed her strength. She would not let this man in her mind again. He would not have access to her powers and impose them on her. A lump formed in her throat and she swallowed hard. Her pin, barely two inches in length, was in her right hand, and the cuff was in her left. She would only get one chance.

“If you tell me willingly,” the colonel said gently, his voice still coated with honey. “I will spare you this.” The lie in his voice was all that she could hear, his curiosity about her powers so strong that it stoked every word. She was something different, and she knew that the Kilita had made that clear to him. A human with the power of ether.

She refused to look at them. She focused forward, taking deep breaths, forcing her muscles to resist the urge to run.

“I guess that’s a no,” the Kilita hissed, removing his regulation gloves — the same gloves Josmere was forced to wear. He took his time taking them off and securing them to his belt, and she was certain his orange eyes were glued to her. Adrenaline pulsed through her and her heart thundered in her chest.

“Last chance,” the colonel said. Layela looked at him then without flinching, her eyes making it clear she had no intention of telling him anything. He seemed pleased with this and nodded to the Kilita, who took a step forward, quickly closing the gap between them.

He was leaning down when Layela jumped up and brought her left hand with the cuffs to strike him against the side of the head, the impact resonating down her flaming muscles. She leaned against the wall and kicked him hard in the knees. He fell to the ground, clutching his bleeding temple.

The colonel was moving already, but she brought up her right hand and slashed at him, the pin small but effective enough to gash his hand and then his face. His eyes burned with hatred as he struck out and hit her right arm. What she lacked in strength, she made up for in speed. She reeled back, turned and quickly brought the handcuffs up again and hit him hard in the scalp.

The Kilita had partly recovered and grabbed her legs, toppling her forward. She screamed and went down over him, the colonel grabbing both her arms before she struck the floor, tearing muscles as he pulled her up like a rag doll with a firm hold. The Kilita still held her legs, and she fought to get free, but could barely move.

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She struck back with her head, satisfied when she felt it impact the colonel’s chin. He groaned and his head flipped back, but his grip only tightened on her bleeding wrists, pulling a yelp of pain from her throat.

“Now, Chief,” he said, and she felt the Kilita’s broad hand search up her leg as she struggled to break free. His hand was too thick to go into the cuff of her pants and reach the skin over her boot. For a second, she thought he might need to let go of her legs to make contact with her skin, and she would get another chance to fight. Instead, he pulled hard on the right leg of her pants and ripped them, exposing her leg below her knee.

She felt weak from fear and blood loss, and inhaled sharply as his rough palm clamped her skin. The familiar sting of his magic coursed up her entire body and settled into her mind. Her head snapped back and a scream caught in her throat as the ether jolted her.

The quick motion made her dizzy. Her ether was awakened and old visions flashed to life, assaulting her tired mind. Then the recent vision of darkness that had claimed her peace while she slept was brought to the forefront for just a second, sharp and crisp and new, unlike all the other visions. Layela only had the time to recognize the face of her sister, seconds before her body and mind gave out and blessed darkness claimed her.

/

Avienne walked slowly, keeping an eye on the deserted street around her, the light cotton of her dress casting dancing shadows at the top of her shadow’s unnaturally long legs. She fought the urge to pull down on the back of the diminutive garment. The slightest breeze lifted it to an even more indecent height.

The silence was beginning to bore her and she felt too unsteady in her heels to walk very far. She glanced back at the shadows, where she knew her brother hid and waited, and felt some comfort in the fact that he would be even more bored than she.

She still couldn’t believe he had talked her into this.

“This is wonderful,” she mumbled as she readjusted her top. “Ardin is going to get all the fun, and all I’m getting are laser burns from too much hair removal. Just great.” She yanked on the top to pull it down, ripping one of the thin straps, and the shirt lowered even further on that side.

She swore loudly, the sound partially covered by the familiar hum of an approaching land vehicle. She stood at the end of the sidewalk, waiting for the vehicle, forcing her disenchantment with the entire situation behind very fake eagerness. She couldn’t believe some girls actually were

Destiny’s Blood | 44 eager to make this kind of money.

As the vehicle approached, she idly wondered what her father, the great Captain Malavant, would think to see his daughter dressed this way.

She felt some pleasure at the thought of what punishment Ardin would have received for encouraging his little sister to do it.

Her lips curled up and she threw her thick hair sideways. It glowed like fire in the dull sunlight. As two vehicles approached, she forced herself to remain calm, and suddenly felt more naked for her lack of weapons than her lack of clothing.

Relief washed over her when she saw they were military vehicles, the covered beasts humming over their hover engines as they gracefully glided down the streets. The first one slowed but kept going, and she smiled and waved, although the dark bullet-proof windows betrayed nothing of its occupants. The vehicle was nearly past her when the driver hit the propulsion, and wind sent her skirt flying up. Her face became as red as her hair, and she bit back the urge to scream an insult that would make even the most ardent soldier blush.

She feared the second vehicle wouldn’t stop either, which would lead to endless teasing from her brother, but its engines quieted and one of its side doors opened.

A man wearing the grey outfit of a detention centre guard smirked at her, the laughter of his comrades piercing the silence of the street.

“You need a lift, sweetheart?” the man asked in an accent she didn’t recognize. She guessed he was trying and failing to be charming.

Nonetheless, she managed to smile.

“No, but thank you!” She was surprised by how young and happy her voice could sound. She would need a strong drink after this. “I was, um, I was hoping perhaps I could inconvenience you to lend me some money?”

Two drinks.

“I want to head to Rigel,” she continued as the man’s eyes observed her body appreciatively.

Three drinks.

“I want to be a dancer!” Ugh. Dancers on Rigel were hardly reputed for cultural or classical moves. She had a vision of drinking her entire profits.

“I might be able to help you with that,” the lead man said as he cockily stepped out of the vehicle. He was tall, which was good, but she couldn’t stop staring at his single eyebrow. She hoped he would interpret it as admiration.

Maybe she could take part of Ardin’s profit for a couple more drinks.

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Avienne smiled and cocked her head back a bit, signalling to the alley behind her.

“I’ll be right back,” the man called to his crew, as they laughed and jeered.

Avienne put her hand on the man’s chest, stopping his advance.

“I’m hoping, to, um, make a lot of money tonight,” she said, giving him a crooked smile which in different circumstances had sent men fleeing in terror.

The man’s eyes lit up at the implication of spending an entire night with her, instead of just a quick back alley tumble.

She would beat Ardin up, steal his money and head to the nearest bar.

“Don’t wait up,” the man called back and, amidst their laughter, she heard at least one of his comrades mention that they would call in a temp to replace him, and to enjoy his early birthday gift.

Perfect, Avienne thought, walking ahead so that he wouldn’t see victory flash in her eyes. The Destiny was ready to intercept that call and assure them a replacement was on the way, which Ardin would supply. Now all they needed was a uniform.

The engines powered up again and the vehicle was gone. Silence surrounded them, and the instant they were within the sheltered, windless confines of the alley, she felt his hand reaching for what little her skirt hid. She whirled around, kneeing him. As he bent and gasped for breath, she elbowed him hard and sent him sprawling to the ground, unconscious.

“Nice job!” Ardin said as he stepped out, laughter lacing his eyes. He had obviously enjoyed the show.

“I need a drink,” she said simply, and he handed her a small canister.

She had never been more pleased to be predictable.

When she had taken a good swig, he handed her a leather pouch with some real clothing in it, and he began stripping the uniform from the soldier.

“I still don’t like that you’re going in there alone,” Avienne said, wondering how he planned to hide his long hair. It was not exactly standard uniform. But then, according to rumours, very little was done according to standard at Gullwing.

“I’ll be fine,” he grunted as he pulled the man’s pants off. Avienne forced herself not to comment as she pulled her knives free. “Just stick to the plan and I’ll see you in a few hours.”

Avienne nodded and walked into the darkness, wondering why in the world she had given the canister back to Ardin.

Her head hurt.

Chapter 5

Her mouth tasted of copper. Her limbs were too heavy to lift.

Moments passed before she could even feel anything aside from pain, and the first sensation to return was the cold of metal underneath her.

Her coat was ripped and her left arm was uncovered, the flesh debating between pain and numbness.

She took another few deep breaths, her ribcage only complaining where it hugged the hard ground. Another good sign. Broken ribs took dangerously long to heal.

She managed to move her feet, slowly, pleased that nothing seemed broken there either. Her head ached, and her ears were still ringing, but her mind felt empty instead of assailed by visions she could not control or decipher. She must have passed out when the Kilita had tried to pull visions from her mind, and so escaped the torture she had gone through years ago.

She sobbed in relief, her heart still pounding hard as memories receded slowly.

It had just been a beating, and a beating she could deal with.

She slit her eyes open, light clinging to the end of her eyelashes, little white dots breaking her bleak, blurred vision. She opened them all the way, only able to see metal, cold and blue from the light.

She lifted her head, pain exploding at the movement, nausea clinging

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to her. The world tilted and cold sweat poured from the few limbs she could still feel. She waited a moment, gathering her strength, and then, eyes closed, sat up the rest of the way, crossing her legs to support her sore and tired body.

The world spun a few more times, her discomfort centralizing in a line racing from her head to her stomach, her entire neck throbbing. She swallowed hard and breathed deeply, the world stabilizing again.

She dared to re-open her eyes. She was still in the small metal room.

Another deep breath steadied her enough to glance to her right; then, after several other deep breaths, her left.

Metal. No chair, table, or even a protruding light. She guessed the ceiling must have some breaks in it where the light fixtures were kept, but the very idea of bending her head back to look for them made her neck throb.

She sat and focused, as she used to do when she and Yoma had to wait for a guard to pass, or a store to close, or someone to look away.

Thief ’s breaths, Yoma used to call them, laughing as she acted out stealing a breath.

Layela hadn’t found it funny, but she had understood. It was, in some ways, better to imagine you were stealing someone else’s breath than having your own breath stolen by your inability to act. Layela had always been better at that, the waiting. But now, she needed to get out, before they came back. She had no doubt the Kilita would break her mind again, and although she also knew she would tell them nothing, she feared her mind might not come back from the darkness next time.

I know your last name isn’t Delamores. How had the colonel known?

Did he have Yoma, too? Was she near, in a windowless metal room, hurt and alone? She tried to sense her, but her head only throbbed and her heart felt nothing beyond its own fatigue.

Layela looked up at the door again, at the handle that kept it closed.

It seemed a long shot, but what if they had believed it unnecessary to lock it?

Ridiculous. But still... She imagined her sister scolding her for being a pessimist and not believing that the easy way out was actually possible.

Layela felt both strength and bitterness at the words, wondering if that was what Yoma had done, leaving just when everything was finally settling down for the first time in their life. A vision that the Kilita had half managed to unlock from her mind teased her then. She had seen her sister’s face. But something had been wrong. Could that have been the

Destiny’s Blood | 48 vision that had kept her from sleeping soundly of late? And had the Kilita seen it as well? Had he managed to rape her mind again?

Like wildfire, her fury consumed her and she was at the door before her body realized she was moving. Her hand grabbed the cold handle, she held her breath and slit her eyes and pulled. Nothing. The latch was tightly locked, and the door wouldn’t open from this side. Not without more of her instruments, anyway, and there was little in this room to work with.

Her anger dissipated, replaced by exploding pain in her head. She backed up slowly for a few paces, her hand behind her touching the cool metal, and she let herself slide against it, feeling her anger and frustration dissipate into hopelessness. She had hoped to find Yoma, possibly save her, and save her flower shop at the same time, but now...

Now she was alone and desperately afraid, and wishing Yoma had never left her side, and that both of them could be sitting in Sunrise Flowers, enjoying their success and the sheer comfort and security that everything was going to be all right, and that all battles had been fought and won.

She closed her eyes and let the tears come, moaning softly as every muscle ached and cried for relief. That was a dream for another life, it seemed.

/

The overhead lights flickered at regular intervals, shutting every fifteen seconds for barely a breath, by Ardin’s count. The stale air, laced with the smells of sweat and urine, pointed to an equally faulty ventilation system.

Wonderful.

Ardin almost turned around at the sight of the excretion-decorated wall. Only the wrath he would have to face from Avienne stayed him. It was only fair. She had kept up her side of the bargain.

He checked himself as he was approached by a high-ranking officer and saluted as he recognized the insignia of a colonel. Sweat lined his stiff collar as the colonel scrutinized his long auburn hair.

The colonel’s eyes darkened with barely a pause in his stride. Ardin released his breath in relief and continued on his way while debating the proper mix of soldierly conduct and guard ease to inject into his walk.

That there was a colonel here wasn’t good. It more than likely meant that a complement of higher ranking officers, the colonel’s entourage, milled somewhere within these walls, as well. Ardin gritted his teeth, wishing he could justify leaving Destiny’s drunken navigator behind.

The lights kept flickering as he entered another cell block, the acrid

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smell of vomit alerting him that he was probably in the right area: the all-night drunken rampage zone.

He carefully stared into each cell for the all-too-familiar lump, grateful at least that this section wasn’t currently being patrolled. Of course, considering how easily he had fooled the guards into believing he was a replacement guard and giving him the jail keys, this likely wasn’t the most well-guarded place from which he had ever had to break Lang out.

He heard the navigator’s snores as Captain Cailan’s mantra, “Our duty is to our own,” collided with every excuse he pondered giving for leaving Lang to rot in this stinking hole. There was never any doubt that “our own” was the small crew of the Destiny, which had travelled the stars for almost as long as Ardin could remember, only making berth when supplies or bounty demanded it. But time, sickness and ill luck had left them with too few qualified to run the ship, so the captain had recruited a cocky middle-aged navigator by the name of Lang Locks. Of course, by the time they learned he was a drunk and a derelict, he knew too much about their illegal activities to be let go. And even though he was difficult to deal with whenever they made port, Ardin had to admit that the man was bloody good at what he did.

Which, of course, is only proving to be more annoying, Ardin thought as he spotted the familiar lump on a cot. Ardin cast a wary glance down both ends of the deserted hallway. The other cells were mercifully empty.

He pulled the metal key from his belt, the outdated system a blessing: no monitor would advise the guards that someone was opening a cell out of schedule. The door groaned and creaked as he pushed it aside, and Ardin cringed as he listened for incoming soldiers. Thankfully, none of them seemed to believe an opening cell door worthy of attention, and Ardin felt a sudden pang of sympathy for the disgruntled colonel.

“Come on, you lousy lump of liquor,” Ardin hissed. He grabbed Lang’s shoulder and flipped him over. Lang’s eyes widened as he slowly blinked away the heaviness of sleep, and on the third blink his brain kicked into action.

“Aaaaaaaaaahhh!” he screamed. Ardin jumped back in surprise, then approached him again, fist drawn back and eyes intent on the thick jowl.

Lang’s screams stopped, but their echoes continued down the metal halls. His groggy, bloodshot eyes took in Ardin’s raised fist.

“Why don’t you just leave me here,” Lang slurred as he rolled back over.

“Because you are, unfortunately, part of the crew,” Ardin sighed. “And besides, we’ve already paid you for the full upcoming year. So unless you’d like to pay us back the money…”

Destiny’s Blood | 50 Ardin was cut short as more snores charged forth from the navigator.

“Of all the bloody useless…” Ardin grabbed Lang’s right arm, jostling him half awake, at best. The navigator muttered, but didn’t scream again.

Ardin was disappointed. The feel of his fist on the large jowl would have made him feel better.

Ardin took a deep breath, regretting it immediately. The stench of cheap ale assaulted him. He supported Lang, grateful that at least the drink had long ago emancipated the extra fat on the large man — all but a round belly that swelled like a pregnant woman’s beneath his ragged clothes.

Ardin cast a wary glance down both ends of the corridor, dragging Lang out and awkwardly shifting his weight to close the door. The old door screeched again, but didn’t lock, simply bouncing off the latch.

I must need to lock it with the keys.

“Bloody ship, bloody crew,” Lang began muttering, and Ardin feared he would fully waken, which would definitely give them away. He pulled the door just a bit further, where only a tiny gap would alert onlookers that it was still open.

That and the fact that I’m dragging this big lump out of here, he thought as he began the long walk through the first corridor. On his way in, he had spotted several service corridors that led to a docking port. If the security proved to be as efficient there as at the main gates and in the complex itself, escaping unseen should be fairly easy. Of course, if Lang could manage to walk on his own, escaping would prove to be even easier.

Even if he prided himself on being physically fit, Ardin’s shoulders soon tired under the dead weight of the drunk. As they reached the service corridors and as Ardin began to suspect that no guards were even on duty, Lang moaned and Ardin dropped him and stepped away without a second’s hesitation. Lang lurched on all fours and ungracefully coughed twice before vomiting all over the metal floor. Ardin covered his nose, and resisted the urge to kick Lang in the stomach. Well, it served him right to be sick like a dog, but it would have been nice of him to wait until they reached the Destiny so Ardin could actually find gratification in it and not simply worry about getting caught.

“That’ll teach me to buy ale from a Corrarian trader,” Lang huffed between heaves.

“That’ll teach you nothing, you lousy lout,” Ardin replied with none of his usual vigour. He was too busy keeping an eye out for any guards.

“You’re probably right, Ardin.” Lang replied, his voice old. “You’re probably right.”

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“Come on, old man,” Ardin gently said. Lang was only in his early forties, but a lifetime of drinking had left him with wrinkles and paper skin that clung to his bones, making him look more like a man of eighty.

Lang pushed himself back up with Ardin’s help, and the two set off again at a faster pace, the navigator managing to partially support himself.

“I think we can get out this way,” Ardin said as they turned down another service corridor, metal door after metal door, lined by metal walls and flickering lights.

They had just entered the corridor when the light turned red and alarms rang loudly. Up ahead, stark metal dividers descended from the ceiling.

“So that’s where their security budget went,” Lang muttered.

“No time to reach it,” Ardin grunted. He fumbled with his keys at the nearest door, practically lifted Lang and threw him inside. The metal latched in place behind them just as voices began shouting and the security barrier was being raised to allow the guards access.

Ardin took a deep breath. The soldiers tried the door only once before moving on.

“Ardin,” Lang said softly, and Ardin turned around and saw a young woman, her back to the wall, her head lulled onto her chest. He wasn’t even sure she was alive.

“Blood and guts,” Ardin hissed as he approached her, putting his fingers gently on her neck to feel for a pulse. It was there, it was strong, and at his touch she shifted and moaned.

“I can’t carry both of you out of here,” Ardin cursed, feeling bad for the girl’s fate, but knowing he had other priorities at the moment. Besides, for all he knew, she was a child killer.

“I think I can walk,” Lang whispered, and Ardin, returning to the door and placing his ear against it, listening intently, gave him a quizzical look.

“I think they’ve passed, and we’d better move fast before they check in here.” Ardin pulled out his keys. There was no lock on the metal handle.

Nor underneath it.

“What the…” Ardin felt himself grow cold with dread.

There was no way to leave this room except by someone opening the door from the outside.

He punched the door in frustration, scraping his knuckles badly and not caring.

They were trapped.

Darkness. Light. Yoma!

Chapter 6

Layela’s vision broke as the weave of sleep fell away from her one strand at a time. As quickly as her mind had fallen captive to the images, they were gone, leaving only a shadow of terror behind. If the Kilita had stayed in contact with her longer, she might have managed to fully see the vision For some reason, she could never recall the visions by herself. They evaporated like dreams as soon as she woke up, leaving behind only impressions and echoes. Ether creatures could release them from her unconscious into her conscious mind, but the Kilita was too eager to unleash her ether. The last time he had done so, a tidal wave of visions had almost destroyed her.

But the persistent and dark vision was about Yoma, she was certain.

She would need Josmere’s help to see it. She needed to see the vision to find out more about her sister, and why the thought of Yoma left her heart drowning in dread.

Yoma, where are you?

She heard shuffling in the room with her; the hairs on her arm stood at attention. She forced her breath to remain steady. She was fairly certain she had not yet revealed the fact that she was awake, and didn’t intend to do so until she knew who was there and what their intentions were.

From outside the room, she could hear voices smothered by metal: some shouting, others discussing, and a few laughing. She heard some

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shuffling and the voices neared the door, but passed just as quickly.

Someone in the room sighed in frustration, another fought back laughter, each noise grating her strained nerves.

So there were two in the room with her. She doubted it was the colonel and the Kilita, which offered her some relief, but very little.

“They’re going to find us eventually,” a man said, his voice thick. “I can pretend I took you hostage.” He gave a low chuckle.

“You’re too much of a lump to make such a claim,” a younger man replied, his voice tense.

“Well, we should figure out how to get out. You can only carry one of us, so take the girl if I can’t follow. I’ve nothing to go back to,” the oldersounding man replied, and Layela’s breath caught in her throat. Who were these two?

“I ought to leave you rotting in here, but the captain wouldn’t like that.”

The room was silent for a moment, then suddenly the young man spoke from right beside her. “Are you feeling all right?” She jerked at his proximity even though his voice conveyed only concern.

She opened her eyes and looked at the man, her heart skipping a beat as she saw his prison guard uniform.

“Don’t worry, I’m not actually a guard,” he quickly clarified.

Though he crouched beside her she could see he was tall, his long reddish-brown hair neatly tied in a ponytail at the nape of his neck. Not exactly standard soldier protocol. His eyes were the colour of flint, deep pools reflecting concern. Their corners showed that he’d already had much laughter in his days, even though he was still young — perhaps only a few years older than she. And, despite her first reaction, she now felt no fear of him. Suspicion at his rogue look and curiosity at why he was dressed up as a guard, perhaps, but not fear.

His gaze was steady as she studied him, and she realized she was blushing. She tried to speak to cover her embarrassment, but coughed on dry blood instead.

“Drink this,” the man said, bringing a canister to her lips. She smelled the alcohol before she drank it, and took just enough to wash the blood down.

The last thing she needed was for her tired body to take to the alcohol.

“Sorry,” he winced as he saw her taking only a small sip. “I didn’t think I’d be in need of water today.”

“Thank you.” The words cracked, but at least she could speak.

“My name’s Ardin and this is Lang,” the younger man said, not looking at the older man as he introduced him.

Destiny’s Blood | 54 “Lilac,” Layela instinctively lied; she always chose a random flower name when she felt her own shouldn’t be revealed.

The man nodded, not questioning it. His eyes narrowed as he examined her closely.

“Why are you in here?”

Layela gave a short laugh at the question before she could think better of it. The man’s eyes narrowed even further. She saw no point in lying.

“I think they’re trying to get my sister for something.”

When his puzzled look deepened, she added, “We’re twins.”

He still looked at her with suspicion, but seemed willing to accept her explanation. Or at least not question it.

It was her turn to look sceptically at the two men. “What about you?

Why are you in here?”

Before Ardin could answer, Lang boomed: “He’s trying to break this stubborn old drunk out. Kidnapping is what I call it!”

“Keep your voice down!” Ardin hissed and shook his head. “I don’t know why I bothered.”

“That makes two of us,” Lang replied, looking up at the ceiling.

Ardin scowled at him and then turned back to Layela. “Do you know how to get out of here? I have the keys, but there’s no lock on this side of the door.”

Layela gave him a wry smile. “I was knocked out when they left, but let me have a closer look.”

She leaned hard against the wall, her ribs protesting the movement.

She hesitantly reached up and touched her swollen face, wincing a bit at the pain.

“It’s not that bad,” Ardin offered. He stood up and took a step back to give her room to stand, but did not offer his hand. She was grateful. She didn’t feel like being helped right now.

She pushed herself up, her tired arms forcing against the cold wall, her bruised ribs slashing her breath. Once up, she took a careful step forward, her wounds complaining but not stopping her. She was pleased not to stumble as she took the few steps to the door.

The door was also metal, and Ardin’s eyes had not deceived him — there was no keyhole on this side. So someone had to stay on the other side to let people out? She turned around and took a closer look, forcing her stiff neck to bend.

Four small metal walls, one door with no inside lock. Interrogation rooms usually had surveillance or a one-sided mirror so that confessions,

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whether real or forced, could be used in court later on. Judgment rooms were small, but with a screen for the judge to dictate the sentence.

But this room…she looked up, her eyes widening as she saw small nozzles at the top of the far wall. Three, like the Three Fates, ultimate judges of all races.

Ardin followed her gaze and swore.

“An old gassing room,” he said before she could. Lang chuckled.

“I thought all gassing rooms had been made illegal a few years back,” Ardin said, alarmed.

“They were,” Layela was calm, her mind forming a plan. “This one must have been built right before the new law, since the walls aren’t rusted.” Ardin nodded.

The gas that had been used to kill dangerous criminals was strong and acidic, especially since most of the criminals who had been gassed were ether creatures, who could breathe all but the most foul of atmospheres.

Like Bergandas. Layela felt a shiver go up her spine. But since most ethereal races’ powers had begun to wane, gassing had been deemed unnecessary and drugs and experiments had taken its place. She felt anger at the thought, at what could have happened and could still happen to her friend.

“If this was put in later, why did they still use the one-way door?”

Ardin’s voice cut through her thoughts.

“Budget?” Layela replied, grinning as an idea came to mind. “They had back-ups back then, too. Remember the big jailbreak over on Thalos IV, when the guards were gassed? It was just a few years before the rooms were banned. And this one must have been built after.” Words tumbled out of her mouth as her eyes darted around the room. “They must have put in some sort of safety precaution, for guards to escape, just in case.”

Ardin was already looking around, having easily followed her thought. Layela guided her hands on and around the door and felt every nick — around the handle, the bottom, the frame…Something tiny snagged her fingers, just enough for her to recognize it.

She reached back and pulled another small pin free from her ripped coat’s left cuff, but it was too big to enter the snug hole. She stood up and looked at Ardin.

“Is that an actual prison guard uniform?” she asked.

He nodded, looking at her suspiciously again. She examined it closely, circling him once before focusing on the belt buckle.

“I don’t usually ask this on first dates,” Layela said, smiling up at him, “but may I have your belt?”

Destiny’s Blood | 56 Ardin’s eyes lit and he handed her the belt without a word.

“Thank you.” She turned it in her hand. The back of the synthetic leather belt was bland, except for one cross section running parallel to its length. She folded it, pushed on it, and from a hidden compartment came a little pin, small enough to fit into the hole her carefully trained fingers had found. Finding the pin made her wonder why the government had not stopped giving their guards this safety precaution. As though they didn’t really believe the gassing chambers would remain obsolete.

She pulled the pin out and smiled victoriously.

“Ready to get out of here?” She held it up.

Ardin stepped to the door, listening.

“Sounds like it’s clear,” he announced as he stepped back and headed for Lang.

Layela found the small hole again, pushing the pin in without hesitation, and heard the latch release.

Carefully she opened the door, looking down both ends of the corridor before signalling to Ardin, who was shouldering Lang.

“This way,” Ardin whispered, and Layela gently closed the door behind them. She hesitated for a moment and wondered if her chances of escape would be greater if she continued alone. Incoming voices from the other corridor convinced her otherwise, and she quickly followed the rogue and the drunk.

/

Ardin’s trigger finger twitched on his gun as he hugged the corner, unspent adrenaline pulsing in his veins. Beside him, Lang fought to quiet his gasps. The girl was as quiet as a mouse, and despite her injuries, easily kept pace.

Lang began wheezing and Ardin fought the urge to knock him out. If he did so, he would need to carry him and, although he was certain the girl’s array of skills included guns, the thought of trusting their safety to a stranger’s hands left an empty pit in his stomach. Especially when that stranger was more than likely a thief. Not that he could boast a better background, but there was a reason he only trusted his own.

He took a deep breath and carefully looked around the corner. Three guards walked down an adjacent corridor and traded jokes, speaking ruefully of the colonel’s latest catch and what they would do to her if he left her in their care.

Ardin withdrew and looked back, the girl’s face bright red despite the

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emerging bruises. He caught her eyes and smiled reassuringly, nodding towards the corridor.

She understood right away and shouldered Lang, her face drawn but determined as they trekked down the metal hall. Ardin passed them and kept an eye out for more guards, his jaw tense with frustration.

Gullwing’s guards certainly made up for their ill-discipline and lack of training with their sheer number.

The blue lights multiplied on the metal walls, their glow weaker as the three trekked down the furthest corridors. Ardin heard a shuttle fly over them, the walls almost fully concealing the familiar noise. He took a deep breath and allowed himself a quick smile. They were nearing the shuttle bay.

He cast a quick glance back. Lang’s left shoulder collided with the wall often as he stumbled forward, but he managed to keep pace. The girl, Lilac, kept a close eye on him, for which Ardin was grateful. One less thing for him to worry about.

She looked forward and their eyes locked for a moment. In the cold room, her eyes had already proved striking, but here, in the blue light, her eyes seemed to be lit from within and without. Even her long lashes didn’t seem enough to break the reach of the light, as though it knew no end in her.

Ardin forced himself to pull away, turning around just in time to see, in the reflection of the upcoming wall, two guards about to round the corner.

No time to get away! He aimed his gun and fired the second they crossed into the hallway, hitting the first guard in the knee. Blood exploded and he screamed in agony, throwing himself back. The second guard froze, his eyes wide as Ardin shot him in the shoulder. A clean shot, the bullet ripped through his flesh and ricocheted off the metal wall behind him.

“This way!” he screamed, all hope of stealth now gone. He dashed down the corridor, turning toward the shuttle bay. The guards writhed and moaned but didn’t seem to care that their quarry was escaping.

Ardin motioned for Lilac and Lang to move ahead. Lang’s features were drawn, but at least he was quiet as he leaned heavily on the girl.

Ardin looked back at the two guards, his gun raised. He hissed as he heard their voices calling for backup, but could not bring himself to kill them in cold blood. Besides, all hopes of a clean escape were long gone, whether those two lived or died.

“Faster!” Ardin called as he joined the other two, pulling out his comm device and sending a pre-set message. He stashed it again seconds

Destiny’s Blood | 58 before Lilac screamed in warning and threw herself down, dragging Lang with her. Bullets whizzed past where they had stood just moments before.

Ardin crouched and returned fire, grabbing Lang by the belt and pulling him behind a low-set wall.

Lilac ducked behind a nearby column, and Ardin wished he had a gun to give her. She had carried Lang this far without complaints despite her injuries, instilling Ardin with some trust in her. He checked his weapon and cursed. Although guards on Collar were entitled to more than the one bullet citizens were allowed, there still weren’t enough bullets to get them away safely.

“Come out and you won’t be harmed.”

Ardin and Lilac exchanged a sceptical look. Behind them, Ardin knew, the shuttle bay loomed, but all he could do was duck as more bullets flew overhead.

He cursed and waited.

Layela’s cheek was

Chapter 7

growing numb from the cold concrete column. Ardin and Lang were not far, hiding behind a low wall, merely feet away from the shuttle landing bay.

“Come out and you won’t be harmed,” one of the guards screamed again. Ardin responded with a quick shot, followed by the sounds of ripping flesh and a scream.

He reloaded his gun for the third time. Layela doubted he had many more rounds left. A bullet struck the side of the column, sending small shards of concrete and dust flying on her. Still, this was better than energy weapons and she was grateful for Collar’s strict laws against them, which even the prison guards seemed to follow.

“The offer stands,” another guard repeated with a shaking voice.

He must be cursing his fate as second-in-command today, she thought, allowing herself a brief smile.

“Come out in the open and offer me that again!” Ardin screamed over the wall, but Layela noticed that he was saving his shots. Not a good sign.

This is insane! We’re just steps away from freedom! Assuming that Ardin had a shuttle waiting for them, of course, and hadn’t just been planning on strolling out the front door. She wished she knew more about their great escape plan. Bullets flew again, an entire volley. Layela was just beginning to wish that she had parted company with them when a bright light forced her to look down and squeeze her eyes shut.

Destiny’s Blood | 60 The roar of engines thundered and echoed off every wall, and a large blast struck the guards, the heat smashing into Layela despite the column’s protection. Someone grabbed her arm and pulled her to her feet. “Stay close!” Ardin screamed in her ear as he ran, dragging Lang behind him.

Layela ran after them, easily stepping over the fallen guards.

A shuttle was halfway in the building, flashing its brightest space lights.

Layela’s eyes stung and she stumbled. She felt Ardin by her side again, grabbing her upper arm and dragging her to the shuttle’s side door.

“Go, Avienne, go!” Ardin shouted as he slid the door shut.

“Blood and bones, Ardin! I was starting to have fun!” the pilot swore as she flew the shuttle out, shutting its lights off and flying fast and low to the ground, making them impossible to detect by radar.

Layela was impressed by the woman’s flying skills, narrowly avoiding buildings and other shuttles. Not to mention people.

“Slow down, Avienne,” Ardin said as he took the navigator’s seat beside her. “You’re going to get us killed.”

“Who just rescued who? And you’re welcome, by the way.”

“You were probably just about to get yourself in trouble, anyway.”

Avienne replied with a simple grin and slowed down. Lang moaned and Layela helped him onto one of the two backseats — practical in their smaller size, they were still padded and comfortable.

“Where are we going?” Layela asked as calmly as possible.

“Oh, we have a stowaway!” Avienne said cheerfully, turning around to get a look at the passenger. Laughter seemed to fill the beautiful redhead from head to toe. It danced in her wide brown eyes, it played at the corner of her perfect lips and it flashed in her immaculate white teeth. Layela couldn’t help but smile as she introduced herself, although she felt slightly intimidated by the woman’s beauty. She herself was still dirty, bloodcovered, and swollen, and not a pretty sight to behold, she was certain.

“Lilac,” she said with ease.

“Avienne.” The woman furrowed her brow. “Looks like you ran into a bit of trouble.”

Layela shrugged. These strangers were allies for now, due to circumstances, but she still needed to be cautious. She was fairly certain there would be a reward on her head, and as much as she wanted to believe that Ardin with his kind eyes would not trade her in, she couldn’t afford to take that chance.

Instead she asked, “Do you know of a ship that can take me off this planet?” As she spoke, she looked for a pin to remove the remaining cuff,

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only to discover she had lost them all. The metal was irritating her left wrist, the skin raw and cut underneath it.

Ardin and Avienne exchanged a look, Ardin shaking his head and Avienne shrugging. “You got any money?” she asked, looking back.

Layela’s face grew hot. “What I had is still in that prison.” The flush changed to a cold, sick feeling as she realized that all of her papers had also been left behind.

“It doesn’t matter,” Ardin said, offering a strict look to Avienne, who simply shrugged him off. “Without you, Lumpy and I wouldn’t have gotten out, so we’ll consider it a trade-off.”

Layela nodded and smiled gratefully. Still, as she leaned back against her seat and closed her eyes for a moment, she wondered how safe she would be. Even if she was inclined to trust Ardin, how far could he take her? She would still need money and identification. She sighed and listened to Ardin and Avienne bicker softly up front as Lang moaned pathetically. She would stick with them for now, she would get off this planet, she would find Yoma and make sure she was all right...and then she would strangle her.

She allowed herself a slight smile as she opened her eyes again, the familiar landscape of the streets of Collar stretching everywhere around them. Maybe the Three Fates were smiling on her today, after all.

She focused on the city, bidding farewell again to its dark and dirty streets, when the nearby building and landmarks turned her blood cold.

She felt the Three Fates turn their backs on her.

“We have to make one quick stop first,” Ardin said. The shuttle whined and landed before an all-too familiar shop, blooms sparkling and dancing in the window.

Layela felt her empty stomach lurch in dread and forced herself not to echo Lang’s moans.

“All right,” Ardin exhaled loudly. “Let’s try our luck one more time.”

Avienne grinned and turned around. “My brother doesn’t take rejection lightly.” She winked at Layela, who forced herself to smile back.

So, the two were siblings. Good to know, but it didn’t explain why they had landed in front of Sunrise Flowers.

“How will we convince her?” Avienne asked her brother as she put a jacket on.

“I’ll do the convincing, you do the shopping,” he said, indicating with a slight motion of his chin to the AtmoShop on the other side of the street.

Destiny’s Blood | 62 “Oh no!” exclaimed Avienne. “You had all the fun at the prison. My turn to play! Besides, I think the Berganda and I could be friends!”

Layela fidgeted in her seat and fought the urge to shout questions. She couldn’t reveal that she knew the Berganda. What could they possibly want with Josmere? Visions of the Three Fates blocking Josmere’s airways in a small windowless gassing room invaded her mind.

“Don’t tell me,” retorted Ardin, “that you’re bored enough to think that a jailbreak involving gunfire is fun!”

Avienne smiled broadly, Ardin groaned, and Lang moaned and lurched, thankfully turning the other way before gagging. Putrid smells invaded the shuttle.

“All right, fine,” Avienne said. “You have fun with the Berganda, but be careful. I’ll do the shopping so we can escape quickly afterwards. As a trade-off for my generosity, you get to clean Lang’s mess later.”

She was out of the shuttle and into the AtmoShop before Ardin could utter a syllable of protest, so he opted for a few choice curses instead.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, realizing Layela was still there. He winced as he looked back at Lang, who had fallen asleep and seemed quite content.

“I’ll be right back, possibly with an extra passenger,” he said, locking the shuttle controls before stepping out.

So much for stealing the shuttle, she thought, watching him enter her well-lit and colourful shop. Her heart lurched once for Josmere, and once for the dream that stood right before her, impossibly out of reach.

Concentrate on what you can change, she scolded herself as she pushed the release latch, relieved when the side door opened.

I guess they don’t care if I leave, so long as I don’t steal the shuttle.

She wasn’t sure what the siblings wanted with Josmere, but she seriously doubted it was a social call, and she certainly didn’t intend on leaving her friend without help. Josmere had her faults, but lack of loyalty was not among them.

Careful to make sure Avienne would not see her from across the street, Layela followed the familiar pavement, ignoring her weary legs and her aching ribs. She avoided the front door, opting instead to head down the small alley by the shop that led to the back. If she could gain some measure of surprise, it would be to her advantage. She hoped Ardin wasn’t the enemy, but should he be, she was well aware after seeing him in action at the jail that he would not easily be taken down.

The back door was unlocked, a bad habit of Josmere’s, who insisted locked doors only encouraged thieves to try their luck. If Layela had not

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been so worried about the welfare of her friend, this blatant disregard would have angered her.

Layela crouched and snuck in, barely registering the smell of the blooms as she crossed the threshold. The old floor was wood, but solidly built. When Layela had first visited the building she remembered being disappointed that the floors didn’t creak, imagining an old home with no fear of speaking its secrets. Now, she was grateful for the blessing as she measured her breaths, crossing the small storage area, automatically noting which flowers would need re-ordering and which ones needed watering.

Despite practically being a plant herself, Josmere certainly didn’t seem to know much about tending to them when they weren’t in fields.

Voices rang up front and she recognized Josmere as one of them and the second as Ardin’s. Layela crept forward. The door leading to the counter of the shop was partially opened, and she didn’t want to be spotted before she was armed. She was glad that Yoma had insisted a gun be kept in the growing room for safety reasons.

You can’t erase your past and you shouldn’t forget the lessons you’ve learned, Layela! Yoma’s anger still rang in her mind, so rare an anger that Layela had quickly conceded to keeping the weapon.

I don’t want to be afraid anymore, Yoma.

She reached behind the largest Booknot plant, Mama Knot. They had needed to segregate it from the rest of its kin, lest it smother them with its great pink, green and mandarin leaves. That plant had been a bit too needy.

The gun’s handle felt cold and smooth, and she pulled it free, not surprised to find it fully loaded.

Thanks Yoma.

Mama Knot’s biggest leaf brushed her cheek as she got up. Layela associated the gesture with affection. Mama Knot had only been a seedling when Yoma brought it to Layela years ago, and it was the one plant she could not bring herself to sell. It was entirely too loving and lively, and had kept as careful an eye on Layela as Yoma and Josmere had when she was healing, losing quite a few of its own leaves in worry for its friend.

It had been a wonderful companion when Layela needed only quiet to fight and rebuild her broken mind. Her mouth grew dry at the thought of how close she had come to repeating that fate today. She surely would have, had Ardin not helped her escape. She hoped he was on their side.

Layela leaned in and gently blew on Mama Knot. The whole plant puffed its leaves in pleasure. Layela smiled and kept the gun close as she approached the door to the show room. It was nice to be missed.

Destiny’s Blood | 64 “Would you just go away?” Josmere’s voice was laced with cyanide.

“Not until I have what I came for!”

Layela stepped onto the floor, certain neither one of them would notice her in their anger. Ardin had his gun drawn, and Josmere’s gloves were off. It was time to stop them both before this got out of hand. No vision whispered in her mind, so she knew no one was going to die here.

Still, she hoped no one would get badly hurt, either. Layela took a deep breath and aimed, disappointed Ardin had turned out to be the enemy.

“Don’t move or I’ll shoot!” Ardin looked at her for a split second, surprise and annoyance flickering in his eyes. “Lilac, I’m fine, I don’t need your help.”

Josmere looked even more annoyed. “What in the thirty-three bloody hands of Gumar are you doing here, Layela?”

Ardin lowered his gun and he looked at Layela in shock, as if truly seeing her for the first time. “Wait, you’re Layela Delamores?”

A second later, the large, vibrant and expensive front windows of Sunrise Flowers exploded into a thousand pieces, shards and petals filling the air. Layela threw herself to the floor, unable to distinguish Josmere from the broken plants littering the shop.

Chapter 8

Josmere!” Layela cried

as she fell to her knees, only to be tackled to the floor by Ardin, the rogue’s body covering hers as another volley exploded around them, shattering more plants.

“Stay down!” Ardin hissed as he rolled off of her, raising his arm and firing a few shots in the general direction of the assailants.

“Time to go.” Ardin crouched, grabbing Layela’s right arm, and started to drag her. She struck at his arm with her free hand, but he grabbed the cuffs still secured to her left hand and dragged her by both wrists, ignoring her struggles.

“Josmere! Where are you?” she screamed. She tried to turn around to hit the rogue, but she was barely able to gain her footing — much less plan an attack — with waves of pain cascading from her wrists all the way to her bruised ribs.

“Right here,” the Berganda said as she grabbed Ardin’s arm. The rogue looked down in horror at the green hand pressed directly to his flesh.

Layela held her breath, waiting for Ardin to convulse and collapse; she had seen Josmere’s powers at work before. An instant passed and his fear vanished. He yanked his arm out of her grasp. Layela had never seen Josmere look so stunned.

“I guess stories of the powers of the Berganda are greatly exaggerated,” he said. Another round fired and they all ducked to the floor. Ardin’s hold on Layela’s wrist was still strong. Her cuts re-opened and blood flowed

Destiny’s Blood | 66 into his hands. He was too intent on getting out to notice.

“Now, let’s go!” Ardin pulled Layela towards the back door. Layela planted her feet and fought him as best she could, wishing she still had her gun. “Stop struggling,” Ardin hissed back, “I’m trying to help you!”

“Then let go of me and let me fight,” Layela shouted back, but his hold only tightened as he reached the door behind the counter.

He replied, “I would, if I was sure I’m not the one you’d be fighting!”

“Wait!” Josmere scrambled back up and called out, but Ardin ignored her. She swore and tried to reach Layela, but Ardin pushed the door open and shoved Layela through with little grace. Layela stumbled forward and was about to turn and try to take him on when her breath caught in her throat. Standing before her was another Berganda, similar to Josmere, but different; her eyes didn’t hold the same warmth. Beside her, Mama Knot’s leaves were pulled back onto themselves, the plant protecting its core.

She heard Ardin grunt behind her, and wondered if the Berganda was his ally, maybe brought along to defeat Josmere — though Layela doubted Berganda ever turned against each other. Especially now, with their race dwindling so rapidly.

“Why, hello my dear,” the Berganda said in a soft hiss, and Layela backed up only to bump into someone else. She turned around, thinking she would see Ardin, but a scream caught in her throat as she faced the Kilita, victory flashing in his orange eyes.

“Don’t move a muscle,” Ardin ordered, the rogue’s gun trained on the Berganda’s head as he stood back up. The Kilita’s eyes didn’t waver once from Layela.

“Shoot, if you dare,” the Berganda hissed, and Layela believed Ardin might actually do it, but Josmere screamed and tackled him to the ground. The rogue swore as he went down, his gun still firmly clutched.

“Fire!” The command was heard before the shots came, and all five fell to the floor. Layela tried to scramble away from the Kilita as bullets ripped through drywall and plants, but his arm shot out and grabbed her leg, his bare hand against her bare flesh.

The world spun as her heart and breath slowed, every object in the room spinning to become Yoma’s face, and then she felt a warm, thick liquid coating her hand. Layela screamed and kicked back, hitting the Kilita hard in the face. She felt his hold release, taking with it the clutches of the vision he was unleashing from her mind.

“Let’s go.” Ardin pulled her back to her feet and half-carried her, his gun trained on the two ether creatures. They were back in the shop, with

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her beautiful plants destroyed all around them. Josmere shut the heavy door to the back and locked it quickly, giving Ardin a nasty look before kneeling before Layela, pushing hair out of her face to examine her dark blue eyes.

“I’m fine,” Layela said through a thick tongue. She longed for Josmere’s soft touch to show her the vision, let her see what she thought she had felt, but she knew that now was not the time.

“Any other way out of here?” Another volley flew overhead as they crouched by the broken window. With each bullet that shattered one of her displays, Layela could only see money vanishing; with each destroyed plant, she saw her own blood spilling.

“Who’s doing this?” She choked the words out, and Josmere put her gloved hand on her arm, giving her a sad smile.

“Solariers, Solarian soldiers,” Ardin said as he quickly ducked back down. “I guess they figured you would come back here,” he finished, giving her an apologetic smile.

“You didn’t know,” she said, shaking her head. He had come here looking apparently for her and not Josmere; could she trust he was indeed here to help?

“What are they waiting for?” Josmere asked as glass crunched under her antsy crouch. Her answer came seconds later as energy weapons ripped through the shop, the beams melting through the concrete walls.

“Are they insane?” Josmere cried as all three hugged the floor. Layela could feel her skin tighten and burn under the searing heat.

“Layela!” Josmere screamed and nodded towards the path of the beam.

Layela looked up, only to see a continued energy blast — a straight purple line, glowing white at the edges, destroying the shop in a slow, horizontal sweep. Petals fell in wisps and streaks of fire, the plants withering as the beam cut straight through them.

It was headed straight for the Pomboms.

“Take cover!” Layela screamed. The explosive plants were hit, the beam ripping them apart and igniting the strong internal gasses. Layela’s breath was knocked out of her lungs as the blast singed her skin further.

Ardin was suddenly half covering her, his hair falling by her face. He tried to stay low and keep them both safe.

Then the light came, brilliant and purple with shades of green. The exploding plants screamed like a thousand wailing crickets on a summer night, a shrill and angry shriek that ripped through Layela’s eardrums.

She held her breath and waited for the noise and the pain to stop.

Destiny’s Blood | 68

/

“One…oxy…gen…tank…” the merchant stuttered through the computer voice-over, his own covered by the necessary respiratory equipment strapped to him, shielding most of his face. Avienne couldn’t even tell what race he was under all the equipment, but she was willing to bet that he regretted ever leaving home. She leaned closer and realized that while she had assumed his gender to be masculine, she really had no proof.

“Yes, yes,” she said impatiently. “I need one mid-ship compressed oxygen module, and make it really compressed. I don’t want to haul something large around.” The merchant scooted off to the side with a speed she had not anticipated, going to the back to fill the order.

Avienne sighed and leaned against the counter. At least they still had the money for some oxygen. Half the ship — probably more than that — was cut off because they no longer pumped heat or oxygen to it.

She hoped Ardin would have some luck. They could use that money.

It could buy them a lot. Air. Warmth. Freedom.

She felt giddy at the thought, but an old familiar ache snared her heart as well. The Destiny was the only home she remembered, with the only family she had ever known. Could she really abandon them?

What if Ardin refused to join her, a fear that kept her awake at night and overshadowed all her imagined futures. Could she really abandon him, her brother and best friend?

She shook her head. At least she could find a nicer place than Collar to live. Most places were nicer than Collar, really.

The store was rocked by an explosion and Avienne crouched as she ran for the small window in the door.

“Blood and bones, Ardin,” she swore as she saw troops past the shuttle, wielding dangerous fire power. Smoke, light and a sickening wail came from what remained of Sunrise Flowers.

The merchant came out from the back, apparently able to hear well through the complex contraption. He — or she, or whatever it was — held the oxygen tightly in its agitated grasp.

“Fi…Fire…Ba…Bad…” the computer voice intoned over and over again in its dull baritone. Avienne walked over to the merchant.

“Fire, yes. Bad, yes.”

So few weapons, so many challenges. She had one bullet, and a few knives. Not much of an arsenal for so many soldiers.

Yet…She looked around and turned a charming smile on the merchant,

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hoping it was a male with some care for human females. “I think I’ve changed my mind on the oxygen. Do you have some Glotch gas, as compressed as you can get it in that tank?” She pointed to a cylindrical canister; it would roll nicely.

“And as many personal oxygen tanks as this will afford,” she continued, putting all of Cailan’s money and her profits on the table. The merchant held up two fingers and was off again, moving even faster this time.

She sighed.

There went the money for her well-deserved drink, and she still didn’t even have enough to buy the oxygen masks necessary to save everyone in the shop.

/

“We can’t go out the back,” Ardin said when the plaintive wail ended.

The tall display with the colourful song-sensitive Lacile flowers had helped to shield the three from the blast of the Pomboms. Layela could only see the bright smile on a little girl’s face, when she had shown her the song that would make it bloom.

A lifetime ago, she thought. The shortest life I have ever known. Tears welled in her eyes at the smell of burnt and burning plants around her, a bitter odour where before only the sweetest scents had intermingled. Her face was flushed from the heat and her clothing was sticky from sap, the blood of hours of care and love shed so easily. A sob caught in her throat.

It was all gone. She felt naked and afraid, without security or haven. She had felt safe here. Only here.

“Layela,” Josmere whispered, the Berganda’s green eyes searching out hers. Layela tried to smile, but failed, barely managing to stop the tears from shedding.

“We need to go. Now,” Ardin said.

“Give her a moment,” Josmere snapped. “You have no idea what she went through for this.”

“I know what she’ll go through if we don’t get out of here now!” Ardin retorted.

“There is no other way out,” Layela answered, breaking the two up. She gave Josmere a wry smile. “It was something Yoma hated about this place.”

Plan your exits. Always plan your exits. It was too late now to regret not following her sister’s advice.

“We might have a better chance with the back, if they’re even still there,” Ardin mused, looking toward the back door.

Destiny’s Blood | 70 “I would rather die than fall into the hands of that Kilita,” Layela spat venomously. Josmere looked at her with surprise. Layela had never revealed to Yoma and Josmere what had happened while she had been held captive years ago, choosing to let them draw their own conclusions.

“Advance!” The cry came from outside the shop, beyond the melted bars that had once protected it from petty thieves.

“I can’t believe I’m about to lose this contract,” was all Ardin could whisper, and Layela was too busy frantically trying to think of an escape route to ask him to elaborate. The soldiers were near, their boots scraping on the pavement outside, their stealth non-existent as they stepped over broken shards of glass. Glass. She could fight with glass, but it would cut her as much as her assailants.

As though reading her thoughts, Ardin handed her the gun she had dropped earlier and clutched his own close to his chest. Josmere removed her gloves. Ardin looked at her in disbelief and was rewarded with a nasty look.

Ardin shifted, and so did the two friends, waiting to attack as one.

They could figure out loyalties later.

Then a woman outside yelped in delight and a shot was fired. An explosion ripped through the broken windows and the air turned a bright yellow, powdered specks falling and dancing around them like snowflakes. The air was burned and ripped out of Layela’s lungs. She gasped, her hands reaching for her throat as she dropped her gun and desperately tried to find a pocket of air. Tears streaked down her face as her eyes burned and her body suffocated and grew numb.

She turned at the touch of a hand on her back, recognizing Avienne despite the dust and the air tank in the woman’s mouth. She offered Layela a tank of her own, gesturing for her to breathe quickly and give it back to her. Layela gulped greedily, taking a deep breath before giving the small tank back to Avienne, who passed it to her brother. She motioned to Josmere to offer her some of hers.

“Don’t worry, I’m fine,” the Berganda said, unaffected by the strange acrid gas Avienne had unleashed upon them. Ardin signalled to his sister to lead the way and he handed the oxygen to Layela. She gulped again and passed it back to him, and they both stood and followed Avienne.

With little oxygen and too many wounds, running was out of the question, so they staggered after Avienne, Josmere somewhere behind them. The yellow air stung Layela’s eyes, but Avienne’s lack of concern comforted her. The woman might be reckless, but she certainly didn’t strike her as stupid enough to render herself blind.

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Wisps of white suddenly graced the thick yellow air, and the sight of the soldiers littering the streets, their lips blue and eyes wide open and accusing, made Layela forget for a moment that she couldn’t breathe. The white mists dissipated as quickly as they had come, and the bodies were gone, leaving in their stead only writhing soldiers, clutching their throats on the ground, some still standing and bent in two.

She had seen how it would end for them, in but a few moments. She felt some sadness at their deaths, but quickly hardened her heart. Mama Knot had been a friend too, and they had probably destroyed it with their energy weapons. And the Booknots that Mama Knot had loved so much that it had smothered them. And the Lacile, with its gentle glow on cold nights, and the Growall’s perseverance…She staggered under the weight of loss, realizing that there was nothing for her to go back to now.

Ardin felt her weaken and his arm was around her in an instant. He passed the oxygen back to her, and for a moment, she leaned into his strength and let herself be partly carried. The burden of shattered dreams was too much for her to bear alone.

For just one moment.

/

Through the thick haze, Avienne somehow found the shuttle, waving at them to make sure they followed her. Ardin and Layela were just coming into sight when a soldier stepped out from beside the shuttle and threw Avienne into it. The side of her head bounced off of the metal, her oxygen flying away. She didn’t lose her footing, using the momentum of her rebound to turn and hit the large soldier, only to be met by a grinning Glotch, tall, scaly and as yellow as the air, who easily sidestepped her blow.

A Glotch, here? Of all the rotten luck! Avienne pulled two knives free, but her eyes stung and the tears were making it hard to aim. She let the blades fly, not needing to see to know that she had missed.

Her body was already weakening, already begging her to take a deep breath, but she fought back, knowing the instant she let the atmosphere into her lungs and began coughing, he would down her.

“Cute little one, aren’t you?” The Glotch grinned, its large yellow teeth and protruding canines clear even with her impaired vision. She let another knife fly. Again, no luck, and he was getting closer.

Ardin was nowhere to be seen, and she guessed he had not seen the encounter.

Dying this way is too stupid! her mind screamed as she lunged at him.

Destiny’s Blood | 72 This filthy little planet would not be her grave. She had so much to live for, so many things still to do!

She hit the soldier as his arm struck out, catching her hard across her ribs and blowing all the remaining air out of her. She knew it was over the second she instinctively drew in air, the atmosphere burning the soft tissue of her lungs. Her entire body convulsed, the taste of bitter metal coating her failing senses.

That’ll teach me to play with dangerous chemicals, she thought as the Glotch picked her up. He grinned again; she coughed and her body heaved.

“Let me taste those final breaths,” he whispered, bringing her mouth close to his. Anger gave her limbs new life. She pulled a knife free and jabbed it into one of his yellow eyes. He screamed and threw her to the ground, where she gasped, her lungs and eyes burning.

“I’ll kill you now, before this air does, fire-girl.” He pulled the knife out of his eye, thick yellow blood oozing down his cheek. Avienne feebly kicked at him as he sauntered towards her, but with little effect. He grinned and stood over her, the knife dripping yellow blood on her cheek.

Really stupid way to die!

A shot fired and the Glotch’s eyes widened. Another one and he lurched and fell, half on top of Avienne, crushing her aching lungs. She tried to push him off, but her limbs barely moved, sleep teasing her weakened mind and blackness dancing in the yellow atmosphere all around her.

“Men.” Josmere shook her head as she pushed him off Avienne.

The Berganda handed the oxygen to Avienne, who weakly brought the canister to her mouth, but she couldn’t force her tired lungs to take in the air. She realized her hand was cold, and she dropped the canister, unable to even hold it.

“This is a bit of a funny twist,” the Berganda said as she picked up Avienne with a strength the smuggler would never have imagined the slight green woman to possess. In what felt like seconds stretching into eternity, Avienne was in the shuttle, surrounded only by clean oxygen, and being injected with an oxygen compound directly into her blood.

“Enough fun for you yet?” Ardin asked as he looked down at her, his narrowed eyes failing to hide the worry and care in them.

“What’d I miss?” she heard Lang slur in the background, and was glad that she managed to grin before passing out.

The shuttle skimmed

Chapter 9

the surface of the land, its thrusters aimed down to keep them afloat. The gentle hum of the recycled air was the only noise in the cramped quarters. The restricting space contained only four seats. Lang slumbered in his seat, his stench beaten back by the large quantities of chemical cleaners Ardin had poured, while mumbling his distaste, on the shuttle floor.

The shuttle glided effortlessly and the autopilot indicator blinked softly on the dash, its light dim and barely reinforced from a few other lighted settings. Only the red light of Collar pulsated the shadows into life.

Avienne coughed from the front seat, where she had sat quietly after waking from her ordeal. She had yet to swear once.

Layela sat in the seat next to Lang at Josmere’s insistence.

“Your lungs took a beating, too,” Josmere had whispered after dragging Avienne on board. Layela had been too weary to argue.

The Berganda sat wedged between Ardin’s seat and Layela’s legs, leaning against the side of the shuttle and staring at the other wall.

Layela felt drained to the core, her head too heavy to lift from the chair.

She looked ahead towards the red, bleak landscape. Only a few mushroom farms marked the horizon, the giant purple fungi dotting the land.

It was gone.

All gone.

Before, when she’d had to leave an area, when she’d had to move to

Destiny’s Blood | 74 evade law enforcers, Yoma had always been with her. Laughing it away, soothing the pain of having to uproot once again with a gentle giggle or a well-timed joke. But Yoma wasn’t here now. She was elsewhere, possibly in worse danger than Layela.

She felt her throat constrict and she closed her eyes, picturing her sister and reaching out with her mind. They had always had that deep connection, through their powers of vision, to feel each other’s presence and moods. But, despite all that had happened to her and her desperate need to feel the soothing touch of her sister, Layela’s link remained quiet.

As though feeling what Layela forced her weary mind to seek, Josmere placed her hand on Layela’s folded hands and lowered her head to her lap, green hair spreading wildly.

Layela smiled, feeling closer to Josmere than ever before. Bergandas were not renowned for their loyalty, usually sticking only with their race, a people in self-imposed exile for reasons no one knew. She was grateful now that Josmere had seen something in the twins that had made her treat them as her own. Whether their connection was through ether, or simply because none of them had a home, she would never know. It hardly mattered.

What mattered to Layela was that her lap was blanketed and comforted by the spread of green hair, and she didn’t feel quite as alone. Visions whispered near her mind, unwilling to be quiet now as they had been at Sunrise Flowers, when she had felt safe. A tremor settled deep into her spine and she doubted it would ever leave.

The vision of the dying soldiers had been awakened in her years ago, under the whims of the Kilita. She hadn’t fully remembered it until seconds before it happened, but now she knew her fears weren’t unfounded. The visions locked in her mind would come to pass, and unless she could remember them, she doubted she could stop them.

But then, even if she could remember them, could she stop them? Idly, she wondered if that was why she had founded Sunrise Flowers in the first place. It had been safe, because no death lingered there. But the visions had still found her. She had been unable to escape them.

What other visions had she seen? All that she remembered of those days of assaulting visions was death. A thousand, maybe millions of lives streaming by her mind in a blur, only capturing the final breath. And then nothing. Nothing at all.

She looked down at Josmere, and as her heartbeat accelerated and sweat beaded on her brow, she was certain she had seen how her friend

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would die. But she couldn’t recall the details. She could only taste the fear, and thought maybe that meant she would be there to witness it.

If I could see your death, could I even prevent it? Is it already written in the history books of the future, or is the pen still waiting to ink the page?

The shuttle slowed and she looked up to see that they had arrived by the docks of Smuggler’s Cove. Hardly a cove, with neither mountain nor bay gracing the landscape, it was nonetheless filled with smugglers.

Ship after ship, unmarked and suspicious-looking, were lined perfectly against a metal structure. The ships were never too close to one another, as though a silent vow had been taken: Keep away from mine, and I’ll keep away from yours.

Ardin expertly navigated the busy streets, people and shuttles crowding the entrance to the market, appropriately named the Black Market.

“They really don’t care that people know, do they?” Layela asked, shaking her head.

Avienne gave a short laugh. “Imagine the government trying to shut this place down. Gomar himself wouldn’t want to go against this army of smugglers. Besides, the government accounts for about half the sales here!”

Layela glanced outside. People were laughing and joking, not the dark brooding souls some might imagine this so-called cove would hide.

Smuggling had never appealed to her, and even thievery had been Yoma and Josmere’s specialty. She wondered what the job entailed exactly, and whether she would be any good at it. She had to begin rebuilding somehow. She had to get away from the uncertainty that now clouded her mind. Her visions were useless, anyhow. What difference could she possibly make when she couldn’t even recall them, save for seconds before the final breath or with a Berganda’s careful touch?

She needed the few answers the Malavants might be able to give her.

“Why were you looking for me?” Layela asked, breaking the silence.

Ardin shrugged. “We were hired to protect you.”

“That’s it?” Layela asked suspiciously, Josmere raising her head in interest.

“There she is. The Destiny,” Ardin replied, sidestepping the question and pointing to a ship.

Although Layela did not know much about ships, she knew that what she was looking at was old, beautiful, and very different from any other ship she’d ever seen before. Rejecting the modern shipbuilders’ sleek and dull visions, the ship’s sculpted design suggested the ancient grace of sea ships, from keel to mast, all depicted or hinted at on her massive metal shell. Her obsidian hull gleamed in the sunlight, the carvings giving the

Destiny’s Blood | 76 impression that the sails might start flapping in the wind at any moment.

Even the poor red sun of Collar could not undermine her beauty, the shadows only accentuating and defining each port and plank.

She was sturdy, solid and battle-scarred. All of her markings had been removed long ago, leading Layela to believe that she was a stolen ship.

Layela was, after all, dealing with smugglers, dealers in illegal goods, or perhaps even pirates, a most dangerous lot who pillaged and plundered without rhyme or reason.

The ship stood silently in the dock with a stoic grace not shared by her neighbours, and Layela almost expected to see an anchor falling from her hull. But, although illusions of complex shapes had been worked into the metal, giving it a unique beauty, the Destiny was still only a metal ship that travelled the vast coldness of space.

One that had seen more than its share of battles.

“Beautiful, isn’t she?” Ardin whispered from up front, smiling.

“She is,” Layela whispered, unable to say differently.

“It’s home,” Avienne said, with both affection and sadness in her voice.

“But could you imagine a more beautiful home?” Ardin said, as if to himself.

“I can,” Layela whispered, the explosion of Sunrise Flowers still ringing in her mind.

“Urgh. I can’t believe I’m back here,” Lang moaned. “Can’t you drop me off now?”

Ardin accelerated and veered, much to the delight of his sister, who cheered. The shuttle swerved by the Destiny, all light blocked by the tall ship, only its metal hull visible by Avienne’s side.

Another moan escaped Lang as Ardin jerked on the controls and turned hard towards the ship, Layela gasped as the metal hull opening just in time to grant them access and reveal a poorly lit docking bay.

“Hope you don’t chill easily,” Avienne said as she opened the hatch, a cold breeze immediately infiltrating every corner of the shuttle. Lang exited next, Ardin helping Josmere and Layela exit the cramped quarters.

Avienne yawned expansively and stretched, smiling as a male voice boomed over the speakers.

“Welcome home, sailors.”

“Let’s go,” Ardin said, walking toward the bay doors. Lang muttered, but followed nonetheless.

“You two head to the bridge, and I’ll take our guests to their quarters.”

Avienne called back and Ardin’s walk stiffened.

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Josmere and Layela exchanged a glance, both having noticed the change in Ardin’s pace. Avienne did not miss their exchange.

“Calm down, I’m not going to hurt you,” she sighed. “I am going to lock you up, but that’s simply because we know nothing about you and this ship has its own secrets. But don’t worry,” she added with a grin, “I’ll make sure you have plenty of blankets.”

“You expect us to trust you?” Layela asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No. I expect you to be smart enough to know when to quietly follow and wait. You needed to get off the planet and, well, we’re getting off the planet. Now come on. I have to get to the bridge too, in case they need me.”

Her hand dropped to her gun as she motioned for them to start walking.

“Let me guess,” Josmere said dryly. “Tactical control?”

Avienne grinned but didn’t answer as they passed through a metal door, the light of the docking bay shutting off as they exited. The corridor that now stretched before them was even more poorly lit. She passed in front of them, her hand no longer on the gun. Instead she flipped a knife, throwing and catching the blade in lazy sweeps with barely a glance.

“Hope you don’t mind climbing,” she said. The knife vanished and she opened a latch to reveal a ladder. She indicated to Josmere to climb first, and took the rungs next, leaving Layela little choice but to follow.

The ladder reached up into the darkness of the hull, its length not fully illuminated, the metal rungs so cold they stung Layela’s bare flesh. Her arms and ribs protested each movement, the cuffs still hanging from her left wrist clanging on the metal as she climbed.

Thankfully, they only had to climb one level.

“Don’t you people have elevators?” Josmere asked as she helped Layela out of the shaft, Avienne flipped her knife once again, boredom etched on her ivory features. No wonder the Malavants were both in good shape, if they did this regularly!

“We do,” Avienne said as she nodded with her head towards another poorly lit corridor. “But that requires more power, so unless we have cargo, which we don’t at the moment, we climb.”

“Are you sure you don’t have cargo now?” Layela asked, gritting her teeth as she fought to hide the waves of pain from her ribs now washing over her, reducing the length of her breaths. The smuggler looked surprised for a moment before laughing heartily.

“I guess we do! Fine, next time we’ll take the elevator.” She punched a number into a nearby keypad, shielding the code with her body. Her gun was now in her hand.

Destiny’s Blood | 78 “In the meantime, if you ladies will make yourselves comfortable, we’ll see to your needs in a few hours.” She motioned grandly towards the simple room with two beds, plenty of blankets as promised, and stark lighting.

“I’m asking nicely now,” Avienne said as her grin widened. Not a good thing with this woman, Layela had already decided.

“Aren’t you just the grateful one,” Josmere hissed as she walked past her into the room. Layela followed.

“I consider us even, actually.” The woman softened for an instant. “Don’t worry, you’ll be fine. Someone cared enough to send help your way.”

With those words, the door closed and Layela took a deep, cold breath.

She watched it steam out of her mouth, and wondered how safe they would be in the hands of these unsuccessful smugglers.

/

“I’m disappointed she escaped,” Dunkat said softly. The words had the desired impact on the Kilita, who reeled as though physically struck.

The Berganda, a mercenary Dunkat fully realized he had precious little control over, shrugged where she sat, as relaxed as Aquilone was stiff.

“Your troops got in the way, Colonel,” the Berganda — Seela — said mildly. Dunkat was not fooled for one second by her silken tones and young looks. She was ruthless, he knew, which was only part of the reason he had sought her expertise. The fact that she was a Berganda willing to be contracted out was where her true advantage lay. A bloom above the rest.

“Those troops were adequately punished for their...zeal. Still, I expect two individuals with your vast talents could overcome such a small obstacle as a platoon.”

Aquilone seemed both elated and crushed. He cleared his throat.

“Permission to speak, sir,” Aquilone asked, still standing at perfect attention despite the obvious backhanded compliment he had received.

Dunkat really liked the man’s discipline and pondered promoting him to second-in-command once this mission was accomplished. What a stir that would cause.

Noro would surely object.

“Permission granted,” Dunkat said with no decorum, which he knew the Kilita would respect.

“I touched the girl with my bare hands in the flower shop, sir. Directly on her skin.” The Berganda looked up, interested. “She passed out the first time, possibly due to... fatigue. But the second time, there seemed to

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be little reaction. She actually managed to fight me off.” He pondered a moment further, seeking the right words. “If she is what you suspect her to be, my skills would have incapacitated her.”

Dunkat felt his anger rising, all thoughts of promoting the man gone.

He kept his exterior in check, but knew his dark eyes blazed as he looked deep into the Kilita’s.

It was her. Layela Delamores. He was as certain of who she was as he was of what needed to be done. The Kilita race’s ethereal connection had simply weakened over the past twenty years, to the point of becoming useless. He wondered if the Berganda’s powers were still somewhat intact, or if she would prove useless as well.

He turned from the Kilita and looked at the Berganda.

“She travels with another Berganda. Do you know her?” Dunkat asked. Seela looked up with no interest in her eyes.

“Do you think I care?”

He fought back his impatience, remembering a time when these races were strong, revered and respected. Now, they were simply a nuisance, as lost and clueless as all the others.

“Can you track her?”

Seela nodded. “Easily.” As though an afterthought, she added, “It’s not like there are many of us left to track.”

Dunkat looked down at her, but the wistful tones of her voice were not reflected in her cold eyes, and he knew she would betray even her own dwindling race for a pretty penny.

“I don’t care what you do with the Berganda, I just want the girl.”

Dunkat remembered the deep blue eyes that refused to look away as he struck her. Another few days and he would have broken her, he knew it, and he was angry at the stolen chance.

“Dismissed,” he said, not meeting Aquilone’s eyes. Seela, unconcerned with military conduct, lazily followed her current partner out.

Whether they found them or not was of no concern. It would only shave off a few days from where he knew she would eventually go.

He had seen it reflected in her eyes: the great star of Mirial, Mother of all Ether.

Are you sure

Chapter 10

those are the coordinates?” the captain asked, his face as unreadable as a blank page.

“Yes sir,” Ardin responded formally. Although Destiny answered to no one and the crew had spent the last twenty years together in this ship as family, Cailan still insisted that his crew remain professional and obedient. The only one who got away with some jesting was Avienne. She was the only woman on board and was like a daughter to the captain, so no one questioned it.

Cailan stroked his small, close-cut beard as he stared at the coordinates, and Ardin wondered what was wrong with them. They pointed to a small solar system three days’ tunnel ride from here: nothing irregular, some farmers and some industries. A bit like Collar, except that even smugglers weren’t drawn there.

Odd, really. He knew few places that didn’t benefit from — and welcome — the trades brought in by smugglers.

“Lang,” Cailan called to the navigator louder than necessary, and the man flinched. Ardin guessed that his head throbbed from his last binge, and it was satisfying to see that Cailan did not intend to make his day easy.

“Yes, sir?” Lang said as he walked to the captain’s side.

“Could you please confirm where these coordinates will bring us?”

Lang took the coordinates without argument and waddled off slowly to his station. In space, with the increasing failures of the tunnels

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combined with heightened space traffic — mostly of the unannounced, illegal kind — a good navigator was as necessary as oxygen to get the crew safely to port. Of course, that meant Ardin would have to continue getting Lang out of trouble. He wished Cailan would stop granting him leave, but suspected the captain liked the navigator and found Ardin’s rescue missions entertaining. He always demanded a full, excruciatingly detailed report.

“We’re talking about the small system of Longsley, with only one inhabited farming planet, named Lockor,” Lang reported. “About three days’ journey by the main tunnel artery. Hey, this one is actually maintained regularly by several local governments, too! I can have us cleared for access within minutes.”

Cailan didn’t nod, as if he already knew all that information.

Travan, the ship’s engineer, leaned by Cailan and whispered. The captain nodded.

“I don’t like it, but if this man will meet us there and pay up the other half, we’ll proceed.” Cailan paused and looked ahead. “Ardin, what can you tell me of him?”

“Tall, dark, somewhat mysterious, with a strong voice. Well-spoken, definitely middle to upper class, no discernable accent.”

Avienne walked up to the bridge, slightly winded by the long climb.

“And dangerous,” she added to Ardin’s report. “No noticeable weapons, but from the way he stood you could see he was a seasoned warrior, and a dangerous one, at that.”

Ardin nodded in agreement. Avienne must have been tired from their adventure on Collar, not to make any crude comments about the man.

Cailan must have seen it, too. “Good work. You can both have the rest of the day off. Just make sure the girl knows where we’re taking her.”

“Girls,” Ardin replied, wincing a bit.

“Oh?” Cailan asked, his voice casual. He sat straighter in his seat, a gesture Ardin had long ago learned meant deep displeasure.

“A Berganda, sir,” Ardin continued. “She’s a friend of the girl, and would have perished had we not helped her.”

Not quite true, but close enough. Avienne did not add anything, and Ardin knew she wouldn’t unless it was to back him up. If he was certain of anything in life, it was that Avienne would always back him up.

“Just make sure they don’t wander about,” Cailan said wearily, dismissing them with a wave. Relieved, Ardin saluted and walked off, followed by Avienne.

Destiny’s Blood | 82 “I just came up these bloody things,” his sister lamented as they entered the access tunnel and began the long descent.

“Lang,” Ardin heard Cailan say over Avienne’s soft swears below him.

“Take us to Lockor.”

After a pause, Ardin swore he heard Cailan add quietly, “And pray we need not go any further.”

/

“Can’t you feel her?” Josmere asked impatiently as she paced the room, blankets trailing her. Josmere never did well during space travel, and cold, enclosed space travel was certainly no better. Her green eyes darted around like a caged animal’s.

Layela shook her head. “I haven’t been able to for a while. I just hadn’t really paid mind to it.” She met Josmere’s eyes. “It didn’t seem like a skill we’d need a lot, with our plans of not stealing for a living anymore.”

Josmere stopped pacing for a moment, about to say something, but apparently thought better of it and continued. Layela sighed. It was nice having a friend around, but it would be nicer if there were no secrets between them.

“Josmere, what do you know that you’re not telling me?”

Josmere slowed her pace but didn’t stop. She seemed hesitant, as if she was actually considering bringing Layela into her circle of confidence.

Then she shook her head and increased her pace again. The closeness between them withered with each step.

She suddenly wondered why Josmere’s powers had not affected Ardin in the flower shop, and if that might be the reason she was so sullen.

The Berganda had seemed as surprised as Ardin. She began to worry that something might be wrong with Josmere, aside from the usual stubbornness.

Layela had often heard stories of the powers of the ethereal races, how those powers had seemed to fade and wither over the last two decades. Of all the old ethereal races, the Berganda was one of the quickest to wither and, although Josmere never spoke of it, Layela knew it shadowed her friend’s thoughts. Once her powers began to fade, it might mean she too was withering.

Maybe a test was required to set the Berganda’s mind, and her own, at ease. It wasn’t like they could do much else on the ship, at least not without some sort of plan. Besides, Layela thought as she shifted and winced, a few hours of rest to let my wounds heal would be beneficial.

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“Josmere,” Layela said, the Berganda slowing her pace again. “I keep having a strong, dark vision at night. Will you show it to me?”

Yoma was also gifted with visions, but hers struck when she was awake.

Awkward and dangerous, but at least she could remember them. Layela’s visions only came at night, and until the day Yoma had accidentally met Josmere in a house they both intended to rob, Layela didn’t even think she shared the gift. She had doubted her own powers, despite jerking awake every night, fear smothering her thoughts and sweat clutching her body. The shouts of things-to-be would become whispers and vanish with the last threads of her sleep.

But the Bergandas were gifted telepaths. Theirs was a power that could destroy a mind, or simply unlock it, much like the Kilitas could. Josmere had unlocked Layela’s mind on several occasions, lifting the burden of heavy, unseen visions from the girl’s shoulders.

If Josmere used her powers now, she might find peace in the proof that her ability had not vanished. And Layela would see the vision that the Kilita had tried to rip from her mind. It involved Yoma, she knew, and she remembered the warm feeling on her hands. Like a thick liquid coating them, a liquid she was certain was blood. She thought it might be Yoma’s.

She needed to know what the vision would show her, as badly — she guessed — as Josmere needed to know if her powers still existed.

She was surprised when Josmere grimaced and sat down on the other bed, facing her. “I can’t, Layl.”

“Well, I know your powers didn’t work on Ardin, but maybe that was a fluke. Try it on me and see what happens.”

Josmere shifted and looked uncomfortable, but her green eyes met Layela’s. “I promised Yoma I wouldn’t unlock that vision for you.”

Layela jerked back a bit, Josmere’s words like a slap. She had thought the Berganda was just as loyal to her as to her sister. She had felt comforted by her presence. Yoma had made her promise not to tell! But that also meant… “Yoma left because of a vision she had.”

She didn’t ask, she simply stated. Josmere didn’t bother replying.

Before either one of them could continue the conversation, a knock came at the door. Seconds later it swung open, the Malavant siblings in its entryway.

Avienne carried the promised food, which looked as old as the ship itself.

“It’s not the best — in fact, it’s much closer to being the worst — but it’s still food,” Avienne said as she handed them the meal packs. The freezedried foods were packaged in aluminium for preservation. Usually about as tasty as aluminium, too.

Destiny’s Blood | 84 “We just came to tell you we’re headed for Lockor,” Ardin said.

“Where in the forty bloody Solarian suns is that?” Layela asked. Their interruption had come at a bad time, and the sooner they left, the sooner she could throttle some information out of her green friend. She forced a deep breath into her lungs and examined the opened door latch out of the corner of her eye. It wouldn’t hurt to be ready to leave.

“Not in that jurisdiction, actually,” Ardin said. He was trying to sound casual, but tension laced his words. “It’s almost a galaxy away but, thankfully, is linked by tunnels from three other independently-governed worlds. It should only take us three days to get there, if the traffic is as thin as our navigator expects it to be.”

He finished lightly, as though this was a simple matter.

“Why are you taking us there?” Josmere asked softly, a dangerous edge to her voice. If the Malavants heard it, they chose to ignore it. Layela knew that would make Josmere even angrier.

“We were contracted to bring Layela there safely,” Ardin said, his eyes meeting Layela’s. “I didn’t get the impression that our contact would harm you, Layela. And we can stick around for a bit, just in case.”

Layela held his eyes and he did not shy away. She found some comfort in knowing he would stay, but how far could she trust him and his sister?

They were keeping secrets from her, too, like Josmere and Yoma.

At least three days would give her time to heal if a battle waited ahead, but escaping before reaching the planet seemed to be the best option.

Why would anyone want her taken there, anyway? And were they after her sister too? Or her, she supposed, since Ardin had revealed at least that much. She felt a chill run up her back. Could he be part of her locked vision? “Who is this man, and why does he want me there?”

Before he could answer, Avienne spoke. “We don’t know, and we don’t know. What we do know is that he pays well, and that’s good enough for now.”

“Good enough for kidnapping?” Layela spat back, rising from her bed.

Avienne’s eyebrow shot up, the corners of her eyes crinkled in amusement. Layela wanted to smack her silly. Did this woman take nothing seriously? All she wanted were answers and her freedom to pursue them as need be.

“This isn’t kidnapping,” Ardin said, stepping between the two women. “It’s protection. You can’t seriously think you can escape a Berganda — which I could have downed, if it wasn’t for your little green friend — and a Kilita, not to mention the entire Solarian fleet?” He took

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a deep breath. Josmere narrowed her eyes but said nothing. “Once we get to Lockor, you’ll be out of reach of the Solarian government. Hear this man out, and if you’re not comfortable with whatever he has to tell you, we’ll bring you right back.”

“Without your reward?” Layela asked, narrowing her eyes slightly. She looked deeply into his flint-coloured eyes to see if a lie dwelled there.

His voice was soft and strong and his eyes were unflinching as he answered. “Without the reward.”

Avienne swore as they left. Ardin made eye contact with her one more time before locking the door and leaving them in the cold, poorly lit room.

Layela turned around and met Josmere’s eyes, the green reflecting what she herself thought of Ardin’s promise.

It wasn’t a good enough gamble to take.

Layela was ripped

Chapter 11

from her sleep, sweat beading on her forehead despite the cold, her breath raspy and broken. She struggled to grasp some threads of the unravelling vision, only to feel it disintegrate, Yoma’s deep and intense green eyes vanishing into the cold light of the ship.

Josmere slept soundly beside her, the Berganda having apparently crawled into bed to try to snare some of Layela’s body heat. Bergandas did best in warm, sunny and humid climates, which was definitely not Destiny’s specialty, nor had it been Collar’s.

Layela toyed with the idea of waking Josmere and somehow forcing her to reveal the vision, to show her what had driven Yoma away and perhaps even why Sunrise Flowers now lay in ruins. And why no one seemed willing to leave her alone now.

But looking down at Josmere’s small frame, huddled close to her beneath the ample blankets, only some green hair sticking out, Layela didn’t have the heart to wake her. She remembered meeting the Berganda for the first time, how thrilled and wary she had been when Yoma had introduced the woman who had saved her when a vision had struck her while on a caper.

Little had changed, really. Josmere’s smile and fun-loving spirit still thrilled Layela, but her secrets and the power to keep visions from Layela also left her wary.

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The only thing that had changed was that Yoma was no longer here to fill the long, awkward silences.

She lay back down beside Josmere, but slept no more.

/

Ardin clutched his sword, ready to parry the blow. Metal clanged against metal as the blades collided, leaving Ardin with the opening he was looking for. Without an instant’s hesitation, he swung low and hard at his opponent’s knees. His blade was met with a clang.

Armour! Swearing under his breath, he jumped back and raised his sword, the other clanging and bouncing off. The shock reverberated throughout his entire body and he quickly steadied his position again.

He circled his adversary slowly as he allowed the feeling to return to his hands. This wouldn’t be as easy as he had hoped.

His trained eyes observed his opponent’s movements. Knowledge shadowed in every motion, soft and smooth, patiently waiting for Ardin to strike.

But the expectation that Ardin would strike from the left was clear.

Ardin carefully controlled his features so as not to show the victory he knew he was about to taste.

Blinking back the sweat from his eyelashes, Ardin lashed out, faking left before swerving his blade right at the last moment, barely avoiding the other’s blade. He recovered faster and brought an end to the match by severing his opponent’s head.

Clapping greeted his efforts. Turning around as he sheathed his blade, Ardin smiled at his sister.

“One less for us to worry about, Avienne!”

Avienne strolled to where he was. She looked at the fallen opponent gravely.

“Great job, Ardin. I wouldn’t want to have to worry about psychotic training androids taking over the ship. I’m sure Travan will appreciate your efforts as well.”

Ardin winced. Travan, the ship’s main engineer, was not renowned for his sense of humour. And he was the only crewmember fully versed in android mechanics.

He shrugged.

“Well, at least this one proved more useful than the last.”

Avienne shook her head. “I don’t think I’ll ever understand you, Ardin.”

Ardin grinned at his sister. “You think you have it hard? I’m stuck

Destiny’s Blood | 88 trying to understand you!” Avienne guffawed.

“It’s late. Why are you still up and swinging that rusty piece of metal around?” Avienne asked, yawning.

“It’s not rusty, and it’s really sharp,” Ardin replied defensively. “I just... needed to think, that’s all.”

“We need the money, Ardin.” Avienne, as always, knew immediately what he was thinking. “And it’s for her own good. You saw yourself what those government troops did to her shop, not to mention the beating she got at Gullwing.”

Ardin shook his head while passing his hand through his sweat-soaked hair. “I saw, and I know, but it still doesn’t feel right. We should just drop her off somewhere else.”

Avienne leaned against the wall, closing her eyes as she spoke. “Where, Ardin, and how would she protect herself if she was attacked again? The Bergandas’ might seems to have been overblown in all those stories, and she has no money, no ID, and no fresh clothing aside from what I donated, thank you, and no idea of who’s actually after her.”

She paused to breathe in deeply and opened her eyes.

“Look, I don’t like this anymore than you do. Really I don’t,” she repeated when he looked at her sceptically. “I mean, I like the money, but I don’t like feeling like a kidnapper.” She trailed off, letting the silence hang for a few seconds before she could no longer stand it.

“What do you intend to do with your profits, Ardin? It’s not a small job, and Cailan’s always good about divvying up the money. What will you do with it?” He shrugged and grinned.

“Buy a new training android?”

“I’m being serious, Ardin.”

His eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed in suspicion before regaining their normal size. “Sorry, not used to that.” He shrugged again.

The adrenaline of combat was slowly leaving his body, and his shoulders began to drop. “I really don’t know, actually. I guess I’ll have to think about it.”

Typical. Avienne hesitated, the words still feeling strange and not her own even as she spoke them. “Did you ever consider going for a trip?” He looked at her curiously, as if she spoke in another tongue. Don’t back down.

“I mean, maybe travel, live somewhere else, like on a planet, for a little bit.” She fought the urge to bite her lower lip. It was a bad habit she had kicked as a young girl, but it still resurfaced the rare times that nerves got the better of her.

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“You mean leave the Destiny?” he asked flatly.

She gave a short, nervous laugh. “Unless you intend to park the ship in a backyard, yeah, I guess I mean that.”

“But it’s our home,” Ardin said, as though he had not fully understood what she was saying, or worse, had no idea what she had implied. Was it really such a foreign concept?

I guess no one has ever left before, unless they died, Avienne thought sadly, and suddenly felt sympathy for her brother. She would have had a hard time understanding herself too, if she had as little imagination as he apparently did.

“We could make a home elsewhere. Maybe make new friends? Ones that we don’t kidnap, that is.” The mention brought fire to his eyes, and she felt at once stupid and angry for having brought up what he was trying so hard to forget.

“Home is this ship, Avienne. Living on a planet isn’t that different, you know.” He shrugged and put his sword in its scabbard, obviously deciding that the conversation was over. Avienne snapped.

“I don’t know, Ardin!”

“What?” He seemed surprised to hear her speak again.

“I don’t know what it’s like to live on a planet. I don’t remember!” She fought not to shout as he looked at her sceptically again. “You’re three years older than me, and you barely remember! I don’t remember the planet, I don’t remember a home, I don’t remember our mother and I certainly don’t remember our father!”

She couldn’t stop. Wild grief over what she might never know, mixed with the fear of losing all that she had ever known, forced the words from her mouth. “All I remember is this ship, when it was still warm and beautiful and full of life, Ardin! When it had more than fourteen souls aboard, and when I was too young to care that there was a whole universe out there! All I remember is hearing stories of our home, a home whose name neither of us knows and that’s forever out of our reach! Ardin, this is all I know and I want to know different! I want to know better!”

She paused for breath, her body shaking. Ardin’s eyes, which had slowly widened during her tirade, closed slowly as he exhaled.

“Avienne,” he spoke softly, yet each syllable felt like a ten-pound rocket exploding in her heart. “I am going to be captain of this ship, like our father and Cailan before me. It’s what I’ve always wanted, and what I will become.”

“But Ardin,” she implored him to look at her, but his eyes remained closed. “This ship is doomed. If the hardware doesn’t give up and die,

Destiny’s Blood | 90 then the people will. We’re the youngest, and by a lot. We’ve already had to bring Lang on board to make up for lack of skilled crew…Ardin, what will you do when there is no more Destiny?”

Ardin opened his eyes and met hers with such intensity that she held her breath. “There will always be a Destiny.” He walked past her, whispering, “My duty is to my own, Avienne. Where your loyalty lies is up to you.”

He was far out of earshot when she managed to whisper between small, hopeless sobs.

“My duty is to my own, too, Ardin. And you’re all I have.”

She’s not doing

Chapter 12

well.” Layela pointed at the sleeping form of Josmere, her skin yellowing and pasty. She wasn’t sure whether to strike Ardin and Avienne or plead with them. Couldn’t they see that she was wilting?

“She’s not necessary for this,” Avienne said, shrugging. “We could just send her to a nearby colony.” Seeing Layela’s look of horror, she added, “A lush colony.”

“That’s hardly the point! She’s in no condition to take care of herself!

She’s barely been conscious in the last day!”

Layela, shaking with rage and guilt, fought against her tears. It was her fault Josmere was involved in this and, after a few days on Collar, a battle and two days on a cold, lifeless ship, the Berganda’s life energies seemed to have taken a bad hit. She needed to rest and heal and, for her to do so, she needed what every other plant needed: earth, water and sun.

“We’re in the middle of a tunnel,” Ardin said. “We can’t exactly open a shutter. All you’ll get is flickering blue light, which can induce seizures in humans, by the way. And we can’t just put her on a shuttle, either,” he added, looking sternly at Avienne. His sister met his look but said nothing. The tension sucked the air out of the room as efficiently as Glotch gas.

“Please,” Layela pleaded.

Avienne sighed and shook her head, as if the weight of this situation

Destiny’s Blood | 92 was more than she could handle. Layela wondered why her quick smile and crazed actions had vanished. Remembering their first encounter, inspiration struck.

“What about a bargain?”

Avienne’s head tilted sideways with interest. Layela took a deep breath.

“Twice what you are being paid to...transport us.” Avienne took a deep breath and Ardin shook his head.

“I would laugh if this wasn’t so sad,” the smuggler girl said, leaning back against the wall.

Layela shook her head and pleaded again. “Just let us go, bring us to safe port, and as soon as I can find my sister, I’ll repay you.” The Malavants exchanged a glance. Layela looked down at Josmere’s yellow hair, swallowing hard, knowing she was speaking out of desperation to save her friend. “Sunrise Flowers,” she choked on the words, barely able to get them out. “I’ll give you the shop. You can sell it, and it’ll bring a fair bit of money with a few repairs.”

Ardin ran his hand through his hair as he looked at the Berganda. “It won’t be enough.” Layela’s eyes widened as he continued speaking. “We’d need about twenty of those flower shops to meet our price.”

A sharp laugh escaped Layela. “Who would pay that for me?” Ardin studied her and Avienne looked at the wall as though bored. Neither of them said anything.

Layela was about to protest again, when a thought rammed into her head. “Is it Yoma? Did my sister put you up to this?”

Avienne gave a short, bitter laugh. “Honey, unless your sister is more than two and a half meters tall, bears a sword, and, oh, is a middle-aged man, then I doubt it.”

Layela stared back down at Josmere. Yoma had pulled stunts before, but she couldn’t have promised them such a big amount. And why would she get Josmere involved from the beginning, knowing that so much space travel was involved? She felt her hopes wither. This wasn’t her sister’s doing.

It hardly mattered whose doing it was. Josmere’s life was more important. She turned to plead with Ardin.

“Then turn off at the next exit. Give Josmere a chance to heal somewhat. Please.”

“We won’t arrive at the next exit near a solar system for quite a few hours,” he said pensively, watching Josmere. Layela followed his gaze.

Some of Josmere’s hair had fallen out, like a dying tree shedding its leaves

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in an effort to conserve energy and survive.

“Then by the Three Fates,” Layela snapped, “do the right thing, turn this ship around and let us go! You’re already kidnappers, do you also want to be murderers?”

Ardin’s eyes widened, and he stepped back as though she had physically struck him. She felt flushed and guilt rose at the pain she saw in his eyes. But she held her ground. He might have saved her life twice, but Josmere’s life remained in the balance.

“What about old, dead earth?” Avienne asked, pushing herself off the wall, acting as though nothing had been said and the tension in the room wasn’t smothering.

Layela didn’t break eye contact with Ardin as she spoke. “It might look dead to you, but it might not be for a Berganda.”

Ardin kept his gaze deep into Layela’s eyes as he asked his sister, “Think Cailan will go for it?” Layela noticed that the siblings didn’t seem to form much of a united front. Avienne hadn’t even defended her brother when she had accused him of murder. If the siblings were at odds, an escape plan might be easier to pull off.

I sound like Yoma and Josmere, she thought as her stomach turned, and she wondered briefly if she had managed to take the high road more often simply because they had been below, supporting her from lower ground.

That thought did nothing to make her feel better. She took a deep breath and stared at the siblings.

Avienne shrugged. “We should be reaching an Easy Exit soon. Cailan might be willing to exit the tunnel there.” She pushed herself off the wall and walked out of the room, calling behind her, “I’ll talk to Cailan, you take them there.”

Ardin didn’t call out after his sister, but picked up Josmere in his arms instead, the Berganda whispering a remark Layela was certain had been intended to make Ardin blush, had she had the strength to form all the syllables.

“This way,” he said, casting a stormy look at Layela as he easily carried the light weight and started down the hall.

Layela hesitated for just one moment before quickly trailing after them.

/

“Where are we going?” she asked when she caught up to him.

“Just down here.” Then, with a tentative grin, “Don’t worry, no ladders to climb.”

Destiny’s Blood | 94 Seeing him search out her eyes made her feel even guiltier for her comments. This is ridiculous. They’re the ones who kidnapped us! But as she thought of the coldness of the ship and its meagre supplies, she understood them far better than she wished she did. The Destiny was in dire need of supplies, and any contract, especially one that paid so much and didn’t involve too much illegal activity, would suffice.

She wondered again who would pay so much to have her brought to them, and felt a chill at the thought. Could it have been that colonel?

That he had wanted anything to do with her didn’t make sense, either.

Within seconds they had reached the large doors that marked the end of the corridor, and Ardin gently put Josmere down to punch the code in the keypad. The room inside was completely dark, the slight light from the corridor too weak to even cast shadows.

“The power was shut inside. Hang on a sec.” He stepped into the darkness. She heard a bang and swearing, and couldn’t help but smile.

She felt the ship jolt, the strong sound of the engine, always a low, constant hum in the back, fading until she no longer heard it.

“You got lucky! Avienne convinced the captain to leave the tunnel for a bit!”

He re-emerged from the dark room.

“Why don’t you use your light?” Layela pointed at the small square instrument neatly tucked in his belt. She realized she was trying to dissipate some of the tension she had created, out of fear for Josmere.

She wished Ardin and Avienne weren’t so bloody human. It would make things easier.

“Because you have to come see this,” Ardin replied. “Come on, the light can wait.” He picked up Josmere, leaving Layela little choice but to follow. She only hesitated for an instant. If his intentions were less than honourable, he could have acted on them a thousand times by now.

The darkness was thick, and she reached out instinctively. Ardin’s hand grabbed hers and she was glad of the darkness, which hid her blushing face.

“Stay here for now,” he said, showing her where Josmere’s sleeping form lay. Layela crouched by Josmere, listening to Ardin as he disappeared into the darkness.

CLANG! Layela’s breath caught in her throat at the noise and she leaned protectively over Josmere. The sound resonated throughout the ship.

She rose quickly when she felt, then saw, that the wall beside her was shifting sideways. The strange, unexpected movement made her dizzy for

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a few moments, but soon she was looking around, and realized that it wasn’t even a wall. She was standing beside huge shutters.

She could see stars before her, some far away and some closer, all slowly moving as they continued their universal dance. The window was huge, the entire wall folding in on itself.

Layela gently placed her hand on the sheet separating them from the void, her heart beating wildly as she looked around. Though Layela had not travelled extensively through space, she knew there were few sights such as this one in the universe. Before her, away from the shimmering tachyonic tunnel, a galaxy spiralled clearly, dots of light forming its core and tentacles.

Some stars shone brightly, others were content to flicker.

But what made the galaxy so beautiful was the red dust that clung to its edges, blurring its outline and giving the whole system the appearance of being on fire. Around the fire was a large patch of dark space, with no twinkling stars, no clouds of nebulae, no promise of life. It made the galaxy that much crisper, its sides like flames, cleansing the space around itself. And the heart of it was deep purple, richer than any purple she had seen grace the most beautiful of blooms.

She felt Ardin coming to stand beside her.

“I’ve never seen such a sight.” Layela whispered, as though afraid of breaking the spell. “The whole galaxy looks like its own fire.”

“Some say it is,” Ardin replied. “There used to be two galaxies here, the nearest in the known universe, their gravitational pulls playing off of each other and making a bloody mess of the middle star systems. This tunnel was originally built to reach two major worlds of the second galaxy, the one that isn’t there anymore.”

Layela waited a heartbeat, certain she could see the red dust move, even this far away in the vastness of space.

“Then,” Ardin continued, “less than twenty years ago, something happened beyond the edges of the known worlds. It destroyed one of the galaxies, rocked the other one until it was practically dead, its stars covered by the dust of its neighbouring worlds.”

Layela swallowed hard. Suddenly, it didn’t seem so beautiful.

Ardin continued. “Lockor’s one of the few planets that survived, though it’s hardly the political powerhouse it used to be.” He chanced a sideward glance at Layela. “It’s on the edge. It’s safe.”

Layela’s eyes were trained on the darkness surrounding the galaxy and the deep purple heart, and she swore she could see it pulsate. Mists were beginning to gather at the faintest edges of her vision when Ardin spoke

Destiny’s Blood | 96 again and frightened them away.

“Now, after that cheerful tale, I invite you to look behind you.”

She did, and was greeted by a sight both too beautiful and too horrible to behold. The room, now softly illuminated by the light of the stars, was about a hundred times the size of the flower shop. On the far side, another starscape greeted her. It seemed that the room covered the entire width of the ship.

Between the two windows was a garden. A dead garden. The paths were made of stone and wove between patches she guessed had been meant for flowers. There were no pillars in the expansive room, which amazed Layela. It was a big room to require no internal support, especially when surrounded by viewing ports — a testament to the ship’s architecture.

Ardin picked up Josmere and gently placed her on some earth. Layela knelt beside her friend and freed her arms and legs from the blankets, placing them directly against the ground. She pushed the strands of hair up so her neck made direct contact as well and, in the pale light of a thousand stars, she saw her friend smile slightly. Enough for Layela to know this earth was strong and would heal her.

“I won’t be far,” she whispered in Josmere’s ear before standing again, intent on enjoying this place, even if it resembled a cemetery more than a garden.

She walked slowly down the stone pathways, imagining its beauty when it was in its prime. The air itself smelled of old earth and the promises of beautiful blooms. Small circular fountains were generously scattered throughout the garden and she imagined the pumped water that had once burst from the lilies at the top. Pumping water...she kept her pace steady as her mind raced, knowing full well Ardin was watching her. She had no intention of betraying her thoughts.

Vines cascaded from the ceiling, the lifeless plants falling apart at the slightest touch.

“How beautiful you must have been,” she whispered to one as she passed by it.

She felt sorrow grip her again — not the strong, vivid sorrow of seeing her beloved blooms scattered and destroyed, but the gentle grief of older wounds, not even her own. It now seemed too silent. Too silent for a place that held such hope of beauty.

“You haven’t seen everything yet,” Ardin called out, and in seconds another shutter began opening on the side of the room opposite from where they had entered.

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The garden was located at the front of the ship, probably where it was narrowest, viewing ports covering its entire length. But the ship didn’t buckle, the viewing ports seemed to hold, as strong as the metal that protected the rest of Destiny. Had she not seen it, she would not have believed such a feat of engineering possible. She stumbled toward the front window. Two giant trees, only trunks now, were silent guardians of the front window. She looked up. The vaulted ceiling adorned with arches and filled with designs that she couldn’t make out in the dim light, rose up above her, where once the trees must have soared.

She wanted to tell Ardin how beautiful it was, but words had escaped her.

“I thought you might like it,” he said, looking at her sideways.

She nodded. “It must have been astounding in its prime.”

“I wish I could have seen it, too,” Ardin whispered, and for the first time, she detected sadness in his voice.

“You’ve never seen it?”

He looked ahead at the stars. “This is my home, Layela. And it has been my home for almost as long as I can remember. There was another place, before this, with warm light and colourful flowers.” He paused and added in a hush, “Avienne can’t remember that home at all.”

Ardin ran his hand through his hair, which Layela now recognized as his signature nervous move. She spotted her opening and went for it, beating back her feelings of guilt.

“I know you don’t really want to do this, Ardin,” Layela said, catching and holding his gaze. “Kidnapping doesn’t seem to sit well with you.” She took a chance. “It seems more Avienne’s style.”

Ardin sighed and turned around, looking out at the red galaxy. He stood so still that his profile seemed etched into the ship.

“I know that this might not mean much to you, considering the current situation, but I’ve promised that I’ll do everything in my power to see that you’re not hurt. I don’t know why we were told to bring you to Lockor, but we won’t go any further than kidnapping.” He winced slightly as he used the word for the first time. Layela turned from him and looked at the galaxy as well. Ardin and Avienne would be harder to tear apart than she had hoped.

Unlike her and her own sister. A bitter laugh escaped her lips, and Ardin turned to face her. Layela managed a smile. “Not your usual job, kidnapping, is it?”

“Times have been too hard for us to say no to any job, especially one that pays so well, I’m afraid,” Ardin replied. “This ship does have the

Destiny’s Blood | 98 capacity for light and heat, I’ll have you know.”

She smiled bitterly again. “I guess I’m visiting at the wrong time, then?”

Ardin’s expression sobered. “Do you have any idea why someone would want to bring you to Lockor?”

Layela looked at him, letting the question hang, trapped in the air for a few moments. Everything seemed surreal. From the dead flowers to the large windows, the vaulted ceiling up above to the flickering, dancing shadows, the galaxy swirling nearby, a graveyard of countless civilizations.

“I have no idea,” she whispered, looking at the starry landscape before her, letting the vastness of the universe wash over her. She didn’t share the hope she still clung to with desperate fervour. That it was her sister who had sent for her. That Yoma was still alive and waiting for her, waiting to protect her, as she had always done. As she had promised to always do.

“Am I interrupting anything?” The soft voice made them both jerk. Josmere stood near, beautifully vibrant, her eyes glinting with the reflection of countless stars.

“I’m so glad you’re all right,” Layela said as she hugged her friend. The Berganda returned the gesture, practically smothering Layela with the blanket. Layela wondered if Josmere was so adamant about not touching her friend now that her strength had been restored, lest even the slightest skin contact reveal Layela’s frightening vision.

“We’d best go,” Ardin said, leading both of them out of the gardens.

As the shutters closed and engulfed the starry sky, Layela watched the light fade from the garden and committed it to her memory.

Ardin quickly locked the room again, stark metal doors offering no hint of the beauty that lay within. Layela wondered how many more secrets this ship held.

Josmere walked on her own, not complaining or resisting. Layela knew full well that Ardin had forgotten he was dealing with experienced thieves and had allowed them to see enough to escape their room, and probably the ship.

Layela counted her

Chapter 13

thief ’s breaths, keeping track of passing time in this timeless space. It had been about ten minutes, and Ardin must have reached the bridge by now. Time to move.

She nodded to Josmere, who grinned and popped the panel on the wall. All they needed to do was leave their room; the code to access the rest of the ship was already theirs, thanks to Ardin. It ensured them the speed their escape would have otherwise lacked. Expert green hands glided over the wiring of door, and within seconds Layela heard the latch change positions. She grinned at Josmere and pushed the door open.

Her breath came quietly as she glanced down the empty corridor.

Josmere passed her and they both headed towards the door they had crossed through with Ardin mere minutes ago, the large metal gate opening easily with the access code she had instinctively memorized.

Some habits die hard.

They crossed the threshold and Josmere closed the door, leaving them in a deep and hollow darkness. She heard Josmere take a deep breath and knew the Berganda was remembering the position of every fountain, garden patch and withered tree.

“Time for us to go,” Josmere said, grabbing hold of Layela’s arm and walking without hesitation. Rarely had she herself seen Josmere use this particular skill, but Yoma had complimented it often.

Destiny’s Blood | 100 “Ten seconds! That’s all the time she needs to see a space, commit it to memory and navigate it in the dark! It’s amazing, Layl!”

You were right, Yoma, Layela thought seconds before tripping on a garden divider and almost falling, held up only by Josmere’s strong grip.

“What about this ten-second gift I’ve heard so much about?” Layela mumbled as she continued following Josmere, the darkness thick and smothering.

“Hey, I was half-dead. Give a girl a break!”

“Here we are,” she said kneeling carefully, which Layela did as well, tiring her eyes by trying to focus them through the thick veil of enclosed twilight.

She reached out and felt the smooth stone of the fountain. Earlier, when walking around with Ardin, the lack of columns had struck her, and she imagined the windows must be of an extremely strong material.

It also made her question which areas of the floor and ceiling contained conduits and wiring. The one place where strong tunnelling was necessary was the fountain, which could easily be their way out. If Layela had mapped the ship correctly, the gardens were just above the shuttle bay.

She felt giddy at the thought. How convenient.

“Access panels should be down here,” Josmere mumbled, running her smooth fingers on the side of the fountain. She was certain the engineers had left access to the water pipes, meaning panels would likely be in this section of the floor.

They had to be.

“Victory, my friend,” Josmere said as she noisily pulled up what could only be the cover to an access tunnel. Layela moved toward the sound and felt the large section of the thickest side of the fountain removed.

“I don’t suppose you know how far these tunnels go, ten-second girl?”

Layela asked.

“I did my part, Layl. Now’s your turn to dance.” She could hear the grin in Josmere’s voice, and pulled a small instrument free from her belt, making sure it was well aimed at Josmere’s face before turning it on.

The Berganda winced and ducked as Layela turned on the light right in front of Josmere’s eyes.

“You have a light?”

Layela shrugged. “I stole it from Ardin earlier.”

“Why didn’t you take it out before now!?”

It was Layela’s turn to grin. “I wanted to witness this ten-second ability firsthand.”

Josmere smirked at her and motioned for Layela to lead the way.

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“Good job, Layela. I always said we could have made a thief out of you.”

“I was once, remember?” she whispered, but the Berganda was too focused on the task at hand to hear.

Layela sighed and crawled into the access tunnel, the metal surrounding them still shiny after all these years. In the reflection of the light, for one instant, Layela saw the eyes of the Kilita. She swallowed hard and pushed the memories deep.

The tunnel was short, leading to a ladder that only headed down.

“Must lead to the docking bay,” Josmere whispered, and Layela nodded, sticking the light in her mouth as she began the descent, the cold biting her hands as she grabbed one metal rung after another. She hoped Josmere’s hands would safely carry her the whole way, especially considering that she was above Layela on the ladder.

At the next level, she silently let go of the rungs and fell onto the small metal landing, an access door right in front of them. Josmere joined her and she punched in the code.

They could hear someone singing. Layela cringed. It was Lang, the navigator, and from the loud singing, it sounded like he had a healthy stash of alcohol on board as well.

“Wait here,” Josmere whispered. “I want to try something.”

Layela wanted to protest, but the Berganda slipped out quickly and quietly, closing the door behind her.

Layela counted her breaths.

Thief ’s breaths.

/

The man was drunk, there was little doubt about that, but Josmere didn’t take any chances. Keeping low and quiet, she approached where he sat on the floor, in the middle of the bay by the shuttles.

She had been unable to read Ardin. She only knew of two other people who could stop her powers if they so wished: the Delamores. The legend of Berganda being able to suck the souls out of individuals was greatly exaggerated. She could read their minds, however, and destroy them if necessary. But it wasn’t just an automatic happenstance, as the government seemed intent to believe. The Berganda had to will the mind-merge.

She crouched by the last crate, calculating the steps necessary to reach him. He was still singing, and moving sporadically. She could approach him, if she was fast. She crouched and waited, removing her gloves.

Her ether gloves were yet another useless, paranoid stupidity on the

Destiny’s Blood | 102 part of the Solarian government. One of so many, really. Wearing them served only to further alienate and frighten people. All of the ether races were forced to wear them, races whose powers were now dwindling and whose people were dying.

She took a deep breath, straightened and walked forward with a confident strut. According to Layela, the navigator was not from the ship’s original crew, and she knew that she could read him even before she touched his cold clammy skin and his eyes bulged in surprise. She followed his thoughts and controlled them, forcing him to show her his knowledge of the ship, of the shuttle, of how to escape with little notice, to which the man had thankfully dedicated much thought.

The man collapsed, unconscious but breathing, and so drunk that he probably would remember nothing in the morning. He knew a lot about the ship’s functionality, its illegal activities and where all the liquor was stored. He also knew he was trapped here, by his own habit and by the captain, who knew a good controllable navigator when he met one and was not fool enough to let him go. At the same time, his memories were clouded by visions of a beautiful blonde woman, her laughter and touch, and such sorrow...Josmere saw the woman’s dead features, felt the drink through his blood, and his detachment from this reality. Too pained by memory, too cowardly to take his own life, he was withering away in the Destiny. And he didn’t care, knowing this was as good as he would ever get, hoping it would all end soon enough.

But he knew nothing about where this ship had come from, and little about her crew.

The man’s body shivered and a spasm made him leap off the floor for an instant. That he had been able to take so much with little physical effect was a testament to his spirit. That is, the spirits he had consumed.

She pulled her own mind back, visualizing a clear separation between the two. Once she was confident that she held nothing of him captive, and that her actions would not leave him as inactive as a Collarian mushroom for the rest of his days, Josmere removed her hand from the warm flesh.

She took what little money the man had on him and headed back to get Layela, to make a quick escape in the few remaining minutes before the ship re-entered the tunnel.

She wished he had known more.

She suspected strongly that the crew of the Destiny and the Delamores had much in common.

/

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“Tunnel access granted.” The computerized tunnel traffic controller beeped on the console.

“Bring her in, Ardin,” Cailan said, and the second-in-command proudly shouted orders to see them safely through. Avienne leaned against her console, bored out of her skull and suspecting the walls of the ship were smothering her. A small notification on her status panel caught her attention.

Thirteen minutes ago, someone had opened the doors to the gardens.

And three minutes ago, the bay doors had opened. She checked her instruments, making sure the error had not been at her end. Docking bay access was routed through the engineering panel and Travan would have noticed any unscheduled access.

No error on her end. Travan would have said something, unless someone had blocked the signal to his panel. Tactical was routed differently, which few on this ship knew.

She furrowed her brow and, on a hunch, checked another section of the ship.

Ah ha! The room where the two women were kept had reopened about ten minutes after Ardin had left them.

Wily little thieves.

“Thirty seconds to entry,” Travan reported in Lang’s stead. The navigator was off getting drunk somewhere, his job done here for the day.

Maybe he was on the shuttle with the girls? Avienne was certain the two had more sense than that, and was willing to bet that they had even taken one of the clean shuttles. She suddenly felt a chasm open under her feet and unexpected tears welled somewhere near her eyes, a rare and surprising condition.

The Destiny groaned as her tachyonic engines came to life. And then she groaned again, and a red light flashed on Travan’s console.

“Tachyonic engines aren’t in synch. Field still unstable.”

Cailan still said nothing, and Ardin was the one who voiced the question. “Should we abort?”

Avienne held her breath. If they aborted, the chances of the shuttle being spotted were high; the decision to reveal them might be out of her hands. The thought gave her no relief.

With a few touches on her control panel, she called up the engineering display.

Destiny’s Blood | 104 “Twenty seconds to entry,” Avienne chimed.

“Travan?” Ardin asked. Avienne was amazed that his voice was still steady. If they entered the tunnel without the tachyonic engines’ field protection, they would be flattened to one dimension. A speck of dust would look impressive beside them.

Spotting the shuttle would be better than that!

Destiny’s groans stopped and she began gently humming, the screen covered by winking lights as the field stabilized and enveloped them.

Avienne felt relief and sorrow all at once.

“Ten seconds to entry,” Travan intoned, nodding gravely to Ardin.

“All hands prepare for tachyonic tunnel entry,” Ardin spoke clearly over the ship’s speakers.

The tears still felt near her eyes. But why?

She wished she were on the shuttle with them.

But she wasn’t.

And if she didn’t stop Destiny from entering this tunnel, as the Three Fates had failed to do, Layela and the Berganda could easily get a few hours’ head start before Destiny could even pursue.

But I need the money! Avienne bit her lower lip, wanting to say something, anything to stop Destiny and get her profit. She looked up at Ardin, proudly standing in the middle of the bridge, guiding the old ship through, his chiselled features as striking as Destiny’s must have once been.

You’ll never have to believe you were a kidnapper, or have this shadow hang over you, she thought, and she smiled. She reached her decision, and the tears vanished before they were shed.

The worst part is, she thought, looking at her brother and his loyal dreams of heroism that involved neither kidnapping nor a life of his own, you’ll never know how I came to choose family over freedom.

They entered the great mouth of the tunnel, its blue energies lashing at the ship as the great shutters closed and blocked out the rest of the universe.

Chapter 14

Josmere sighed in

relief as she watched Destiny vanish into the tunnel, only a glittering distortion marking its existence. The stars danced in coats of blue beyond the length of the tunnel, distorted as the wave of tachyon particles stretched before them to create the fastest, most efficient and most dangerous route in the charted universe.

Once in a while, the shimmering length would tremble, and wild, bright colours would travel along it, spread in shapes all intermingling together, as though for one second a portion of the universe was a rainbow viewed through broken glass. That meant a ship was passing, so quickly that a blink of an eye would mean missing its initial splendour, to be left with its scintillating brilliance.

Some races believed that wielding the power of the tachyons was too dangerous, and humanity had paid the price with seizures that had claimed quite a few lives before shutters became obligatory.

But then again, few races aside from humans ever felt the need to leave their homes. Josmere remembered the history of her own people, passed down from aunt to sprout through the generations. “Time to go.� Josmere ignited the shuttle. They had remained without power, waiting for Destiny to move out of range. It had been a bumpy ride when its engines pushed them forward but, thankfully, the safety belts were high quality. Unfortunately, Layela looked about as green as a Berganda now.

The shuttle’s view changed from the tunnel to regular space, and

Destiny’s Blood | 106 Josmere waited for the onboard computer to boot and give them an exact location. It wasn’t a new computer system, that was evident, but its star maps should be fairly up-to-date.

“Oh,” Josmere exclaimed as the maps showed their position.

Layela grunted questioningly, her forearm covering her eyes as she leaned back against the seat.

Serves her right for flashing me with that light! Josmere wisely kept the thought to herself.

“We’re still in Solarian space, although another hour in that tunnel and we would have been in free territory. But…” Josmere paused as she confirmed the nearest colony.

“We’re about equal distance between the Thalos and Griman systems.”

She chanced a look at Layela, who still looked just as green, and wondered for the thousandth time what exactly had happened to Layela when she had been missing. Three days held prisoner, until Yoma found her and brought her home; the only time Yoma had ever lost control and killed.

Six months to heal her broken body, and apparently many more years to heal the damage that had been done to her soul. It had been on Thalos IV that Josmere had first met the twins. And when Layela had healed enough, Josmere had chosen to follow them and leave her family’s home.

Two years ago. A lifetime ago. Thalos would be easier. They already knew its cities and temperaments, but…

“I’ll head for Griman,” Josmere whispered as she punched in the command. Layela didn’t reply, still fighting the nausea.

The shuttle’s engines groaned after a minute, and red text flashed across the screen. Josmere frowned.

That can’t be right…A second later, the engines shut down, and Josmere groaned and leaned back against the seat.

“Don’t tell me,” Layela managed to say. “We’re out of fuel?”

“Battery and sun-power, actually,” Josmere replied, looking at the vastness of space before them. “Low battery, and too far from a star. That drunk must have been on his way to refill her when he decided to fill himself instead.”

Layela groaned.

“We’ve got enough oxygen, thankfully, but we’re going to lose the rest of our power at any…” On cue, the lights cut off, and the soft hum of computers ceased. All that sounded was the emergency beacon, activated automatically.

“At least the Destiny should be too far to hear that,” Josmere said.

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Layela groaned again. Josmere sat back and waited, grateful there was at least oxygen for her friend.

“Look on the bright side,” Josmere said. “I’ll breathe in your rejected air, and you breathe in mine. We’ll never run out, and…” she leaned over the back and opened a floor compartment, “we have enough supplies to last us a while. Including alcohol, what a surprise! Just you and me, Layl, hanging together in space for days, maybe even weeks!”

This time Layela’s groan lasted longer.

Josmere sat back, wishing Lang had cared enough about the low fuel to keep that information to the front of his mind. The stars sparkled around them, and they floated in space, grateful that the gravity device and the heat seemed to run independently of the main power source.

Small blessings.

She sighed, imagining the sound echoing in the vastness of space.

All they could do now was wait, and pray the Three Fates still favoured them.

/

“Five.” Layela yawned expensively.

“Five?” Josmere asked incredulously. “Did you just say you can see five stars in the port side window?”

Layela grinned and nodded, drinking a little bit of their precious water.

“Just five?” Josmere asked again as she accepted some water.

“Well, that’s as far as I wanted to count, anyways,” Layela said, stretching her legs as much as she could in the cramped quarters. “How many did you count?”

Josmere looked annoyed. “I was up to fifty-four when someone interrupted my concentration with her ridiculous answer!”

Layela cocked her head sideways. “Fifty-four in the time it took me to count five? Pretty good!”

“That’s because your head is as empty as the space outside the shuttle!”

“You have no sense of humour when it comes to your little compulsions, you know that? Why don’t you just go back to your counting?” Layela said, looking out the main window.

“Because I lost my place, and the shuttle isn’t exactly stationary.”

Josmere sighed. “All right, it was a stupid game, but I’m bored.”

Layela smiled mischievously. “I have a fun game we can play!”

Josmere’s eyes lit up with interest. “What?”

Layela deadpanned. “It’s called Vision Viewings.”

Destiny’s Blood | 108 Josmere cringed. “I should have never told you about that.”

Layela’s breath escaped in a hiss. “Josmere, Yoma isn’t here. We’re being hunted by the government and unfavourable individuals, and someone hired pirates to kidnap us…well, me.” Layela knew her words were harsh and undeserved — well, not fully deserved, anyways — but the frustration of the last few days had caught up with her, and she couldn’t stop herself.

“I realize this doesn’t really involve you, but if you don’t intend to help, it might be better if you just go. I don’t need you.”

Josmere drew back, shocked by Layela’s outburst. She then gave her a tentative smile. “We’re in the middle of space, Layl. Where do you want me to go?”

Layela turned to face Josmere, and as she did so, the Berganda grabbed both of her hands in her own.

“Layela,” Josmere pleaded. “Yoma was afraid, and she wished she hadn’t seen what she saw. I don’t know much else, but I do know that she felt she could handle it, and just wanted you to be safe.” She shook her head but kept holding Layela’s hands. “You know how protective Yoma is of you. I’m certain that she didn’t believe the vision involved you, or she would never have left you unguarded. Layela, she made me promise not to show you, because you would lose whatever peace you had left.”

Josmere looked down, gathering her thoughts before looking back up.

“The first day Yoma had that vision, one week before she vanished, she contacted me. I’ve never heard her sound so shaken. She wouldn’t tell me what happened, but she made me promise to meet her. I don’t know why she left the day we were supposed to meet.”

Layela removed her hands from Josmere’s, leaning back against the seat. “I know why, Josmere. For the same reason you mentioned earlier.”

Layela looked at the thousands of shimmering stars before them. Some of them were suns that held life. One of them was providing light for Yoma, wherever she was.

“She sent you to meet me that day because she thought I could use the backup, and you’re the only person she trusts.” Josmere knew Yoma better than anyone else, and she hadn’t even suspected it. But Yoma had been right. Josmere had helped and wouldn’t stop helping.

Nor would she break her promise to her best friend, to keep a horrible vision from the forefront of Layela’s mind.

“She’s so stubborn. What if she’s the one that needs our help, and she just didn’t want us involved?” Layela turned to look at Josmere, who didn’t look back. “What if the vision would let us help her, Josmere?

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Damn it all, what if she dies and we could have helped her?”

Josmere turned and opened her mouth, but before any sound could escape, their comm unit crackled to life.

“Unidentified shuttle, this is Civilian Freighter Miranda. Do you need assistance?”

Josmere smiled and replied without a pause, “Yes, Miranda. We are out of power. Please assist.”

The Berganda laughed, ignoring Layela’s disbelieving look. “It looks like the Three Fates are still on our side!”

Layela stared as the huge freighter pulled near them, passengers eagerly looking out their viewing ports. Josmere waved at them, even though they probably couldn’t see her.

What amazed Josmere was the timing the Three Fates had chosen for this rescue, just when Layela had started to weaken Josmere’s resolve.

Luck indeed.

/

“What cute little uniforms,” Josmere mumbled as they looked out at the waiting crew. Layela gave her a stern look and opened the shuttle door, the fresh warm air stroking their skin in welcome. Layela smiled as she stepped out. Two women and one man, all wearing the same blue uniform, all seeming genuinely pleased they had saved someone, returned her smile.

Josmere stepped out and the crew’s smiles wavered a bit. One woman, with short blonde hair and broad shoulders, scowled and stepped in front of the other two.

“Welcome aboard the Miranda,” the blonde woman said, looking straight at Layela. Without missing a beat, she added, “You are welcome to stay. The ether fiend must go.”

Josmere didn’t move or say a word. Layela immediately stepped in front of her, holding her hands out in plea.

“Please, we’ll stay down here and won’t cause any trouble.” The woman arched an eyebrow and straightened her spine, and suddenly Layela thought it best that they leave. Something in the way the woman stood left Layela suspecting she was much more than a simple stewardess. And the steel in her eyes told her that she had witnessed enough hardship to feel the need for vengeance. A vengeance against ether creatures. “If you just give us a boost, we’ll get off your ship.”

The woman examined Layela for a second, as though debating her sanity.

Destiny’s Blood | 110 “I have seen what ether races can do, and what they did to some colonies.”

Layela wondered just how closely the woman had witnessed the outbreaks thirty years ago, when Solari and the ether races had clashed on the furthest planets of the old Solarian border. It was during that time that gassing rooms and regulation gloves had become common for all ether beings who had chosen to remain on their home planets in or near Solarian space.

Josmere stepped beside Layela and looked at the woman, who did not shy away. Layela hoped she didn’t have a gun. Either one of them.

“The Berganda never participated in any of those attacks,” Josmere whispered. “We, too, were made to pay the price.” She lifted her hand slowly, the worn leather glove secured.

The woman looked at the gloves with disgust, as though she felt all the ether races should have simply been gassed. Layela suddenly regretted not staying onboard Destiny. At least there, no one wanted them dead.

“I don’t think they’ll be any trouble to us, Travis,” another voice rang clear as a man joined them. He was older, probably in his fifties, one eye closed by a vicious scar that claimed half of his face. He wore no eye patch to hide the damage. “We could just welcome them on board, or let them go.”

He joined them and examined Layela closely. She forced herself to meet his gaze, though the yellow-flecked brown of his one good eye sent shivers down her spine.

“Or we can just simply turn them in for a handsome reward. Isn’t that right, Ms. Delamores?”

Layela became numb and her mouth went dry. Dunkat Groosh must have put out a reward on her head. Josmere tensed beside her, but Layela doubted she would be enough to take down the whole crew, even if her powers worked.

She forced a thin smile and tried to buy some time as her mind raced to find an escape. “For a commuter ship, you’re not very friendly.”

The man gave a short, harsh laugh, his scar wrinkling, sections of it so thin that Layela could swear his skull was showing through.

“We’re marauders, girl, and the only reason you’re not already in shackles and ready to be shipped to Solaria is because we have even less love of Solaria than we do of ether fiends.” Layela didn’t know much of the marauders, only that they had been the front line thirty years ago in the ether wars — which would explain the woman’s instinctive dislike of Josmere. Since the wars, few spoke of them, and even fewer wondered why.

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But they disliked Solaria, and she could try to use that to her advantage.

“We just need to reach safe port, and you’ll never see us again,” she said, still holding up her hand in supplication. “I just want to get away from Solaria, that’s all.”

The man looked her up and down and managed to hold both her eyes prisoner with his one. Beside him, the woman named Travis did not lower her gaze or her contempt. “What did you do, anyway, girl?”

She shrugged and gave a weak smile. “I owned a flower shop and paid my taxes.”

The man stared a moment longer and then, to Layela’s relief, he began laughing. “That sounds downright criminal!” He sobered for a moment and looked at Travis. “It sounds about right, though.”

Layela took a small step forward, and didn’t have to fake the despair in her voice. “Then will you please help us?”

Travis locked eyes with Josmere for the first time, as though seeking some admission of guilt in the green eyes. “I swear,” Josmere said, meeting the woman’s gaze. “The Berganda were never involved in the ether wars.

And,” she added in a whisper, “I’m sure you’ve heard that our powers are dwindling. I’m hardly a threat to you.”

Travis broke a little smile. “I had heard that rumour, and I call it justice.” Josmere’s hands became fists, but she made no move forward.

The man put his hand on Travis’ shoulder, as though holding her back.

“You’re welcome to stay, but down here, in the shuttle bay. We’re heading to Crast and Thalos IV.” Josmere’s eyes grew wide for just a second and she looked at Layela.

“We’ll get off at Crast,” the Berganda said. “It’s closer anyhow, and less of an imposition on you.” Layela had barely the time to register the implications.

Crast was a quiet planet, mostly pigpens, slaughterhouses and air freshener factories. Or Thalos IV. She felt a shiver spread from her spine to her toes and the roots of her hair. Layela had left there vowing never to return.

And yet...Crast didn’t seem right. Thalos IV. Thalos IV. A gentle pull toyed with her heartstrings. Thalos IV. She put her hand on Josmere’s arm. “I think I’d like to see Thalos IV.” Josmere’s eyes grew wide. “It seems a more...lively planet.” Josmere held her eyes a second longer, as though searching for a flicker of Layela herself.

“We may meet some old friends, too.” She turned towards the crew again.

Layela nodded. Old friends, as in the Dark Knights, the best information network for illegal activities on Thalos IV. If they could find them. It had been a few years, and such systems had a tendency to vanish overnight.

Destiny’s Blood | 112 “Crast might be safer,” the man said slowly. “Thalos IV is at the edge of Solarian territory. Crast is less...political, and out of your hunter’s reach.”

Layela gave a thin smile. It wasn’t just the colonel she had to worry about, but she wasn’t about to tell him that and get kicked off the ship.

“Which channels are advertising my wanted status?” she asked.

“Military.” He shrugged. “Old habits die hard, so we still scan those channels. Someone important is pushing to have it released to the public, but there is opposition to putting a price on your head. Lack of funding.”

He gave a wry smile.

She nodded. “Thalos IV might be safe, then. Thank you for the information,” she hesitated, and then added, “and for your kindness.”

“Just never mention our encounter, and I’ll make sure never to mention you,” the man said and turned on his heels, Travis not far behind after casting a warning look at Josmere. Within seconds Josmere and Layela were alone in the cold shuttle bay.

Thalos IV. Layela wished she knew exactly why it felt so necessary to head to that planet, yet she knew any other decision would be foolish.

And she knew she would be fine, because the root of her nightmares, the Kilita with his glowing orange eyes, wasn’t currently there.

He was behind them somewhere, perhaps hunting them still.

/

Layela was sitting in the shuttle, her eyes closed, trying to recall any thread of her visions. And trying to understand her need to return to Thalos IV. She was cold — the ship barely heated its shuttle bay — and bored out of her mind. In almost five hours, she’d had no success.

Josmere had been exploring the large shuttle bay for the past few hours, and Layela suspected the Berganda was avoiding her so that Layela couldn’t press her to show her the vision.

She jumped as a voice boomed over the intercom. “Prepare for arrival at Thalos IV Veruvian docks.”

The Veruvian docks, located in the city of Veruvia, could not have been a better place to land. Josmere’s family lived there. Layela hoped they could stay at her family’s home, although she had never seen it herself. Josmere had only mentioned it in passing, and she suspected the Berganda had run away. She hoped they would be welcomed nonetheless.

The city was also exactly half a planet away from the Solarian embassy.

Layela stretched and stood up, walking towards the small viewing port by the bay’s control stations.

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The ship slowed out of light speed, the stars no longer stretched around them. The Thalonian system leapt into view, and nostalgia clutched Layela’s heart.

Two stars held the system together. A huge white Super Giant was orbited by a much smaller yellow sun, the two sometimes so close that their solar flares slammed into each other, and for a few moments the stars seemed linked, like one. The first five planets of the solar system were too close to the suns to bear life on their hot and radiation-filled landscapes.

Thalos I was the farthest from the suns, a simple mining community with little atmosphere and protection from the thinner radiation. It was used by the royalty as a prison planet. Its orbit was far past the two suns now, not even a flicker in their sky.

Thalos II was so small that people had argued whether it was a planet or a planetoid, until the royalty of Thalos III declared it to be a planet, simply because they wanted to retain the “Three” in their own name — a sign that the Three Fates were with them.

Thalos III was filled with royalty — brimming, actually, with more intrigue, adultery and regicide than any other known planet. It was the last of the governments to have signed a treaty with Solari, but it was a fragile peace, held together only by plea bargains and pay-offs.

Thalos IV loomed before them. The cruiser entered its thick atmosphere, fires flying off the shields. This planet did not have the best reputation, but it had been home once. Though its petty crimes were no match for the sins of the Thalonian royalty, it had a much worse reputation.

Fewer riches, I guess. Layela was surprised to smile at the thought of returning to the one planet she and her sister had spent the most time on. And, for once, she didn’t have to worry about what might be waiting for her.

Although she continued to worry about what was pursuing her, she doubted anyone would find her here, at the fringes of Solarian space.

Not for a time, anyway. Maybe she would have enough time to convince Josmere to unlock her vision, so that she could plan her next move.

Still smells the

Chapter 15

same,” Josmere mumbled as they broke free from the merchants littered around the Veruvian docks. Once landed, the shuttle bay had merely opened with no ceremony, leaving Josmere and Layela with little choice but to exit. Layela supposed it was better to get rid of the shuttle, anyway. The more trails they left to follow, the longer it would take for anyone to find them.

“Meat for sale! Good price!” a man shouted right beside Layela. She attributed most of the smell to his rather green slabs of meat.

The houses boasted two stories at most. The city had grown around the docks, which had been situated at the furthest point from the royal mansion, two hundred years ago. Then the royalty had taken over Thalos III and its new chemically generated atmosphere, and had moved there, abandoning their old royal mansion to the Solarian ambassador. The ambassador had died soon after, prey to a booby-trap. The trap was suspected to have been left there by the brother of the king, who had himself succumbed to a bad batch of wine the previous day.

Relations with Solari had been tense ever since.

“At least it’s not far, right?” Layela said as she sidestepped some running children. Josmere still blocked her nose and kept her head high. A few locals stared openly at her.

Layela guessed it had been a while since they had seen a Berganda in these parts, though many lived here just a few years ago — despite the

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ramifications of the ether wars — and for centuries before that.

“I never thought I’d come back,” Josmere whispered as she stopped in front of two large gates, ivy clinging to each metal bar.

“Is this it?” Layela asked, looking at the imposing gates. She had never thought that Josmere came from a well-to-do family, but to own so much land in Veruvia, one had to have riches.

Josmere didn’t reply, putting her hand on the gate and closing her eyes for a moment. The old metal shuddered, and the vines shifted, pulling the gates open for them. Layela held her breath. She knew a lot about plants, but never knew these vines to be mobile.

“The longer a plant stays with Berganda,” Josmere offered as way of explanation, “the more sentient it becomes.”

Layela stared at Josmere, and the Berganda gave her a crooked smile before walking through the gates. Seeing Josmere walk away from her, with no one watching her back, Layela felt her knees buckle and her pulse race.

She swallowed hard and quickly followed, her breath short and ragged.

Sweat broke across her forehead and down her back, despite the temperate day. Perhaps coming to Thalos IV hadn’t been such a great idea.

No sooner had she crossed the threshold then the vines slackened and the doors closed behind them.

Layela stumbled as she caught up with Josmere, intent on ridding her mind of the memories threatening to rampage. “How long do plants have to stay in contact with Berganda before gaining those abilities?” she asked between breaths.

“Too long for you to see it happen in your lifetime,” Josmere answered.

“Oh.” Josmere smiled. They walked up a small hill, grass and wildflowers spread generously, no path breaking the colours. Layela felt guilty stepping on the generous plants.

“I’ve never seen any of these plants on this world before, and I don’t even recognize most of them,” Layela said, crouching to look more closely at some yellow flowers lined with burgundy. She wished Josmere felt more talkative, but was glad that at least the flowers gave her something on which to concentrate.

“You haven’t seen anything yet,” Josmere said. Layela stood, following Josmere’s pointing arm. The hill was flat, and only grass covered it. There was no structure there, or at least none that Layela recognized.

“Josmere, what…” she began to ask, but the Berganda motioned for her to join her. Layela did, standing beside her, still seeing nothing. The

Destiny’s Blood | 116 flowers ended just a step before them.

“Don’t tell me you’ve flipped,” Layela asked softly.

Josmere laughed and took Layela’s hand, pulling her forward as she stepped onto the plain grass. Layela felt something tingle on her skin and her mind reeled.

A second ago, it had been nothing but an empty field, but before her now was a forest a few acres wide. Flowers littered the fields leading to it and even the floor of the forest itself, as though the trees had chosen to let the sunlight through for the deep purple and red blooms. She strained her eyes and, as far as she could see, there was life: flowers, birds, even the leaves danced on a gentle breeze. A brook pooled into a small lake right before the forest, a variety of vivid orange, sunny yellow and unbelievably blue flowers lining its shores.

Layela took a deep breath infused with wild and soft perfumes. She turned to Josmere. The woman looked upon this beauty sadly; even her hair seemed more disturbed than pleased by the gentle breeze, jumping and bouncing instead of swaying.

“Why would you ever leave a place like this?” Layela whispered.

Josmere furrowed her brow, as though she might be trying to remember the reason, herself.

“Come,” she finally said, pulling off her boots. Her long legs glided through the uncut grass. “It’s time I show you my home.” The darkness in her face rivalled the beauty of the surrounding blooms.

/

The home of the Berganda rested in the forest, the wooden structure matching the surrounding trees. Layela couldn’t help but wonder if the trees had formed it themselves. She wanted to ask Josmere a thousand questions, but her friend’s sombre mood stilled her anxious tongue.

There was no door to the house, only an oval entryway, which Josmere crossed without announcing herself. Layela felt uncomfortable simply barging into Josmere’s family home and hesitated before entering.

“It’s all right, Layela,” Josmere said, noticing her friend’s hesitation. Layela crossed the threshold and found the inside of the house simple, but elegant.

Grass formed the carpet, but no flowers bloomed, nor did any insects skip about. Other walls and corridors led to other rooms, and Layela realized the house might be much bigger than she had originally thought.

This room had no roof, only the leaves of the trees reaching above them, but other rooms seemed to have ceilings, as well as floors.

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“Are you hungry?” Josmere asked, as though obliged to.

Layela shook her head slowly. Something else had struck her about this house: the silence. “Josmere, where is your family?”

The Berganda looked away for a moment, toward the back rooms, as though expecting some of them to walk out at any moment — or, perhaps, remembering laughter that no longer resonated down these halls.

“It’s been a long time, Layela,” Josmere said slowly. “But when I left, only two of my aunts lived, both very old. Their names were Milkata and Klomar. I have felt them pass, since.”

“I’m so sorry, Josmere,” Layela whispered.

Josmere shrugged. “It happens, sooner to Bergandas than to humans,” she said, taking Layela by surprise. She had always believed Bergandas lived longer than humans. But now did not seem like a good time to ask more, as Josmere seemed faced with a part of her mortality she had hoped to leave behind. Layela understood all too well. She had left more of her mortality on Thalos IV than anywhere else, and firmly believed she would never lose more of it, not even at the place of her death.

“I’m exhausted,” Josmere said, offering a small, apologetic smile to Layela, as though the Berganda realized she had so many answers Layela sought, but could not give her any. “I’ll show you to your room.”

Two corridors later, Layela decided the mansion was definitely bigger than she had originally anticipated, and built more like a maze than a dwelling. Layela was beginning to understand why Berganda were gifted with an easy sense of place, and a “ten-second” gift.

Five more turns, and after Layela knew she had no hope of ever finding her way out again, Josmere showed her a small, comfortable room, complete with a bed and small desk. The bedding was already on the bed, looking as fresh as if just laid out. She looked inquiringly at Josmere.

Her friend gave her another wry smile. “It’s best you think of this place like the Berganda. It doesn’t change, doesn’t grow old.” In a whisper, she added, “All but the important parts.”

She was gone before Layela could ask another question. She dared not try to follow, for fear of spending all night wandering lost in the house.

The sun was setting, and the forest cast large, eerie shadows around the mansion. Layela could see them clearly through the large, glassless window in her room.

With little to do, Layela laid down on the soft bed. The smell of lilac surrounded her as her mind wandered from blooms to Berganda, ships to pirates, sisters to assassins.

Destiny’s Blood | 118 She wondered how powerful the Berganda must have once been, to create this perfectly controlled natural space. The perfect home for plant people.

She sighed, feeling the first webs of sleep creeping upon her. Her last waking thought was the wish that she remember her vision upon waking, or that it not visit her at all.

/

Layela woke up with a start, sweat drenching her body even though the air felt cool. Her hands were shaking, and her tongue felt thick and dry. Had she cried out in her sleep? Had Yoma left because she knew Layela had seen the same vision, but wouldn’t remember it with her waking mind?

“Enough!” Layela uttered, slipping on her boots and walking out of the room as the last threads of darkness slipped from her mind. They were as silken as any intricate spider web, and just as transparent.

She turned in the direction Josmere had taken, hoping her instincts would guide her. She took a few twists and turns, not entering any of the few side rooms, simply following the path the corridors seemed to place at her feet. Thankfully she didn’t have to rely on instincts: the corridor took many turns, but never split off.

Another turn led her into a hallway fully made of stone. Vines crept along the stone, snuggling comfortably where the sunlight would stream through the nonexistent roof. Before her was not another door, nor another corridor, but open space. It looked like a wide courtyard, wild with plants. Layela entered it cautiously.

Noticing that she was beginning to crouch defensively, Layela straightened and continued walking slowly. She was a guest here, and did not intend to sneak around rudely.

This is Josmere’s home, she reminded herself firmly as the urge to blend in with her surroundings struck again.

Trees towered over the courtyard, their leafless branches like spider legs thrusting in all directions, casting sparse yet eerie night shadows around her, though she could see neither of Thalos IV’s two moons in the sky above. The ground was covered with plants, all wild and overgrown; most of them, Layela guessed, weeds. The green of the weeds and the brown remnants of ancient plants acted as silent unmoving sentinels around the few unkempt stony trails. There were no flowers in bloom.

Layela strained her ears and listened, the stillness around her making her nervous. No animal or insect noise reached her. The air lay heavily

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around her, and she wished she could breathe in some fresh air and feel light again, instead of the heaviness in her chest.

I should turn back, Layela thought, but her feet continued moving, curiosity urging her on. Surely there must be something worth seeing, a hidden treasure of some sort, in this wasteland.

She wondered why the courtyard was in such disrepair. The plants themselves seemed to have given up their will to live.

Layela was about to turn around and try to find Josmere elsewhere when a sound caught her ears. It was so faint that, anywhere else, she was certain she wouldn’t have heard it; here, where no other noise seemed to circulate, it resonated.

Slowly, she walked toward it. She wished she had a weapon with her.

Even a knife would be better than bare hands.

She rounded a corner and up the trail could see a bench underneath one of the trees. On the bench sat Josmere, singing faintly as she dug her feet into the earth in front of her. Layela slowly walked toward her, feeling like an intruder.

“Rise gentle flower,” Josmere sang so softly, the melody broken by small hiccups, or maybe sobs. “Rise with the rain…”

She recognized the melody as one of her favourites, one that she always sang to the plants Yoma stole for her. When Yoma and Josmere stole for their food, Layela had sat, sang and waited to escape. She’d always joked to Josmere that the song would help the plants grow. The truth was that she was never able to stand the silence, and so had always felt the need to fill it with sound. Her own voice, untrained as it might be, was better than nothing.

The words were barely audible as Layela approached Josmere. Each note lingered for just a second longer than necessary, adding a mournful air Layela never knew the song could possess.

With her long green hair freed from restraint and her legs muddied, Josmere accented the dishevelled courtyard. Layela felt out of place, but she continued to approach.

Josmere did not look up once from her burrowing feet.

Layela sat down beside her, not touching her or saying anything. Now that she was closer, she could she Josmere’s feet were cracked and bleeding green into the earth. Josmere kept singing, holding the last mournful note prisoner before letting it vanish in the silence around them.

Layela looked at Josmere sideways, wishing she could see her face through her veil of hair.

Destiny’s Blood | 120 The Berganda stopped moving her feet, the blood forming a puddle before being absorbed into the earth. Slowly she pulled her feet up and leaned back against the tree, her knees to her chin as she hugged her legs to her chest. She seemed heedless of the blood and earth slowly hardening on her feet.

Josmere sat without speaking and Layela felt at a loss for words. She had no idea what was happening, but could feel the weight of it throughout the entire courtyard. The air seemed heavier than it had earlier.

They both sat in silence, Layela poised on the seat, Josmere leaning back, her eyes lost somewhere far away.

Sunlight was breaking into the courtyard before Layela moved again, her own question about her visions made insignificant by her friend’s blood. Gently she reached up and pushed one of the many stray pieces of hair out of Josmere’s face. The green eyes flickered for a moment with something different.

She swore she could see a faint smile on her friend’s lips.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Josmere said, the noise making Layela jump.

She had almost forgotten what sound felt like.

“Me too,” Layela said, not really sure she meant it, understanding nothing except that her friend was in pain, and she could do nothing to relieve it. Josmere’s eyes lost their smile, and she closed them, her breathing stretching and becoming regular.

Layela stood and gently touched Josmere’s cheek. She slept as soundly as the gardens around her.

Layela wished she could clutch her friend’s burden, mix it with her own darkness, and throw it up towards the spidery branches of the tree.

But she couldn’t.

Instead she turned and headed for the corridor of the mansion, intent on finding some of the other answers they needed while Josmere recuperated. She looked back only once to see the shadow of Josmere, still against the tree.

Had she not known she was there, she never would have seen her. For the first time since she had met Josmere, Layela wondered what it truly meant to be Berganda.

Did you ever

Chapter 16

notice, Romero, that the two legends that spread across all races are those of the Three Fates and the First Star?” Seela murmured.

Romero offered her his hand to help her step from the fast, militarydesigned ship, obviously not meant for a lady’s keep. She gratefully accepted, placing her slender hand in his broad one, the two gloves varying shades of the same brown.

“I had never put much thought into it, to be honest, Ms. Berganda.”

Seela smiled at him, letting her hand linger in his for a moment longer than necessary before walking ahead. It was rare she felt like a woman, and she liked it. She made sure his efforts were rewarded with frequent smiles.

“And that only the races born from the First Star hold a strong ethereal connection?” she continued, brushing aside his ignorance. He had intelligence, but lacked curiosity and was subservient.

What a shame, she thought as she looked at his broad shoulders and piercing orange eyes. He could have been so much more than another man’s go-to boy. With her help, he still could be.

Romero grunted. “The Kilita believe every race used to have ether, but only the ones who require it to survive still have it.”

Seela raised an eyebrow. “Really? Interesting. Tell me, do you really believe that Layela Delamores holds the key to unlocking the First Star?”

Romero was silent for a moment, and she knew to wait for him to

Destiny’s Blood | 122 gather his thoughts. Romero Aquilone rarely said anything that had not first been weighed carefully. It was a trait that had annoyed her at first, but in the last few days, with him as her sole companion, she had found her own spirits calming and the wait worthwhile.

“When I first met her, a thief of valuable blooms,” Aquilone began slowly, “she had powers. I don’t know what kind, but activating them proved...interesting.”

Seela could only imagine a Kilita’s touch activating all ethereal connections. She idly wondered what it would feel like for his strong, ungloved hand to caress her body.

“But when we met her on Collar,” he resumed just as carefully, “I touched her, but felt nothing.”

He paused, and the Berganda understood better than anyone else what he was pondering. Had the lack of reaction been caused by her loss of powers, or by his own fading power?

“Is that why you kill?” He surprised her with the question. “To preserve your powers?”

Seela bit back a harsh reply. Anyone else asking would have felt the wrath of her mind-drain, but Romero was simply a friend making conversation. She was not used to that; she had met no one she might consider a friend since leaving her Berganda home five years ago.

“It is, in a way,” she began, knowing that the answer would not satisfy the analytical Kilita. “But, in another way, it is to leave a mark. The only mark I have left to make.”

Romero seemed to ponder this and, true to what she always imagined a friend would do, he let the matter rest. The two walked side by side, avoiding merchants.

He turned to her and displayed a slight smile, a rare sight on the Kilita’s lips. She realized he was trying to remove the sombre mood he thought he had created, and she encouraged him to speak with a smile of her own.

“It’s true what they say, though. Thalos IV does stink.”

She laughed and hooked her arm into his. She wondered if Dunkat Groosh had spoken truth when he had claimed that Layela Delamores was the key to unlocking the First Star — that she was their dwindling races’ salvation.

/

Veruvia was famous not only for its intergalactic dock, but also for its twice-boiled stuffed vulture beaks, a local delicacy that smelled of rotten

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milk and tasted about the same, only crunchier. It was also reputed for its strong network of information, known as the Dark Knights.

Layela knew that Yoma had made the trip to Veruvia twice, both times to use the Dark Knights’ network to her advantage. The first time, it had been to find her sister, gone missing for three days after disappearing on a sunny day while selling the flowers Yoma had stolen. The second had been to find valid identification and a secure way to get them safely off the planet, to start an honest life elsewhere.

Although Yoma said little of the Dark Knights over the six months while Layela had been in her semi-comatose state, Layela remembered bits of conversation. Enough that she thought she could locate one of their information locales.

She walked for one hour to the east of the hidden mansion where Josmere dozed, away from the filthy, noisy docks and into a quieter section of Veruvia. Her feet were sore by the time she reached the comely neighbourhood filled with little shops, most of them still closed at this early hour. She didn’t mind exploring to find her target, her legs still cramped from days inside small rooms and small shuttles. Besides, she truly doubted the Dark Knights held regular hours of operation.

I hope their fees are sensible, Layela thought as she gazed through the window of a small bookstore, where old bound books were sold. She spotted a volume on gardening techniques, and made a note to come back when the shop was open if she had any money left. She smiled a bit as she thought of what her sister would suggest: just steal it. Of course, Yoma never stole from small merchants for herself, but she would have done it for her sister.

Layela sighed. Stealing had not been her way for years, and she hoped it had been weaned out of her blood.

Besides, Josmere had silently handed her some money as they had exited the ship, shrugging at Layela’s stern look. She didn’t know who the Berganda had managed to pickpocket, but doubted Josmere would lose sleep over it.

She sighed. She hated to admit it, but they needed that money.

Sometimes she didn’t know whether to hug Josmere or throttle her.

Much the same way she felt about her sister.

She was alone on the streets and enjoying every sight. She passed by a perfume shop, the window littered with small vials and sequined bows, as if perfumes needed to resort to such enticement on this smelly planet.

The next shop was empty, its bare storefront lonely on this street filled with beloved shops.

Destiny’s Blood | 124 She approached the store window, inexplicably drawn to it, her own reflection staring back at her through the dull, dirty glass. It was for rent, a large yellow sign claimed, and it was a nice space, although smaller than Sunrise Flowers had been.

Sunrise Flowers. Maybe here she could start anew. Maybe Thalos IV, a world of endings, could actually be one of beginnings. Maybe that explained the deep kinship she already felt with this store, lost and abandoned in a large universe, just like she felt at times.

She looked closer at the window and realized that in it she could see the reflection of another store. She turned around, her legs moving before her mind had even read the sign, Starborn Maps.

This was the shop that called to her. Not the new beginning, she realized with some sadness. She reached for the handle and pulled, not surprised to find it unlocked. She had often felt pulls like this, before her instincts had deserted her.

The Dark Knights, and the information I need, must dwell here, she thought as she quietly crossed the shop, open but empty. She did not question where she was going, letting her feet guide her behind the main desk. Without hesitation, she pushed the back door.

Although she barely noticed the actual store, the back storage caught her attention. Maps littered shelves, the floor, old chairs…there were maps of every type, from hand drawn land maps to old three-dimensional charts of star systems.

There must be a map for everything, she thought as she looked at the stacks, maps made of paper, parchment, vinyl, some drawn on hides or chiselled in stone, and some made of materials and written in languages Layela couldn’t even begin to identify.

She heard soft voices and followed them quietly, debating between announcing her presence and scouting things out first. She approached without making a sound. Scouting, it is.

Words were softly spoken and she couldn’t make out any of them, but she thought it was a man speaking to a woman. Between two wellstacked shelves was a small opening, the door half-closed, and she could see from where she stood a man’s hand holding an unfurled map over a small table, his other hand waving emphatically.

From time to time, another hand touched the map, pointing at the large star in the midst of it, with what appeared to be only one planet circling it. Layela had never heard of such a system, and wondered why they spoke of it in such secret.

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The hand touched the map again, slender and feminine, and Layela felt drawn to it, so much so that she was pushing the door open before she had realized she was moving. The man holding the map, greying, round and wearing reading glasses, was so stunned when he looked at Layela that his eyes grew larger than his glasses. But it was not on him that Layela’s gaze lingered.

Across the table from him, looking equally surprised and still pointing at the map, she stared at herself, except the eyes looking back at her were of the purest green.

“Yoma?” she whispered, not believing what her own eyes and mind told her to be true.

“Layl?” Yoma’s eyes watered for a moment before she rushed her sister, hugging her hard. Layela bit back a cry of pain, her ribs still bruised, and hugged Yoma just as fiercely.

Yoma pulled back, holding Layela at arm’s length, taking a long look at her. She reached up with her hand. Layela didn’t flinch at the familiar warmth of her sister’s fingers as she touched the nicks Layela had suffered when Sunrise Flowers had fallen.

Instead of asking what happened or showing proper worry, which Layela fully expected, Yoma’s eyes became dark green and she demanded, “What are you doing here?”

The words were softly spoken, but they surprised Layela. Wasn’t it obvious?

“I could ask you the same thing,” Layela replied, not nearly as calmly.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Yoma said, storming past Layela. The map keeper had wisely made himself scarce.

“I know you were just trying to protect me,” Layela said, forcing her voice to remain calm as she came after Yoma. “But it didn’t work. It’s not working, Yoma.” Yoma’s stride didn’t break, and she was almost at the door before Layela shouted after her, panic rising in her. “Sunrise Flowers is gone, Yoma! They destroyed it!”

Yoma stopped but didn’t turn around, only lowering her head — just enough for Layela to see. She felt comforted that her sister cared enough to grieve a bit.

Layela’s voice sounded small and young to her own ears. “Why did they destroy it, Yoma? Why did you leave me?” She wanted to scream, to hang on to her anger, but she could only feel sorrow. She felt like a little girl again, huddled in a damp corner and frightened. She wanted her sister to turn around and tell her everything was all right, maybe that it was even just a bad dream. That her hard work had paid off, and the two

Destiny’s Blood | 126 of them could work quietly amongst the blooms and be content with a simple life filled with honest work.

Yoma did turn around, but the instant Layela met her eyes, she knew those were not the words that would escape her lips.

“Did Josmere show you?” she asked, green eyes blazing.

Layela felt her fury rising again, against Yoma and Josmere, who refused to let her be a part of what she had helped create. She had been wounded, blood and bones, but not broken. She considered lying to see what Yoma would reveal, but her sister knew her too well.

“No,” she simply replied, thunder welling in her mind.

Yoma nodded, just nodded, and walked out. No explanation, no apology, not even a goodbye.

“Get back here!” Layela shouted as she stormed out of the shop, bumping into Josmere instead. She looked just as stunned to see Yoma.

Josmere opened her mouth, staring at Yoma, but it was Layela she turned to. “They’re here.”

“How do you know?”

“I can sense other Berganda. And I know of no other who would have just arrived.”

“Who’s here?” Yoma asked, darting back and forth between the two, and Layela felt some satisfaction at seeing her sister’s confusion.

She waited a moment, enjoying knowing something Yoma did not.

A shot ripped through the quiet neighbourhood and the window beside them exploded into a thousand shards.

“Run!” Josmere screamed, and Layela grabbed her sister by the arm and dragged her along, in case she decided to part ways based on a misguided belief that it would save them. Josmere led the way, the sisters staying close, and at the first alley Yoma darted but Layela held her fast, almost stumbling as she pulled Yoma back.

“We have to separate!” Yoma screamed in short breaths. Another shot was fired, and shards of stone flew from the building onto them.

“No we don’t, Yoma. We never had to!” Yoma didn’t voice any agreement, but didn’t try to break away again, either. Layela dug her fingers deep into her sister’s flesh, just in case she should try.

That felt good, too.

“Blood and bones!” Josmere cursed from up ahead, and Layela and Yoma came short of tackling her. They had been so engrossed in their little battle that they hadn’t noticed they had headed right into a dead end. Josmere ran to the side, about to try the handle to one of the shops,

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when another shot fired close to her feet and she stopped, lifting her hands above her head.

Layela and Yoma turned. The Kilita marched toward them, holding a gun. The Berganda, rifle slung across her shoulder, sauntered up. They stopped far enough away to avoid being jumped, but close enough that they couldn’t miss a shot at a cockroach.

Yoma hissed and Josmere swore.

Layela couldn’t break away from the Kilita’s orange eyes, seeing in them what she had seen for three complete days, visions that still haunted her and slowed her heart, the wretched depths of which she still could not fully block out. Three days, millions of different individuals, worlds, races, children and adults, all flashing by too quickly for her mind to grasp, for her memory to retain, only one oily darkness clinging to all of them: their final screams and last, desperate thoughts.

In those eyes, she had been forced to live countless deaths, countless different ways, spread through time and space.

In those eyes, she had seen and felt mortality stripped to its barest, souls screaming in the last wink, screaming for an afterlife. Their fates had never been revealed to Layela, her visions ending where life ended.

In those eyes, she had had her own mortality stripped away a thousand times, so harshly, so strongly, that she still believed sometimes that every released breath was her last.

And now, those eyes stared at her again, and she knew that there was no escape.

W ell, well, what

Chapter 17

do we have here,” the Berganda mused, cocking her head sideways as she looked from Yoma to Layela.

Yoma curled her hands into fists.

“Twins? How sweet!” Her eyes shone vivid green but, unlike Josmere’s, held no warmth in them.

“We’re to bring you into custody,” the Kilita said formally, but took no step toward them. Yoma chanced a glance at her sister. Layela’s inky blue eyes were wide and stared, unblinking, at the Kilita. What was wrong with her? Layela was hot-tempered, but she rarely lost her head so completely as to become a drooling idiot.

“So it was a twin,” the Kilita said, staring at the two. “That’s why she wouldn’t turn you in.” The man sounded infuriated at his own failure.

“And I certainly tried to get the confession.”

Yoma’s eyes widened and her pulse quickened.

“I wonder if she would turn you in now,” the Kilita wondered, furrowing his brow, “were I to have her another three days.”

Yoma was gone before he finished speaking, her boiling rage exploding and ripping her last shred of control. She ran towards him screaming, ready to die for the chance to kill him, when two arms linked her from behind, and a whisper came in her ear, “I’m all right, Yoma. I’m all right, Yoma.” Layela repeated the words over and over again, clutching her sister like she would the only oxygen tank left in the vastness of space.

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“I’m all right, Yoma.” Layela’s voice gained strength with each repetition, slowly draining the anger out of her sister. “Please, believe me.”

“I know you’re strong, Layl,” Yoma whispered, and Layela released her.

Her eyes were no longer lost and wide, but set with a new purpose. They made Yoma’s heart swell and she looked away before Layela could see her unfamiliar tears.

Why did you have to follow me, Layela? All I want is for you to be safe.

“Three are too many and too dangerous,” the Berganda said to the Kilita.

“You’re the one that’s too dangerous,” Josmere hissed from behind the twins, having approached a bit closer.

The Berganda raised an eyebrow at Josmere, as though she was inferior, smirking at her before focusing on the twins again. Yoma heard her friend’s low swear, the sound like music to her ears. It felt good to have her two allies with her again, she had to admit.

“We’ve only been told to bring one,” the Berganda said, and the Kilita stiffened a bit.

“We also haven’t been ordered to dispose of anyone, Seela,” the Kilita said, his orange eyes flashing.

“But how will anyone know I slipped, Romero?” the woman mused, training her gun on Layela. Yoma jumped and pushed Layela out of the way as the bullet raced from the gun. She grunted as it hit her upper arm, blood spattering on Layela’s clothing.

She heard Layela scream and Josmere was on the move, but as Seela was about to fire again, the Kilita pushed her. A bullet flew past Seela’s face, grazing her cheek. Green blood oozed onto her perfect features.

Yoma was on her knees, facing her sister. Bullets were flying, but not from Seela’s gun.

“Are you all right?” Layela screamed, but Yoma could barely hear her.

A shuttle had appeared above them, filling the alley with the loud drone of its engines. But the shots weren’t coming from the shuttle. A man stood in the doorway of the first shop, cloaked and clad in black, firing at the assassins. The Kilita withdrew quickly, carrying the Berganda.

“Come on,” the man screamed. He didn’t look much friendlier; dark hair streaked with grey highlighted the perfect scar running from forehead to chin on the right side of his face. But he wasn’t firing at them, so Yoma was more inclined to trust him.

“It’s the Malavants!” Layela screamed, laughing, as the shuttle landed near the man in black, blocking them from the fleeing assassins. The door opened and a woman with wild red hair motioned for them to get on.

Destiny’s Blood | 130 The man in black was on the other side already, firing a few more shots at the retreating assassins.

“You know them?” Yoma screamed to be heard. Didn’t these people believe in modern sound filtering equipment?

“They’re friends, I think.” Layela shouted. “Well, they’re not enemies, anyway!” Layela looked down at her sister’s arm, where blood was trickling down. It wasn’t bad. She had felt worse.

“Let’s get you healed up,” Layela said and Yoma smiled in agreement.

Layela got up and Yoma followed for a few steps. But then she turned on her heel and ran in the other direction. The man in black had left the shop door open, and Yoma guessed that there would be a back exit through it.

She thought she heard Layela scream her name once, but the sound was ripped from her as the shuttle quickly took off, the sounds of law enforcement all that remained in the dreary air.

Yoma ran through the shop, out the other side, and kept running until the throbbing in her arm demanded attention, and the ache in her heart felt like it would never heal. She had been given one last chance to hug Layela and say goodbye. But that had been taken away from her, too.

All that she had left was the future, and the memories to keep her warm in the night.

Stay safe, Layela.

/

She had lost her again. She had been within her grasp, and she had lost her. Why hadn’t Layela insisted that her sister run ahead of her? Why, why did Yoma keep abandoning her when she needed her most?

Not true. She felt it in her heart, knew she was thinking out of anger, but the frustration was hard to quench.

“You didn’t have to hit me,” Avienne said, massaging her left shoulder.

“You didn’t have to stop me from reaching my sister,” Layela retorted with none of the fire she had felt just seconds earlier. Yoma was gone.

“You didn’t have to steal our shuttle!” Ardin interjected from the controls.

“You didn’t have to kidnap us!” Josmere spat.

“You didn’t have to spit on me,” the man in black deadpanned from beside Josmere, with what Layela hoped was a sense of humour.

“Sorry,” Josmere said, although her tone certainly didn’t convey the emotion. “Who are you, anyway?”

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“Zortan.” The man sat back, content, as if deciding his answer was good enough.

“He’s the man who hired us to bring you to Lockor,” Avienne added.

“And this is as chatty as he gets.”

“What do you want with us,” Layela asked, narrowing her eyes. The man was strong, she knew instinctively, and she doubted age had rusted his warrior instincts. He had a gun secured to his belt, and a large, old sword strapped to his back. Not exactly common space-faring weaponry.

“With her,” Zortan said, nodding towards Josmere, “nothing. But with you,” he continued, looking at Layela, “I simply wish to protect you from those who would seek to harm you.”

Shadows fell in the shuttle as Ardin expertly navigated into the Destiny’s docking bay.

“Who might they be?” Josmere asked before Layela could, her words punctuated by the thud of the shuttle touching ground.

“We’ll all know soon enough,” Zortan said, jumping lightly to his feet the second Avienne opened the shuttle door. Without another word, Zortan walked swiftly towards the bay exit. Avienne stared for a moment before following. “I guess I’ll show his highness to his room,” she mumbled as she left.

Layela and Josmere stepped off. Ardin intercepted Layela. “Don’t ever do that again,” he said, piercing her with his eyes. “I meant what I said.

I’m not here to hurt you.”

“I know,” Layela whispered, meeting his gaze, unflinching. She didn’t realize how close he stood to her until Josmere cleared her throat.

Layela blushed and stepped back.

“Your room is still available,” Ardin said, as he looked down at his flashing comm unit. He walked quickly away, calling back, “No lock, no key, but you have to give me a reason to trust you!”

The door closed and he was gone.

“Layela,” Josmere said, looking towards the bay doors. “Let’s go to our room.” The Berganda sighed and ruffled her hair uncharacteristically. “I think it’s time that we both see what this vision is all about.”

/

Colonel Dunkat Groosh fought back his annoyance. He didn’t want to have to set foot on this ugly little planet, but he had little choice but to pursue this matter personally.

Layela Delamores’ trail had grown cold on Thalos IV. Her rescuers

Destiny’s Blood | 132 had flown her to the docks, and then...nothing. He pushed his thoughts of failure away one by one, except for the final one, the destruction of Sunrise Flowers. It would come back to haunt him, he knew, and so he kept it as close as he would keep his fiercest enemy.

The ships strewn within the Veruvian docks were from all destinations and ages, not one seemed more important than the last. The inspection team followed at a respectful distance, as though afraid of eliciting his ire.

Merchants lowered their eyes out of respect and fear. The insignia of Solari, coupled with his high rank, were enough to deter even the most curious. And had they heard his name, a name passed from father to son for countless generations, a family unbroken by dishonour for centuries, he knew they would cower further. Dunkat bore his father’s name with pride. He looked forward to uttering it to Layela’s so-called rescuers.

They walked for almost an hour. Dunkat insisted on proceeding on foot to get acquainted with his surroundings. They left the outdoor docks and walked into the enclosed ones, a maze of metal housing ships for longer-term stay. Or for remaining unseen.

From behind him, the inspector cleared his throat. “We believe they were spotted entering that ship, Colonel.” Only a small fraction of the vessel he pointed to was visible, its dark panelling dull in the dim blue lights. Dunkat barely gave it a second glance; he already knew she would be unmarked, no doubt a smuggling ship.

“Contact them, Inspector,” Dunkat said, not turning to look at the man. “Tell them we request permission to board. And, if they refuse,” he added, “then lock them down and gas them.”

The man swallowed hard, and hailed them.

Dunkat waited patiently, letting each of his muscles relax in preparation for action. He had no intention of leaving without his prize, no matter the cost.

/

“This is government inspection team 542, please open your docking bay,” the comm unit hummed.

“This contract is starting to be more trouble than it’s worth,” Cailan said, leaning into his seat.

He pushed two entry numbers on his side-arm panel. “Avienne, Ardin, take care of them and show them what they need to see to get them out of our hair, without hassle.”

A second passed and Avienne’s voice came over the speaker. “I’ll head

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there now,” her voice was crisp and clear like a fresh winter morning, even with the static. “Ardin’s on his way to the bridge with a guest who insists on seeing you.”

The line went dead and Travan looked at Cailan with what the captain now knew was the engineer’s sceptical look, although anyone else would simply see a blank expression.

“This mission just keeps on getting more interesting,” the engineer offered and Cailan allowed himself a chuckle. Travan was not known for his sense of humour, but Cailan knew the old engineer had more of one than most people. He just chose not to display it.

“Captain,” Ardin said as he stepped on the bridge, but Cailan’s eyes were drawn immediately to the tall man behind him. He was dark, older, and something dangerous sparked in his eyes. Cailan would still have recognized him, had he a hundred more years and a thousand more scars on him.

The old engineer hissed, and Cailan knew he, too, had recognized the newcomer. Ardin looked from one to the other in surprise. He was too young to remember the man who stood behind him, but swift enough to realize he might be dangerous. Ardin stepped to the side.

Cailan stood slowly. Had he been a superstitious man who believed ghosts could return from the dead, he would have played out this scenario a hundred times in his head and been ready for its eventuality. But, he had not believed in ghosts.

“Captain Cailan,” the tall man said, bowing his head slightly with respect. Cailan nodded in return, choosing not to salute. It had been too long since he had been required to do so, and he found himself too rusty to lift his hand to anyone in that manner.

“My condolences for Captain Malavant,” the man continued, nodding to Ardin. The young man’s eyes widened with shock.

“He’d have been happy to see you, Captain Mistolta,” Cailan said. “He never did fully understand the little…mix up.”

Zortan nodded, offering no explanation.

The decisions Cailan had made in his youth, decisions for which he hoped time had forgiven him, kept creeping up on him in his old age. He sighed; he wanted little more than a peaceful existence. Cailan looked toward Ardin, his dead friend’s son, and felt as if the chasm that had always been widening under his feet would swallow all of Destiny.

He wondered what Layela Delamores looked like. He pictured her like her mother.

Destiny’s Blood | 134 He focused on Zortan again. “Captain Malavant believed in you to the end, even if it cost him his life.” Captain Mistolta returned his gaze.

His eyes were black coals that ignited the old fires within Cailan.

“What?” Ardin asked, looking to Cailan. The old captain wished the youth wasn’t here. Ardin wasn’t aware that his father had died in the line of duty, or even that he had had a duty. For all Ardin knew, they had always been smugglers, and the ship had always been so worn. He noticed Travan had moved closer to Zortan, a fact he was certain had not escaped the captain of the Royal Guards.

He wanted to throw Zortan in prison. The orders to do so, issued twenty years ago, remained fresh in his mind. Those orders had cost them all so much. But time had passed, and the need to know what secrets Zortan held outweighed the old orders. Cailan’s loyalty to Radin Malavant was still strong, reinforced every day by the strength of his greatest legacy: Avienne and Ardin.

Cailan knew why Zortan had chosen the Destiny for this mission and why he chose to be here now. He didn’t understand his sense of timing but, then again, Cailan was old enough to realize that many of the greatest questions of his life would go unanswered. In the meantime, he knew what needed to be done.

“To Mirial?” Cailan asked Zortan, with the informality of a question between friends. The captain looked deep into Cailan’s eyes, but Cailan did not flinch. Destiny was Cailan’s legacy and he had no intention of letting her go. Not without a fight.

He knew very little of Zortan, only that Radin and he had been like family once. That would have to do.

“Yes, but first we have to pick up someone else,” Zortan replied politely.

“Oh?” Cailan asked. At this point, he was sure, nothing else could surprise him.

“Yoma, Layela Delamores’ twin.”

Cailan was wrong; he was surprised.

Travan chuckled and Cailan wondered what was going through the old engineer’s mind. Maybe it was just joy of knowing that, after almost twenty years of exile, they were finally headed home.

Chapter 18

Josmere’s eyes shone

in the half-light, the Berganda slowly uncovering her hands as she looked intently at Layela. The flower girl saw the flutter of unspoken words in those eyes, a jumbled mixture of apology and question. But Josmere voiced nothing, and Layela did not inquire.

Determination glowed in Josmere’s deep eyes and in her every graceful movement, the same determination that always empowered the Berganda before a dangerous caper. Layela was the one to break the silence.

“What changed your mind?” her whisper fell into the whirlpools of Josmere’s eyes, their depth amplified by the lack of the characteristic shrug.

“I guess being home confirmed one thing,” her own voice was also a whisper, soothing Layela’s nervous senses. “You and Yoma are the only family I have left. And I don’t intend to lose either one of you.”

“I’m sorry I doubted you,” Layela said as she lifted her hands, breathing deeply to open up her mind.

“I’m sorry I doubted you, too,” Josmere whispered, words long awaited. As the green arms extended to reach her own, Layela stared at her fragile-looking limbs and knew with certainty: I saw your death too, Josmere. The death of all Berganda.

She took a deep breath. Josmere paused and waited, their fingers barely an inch apart. Layela took another deep breath, closing her eyes and pushing those visions of death far away, as she had done for a long time. They were the only visions she never wished to see again, and the

Destiny’s Blood | 136 only ones that, amplified by a Kilita’s powers, still revisited her in little taunting pieces. It was enough to keep her from ever forgetting the feeling of her own mortality, stripped away from her a million times in what felt like a million years. Burning, flesh ripping, limbs breaking, drowning, falling...she had died every way, a million different lives becoming her own and then being torn away.

Instead, she focused on the darkness that had haunted her dreams for over a week; the darkness that had sent Yoma running. She held it in her mind, calling forth the only thing she knew of it, the only power she knew the vision possessed. Cold sweat trickled down her back as she invoked the terror again.

She opened her eyes. Even Josmere’s impossibly green gaze wasn’t enough to push back the darkness that waited impatiently at the edge of her mind.

Waited to consume her.

Layela reached out and grabbed Josmere’s hands. The green eyes widened and reflected her horror as the darkness washed over them both.

/

Avienne watched the small government team make its way into the tall bay of the Destiny. She smiled and approached them, her hair loose around her shoulders. In her hand, she firmly grasped a bottle from Lang’s supply, which she had recently found in the bay.

Her other hand held two narrow glasses. She remembered drinking from them, back when the crew of the Destiny had still believed in gatherings.

At the head of the party was a short man with white hair, followed by a tall, lanky youth with freckles. How young did they commission in their armies? The third man was further behind, so she concentrated on her immediate targets.

“Welcome!” Avienne smiled widely. “Can I offer you some fine Solarian wine? I purchased it two years ago and I’ve been waiting for the right occasion to open it. We so infrequently get visitors here!”

The inspector hesitated for a moment, taken aback by the reception.

She was certain most smuggling ships did not look as clean and empty, and didn’t have a cute, peppy receptionist.

“We believe you have illegal passengers aboard, a human woman by the name of Layela Delamores and a Berganda known as Josmere.” Avienne let her arms and smile drop just a little bit. “Ah, no thank you, but kind of you to offer,” the inspector added, seeing her confused disappointment.

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Why are all men so quick to assume that a cute girl can’t be smart, too?

And why do I keep taking advantage of that?

Avienne let a kinder smile grace her lips. “Of course, you’re on duty.

You’ll have to forgive me, my enthusiasm gets the better of me at times.

Now, who did you say you were looking for?”

“Two escaped refugees, a human and a Berganda, as you know full well.” The third man joined them, his voice smooth but laced with poison. She turned to him and her smile vanished.

A colonel. A colonel of the Solarian army was onboard the Destiny.

“We’ll begin this way,” he said, brushing past her. The inspector and youth smiled apologetically as they followed. The colonel headed straight for the elevator, and Avienne sighed in relief.

“I’m afraid our elevators are offline,” she said to the colonel’s back.

“With few legal contracts around, we’ve had to cut back our power while we wait for our next job,” she finished sweetly.

The colonel turned, his eyes narrowing. “You don’t fool me, girl.”

Although he stood a few meters away, she could feel his warm breath on her. “Your ship is a smuggling ship with an incompetent crew, and you’re smuggling very wanted fugitives. You will cooperate or I will gas you.” He took a step closer. “And every sorry soul on board this ship.”

He stood right in front of her, tall and imposing, and her hand itched to feel the hilt of her knife. She kept her features as neutral as she could, but she doubted they hid her hatred.

“Now, where are the stairs?”

She forced a smile. “That way.” She pointed to the access panel, seeing little choice. He nodded and took the rungs easily, without hesitation or pause. He got off at the second floor.

Avienne swallowed hard and followed, just in time to see him turning down the hallway towards the girls’ room. The only lit hallway. Not hard to pick up that trail! She cursed herself for making it so easy.

The colonel methodically opened each door and flashed his light inside, analyzing every shadow before moving on. She frantically searched for ways to distract or stop him. If she attacked him, Solari would come down on them. He was too focused to be distracted, every movement calculated to maximize his search. And if she handed Layela and Josmere over, which she was considering, she had little doubt that the Destiny and all those onboard would forfeit their lives. That, and her brother would never forgive her.

Think!

Destiny’s Blood | 138 Two more doors and he would be at the girls’ room.

Two more doors and there was nothing she could do.

She took a deep breath and debated breaking the bottle of champagne on his head, or just drinking it. The first option would prove painful, the second painless. And yet, she’d still probably choose the first option.

Better to go down fighting than drinking.

She clenched her teeth and prepared to attack.

/

Layela’s mind exploded with light over and over again, without pause.

She gripped Josmere’s hands tighter and wished she could close her eyes against the light. The world spun and hurled her forward, her queasy stomach trying to break away. She crossed a thousand galaxies, round and round, colliding into stars, being absorbed by black holes, losing herself in the thick, inky darkness.

She flew for an eternity, until the circles lessened and she realized she had come to the centre of the worlds she had been shown. It was a star, old and worn, its light and energies cold and almost spent. As if seeing her, it sighed, and in its exhaled breath it unleashed a terrible darkness that ripped through the world around her. Even in the vast vacuum of space, the screams still echoed.

The star was old and broken and it now climbed the horizon before her, its light too weak to warm her skin. Layela smiled as she felt a familiar presence by her side.

Yoma, she thought. Her sister smiled back at her, her eyes not the deep greens of Josmere’s, but the light green of daylight striking the ocean.

Layela felt safe and filled with confidence.

The two walked in unison. She looked down and saw that they were on a bridge, a high sturdy bridge, and before her spread a temple, its old stones gleaming as if bleached by sunlight. The symbol above the temple caught her eyes, an intricate flower hugging a sun. Her awakened mind tugged at her.

You know this.

/

Dunkat was not fooled by the redheaded girl. Layela dwelt somewhere on this ship, or it held other secrets, and he was willing to bet he was near them. The girl’s posture was becoming tenser with each door he opened and, although he made a good show of exploring each shadow, he was really watching her.

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She still held that bottle in her hands, had a gun strapped to her waist, and he had caught sight of a few knives littered about her body. Enough to show him she was dangerous and to suggest that she intended to deal with him before he found her ship’s secrets. He fought the urge to smile.

He was growing impatient with the girl’s lack of speed.

The second she tried something, he would take her out, arrest her, clamp the ship down, and question the crew at his leisure until he found Layela. All he needed was for her to move first, so that he could justify it later to Noro. With the destruction of that flower shop still hanging over his head, he feared pushing too far. Noro still watched him closely, and an unjustified act would provoke a very unpleasant response.

He reached out toward the next door and the girl stiffened visibly beside him. She was about to strike, he knew. The door was locked.

“Open it,” he said, looking her straight in the eyes. She relaxed immediately. He wondered if she had seen in his eyes that he understood her intentions. He hoped not.

“I don’t have the combination,” she said lightly, leaning on the wall as though chatting with an old friend. Dunkat suddenly understood. The girl was getting ready to attack, releasing the tension from her muscles. Good.

He lowered his gaze and analyzed the panel, the keys outlined by a symbol of some sort, no doubt one of the ship.

He examined it more closely. It was a flower, and it was wrapping something...Dunkat felt his heart freeze. He knew this symbol. It was one that had been seared into his memory. He remembered it more clearly than his own mother’s face, even though he had last seen them at the same time.

The girl still hadn’t moved, and Dunkat’s patience was gone. He didn’t need her to act anymore. He had much more precious proof to act upon.

He stood to face the girl. Her eyes slit as she looked up at him, her face framed by red hair. “I’ve seen enough.” He smiled and walked away, past the inspection team that still lingered behind him, down the ladder and off the ship.

He waited outside for two minutes, until the girl had closed the bay doors and the inspector puffed beside him.

“Lock her down,” he said to the man. The inspector’s eyes grew wide, but he obeyed without question.

Great clamps rose seconds later, creaking with disuse. They clanged against the obsidian of the ship. He wished he could see the whole ship from where he stood. Not that it mattered now.

Destiny’s Blood | 140 He would see her, piece by piece, as they tore her apart and revealed her deepest secrets.

/

“Blood and bones, we’re locked down!” Ardin exclaimed seconds after the crash sounded across the Destiny.

“Any luck, Jaru?” Cailan asked.

“Nothing under Yoma, nothing under Delamores.” Destiny’s fortysomething network technologist chugged coffee from a large cup between answers. “No Delamores on any ship in dock — well, except here, and we’re not advertising.”

“Layela might know of another name we can search under,” Zortan offered from the side. Ardin turned to look at him, studying the strange man.

Cailan considered for a moment, then hit a sequence on the terminal by his chair. “Avienne, bring Ms. Delamores up here, if you please.”

“Oh sure, no problem.” The reply came from the ladder; Avienne must have been only a few rungs from the deck. Ardin turned back to his station and hid a smile as he heard his sister’s string of swear words descend with her again.

“Travan, can you break us out of this little snare?”

The ship’s engineer turned his head, an insulted look on his features.

“The day I can’t break a Solarian trap is the day I retire.”

“Whether or not you can break us out,” Cailan replied, looking sternly at his oldest friend, “I’d never let you retire.”

The corners of Travan’s eyes crinkled, the only sign that the engineer was laughing. Ardin felt some relief. If they were still joking, then they still felt they had some measure of control. “On to serious matters.” The engineer’s hoarse voice betrayed none of his amusement. “Jaru, can you get me access to the dock’s network, please?”

“Oh sure, just let me see...Oh, look, they upped the security here, how nice! That’s a neat trick with that bypass...Hang on Travan, access incoming…Oh, that was too easy. Oh well, there you go, Travan, you’re in! The dock’s network is your playground!”

“I’m going to set us free,” Travan said after a few moments of silence.

“But the clamps will automatically go back up after five seconds. We’ll have to get out fast.”

Ardin strapped himself into his seat. The rest of the crew on the bridge followed suit, including Zortan, who took a seat near Jaru.

Five seconds. Five seconds to fire the engines, which he had only left

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idling, and pull the heavy ship away. In space, he would need only two seconds, but on a planet, five was cutting it close. Especially considering their confined space.

“This is Colonel Dunkat Groosh,” the radio came alive and both Zortan and Cailan sat up a bit in response to the name. “You have one minute to abandon your ship and surrender yourselves to Solarian authorities.”

The line went dead. A second passed.

“I do hate to disappoint a man of such standing,” Cailan said. “Take us out of here, gentlemen.”

“I’m ready.” Ardin took a deep breath.

“Unlocking!” Travan shouted from his station. Ardin pulled back hard on the controls. The engines spouted angry flames as the ship tried to gain altitude quickly in the oxygen-riddled air.

“Four, three, two...” Ardin gritted his teeth and pulled harder. Destiny groaned and jerked upward.

“One!” The clamps closed back up, hitting the bottom of the ship but failing to hold her. Ardin kept pulling, sparks flying as Destiny’s side slid against other docked ships.

“Get us out of here, Ardin,” Cailan ordered.

“I’m on it,” Ardin replied. He found a turn big enough to bring the ship around and fired her main engines, the hull buckling with the speed.

Ardin held on with both hands. The slightest shift in the tension in his muscles could send the ship veering into an all-too-close wall. Lang emerged on the bridge and waddled to his station to strap himself in.

“We’re being followed!” Jaru called from the back.

“Lang, find us the quickest course from the docks to the tunnels.”

“For some reason,” Lang replied, “I plotted that course the second we landed here.” Ardin heard Cailan chuckle, seconds before a small ship turned in front of them.

“Hang on!” Ardin pulled the Destiny up into another shaft to avoid the ship. Lang brought up the chart of the docks.

“This shaft has no exit!” Lang called. “All exits are currently closed by the Solarian forces!”

“Travan?” Cailan asked, his voice tense. The end of the corridor was looming before them, the thunder of the Destiny clapping around them as it resonated off the dead-end. Metal rose before them while ships gathered behind.

“Like I said,” the old engineer said as the end of the tunnel began opening. Twilight poured in to greet them, “the day I can’t get out of one

Destiny’s Blood | 142 of their traps, is the day I retire.”

“Gun it east out of the docks, then 142 north and all the way to the tunnels,” Lang told Ardin, who nodded and breathed in relief, his hands numb from clutching the rudder.

“And...doors closing before they can follow,” Travan ended, obviously pleased with himself.

Ardin set the course and guided the Destiny off Thalos IV. In a few minutes, they would be in the tunnels, safe from Solarian grasp.

/

“From where do I know you?” Layela whispered. She couldn’t hear her own voice. She and Yoma grabbed hands as they stepped together into the darkness of the temple. None of her other senses picked up anything: no light, no sound, no smell. There was only the feel of Yoma’s hand in her own, the heat pulsing steady and strong.

Warm liquid trickled onto their hands and the smell struck a second later. Blood! Blood was dripping onto both their hands, but they needed to keep going. She knew that above all else. But...whose blood!?

“Yoma!” She gasped, pulled roughly out of the vision. Josmere’s eyes flickered in annoyance as the door opened. Layela forced her breathing to calm, and her hands to stop shaking.

They needed to go further. Her mind reeled from the webs of the vision, but she knew that they had not yet walked into its heart. Whatever truly left her terrified each time she awakened, it had not yet been revealed to them.

“What do you want?” Josmere hissed toward the opened door. The Berganda regained her senses first. Of course, she had just been an observer.

Warm blood dripping onto our hands.

“The captain needs to see Layela,” Avienne said, and Layela looked at her questioningly. “Now,” she added, leaning back against the doorframe.

Layela swallowed hard and stood, the physical movement shedding the last threads. Still, she rubbed her hand, feeling the lingering echoes of the sensations from the vision.

“I’m coming too,” Josmere said, putting her gloves back on as she stood. Layela found the Berganda’s quick movements disorienting.

“He only asked for Layela,” Avienne said.

“We’re in this together,” Josmere hissed. To Layela’s horror, the Berganda took an aggressive step forward.

Avienne raised a graceful eyebrow and flashed a quick smile. “It would be interesting, fighting with you. But not this day. Come on.” Avienne

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pushed herself off the wall and started down the corridor.

Josmere looked down at Layela and squeezed her hand as they both followed, the leather rough where earlier had been only her soft, printless skin.

And still the darkness clung to Layela, more insistent than ever, whispering of blood and shadows.

W hy are you

Chapter 19

looking for my sister?” Layela asked. Names flickered by on the screen as Jaru scanned logs of ship after ship.

“Because they’ll be coming after her, too, and you both need protection,” Zortan answered, barely meeting her eyes.

“Who will be coming? And why?” Layela couldn’t keep the exasperation from her voice. The vision and its need to be fully seen called to her, sapping her of precious energy and commanding her attention. None of this mattered.

Zortan replied casually. “Solarian government, apparently. Some assassins. And probably others.”

“Nothing new and interesting? Why all the fuss, then?” Josmere quipped.

She kept close to Layela.

“You know the legend of the First Star?” Zortan said, ignoring her tone. Layela saw Cailan tense in his chair. Josmere nodded.

“The First Star’s name is Mirial,” Zortan continued, “and it is from there that the Destiny originates.”

Josmere’s eyes flashed with victory. “And Layela and Yoma.”

“What do you mean?” Layela’s mind struggled to catch up. Granted, she had never known her parents or where she and her sister were from, but if they were from somewhere as mystical as the First Star — as Mirial — wouldn’t they somehow know it? It struck her like a blow and left her feeling dizzy. The ether. She had never met any other human with a connection to ether.

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“There’s more,” Zortan continued, staring at Layela. His black eyes held hers prisoner. “Mirial is dying, and only you and your sister can save her.”

She saw in Zortan’s eyes the same fate she had seen countless times, and the same darkness lashing out. If he expected surprise, he did not get it.

“Darkness,” Layela whispered. Her words echoed through the silent bridge. “The darkness will spread and many will die.”

“All will die, Layela,” the man said gently. “And too few understand that. But we need your sister, too.”

Layela nodded, looking away for a moment to gather her thoughts.

Then she saw it. Above the large viewing window at the front of the bridge was a tiny symbol, etched in the metal but clear enough for Layela to recognize. It was the same symbol that had graced the front of the temple, past the darkness that would engulf this world. The darkness that she and Yoma had to walk together, to end.

Together, Yoma. You can’t do everything alone. Even if you had to for a while.

Jaru mumbled as he searched for Yoma through ship rosters, expanding his search to include all of Solari. He chugged another swig from his cup and returned his attention to the data, analyzing it at an alarming rate.

“No Delamores on that ship, or that planet, and…Did you know there are actually no other Delamores currently alive in Solari space?”

“Feathers,” Layela said to Jaru, invoking her sister’s childhood name.

Yoma had always dreamed of growing wings and being able to fly away at any time, while Layela favoured flowers and the roots they could give her.

How could she have really believed Yoma could be content in one place for the rest of her life? “Try a search under the last name of Feathers.”

The network expert typed it in, exclaiming a moment later as a single hit came up. “I have her! She’s on a transport freighter, passenger class, the Meltor, heading out of Solarian space, towards Lockor! Captain, the ship left port only ten minutes ago!” Jaru exclaimed. “If we pursue now, we might be able catch them before they enter the tunnel.”

“How much caffeine do you think he drinks in a day?” Josmere whispered in Layela’s ear. She stared at Jaru, whose quick work at his monitor only paused so that he could chug from his cup.

Layela smiled at Josmere. When she looked up again, Zortan was leaving the bridge.

“Friendly, that one,” Avienne grumbled as she sat at a nearby station.

Layela watched Zortan vanish behind closing doors, hesitating for a moment before deciding that pursuing him would be useless. She had what she truly needed for now.

Destiny’s Blood | 146 A way to reach her sister.

And she had also been given something unexpected, something that her childhood fantasies and teenage longings had long sought but never found.

A place to call home.

/

Gobran Kipso took a deep, long puff of his bitter unmarked cigar, reflecting on all the many wonders he had seen in his days. He had witnessed a star supernova, two planets colliding, and a tachyonic tunnel collapse that had released particles wildly into the vastness of space. But he had never expected to witness what he had seen earlier today in his map shop. Twins. Two living, breathing, young reflections of Queen Kilasha herself.

He shook his head, wishing he had not lived to see these times.

“Twins. Twice the trouble.” He threw the rest of his cigar on the ground, squashing it carefully under his foot.

“We’re ready to head off, sir,” Loran Natwar, his untested second-incommand, saluted him. She was fair like her parents and pretty in a practical manner: small nose, large eyes, pale skin, but nothing to inspire great poets. Still, she was loyal, unhesitant and full-blooded, unlike most of the half-bloods they had to bring onboard to fill the rest of the fleet.

Glory days gone, Gobran thought, nodding to Loran and walking by her side to the main ship, the Victory. What an ironic name, he still thought after almost twenty years of useless, self-imposed exile. Until today. Today, everything had changed.

“Captain on the bridge,” Loran called out as they stepped onto the Victory’s comfortable command centre. The others saluted, all full-bloods in his immediate surroundings. No point in taking a chance on the weaker.

“I have a report here, sir,” Loran said as Gobran stared at the captain’s chair, the armrests not nearly as far apart as he remembered. How he wished he had kept in some semblance of shape — aside from spherical.

He took a deep breath and sat. Blood rushed to his face as he landed directly on the armrests. He squirmed until his flab shifted and he managed to squeeze into the chair. Gobran battled a mournful groan. He wasn’t sure he could get up again.

“Go ahead, Lieutenant,” he said formally, trying to look as authoritative as possible.

“It says a ship was identified by one of the Victory’s original crew as the

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Destiny, and it is heading out of port as we speak.”

Gobran allowed himself a quick smile. The Destiny. Captain Radin Malavant’s ship, flagship of the once-great fleet of Mirial, and the bloody best combat vessel they had.

He suddenly felt better. Allies would ease his burden, especially since the duty clearly fell to Captain Malavant. He was a good and loyal man who would see to it that what needed to be done was done. Unlike the captain of the Royal Guards — may his name be cursed to the depths of uncharted space.

For Mirial to survive, for their people to be saved and their shameful exile to end, the final duty given to them by their queen had to be carried out. Zortan Mistolta had to be tried for treason.

And one of the queen’s daughters had to die.

Avienne stared at

Chapter 20

the screen, her fingers tapping her console in quick succession as her brother navigated Destiny through the various ships lodged in the arms that radiated from the outer Veruvian docks.

Disorganized and impractical little system they have. She wondered just how spectacular it would be if only one of those ships exploded. That would be a ripple effect worth using in the anti explosive energy source campaigns.

Beside her, Layela and the Berganda stood, poised and unmoving. She thought either one might break at any second.

That could also be fun to see, Avienne thought. She looked down at her panel, disgusted by the silence on the bridge, and disgusted that the two girls had been so easy to find. Knowing there are so few Berganda left, you think they’d have made an effort to disguise Josmere.

“We’ve cleared the docks,” Ardin finally announced, his formal tone betraying some of his tension. Cailan sat up in his chair and Avienne wondered for the thousandth time about Destiny’s origins and what the Delamores had to do with it.

Enough to make Cailan edgy, Avienne thought, her fingers tingling with the anticipation of seeing a planet to call home. She fought back the urge to laugh. Now would not be a good time.

“Push her, Travan. Make sure we catch them,” Cailan whispered. The engineer was busy entering a string of commands when something flared on Avienne’s console. Her eyes grew wide.

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“We’re being surrounded!” Avienne exclaimed. The ships were too numerous to count.

“That was quick,” Cailan said. Avienne magnified the approaching fleet on the view screen.

Ardin swore before his sister did, and Layela caught hold of Avienne’s console as if to support herself. Before them, highlighted on the screen, too far to fire on but close enough to block them, small attack ships littered the skies, easily over two hundred of them, a fleet bigger than any she had ever seen.

The external communications beeped. They were being hailed.

Cailan took a deep breath and leaned back in his chair. The hail was repeated, the only break in the thick silence.

They waited.

/

The communications officer was growing impatient, but Dunkat did not change his orders or tell him to stop hailing them. They wouldn’t respond, he already knew.

Dealing with Mirial years ago had taught him one thing: Mirialers were stubborn, and loyal to no one but their own. Now that Layela was firmly in their care, he knew that he had to stop them. Destiny was their flagship and most powerful ship, but she was also a desperately outdated and outgunned ship. He felt a hint of that satisfaction of closure again.

Bit by bit, the errors of the past were being remedied.

“Cease communication attempts,” Dunkat ordered, standing from his command seat and walking forward, staring at the ship before them.

There was no denying that she was beautiful, even after years of neglect.

He remembered seeing her for the first time, powerful and unstoppable, the pride of a very proud people. He remembered his father looking lovingly at the plans, questioning her designers non-stop about the significance of each aspect, about the time and care it must have taken to create such a functional and powerful piece of art.

Dunkat had even found his father by the window of their visitors’ unit one night, staring out at the ship, the skies reflected in his moist eyes. His father had been strong, a good commander, but weak for art.

Dunkat had questioned his father on why he was not pushing them for tactical information about the ship, for information about their shields, weapons, the strength of her hull…His father had looked at him with familiar anger in his eyes.

Destiny’s Blood | 150 “If you cannot see that ship as anything but a piece of machinery, I’m ashamed of you. Is war all that you know?”

I bet you never thought your own son would be the one to destroy the ship you loved so much, Dunkat thought. He had outlived his father, but he felt no pride in proving him wrong: the Destiny was no more than mere machinery, easily destroyed at the touch of a button. He did, however, regret that he still could see her as nothing more than a ship; as the enemy.

He saw his father’s angry, disappointed eyes again and swallowed hard, forcing his own eyes to remain on the beast as he gave his final order.

“Fire at will.”

/

Layela clutched to a railing, Josmere beside her, the ship’s various alarms marked on nearby consoles. One was for failing shields, another for hull damage, and one for lost weaponry. She had stopped listening to the screams of the crew a while back, despair grinding deeper in her heart with each new failure.

Travan mumbled as he left the bridge, too many parts of the ship requiring his attention. Avienne cursed freely. She fired whatever weapons were left, all the while trying to keep the shields strongest where the fleet’s shots were incoming. Ardin and Lang plotted courses and escape manoeuvres, and Cailan sat at Travan’s station to try to hold the ship together as he shouted orders.

It was chaos. And Layela knew of only one way to help.

She made her way to Cailan, screaming to him over the various noises.

“It’s me they want! Hail them and turn me over or you’ll get everyone killed!”

Cailan turned to her for just an instant, his reply barely audible as another volley struck their shields.

“You have no idea what you’re asking of me,” he yelled. Before she could argue further, another volley struck and pierced the shields, striking the Destiny near the bridge. The ship buckled and groaned, smoke pouring in as fires erupted. Emergency doors closed to seal off the damage to vital sections, including engineering.

“Travan, respond,” Cailan screamed into the comm unit, his face turning ashen as moments ticked past with no reply. Ardin looked from his station to Cailan, his eyes locking with Layela’s for just a brief instant before returning to his console.

Layela placed her hand on Cailan’s arm. “Captain,” she whispered, her voice still clear. “You have to let me go to them.”

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Cailan abandoned his attempted hails. His eyes looked at her but took a moment to focus. He shook his head. “You have no idea what you’re asking of me.”

“Ardin, Avienne,” he continued, turning around to look at the young crewmembers. “Take Ms. Delamores and her friend to our fastest shuttle.

Stick behind us, so they can’t take a shot at you, and get as far as you can.

I’ll send necessary star maps to the shuttle computer.”

“No,” Ardin said, not turning away from his console. Layela and Avienne stared at him. The redhead was clearly as shocked as the captain by her brother’s first insubordination.

Cailan stood and took a step forward, his eyes lit, growing in size with each breath. Avienne shifted at her station, seeming to be debating the wisdom of getting involved in the imminent showdown, when shots flew by the view ports and collided with several government ships. The explosions left the crew momentarily blinded.

“What the…” Avienne stared at the flashing light on her console.

“I’ve never seen this channel used — didn’t even know it worked .” On her screen, she brought up the line’s information: the inter-fleet secured communications line. Her frown deepened as a crisp voice boomed over it.

“This is Captain Kipso of the Victory, contacting Captain Malavant of the Destiny.” He paused, and everyone onboard the Destiny held their breath, each for their own reasons. “Are you in need of assistance?”

Ardin looked to Cailan questioningly. A weight seemed to be lifted from Cailan’s shoulders. “This is Captain Cailan of the Destiny, and we could use your help.”

There was a slight pause. “My condolences for Captain Malavant, he was a fine man,” Captain Kipso replied. “We’ve got only twenty ships, but they’re strong and well-manned,” he responded with pride. “We’d be honoured to fight by the Destiny once again.”

Layela had never thought the captain to be old before, but now it was as if time had previously forgotten him and had come to claim the years it was owed. Cailan looked at Layela.

“We have a daughter of the queen on board,” he replied to Kipso, and Layela swallowed hard. It was still too much to believe. Beside her, Josmere studied the captain intently. “But another is on the civilian freighter heading into the tunnel now.”

“We can’t lose her!” The reply came quickly and fiercely. “Destiny, even wounded, you’re fast. Would you be willing to pursue while we buy you time?” More shots were fired towards the regrouping government ships.

Destiny’s Blood | 152 “Agreed,” Cailan said, closing the line and sitting back in his chair.

The four crew members on the bridge and the two guests looked at the captain sceptically.

“A full explanation soon, I promise,” he said to appease them. “But for now, follow Meltor.”

“She’s just vanishing into the tunnel now,” Avienne swore.

“We can still catch her. Full speed ahead.”

Ardin and Lang executed the order, Avienne ready at tactical. Kipso, true to his word, sent the smaller ships ahead to plow their path. Layela sat at an empty console, looking at the devastation before her: ships were destroyed, pieces flying away from their breached corpses. Plasma weapons were exploding, and a scattering of bodies floated free in nearby space.

And ahead, the shimmer of the great tunnel, where her sister had just vanished. And they would pursue, bringing with them the tides of death that littered the skies.

Tachyonic shields forming!”

Chapter 21

Ardin reported, relief obvious in his voice as the familiar blue energies cushioned the Destiny. The tunnel was just a few seconds away. Another volley struck them from behind. Avienne was grateful the shields and titanium shells protecting the engines seemed to be holding.

The Mirial fleet was composed of old and mismatched vessels, some of them trading vessels outfitted with crude weapons. They might not have been much to look at, but they certainly seemed efficient. The government fleet was losing ships rapidly, their soldiers either drunk or inexperienced at real combat, and few had broken off to pursue the Destiny. Still, they would hardly be alone entering the tunnel.

“At least ten of those government ships are raising their tachyonic shields as well,” Avienne reported. Blue light flickered around them as they rode the high energy tachyon particles. She made a quick inventory of the weapons she could see on the ships. There were basic energy weapons, which could do a lot of damage, but her main worry was the plasma weapons. One hit from those and the whole tunnel would collapse, with them in it. Well-trained Solariers wouldn’t fire that weapon in here. She hoped the Three Fates would intervene if the enemy’s training failed.

“Our sensors are down, so we’ll need sight,” Cailan said from the engineering station. No one had mentioned Travan since the last hails had gone unanswered. “Try to keep your eyes away from the tachyon flow

Destiny’s Blood | 154 as much as possible, and the second your eyes or stomach do anything odd, report for immediate treatment. If any of you would like to leave the bridge, I will not hold it against you.”

Everyone ignored the last statement. Lang muttered something under his breath about not being paid enough for this.

“It’s beautiful,” the Berganda whispered, staring straight at the tunnel.

The blue lights stroked and highlighted her green skin.

“Seizures,” Avienne said, keeping her own eyes to her console.

“Not human,” Josmere replied. Avienne saw that Layela was also staring at the tunnel, the blue in her unblinking eyes lit with the reflection of the tachyons. It was a disturbing dance of colour. Avienne forced herself to look back at her controls.

“We’re already gaining on the Meltor. Must be an older model,” Avienne added. She searched the data banks for specs to determine how best to disable her without knocking her on the walls of the tunnel or taking down her tachyonic shields. The best way to stop her, of course, would be to negotiate, but that was hardly her area of expertise. She’d let Cailan handle that, and keep searching for alternatives, just in case.

“We’ve got company!” Avienne cried. Shots ripped through the back of the Destiny. The tachyon shields held.

“Are they mad?” Lang screamed.

The comm unit flared to life, and a sharp, crisp voice intoned, “This is the civilian freighter Meltor. We are unarmed and carry only civilians.

Please cease fire!”

“Mirial ships are engaging them behind us,” Avienne reported, glad for the smaller ships to keep the enemy busy. They had to concentrate on the large vessel before them.

“Contact the Meltor,” Cailan said calmly. Avienne hit a command in her console and frowned when nothing happened. Quickly, her slender hands gliding over the console, she punched in several commands, shaking her head and cursing.

“We are a freighter, with over two hundred souls on board,” the voice intoned again with the slightest edge of panic.

“Avienne?” Cailan asked. Ardin looked back at his sister.

“No good,” she reported. Her fingers moved more frantically, as if repetition could make the commands work. “Our outgoing communications are down.”

Cailan sat back down at the engineering console. Behind them, the war raged on. Destiny acted as a shield — the only thing protecting the

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unarmed civilian ship. Still, several volleys flew by the larger ship and barely missed the Meltor.

“Please take your confrontation outside the tunnel,” the voice was growing shriller with each new communication.

Avienne wished she could contact them, if only to tell them to shut up and let her concentrate.

“Captain!” Ardin screamed from the controls, and Avienne looked up just in time to see an explosion of blue light. Destiny’s starboard engine started its collapse, sending them into the side of the tunnel. Destiny groaned and buckled right, the port engine still firing full. Blue sparks surrounded them as the tachyon particles went flying, breaking free of their carefully created artificial route.

“Pull her back, Ardin,” Cailan said, madly fighting with the engineering controls. Ardin managed to pull her off the wall for a few moments, but a shot to Destiny’s side sent her flying back. Avienne kept a close eye on the tachyonic shields.

Meltor’s emergency signals continued, the ship’s course affected by flying particles, the freighter obviously fighting to keep control.

“I’ve almost got the secondary manual controls up, Ardin,” Cailan calmly called out. Seconds later, the engine kicked back in and the Destiny regained the safer middle of the tunnel.

“We’ve lost contact with most of the ship,” Avienne said. She wondered how many of her crewmates, her family, were dead or dying in Destiny’s catacombs.

/

Dunkat was growing impatient. It was bad enough that Noro had provided him, Colonel of Solarian Defence, with only 210 ships, but to man them only with new recruits added insult to injury.

“A simple training exercise, isn’t that what this pet project of yours is, Dunkat?”

Arrogant. They were all too arrogant, he thought as the Destiny regained its composure before him, no longer bouncing like a fish out of water on the wall of the tunnel. She was a tough old ship, but he had had enough. If he could not have her, he needed to stop her.

A pity. More analysis of the ship’s technology could have lead to interesting discoveries, but stopping the rebirth of the First Star was more important than anything else.

“Prepare to fire plasma cannons.” Dunkat gave the order, and the

Destiny’s Blood | 156 young soldier eagerly punched in the command.

There was one advantage to the young recruits: they didn’t know when to question his dangerous moves.

He hoped they at least knew how to aim.

/

“Destiny,” Kipso’s voice boomed over the Meltor’s panicked shrieks.

“Destroy the freighter now, while it’s in sight.”

Layela’s eyes met Josmere’s surprised look. “What are they talking about?”

Cailan turned to her for an instant, frowning and looking just as puzzled, when Avienne’s toneless voice ripped through the bridge. “Their lead ship is charging its plasma weapons.”

Layela looked speculatively at Avienne. Avienne shrugged and said, “If they fire in here and hit the wall, the whole tunnel will collapse.”

“Oh.” “Avienne, do we have enough shields to take the hit?”

The redhead was already shaking her head before the captain finished speaking. “Our tachyonic shields will fail if I draw any more power to tactical.”

Cailan nodded. “Ardin, avoid that blast. We’ll have to take our chances where best they lie. Everyone, strap in!”

“Firing! Twenty-four degrees on our starboard side!”

“Moving!” Ardin pulled at levers and hit buttons. The slow-loading plasma cannon took a few seconds to fire, giving Destiny almost enough time to get out of the way. Almost.

“Compensating!” Avienne screamed, diverting whatever was left of tactical shields to the starboard engines. The shot ricocheted off the energy shield, right into the wall of the tunnel. For a second, nothing happened. The tunnel appeared to have swallowed the blast.

Then, the whole tunnel shuddered around them as freed tachyons smashed into the failing shields. All of them covered their ears in pain as the tachyon wails broke through — all but the Berganda, who could hear much deeper and finer songs.

Even the Meltor’s pleas grew silent. Every soul in the tunnel quickly came to the same realization.

The tunnel was collapsing fast, and precious little time remained to escape a slow and cruel death.

Destiny’s remaining engine

Chapter 22

fired wildly as her crew urged every bit of power into it. Every single inch of the ship shook with the strain, including her crew. The end of the tunnel proved too far, but the second-to-last exit could be their salvation. It was near, but possibly still too far down the collapsing tunnel.

Layela clutched her seat, looking down. The lights were out and only the frenzied electric blue light of the tunnel illuminated the bridge, giving her the sensation of being under water. She chanced a look at the tunnel. The blue lights were no longer controlled, but flying wildly, with just enough particles travelling in the right direction for Destiny to ride. The silence was intense on the bridge. Everyone concentrated on their stations and only an odd, occasional shrieking sound penetrated from outside when too many particles struck the tachyonic shields that protected the hull. She wondered what the song of tachyons would sound like were they not in the vast, still emptiness of space.

Avienne’s tense voice suddenly cut through the thick silence. “A Mirial ship is passing us.”

“Probably trying to get out of here,” Lang muttered from his station, watching the countdown to the exit on his panel.

“They’re firing at the freighter!”

“Please stop firing! We are a civilian ship!” the Meltor captain’s voice shrieked back to life.

Destiny’s Blood | 158 “What are they doing?” Layela went to jump up, but the seat harness kept her secure. She undid it and stood. Her legs felt like jelly on the shaking deck.

“Our communications are still down, but I have weapons,” Avienne told Cailan, looking up at him with a raised eyebrow. Layela stood

by Avienne, watching the small ship firing on the large freighter, its tachyon shields reflecting blue and purple as each shot weakened them dangerously.

“Almost at the exit,” Lang said in hushed tones.

Cailan shook his head slowly, looking at the small ship as he gave the order. “Take them out, Avienne.” Then he added quietly, “Make it a clean shot. It’ll be a nicer death than collapsing with this tunnel.”

“Aye,” Avienne softly replied as she targeted the ship. Layela looked up at the ship, the Meltor’s pleas suddenly seeming far away. She tried to envision Yoma on the ship, in the same danger she was in, but still her mind could not connect with her sister’s, even as tears of despair spilled down her face.

/

Yoma stared at the shuttered window, desperately focusing on Layela as the ship jerked again. She gritted her teeth and held tightly to her seat, wishing she could do something; wishing she wasn’t so helpless.

The captain’s plea sounded over and over again. “Please cease fire, we are a civilian ship.”

Just shut up and bear it, Yoma thought, knowing his pleas to be in vain.

The ship jerked again and her muscles ached from clutching her seat.

As the tachyons broke free and their wails forced everyone around her to cover their ears, Yoma’s heart grew quiet. Sacrificing the Meltor and all on board was the only way to save her sister.

Let me go, Layela, Yoma pleaded, hoping her sister would know her heart and choose to stand without her twin. Only one of us can live, and I want it to be you.

She sat back and felt her muscles relax, waiting for the death she knew to be necessary. She mused over how many she would be willing to sacrifice, including herself, to see her sister safe.

/

“Firing!” Avienne screamed. The word sliced through Layela, mists blinding her sight so effectively she couldn’t see what her vision had

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foretold. Still, she knew she had to do something to stop it. Her instincts begged and screamed her to, and energized her limbs. Without thought, she threw herself on the redhead. The weapons remained unfired and cuss words flew freely as Layela’s impact brought Avienne to the floor.

“What the…” Avienne started, angrily pushing Layela aside, when a flash stopped her short.

“Exiting the tunnel,” Ardin whispered as the blue faded, but not before Layela could see the outcome of her actions. Without Avienne’s shot to stop the Mirial ship, the Meltor had been destroyed, two hundred civilians killed.

“I…” Layela tried to say something, stunned by her own actions. Her tongue felt thick and awkward.

Avienne quickly got up, shrugging as she offered her hand to Layela.

“What’s done is done.”

Layela took the offered hand and was pulled to her feet. Cailan shouted, “Evasive manoeuvres! Avienne, shields, now!”

Layela was jerked off of her feet again and onto Josmere, who caught her and held her tight as the ship jostled. She looked out the view port but didn’t understand what she was seeing. The space around them was purple, a deep purple, with darker wisps stroking their ship as it desperately tried to turn. The groaning metal seemed to be pulled in various directions.

She saw a few of the smaller ships emerge from the tunnel into the purple mass, some of them quickly torn apart by the vicious matter. She might have thought the deep purple was the tunnel itself, but she could see the tunnel shuddering beside it, a blue, frenzied snake writhing in the vast cosmos as it lay down its final breath. The tunnel turned bright for an instant, blinding her, and when she could see again, all that remained of it was a faint shimmer of blue. In a moment, that too vanished, leaving only the purple beast behind.

Destiny’s engines spat one more time, breaking free. The sky was once again littered with stars, but the ship’s bold efforts had cost her the rest of her shields and most of her engine power.

“What is that?” Avienne asked as she looked at the great purple mass that had almost swallowed them, too much in awe to even muster a swear.

“A dense nebula?” Ardin guessed, although he didn’t believe his own words. Before them the sky stood purple and empty. Any light that had dared to venture this far had been swallowed in the swirling, thick gases.

“Where are we?” Avienne asked, but Lang only mumbled under his

Destiny’s Blood | 160 breath, shaking his head. His gaze was deep in his star charts.

A few ships floated around them, some in a straight line, others tumbling over themselves.

“Captain Cailan,” Kipso’s voice came crisply over the communications system. “Please follow the escort.” There was a pause. “If you resist, we will destroy you.”

Ardin looked questioningly at Cailan, his features tense with worry and confusion.

Cailan wearily nodded. “Do as he says, Ardin.” The captain rose from his seat. “If you need me, I’ll be in engineering,” he whispered as he lowered himself over the first rung. The siblings exchanged a long look, and Avienne’s shoulders dropped.

Layela paid little heed to them. She felt Josmere hug her tightly, the Berganda’s body shaking as tears ran down her face and onto Layela’s shoulder. Layela wanted to comfort her, but before any words could escape, she too began to cry, at first quietly, but then with an emptiness and deep sorrow that ripped her soul apart.

Somewhere along the length of the collapsed tunnel, or in the purple beast that had swallowed it, were the Meltor’s broken remains.

Which meant her sister was dead. Layela moaned.

Yoma was dead, and it had been her doing.

Day Breaks

Part 2

Captain Kipso strolled

Chapter 23

down the walkway, his hands tightly clutched behind his back, his shoulders stiff and unswaying. Cailan waited patiently for him, the Malavant siblings flanking him. The rest of the crew was still inside the Destiny, tending to their dead and wounded.

All except Josmere, who lazily leaned against the side of the exit tube that linked the Destiny to the tired station. The docks that housed the Destiny were small, the farming community of the nearby planet of Vock rarely seeing traffic. Mostly self-sufficient, it was only sought out for its rarer plants, like the Booknots. Almost close enough to be a moon was the industrial planet of Lockor, where more resources were available and where they would have made berth had the Destiny been able to reach it with her wounds.

Josmere wished she could close her eyes for an instant. The song of so many Booknots tugged at her mind­—a song so similar to that of the Berganda that it stirred her soul and threatened to trap her in the midst of sorrow and loss.

Kipso was almost upon Cailan, and she forced her mind to stop wandering. She had already lost everything: her family, her home…and a woman she considered a sister. She was not about to chance losing Layela too, and she knew that whatever was to be discussed here involved Layela’s future.

She pushed herself off the wall and approached as the two captains hesitantly greeted each other.

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Her movement caught Captain Kipso’s eyes and he studied her, her green eyes, green hair half tied back, and green skin, before looking back inquiringly at Cailan.

“She’s a friend,” Cailan stated, not looking back, not backing down, and not asking Josmere to leave, even when Kipso’s slit eyes made it clear he did not want this meeting witnessed by outsiders. Cailan added nothing more. Josmere felt her respect for the man grow — a rare sensation for her.

“Why did you destroy that civilian freighter?” Cailan asked before Kipso could find something else to object about. The fat man’s eyes grew wide with disbelief.

“You don’t know? Of course you don’t know.” Then he mumbled, “Captain Malavant died too quickly to tell you anything, or properly pass down the captainship.”

Ardin stiffened visibly beside Cailan, but Avienne became as still as a cat waiting to pounce. Josmere watched with interest, her fingers itching for the switchblade strapped in her boot as the fat man spoke so lightly of Yoma’s murder.

Cailan whispered, each syllable falling like a sharp blade, “Captain Malavant died quickly at the hands of Mirialers, refusing to betray a man he considered to be his friend.”

Ardin’s eyes narrowed. Josmere wondered if perhaps the siblings had not been aware of how their father had died. Avienne didn’t budge, but Kipso kept a close eye on her.

Not the fool I would have believed him to be, Josmere thought. I hope Avienne doesn’t down him before we learn why Yoma had to die.

Kipso sighed, his belly rising and falling. Josmere wondered if he had once looked younger too, like Cailan had before this day.

“Cailan,” Kipso began. He paused, his eyes darting to the siblings before resting on the captain again. “Malavant knew what he was doing, but that meant betraying Mirial.”

“He would never betray the Mother Star,” Cailan hissed, so fiercely that Avienne even broke her watch on the fat captain to stare at him.

“No?” Kipso said, eyebrow arching. “You don’t even know why he had to die. Why do you believe you knew the man at all?”

Cailan took a step forward, but the round man stared him down, fighting to stay his ground. Cailan said nothing and the air sizzled around them. A few of Kipso’s crew came forward, hands on the weapons at their belts. Ardin’s hand lowered to his own gun and two knives appeared in Avienne’s hands. Josmere took a step forward to stand beside Avienne,

Destiny’s Blood | 164 her muscles relaxed and ready for action.

“Captain?” a woman behind Kipso asked. Her eyes were trained on the siblings, but her hand shook just enough above her gun to tell Josmere of her inexperience. She grinned and lifted her chin, looking at the young woman, whose hand trembled just a bit more.

Then a single angry word sliced through the silence and tension. “Stop!”

Josmere’s grin disappeared as she turned to see Layela storming down the walkway towards them. The two captains exchanged a brief glance.

Layela caught up to them, her eyes dry but her closed fists trembling where they hugged her thighs. Her words, though softly spoken, cut the air.

“There will be no more killing over this.” In turn she looked at both captains, her eyes lingering for a moment longer on Kipso, who looked away from her. “No more, captains.”

Cailan nodded respectfully and backed down, Ardin’s limbs were stiff as he did the same. Avienne sighed as she, too, followed suit. Kipso held out his hand and spread his fingers before lowering it. His own troops looked visibly relieved.

Layela took one more step forward, her hands no longer trembling, her fingers unclenched as she came to stand before the two captains, looking at Kipso. When she spoke, her voice was barely audible over the distant roar of departing ships.

“Why did you kill my sister?”

Kipso’s eyes strayed from hers, as though he could not stand to focus on the night in them. The casual way Layela chose to confront her sister’s killer tore at Josmere’s heart and she had to look away, choosing instead to keep an eye on the Mirialers.

The stale, old air of the station heavily draped the Berganda’s mind, the coldness of space tingling on her skin until all she could yearn for was sun. Sun, and the feel of strong earth beneath her. Kipso broke the spell with his words.

“Because only one can live, Lady.” He looked at Cailan pleadingly, but the captain did not even meet his eyes, focusing instead on Layela. Kipso sighed, running his fingers through his hair and revealing hidden white.

“Only one daughter of the queen can live, if Mirial is to survive.”

Layela did not move, did not look away, and said nothing. Her silence was heavier than all the ships in the universe. To his credit, Kipso did not look away this time, his voice soothing as he continued, his words dimming his eyes just a bit.

“It is written in the texts, Lady. Only one queen can wield the ether of the

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First Star, lest the balance be lost, between light and darkness, night and day.

Even your names say as much, in old Mirialer — Yoma means day, Layela night. Usually one of the daughters is killed at birth, but this time…”

A voice broke through and interrupted him. “This time the queen did not wish one of her daughters to die. She foresaw something different than death, Captain Kipso.”

Kipso’s eyes flared at Zortan, who strolled up to join them. Kipso flung his words like poison. “I would end your life now, traitor, if the Lady was not present.”

Layela ignored his words. Josmere, who was steadily moving closer, could not help but note the honorary title he had given her. She wondered how much Layela would lose for it.

Layela whispered a single word, one syllable that conveyed the weariness that clutched her soul. Josmere fought the urge to kill them all and take her to safety, far from here, where they could properly grieve and live again.

“Why?” Zortan’s dark eyes met hers before bowing his head respectfully. “Your mother, the queen, had great visions, as did all queens before her. And she asked me to ensure your safety. Both of yours.” He paused. “I am sorry I failed you and your sister.”

“Captain of the Royal Guards,” Kipso spat out the words. “You kidnapped the daughters and then killed the weakened queen.”

His words were barely ended before Zortan was upon him. His long knife was in his left hand and his right hand clutched the front of Kipso’s shirt, their faces barely an inch apart.

“I may have my own haunted memories, Gobran Kipso, but the death of the queen is not among them. I would have laid down my life for her.”

“Nonetheless,” Kipso stood firm, despite the taller man’s grip on his shirt. “The First Star must be reborn, or we will all lose more than we already have.”

Zortan sliced the man with his gaze for a few more seconds before letting go. He moved back a few feet to stand behind Layela. The flower girl cast a tired look at Josmere as Kipso addressed her.

“Beyond these shields,” he waved towards the great purple mass that sprawled in the space beside them, “beyond that, is Mirial. And it is dying. And with it...” his gaze flickered to Josmere. “And with it, it will take all ether, all ether creatures, and possibly more.”

Layela’s eyes locked with Josmere’s, a question deep within them.

Destiny’s Blood | 166 Josmere managed a half grin and a shrug, but knew she had not fooled her friend.

“You must come with us to Mirial to help restore the balance.” Kipso’s voice lifted in a plea. No one said anything for a few seconds. Layela looked at Josmere, and Josmere hated herself for not being able to meet the blue eyes, unable to hide her own plea from Layela.

“I’ll come,” Layela said, her heavy words sealing her fate. Josmere closed her eyes, knowing Layela had made the choice for her; for her people. She couldn’t bear to hear it, but didn’t dare stop it either. She remembered a time when she was young and the song of the Berganda was strong within all the worlds.

“We’ll leave in one hour,” Josmere heard Gobran say, his words far away. “Cailan, the Destiny is welcome to trek home with us as well, now that our...differences are put aside.” Josmere did not hear Cailan’s answer, only the retreating steps. Knowing Layela was walking away pulled at every string in her heart. Still, she kept her eyes closed for a moment longer, allowing the Booknots to soothe her mind. She longed to hear the familiar call of the Berganda.

She felt a hand on her arm. “Time to go,” Avienne said softly, and Josmere opened her eyes, surprised when a tear escaped them.

If Avienne noticed she said nothing, and they walked together back towards the Destiny.

/

The blade of the knife reflected the few remaining lights as it twirled up, spinning suspended for a moment in the air before falling back down, caught in a lazy motion.

“Do you always flip knives when you’re bored?” the Berganda asked from the other end of the bridge.

“Shouldn’t you be rooting somewhere?” Avienne asked. The knife vanished in one swift motion.

Josmere shrugged. “Gardens are airless and Layela wants to be alone.”

Avienne raised an eyebrow. “So you’re hanging here with me, instead?”

Josmere’s slender shoulders rose again. “It’s the only other place I know here, except the docks, which are overrun now.”

The smuggler girl sighed and leaned back against her seat, the old metal moaning in protest as she stretched back, her hands behind her head, gazing up at the barely lit ceiling, as dim as the future seemed.

The fleet of Mirial pretty much ran the Destiny now, repairing her.

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In under an hour that would change, when Layela and the Mirialers would leave them in peace. For now, the bridge was the only place free of them — Cailan had forbidden them access.

Avienne’s eyes ran the length of the nebula displayed clearly through the view screens. It was a beauty. Purple reflected down to its core, as thin as fairy dust from here, but Avienne knew it was quite thick up close.

Lights shimmered at the edges of it, made visible by Destiny’s ultraviolet and infrared eye. At the centre of the spherical beast lay a faded light, presumably the sun named Mirial, from which many old men had recently claimed to come.

“Now that’s hard to believe,” Avienne mumbled. She leaned forward again, her skin tingling with anticipation. A place to call home.

“What’s hard to believe? That someone would willingly hang out with you?”

“That we come from there,” Avienne responded, ignoring the Berganda’s sweet smile. “And that we want to go back. It’s a planetary nebula. What could still be alive in there?”

“Ah, how you enlighten me with your wisdom, my smuggling friend.”

“Don’t you know anything about space?” Avienne shot Josmere an annoyed look.

“Plant. Like planets and fresh earth.”

“A planetary nebula,” Avienne said, leaning back again, “means the star burped, shed its top layer, effectively destroyed its star system, and is now dying a slow, meaningless death.”

“Cheerful,” Josmere mumbled, her eyes trained on the nebula. “But I can still see the star.”

“It’s dying, not dead.”

Josmere sat back in her chair, her eyes still on the star. “Do you really believe that?”

“Believe what?”

“That the First Star could be dying? That Layela could save it?”

“Why do you care? No offence, but aside from your two little friends — my sympathies, by the way — you don’t exactly seem like the, ah, heroic type to me.”

Josmere shot her a crooked smile. “Takes one to know one?”

Avienne smiled back. Protect your own and let the rest rot, had always been her motto.

The Berganda shook her head, still gazing out at the star. “It’s just, why would they take such a risky journey, and why would they need to bring Layela, and why did Yoma have to die?”

Destiny’s Blood | 168 Avienne sighed and looked up at the ceiling. “You’re asking the wrong girl.” She looked down at the Berganda. Josmere was folded in two and hugging her knees, looking more vulnerable than Avienne had believed possible. Or she was about to be sick. Avienne softened her voice. “I really don’t know, but I do know that Cailan is no fool. He would not believe in this if he didn’t have good reason.”

Josmere stayed as she was, but turned her head to meet Avienne’s eyes.

“Reason enough to get your father and the old engineer killed, too?”

Avienne shook her head without words, looking back at the nebula.

It didn’t make much sense, she had to admit. Nothing made much sense anymore. Why did so many have to die for a dying star? Why couldn’t people just let nature be?

“Do you think Cailan will go?” Josmere asked.

Avienne sighed. “I really don’t know.” Though part of her hoped so, another part feared the disappointment and danger. She had had enough fun with this little adventure. She was ready for something that didn’t involve collapsing tunnels and the threat of being reduced to a one-dimensional state.

“There’s a story my aunts used to tell me,” Josmere began, looking at the nebula. “That the First Star feeds all the ether races, and that for the past few years, the races have been withering without its ether. No matter how many tried to reach it, none could, because only the protectors of Mirial can. And they had all vanished, presumed dead, and the First Star was helpless without their care. Most, including the Berganda, can’t be fertile without ether, so I always thought — I always accepted that my people were doomed, because no one could reach it, could revive it. And therefore, no one could seed children. But now, it’s so close, and my people might be saved. But Layela is all I have left, and…” she trailed off, looking a bit disgusted with how much she had revealed.

So that’s why people mess with nature.

Avienne pulled one of her knives free again and twirled it, watching it catch the light of the nebula. Struck by how small her weapons were, she sheathed them, sighed and leaned back into the old, creaky chair.

/

The length of the ship was hushed; whatever life she had once held was now mute. The great engines no longer pulsed in her belly, and the soft heartbeat of the beast lay silent. There was only the quiet hiss of oxygen releasing from the vents, growing more mournful with each exhale.

Even the flickering lights brought no life to the low hush of the Destiny,

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creating macabre dancing shadows out of the Mirialers who worked to repair her; she that had once been greatest among them.

The blows she had withstood to protect her crew had cost her dearly.

Scars that would never heal crisscrossed the length of her hull, and holes were scattered along her beautiful sides, hidden by quick, ugly patch jobs of mismatched alloys, mocking the vision of her builders. Only one item did her repairers bother sifting through layers of mistreatment to find, and that was her old symbol, the symbol of Mirial herself, First Star of all the worlds.

Cailan remembered the First Star. And, as his hand softly stroked the cold door, he remembered promises made to her that had to be broken.

Promises he had honoured, first blindly, but now by choice.

Cailan remembered the battle back then too, which had also cost the Destiny, not so much in scars then, but in people. Sixty-four dead: Captain Malavant amongst them, and Cailan’s wife, Ingrid. Her eyes flashed before him for a moment, and he took a deep breath and let the memory pass. Sixty-four on Destiny, and so many more in the rest of the fleet, and on Mirial…

“Stop it, old fool,” Cailan muttered to himself. The warmth of his hand vanished into the door, replaced by a soothing coldness. He wished it would spread to the rest of his body, dull his mind and slow the pain in his heart.

Sixty-eight dead now, and the main engineer among them, his body lost in space. Twenty years of unfailing loyalty and friendship. He, like Cailan, had devoted himself to serving a cause he thought no longer existed.

It had been years since he scanned that region of space. It was something he had done religiously, once a day. When such things still mattered.

And now, Gobran Kipso had turned his world upside down.

Two daughters, and only one can live. That would save Mirial, he had said.

Then why do I feel like I murdered a child I was meant to protect?

With the rising of Mirial’s fleet and its shields — the great purple monster that lingered where once the first star had shone — it seemed that they would once more try to regain their homeworld.

He could no longer feel his hand, but instead of removing it, he placed his other one near it, as though attempting to open a door he knew led only to empty, dead space.

Rejoin a fleet, rejoin Mirial...and bring the Malavant children into a life of military, loyalties and promises, betrayals and disappointments.

Not what their father would want, not now, not after everything that had

Destiny’s Blood | 170 happened. He pressed his hands to the door, forcing his warmth to be replaced by fiery cold.

They would be made to pay for their father’s mistake. Such was law on Mirial.

I never imagined I would hope Mirial was actually dead.

Travan would have been able to lift this mood; Travan always could, with just a simple look. But Travan hadn’t lived to see these times.

“Maybe it’s better that way,” he whispered. He removed his numb fingers from the door and gazed as the moisture slowly froze in the shape of his palms, formed small crystals that soon vanished into the unforgiving cold of space.

“Rest in peace, old friend. Rest in peace.”

He turned and walked away, to meet his duty once again.

/

The knock on her door came softly at first, then increased in tempo and strength. It was accompanied by the soft whispering of her name.

Layela wanted to fling the door open, but also to ignore it completely.

She chose a less dramatic approach and simply spoke.

“I’m fine, Ardin.” She was surprised by the calmness of her own voice, surprised that it did not quiver or shake.

She heard him sigh in frustration and imagined him running his hand through his hair.

“Layela, I’m coming in.” She remained seated as the door opened and light poured into her room. She looked up and saw only his outline, leaned against the doorframe.

“Are you sure this is what you want to do,” he said after a moment.

She nodded. She wished he would come to her and hold her, so that she could lose herself in him and forget the grief she couldn’t feel. But he did not come to her, and she did not go to him.

“Captain Kipso insists on having you on his ship, but Destiny will follow.” He paused. “I could go with you aboard the Victory, if you’d like.”

She looked up at him. Her eyes, adjusting to the light, were able to make out the concern etching his features. “You’re needed here, Ardin.

The Destiny can’t spare you.”

He hesitated a moment. “Will you at least take Josmere with you?”

Layela felt the mists tugging at her vision, just as when Gobran had spoken of the end of the Berganda. She could hear laughter, feel warm sap flow onto her, and knew that it was Josmere’s death she recalled in her

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vision. She could sense it, feel it, raw like a fresh wound. She could taste her grief and knew she was meant to witness it.

“No. Josmere will stay here.” Away from me. Safer.

“Either she goes with you, or I go. You can’t go with them alone.”

“Ardin,” she protested. He crossed the floor and crouched in front of her, looking deep into her eyes. He brushed a strand of hair from her face.

“Why, Layela? Why do you insist?”

She shrugged, trying to find an explanation, but no lie jumped to mind.

She wasn’t interested in the lies anymore. There had already been too many.

“I have visions,” she whispered, keeping her eyes locked on his. He didn’t react, keeping his features smooth. “I, I don’t usually remember them, because I only have them in dreams. My sister remembers,” she caught herself and swallowed hard, “could remember them, since she had them when she was awake. But, there are certain visions I received, once.” She didn’t want to give him those details, the violation of her mind still too fresh. “Visions of death. I saw those guards’ death outside Sunrise Flowers, and Yoma’s, and now I see Josmere’s. Not clearly, but an impression of it. I’m going to be with her when she dies, Ardin. If I don’t get away from her, then...”

She trailed off, having said much more than she intended. Ardin’s eyes remained locked on hers for a second longer before he spoke.

“Then it’s settled. I’m going with you.” He stood up and was gone, plunging Layela into darkness once again. Spots of light danced before her eyes and a protest hovered unspoken on her lips.

She allowed herself a slight smile and remained seated, counting her breaths and waiting.

The darkness had always frightened Layela — it was in darkness that her mind was captured by visions, in dreams she could not recall on her own.

But now, she found some solace as she sat in the darkness in her cramped, windowless room, with only the sound of her breath for company. She sat in the middle of her quarters, her legs crossed and aching from touching the cold floor, her hands numb where they had rested too long on her thighs, her open eyes straining for light and seeing nothing but imagined ghosts and shadows.

Yoma had loved the darkness. The safest place for a thief to breathe, she had always said. The safest place to hide, to dwell, to wait. The safest place to sleep, with her sister’s troubled breath by her side. And it was in this darkness that Layela sought her sister, the feeling of her sister, to let go of her and grieve. She wondered if Ardin had noticed the lack of grief in

Destiny’s Blood | 172 her eyes. She knew part of her needed to scream and break, but another, stronger part refused to let her do so. It held her captive in this battlefield, where every emotion cancelled the other, leaving her cold and numb.

She took another deep breath, trying to recall the good times with Yoma, and the bad, and found that the ghosts before her eyes refused to take the shape of memories. They stagnated in her mind instead, halfformed whispers of what had once been.

Layela felt her sister near, as she always had when she was most frightened, but the essence of her seemed lost forever: her loyalty, her laughter, her stubbornness…and the last chance to hold her that had been taken from her.

A small sob escaped her lips as she remembered the feel of the hot shuttle engines, the relief of the Malavants’ rescue, and the sight of her sister vanishing through another door. Drops of blood had been the only sign that she had even been there; blood she had shed for Layela’s safety.

Now she remembered the smell of burnt rubber that pumped through the Destiny as she lost power, and the sight of Avienne’s long finger about to fire on the small ship, Cailan’s stern order to destroy them quickly before they destroyed the Meltor…And feeling Avienne buckling, falling; her accusing eyes, the ship dancing in the wake of the Meltor’s destruction…

Numb. She felt numb again. She frowned. She could not feel her sister, and could not grieve her. Her legs hurt and needed to stretch, and that was a greater reality than her sister’s death.

She heard a knock at the door and a low voice telling her the hour was up, but still she did not move.

Maybe I’m the selfish sister, she thought with regret. Hot breath tickled her ear with a whisper of sound. “What is it with you and darkness, Layl?”

Her eyes grew wide as she recognized the voice. She returned the fierce hug with vigour, wishing there was light so that she could see and know she was not dreaming.

She had just shed her first tear of relief when she thought she heard the word “sorry,” and the darkness conquered her mind.

I grow weary of

Chapter 24

this, Romero.” Seela leaned back against the cushioned chair, letting herself sink into the feather-stuffed padding. Despite her words, she sighed. A smile graced her green lips, and they entertained a deep cup, the colour of human blood. She closed her eyes as she swallowed the nutrient-seeded lukewarm water. Her body’s response to the liquid coursing through her was immediate, from the tip of her toes to the ends of her hair — which, unlike human hair, was still alive. She remembered her family, and how alike they all were: all females, all nature-coloured, all long-haired. Never aging.

But never aging did not mean never dying.

Romero shifted in the chair beside hers, uncomfortable with what he called the unnecessary opulence of the shuttle. He pushed himself forward and tried to sit perfectly erect, but the cushioned seat swallowed his backside and pulled him back again.

Seela took another drink and watched the graceful movement of his fingers on the console, the strong hands freed from the constricting gloves.

She watched the short fingers, built for power, the tips of each extremity vivid orange. The colour accentuated the dark, thick nails, which his race had once sharpened into weapons. His were perfectly groomed, every nail carefully filed to the same short length, so that the gloves would not prove more uncomfortable than necessary.

She felt the cool ceramic in her own uncovered hands. Her slender, long

Destiny’s Blood | 174 fingers, so different from Romero’s, wrapped loosely around the large cup.

“I think the colonel’s troops found something,” Romero reported, tearing Seela from her reverie. She unlocked her chair and turned.

Her crossed legs rested against his chair, the loose fabric of his pants lightly touching the tight material of hers. She leaned forward. Her gaze devoured the sight of his bare, forbidden hands as they slowed to a halt, the orange lit by a life of its own.

“They’re not far,” he whispered, his voice quaking slightly. “We can reach them within a few minutes.”

She didn’t bother responding, staring instead at his hands. She knew he stared at her long, green fingers, wondering as she was what they could discover if they dared lock them — whether it would be ecstasy or death.

Romero cleared his throat and she forced her eyes to meet his. The deep orange surrounding his dark pupils reminded her of his fingertips and their hard nails.

“I fear the Berganda may get in our way,” he whispered again, as though he too feared breaking the spell. Seela brought the cup to her mouth so that she could watch his eyes drop, as she knew they would, to her long, naked fingers. Her fingernails were crisp and white. Blooms had once dwelt there, before the gloves had been imposed on her people. She saw his brow glisten, and smiled impishly over her cup.

“She’s of no value, and can be killed.” Romero was so intent on her hands that the words did not even seem to register. Slowly, so as to not lose her power over him — or his over her — she extended her arms to her sides, putting the cup down on the console. Romero gave no warning, nor did he protest, as she reached down and unlocked his chair, and swivelled him to face her. Their legs entangled in the small space, their fingers but inches apart. Hers trembled slightly.

“The only Berganda you need to worry about for the next few minutes is right here, Romero Aquilone.” His name felt glorious on her lips and she reached out to close the gap that separated them. Her heart tried to beat out of her chest, and the shuttle air suddenly felt cold and foreign on her flesh. The Kilita brought his hands an inch over hers, her heat and his intermingling. She looked up, knowing her eyes held the same fury she saw in his, as she willed herself vulnerable for the first time in her life.

He lowered his hands as she raised hers. Her head lurched back, and her mind and body shuddered as one.

/

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“Are you really just going to hand her over?” Josmere demanded as she stared down the dimly lit metallic corridor of the space docks.

“She’s the one who said she’d go.” Avienne shrugged. “We’re not forcing anything on her.”

Josmere ran her fingers through her thick hair, tugging at the ends. in frustration. She’d been making this argument for the last hour. “Her sister was just killed. She’s not thinking straight!”

“You sure?” Avienne replied. She eyed the Victory’s approaching crew.

“I’m sure! This whole thing is suicide! Those people,” Josmere continued, flailing her arm in Gobran Kipso’s direction, “already killed her sister!”

Avienne turned to face the Berganda. “This is out of our hands. If you’re so worried, why don’t you just speak to Layela about it?”

Josmere’s shoulders dropped as her anger vanished, looking toward the hallway leading to the Destiny as she answered, where Layela still dwelt.

“Because she refuses to speak to me. I don’t think she even wants me to come with her. But…she’s the only family I have left. If I don’t follow her, where do I go?” Josmere hated herself for showing such weakness and was surprised to feel Avienne’s hand on her shoulder.

“Believe it or not, I understand you perfectly well,” Avienne gave a grin, too tight and too thin. The hand was gone as quickly as it had come, and she shrugged again. “This will be of little comfort, I realize, but they said they only needed to kill one. Layela should be safe.” Josmere’s eyes shot up and she bit back a harsh reply. Avienne lifted her hands defensively.

“I mean it, little comfort. But, on the bright side,” Avienne continued, grinning more widely this time. “I do believe we can convince the captain to take you in, if you’re interested.”

Josmere’s eyes opened wide. “Me? Stay on the Destiny?”

Avienne grimaced as Kipso stopped near them, and lowered her voice.

“It’s not much, I realize, but it’s a good group. And you’d double the female power of the crew!”

Josmere’s pulse quickened and her mouth went dry. She wondered if Layela would stop her from following. That won’t happen, she repeated over and over again, her mind tumbling and forming plans — how she could follow, how she could stow away, how she could make sure she would not be left behind.

Anything to avoid being left behind. Avienne was still looking at her inquiringly and Josmere shrugged. “I don’t think I’d be much for long-

Destiny’s Blood | 176 term space travel.” Avienne gave her a wry grin, but Layela, Cailan and Ardin were exiting the Destiny to join them, so she didn’t respond.

Layela’s steps were quick and certain, Ardin and Cailan but a step behind. The younger man’s eyes rested often on Layela’s stride or the back of her loose, flowing hair, given a dull blue glow by the fluorescent lights.

Josmere’s breath caught in her throat, her pulse timed with the echo of Layela’s steps. The girl walked towards something Josmere knew she did not want. She imagined her friend’s fear of stopping, lest she never start again.

The Berganda shook her head. She knew she was wrong, and that Yoma had been wrong too. Layela had fallen hard a long time ago, and they had feared she would never be the same again. To this day, Josmere still didn’t know what had scarred her so deeply, though she had more than enough terrible theories to count. Yoma and she had never spoken about it — the one subject too terrifying for her friend to discuss.

She watched Layela stride down the catwalk without hesitation. Layela was still scarred and probably always would be, but she was stronger than before and less afraid. She had bloomed again, even more beautifully, whether she realized it or not.

Josmere took a deep breath of stale air, hoping that she would be there when Layela saw her home for the first time.

And the home of the Berganda, once. Deep in Josmere’s heart, she cradled the hope that she could save both Layela and the dwindling Berganda.

Perhaps someday she could hear their song again.

“Lady,” Gobran nodded slowly as Layela stopped before him.

Josmere, lost in the remembered song of the Berganda, took a moment to realize that her skin prickled and her mind had tuned with someone else’s, not just with the Booknots on the planet. Another Berganda was here!

Her feet moved before she could scream a warning. She threw herself full into Layela. Pain tore through her leg, ripping the scream from her lungs.

Around her she could hear havoc breaking loose. She covered Layela, shielding her from bullets. The acrid smell of nearby energy weapons assaulted her senses.

“Solariers! Solariers!” The scream broke for mere seconds, stopping suddenly with a gurgle. Bullets riddled the ground around her, and her leg throbbed in anticipation of more pain. Under her, she could feel Layela’s quick short breaths, and she huddled closer. They would not get her.

The simple act of clutching tighter with all her limbs intensified the pain in her leg and sent waves of nausea through her. They had to get out of the line of fire, but she didn’t think her leg would carry her. Shielding

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her in place was the best she could do. “You’re not going without me, Layl. I’m not letting you go!” Josmere sputtered through clenched teeth.

The girl shifted and turned under her. She faced Josmere with a gaze that wasn’t the blue of twilight, but the green of the sea. “I don’t expect you to let her go,” she whispered.

Josmere’s eyes grew wide and her breath caught in her throat. “Yoma?”

Then Gobran was over them, grabbing Yoma’s arm and pulling her away and to her feet. Josmere latched onto her friend’s smooth arm, green eyes meeting hers as Yoma mouthed the familiar words, “We’ll meet again.”

Cailin pulled Josmere up while Ardin and Avienne covered them.

Ardin screamed at Layela as he returned fire, and Josmere held her friend’s arm for a second longer before letting go. She watched her being whisked away to the Victory as she herself was carried to the Destiny.

Cailan held her close, the smell of sweat and grease strong on his clothes. His arms felt as safe and sturdy as the strongest ship.

She felt her tears well up and fought them back — tears of joy that Yoma was still alive, and of guilt that she had just let her go, where she would have held on to Layela.

“Close her off!” Cailan screamed as they entered the Destiny. Avienne stopped to close the back ramp of the ship. Cailan put Josmere down and glanced at the green blood flowing from her thigh.

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” Josmere said, forcing a grin and doubting she pulled it off. “Berganda can heal. I can take care of myself.”

Cailan furrowed his brow. “I can’t carry you up. I need to be on the deck and I need Ardin and Avienne.”

“I’m going back out on the Victory,” Ardin said, reloading his gun.

“I need you on the bridge, Ardin.”

“She’s alone with those maniacs!” Ardin met the captain’s eyes.

“Those maniacs are your people, and she is your queen.”

Ardin’s eyes hardened.

“Ardin,” Josmere said, reaching up and taking his hand. “She’ll be fine.

Please believe me when I say so. Tend to this ship. It’s what she would want.” She felt bad for not telling him that Layela was still on board the Destiny, but she wasn’t certain that it wouldn’t put her friend in danger.

It was a secret she would keep to herself, for now.

Ardin studied Josmere a moment longer before nodding, his eyes still made of steel. He intended to follow later, she knew.

“Will you be okay here for now?” Cailan asked Josmere.

“I’ll be fine.” She took a deep breath and pressed her hand to the floor

Destiny’s Blood | 178 to try and stop her dizziness. “I’ll just wait here.”

Cailan hesitated a moment longer, then stood, entered a code beside a panel and pulled out two guns in their holsters. He handed them to the Berganda, turned around without a word and clutched the ladder.

“Don’t get dead,” Avienne said as she passed by, throwing a med kit at her. “I was actually starting to enjoy your company!”

Then she too was gone, followed closely by Ardin. He cast one final look at her that seemed to say you had better be right. The Destiny lurched as Cailan shouted orders up the shaft to Lang.

Josmere pushed the med kit aside. It would only hold supplies for humans, which would be useless to her. She took deep breaths and pushed herself up, her hands firmly holding the wall.

Now that she knew Layela was still on this ship, she needed to find her and keep her promise to Yoma.

/

“The Mirial fleet is trying to break for the nebula,” Avienne reported.

She scanned the data scrolling on her console and shook her head.

“They’re encountering heavy resistance from government ships. The whole bloody fleet must be here!”

Cailan sat on his chair, tapping his fingers on its arm.

“It was bad enough we just let them take her,” Ardin scowled from the flight seat, his knuckles white on the controls. “Are we just going to watch them blow her up, too?” He never once turned around to look at Cailan, his eyes trained on the view port before him.

“It isn’t that easy,” Cailan replied. “We’re enemies to both those fleets right now. I don’t intend to get the Destiny destroyed, whether by ally or foe.”

“Sidelines,” Ardin turned around, his eyes dark. “I think that’s where I’ve been my entire life.”

Avienne sucked in her breath, as surprised as she was shocked by her brother’s words. Those should have been her lines, really. Except even she would have had more tact, and at least turned them into a joke.

Cailan looked toward the battlefield and the way the old captain’s shoulders dropped made Avienne want to slap her brother. “Sometimes,” his voice was so tired, it stilled the harsh words she was preparing for Ardin. “Sometimes, my young friend, it is the only place for one to be.”

Ardin’s eyes softened with what Avienne believed might be apology, but he kept his silence and slowly turned back to view the destruction before them.

All I want is to leave, and all he wants is to live a little bit more. I guess,

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in the end, Ardin and I both crave the same thing. ­Her console lit up.

“Message coming through from Gobran Kipso, Captain,” Avienne said, grateful for the distraction. “Putting him on speaker.”

“Captain Cailan.” The voice was calm on the speakers, coated with the sounds of battle. “We need to get the heir to Mirial and we could use more firepower. If you are willing and able, it would be an honour to fight by the Destiny once again.” Kipso’s voice was gone and the channel closed.

“All stations report,” Cailan ordered calmly.

“Engine is patched up, but I can’t guarantee how long it’ll hold,” Ardin said.

“We have some weapons,” Avienne followed, “and some shields, but our actual armour is still badly wounded, and the patch jobs the Mirialers deigned to do are not only ugly, they’re of questionable alloys.”

“Navigation’s fine,” Lang reported, unlocking his chair and letting it carry him one full turn. “Unlike all the fancy stuff you youngsters deal with, I actually have to use my brain and memory.”

“A miracle we don’t crash more often,” Avienne mumbled and Ardin shot her a grin. The familiar sight washed over her like warm water and she grinned back at him.

“If we’re going to go down,” Cailan said as he sat straighter, his shoulders strong and squared, “then let’s go down like true Mirialers.”

“I’m not a Mirialer!” Lang complained as he locked his chair back down.

Cailan ignored him. “Ardin, Avienne...” He hesitated and his voice softened. “If you’d like to get off the ship now, please do. I could never hold that against you, or think less of you.”

Avienne sighed. Now he offers. Ardin turned around and locked eyes with her. She grinned and shrugged. “Ask me again after this.”

Cailan turned and cocked an eyebrow at her, a smile creeping into his eyes. He turned back and looked at Ardin, who nodded to him.

“Crazy kids. I’d have gone,” Lang muttered. A ship exploded outside the view port, and he whistled low.

“Avienne, advise them that we’re coming. Ardin, bring us to Victory’s side and protect her wounded flank. Lang, keep an eye on all the other ships.”

“Is that all?” the navigator mumbled, and emptied a small metal flask.

The ship heaved forward, the lights flickered once, and the great beast warmed and gained in speed.

Avienne concentrated on the incoming government ships. Cailan rubbed his hand on the arm of his chair and whispered, “Just one more battle, Lady. Just one more victory and then you can rest.”

Chapter 25

Deep within the

decks of the Destiny, past the door where Travan had lost his life, a floor panel lifted, pushed up by two pairs of gloved hands.

“I don’t like this,” Romero whispered as he pulled Seela up. “We should stay together and double our chance of success.”

Seela brought her hand to the side of his face, so human except for its orange eyes, and she fought the urge to reach for his hands and rip his gloves off. There would be time for that later.

“It’s the best way. I’ll find the girl, you tear down the Destiny’s engines.

Then the colonel can have his day and we can maybe take a vacation.”

She smiled up at him, running her fingers down his face and his chest until the orange eyes closed.

She could still see the protest in them when they reopened seconds later.

“And don’t worry about me. The Berganda will protect me. She needs me.”

Romero still looked sceptical. “She seemed loyal to her friend.”

Seela gave a short laugh. “She saved me from that smuggler in the flower shop, remember? And besides, if there’s one thing you must know about Berganda, it’s that the survival of our race is imperial in my kin’s minds.” She paused and winked at him. “And I, dear Romero, represent the only chance for the Berganda to survive. And she knows it.”

/

Layela struggled to find the surface again, struggled to breathe fresh

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air. A part of her knew that it was nowhere to be found, but she craved it so wildly that her lungs hurt.

She was drowning, and had been drowning forever. All she needed was to gulp one breath of fresh air, and another, and maybe she could win this battle. Her lungs were closing, weight heavy on them, and still she could not gasp. She wanted to scream in fury, but the next breath was too precious to waste on a frivolous scream.

“Layela,” she heard her name called out. Warmth exploded through her body and the weight lifted from her lungs, ever so slowly. Soon she could breathe fully again. It was stale air, but she didn’t care.

She breathed slowly, not gulping air greedily as her body begged her to do. She counted her breaths until she reached ten, and then she felt strong enough to speak.

“Bloody Yoma.” The words immediately reconnected her with her surroundings and made her feel better. She opened her eyes. Josmere was throwing a syringe away.

“Your sister does indeed like to use efficient drugs,” the Berganda said casually. She locked eyes with Layela, only their light discoloration betraying her relief.

“She was on the ship, Josmere. The bloody ship that blew up the Meltor.”

Josmere nodded and drew a deep breath as she smiled. “Now we know why you stopped Avienne from firing on that ship.”

Layela swallowed hard and slowly sat up, taking deep breaths as the world spun around her. Once the dizziness had passed, she spoke again.

“It’s still two hundred innocent lives stolen, Josmere. And for what?”

Josmere gave her a crooked smile. “For the chance for others to live.

Isn’t that always the way?”

Layela eyed her friend suspiciously. “Since when are you a philosopher?”

Josmere gave a short laugh before a look of horror crossed her face.

“Blood and bones. We’ve got company. Stay here, Layl,” the Berganda leapt to her feet, only to yelp and collapse against the wall.

“You’re wounded!” Layela exclaimed. She made her way towards her, slowly at first, testing her recently drugged body’s willingness to move.

“It’s not that bad,” Josmere said, sidestepping awkwardly. “I’m healing it, I just need some time. Take this, just in case.” She handed Layela one of the guns and holsters.

“Josmere!” Layela clenched her teeth and fought down the anger that quickened her pulse.

“Stay here. I’ll be right back.” The Berganda exited the room, much

Destiny’s Blood | 182 faster than Layela would have thought possible with her wound.

Seconds later, the blaring horns of the ship’s alarm rang three times and the lights dimmed. Layela tumbled as the ship lurched sideways.

Weapons-fire collided with the ship’s weakened hull, the sounds pounding the walls around her.

“Josmere.” Layela imagined her wounded friend losing her footing in the unsteady corridors, unable to rise again.

She stood, clutching the wall as the ship rocked again. Barely any dizziness struck her and Layela allowed herself a slight grin. Her sister had drugged her, yes, but in true Yoma fashion, she had done the most harm in the least harmful manner. Her body was recovering quickly enough that she could follow Josmere.

She had to. Any danger Josmere now faced, she faced for her.

/

Josmere bit back a cry of pain as the ship shook again and her wounded leg struck the corner of a corridor. She pulled her gun free, hoping she wouldn’t have to use it, and felt for which way to go.

Close. The other Berganda was close. So close that Josmere thought she could smell the sap pouring from her, although it was probably only her own leg. Again the ship jostled and, this time, Josmere lost her footing completely, hitting her elbow hard as she tried to shield her leg from impact. She gasped and gritted her teeth as pain shot through her body.

She couldn’t tell where it was from anymore.

“Poor little plant-girl, green and bright, fallen on the floor and unable to fight.” The words taunted and teased her out of her pain.

Josmere spoke tightly as she pushed herself back up, hand against the wall for support. “So you’re also a poet.” Josmere looked upon a face very much like her own, but this Berganda’s eyes were not friendly.

Josmere cast her eyes down and spotted her gun, secure under the other Berganda’s foot.

“As a Berganda, I always thought it important to have an extra talent as an alternative, for when my life became a worthless farce.”

Josmere winced and looked up. “Mirial lies beyond that purple cloud.

You still have hope. If you go there, blood-sister, you could save us all!”

Josmere didn’t see the gun swing around. It hit her hard on the side of the face. The blow rang in her ears as she fell hard, but not loudly enough to block out the other Berganda’s horrible laughter.

“Hope? You ask me to shed blood and you say there is still hope?

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Do you know how often I have bled?” Her foot came swiftly down on Josmere’s wound. Stars erupted before Josmere’s eyes and her stomach leapt to her throat.

“No soil is good enough! I have shed for my people, I have suffered, and no soil is good enough!”

Josmere dared not move, for fear of igniting further anger. She knew she couldn’t keep conscious through another blow.

Seela had moved and no longer stood on Josmere’s gun, but even though the weapon was barely inches from her, it seemed miles away.

Josmere cringed as a cold hand touched her cheek, the hand of a Berganda.

Her body reacted to the touch of a sister, unable to stop the transfer of thoughts; the telepathy was stronger than her will.

Josmere felt Seela’s deep despair: hailed as the last saviour of Berganda for so long, she was unable to fulfil what she had been led to believe was her destiny. And then her family had died around her, one by one, until the only blood she had left to shed was that of others; her own useless and dead.

Gently, Seela wiped a tear from Josmere’s face as though it was her own. Josmere wanted to scream at her, to tell her how alike they were, and how she could still choose life. But she couldn’t speak, and she knew that Seela had seen those thoughts as clearly as if they were her own. And she had shed them as easily as a tree would shed dead leaves.

The hand disconnected from her cheek. It took with it the knowledge of Josmere’s thoughts, but it also took away whatever hope Josmere had left, leaving her emptier than she had ever felt.

“So,” Seela whispered as she rose, pointedly putting her glove back on her slender hand. “Both twins are still alive. How fun. Now I still get to kill a saviour of Mirial.”

Josmere gritted her teeth, clenched her fists and fought against the feelings of failure that Seela had imprinted on her mind.

“You will not hurt them.” Josmere clenched her teeth. She could reach her gun now, but found herself unwilling to do so.

“What, you’re going to shoot the last fertile Berganda?” Seela jested as she followed Josmere’s gaze.

“Please,” Josmere pleaded. She no longer knew what to say. She could only hope that the strength of her emotion would change Seela’s poisoned mind.

A shot rang out and Seela jerked back, green blood dripping onto Josmere.

“Layela, no!” Josmere screamed. The other Berganda staggered and leaned against the wall, waves of terror emanating from her and crashing into Josmere, who swallowed hard against the flood of received emotions.

Destiny’s Blood | 184 “She was going to shoot you, Josmere!” Layela screamed. Her arm was still outstretched, her finger still on the trigger.

“Please, please put it down,” Josmere pleaded, locking eyes with her.

“Please, Layela.” She would probably pay for this with her life, but it was a small price to pay. “Without her, my people have no future!”

Layela’s eyes widened as though in understanding, and she lowered her gun slightly.

/

Mists clouded Layela’s vision, teasing reality away from her and implanting the memories of a vision seen too long ago to remember. The other Berganda looked triumphant as Layela lowered her gun. Without pause, she extended her arm and shot Josmere in the chest. The smell of sap filled the stale air.

Layela’s scream caught in her throat, held there by the knowledge that she was only seeing what was to be. In just a few seconds, Josmere would be dead. The vision receded and Layela brought up her gun again, ignoring the plea in Josmere’s eyes.

If the future could be changed, she would change it.

Layela pulled the trigger. She held her breath as the bullet raced towards the other Berganda, cutting through the last remaining misty threads of her vision.

/

“No!” Josmere screamed, trying to push Seela out of the way. Each movement was a lifetime too slow.

She felt Seela’s jubilation turn to confusion as she realized that Layela had shot her, despite Josmere’s plea. That confusion then turned to horror and fear and, for an instant, triumph.

I will not be the last. Josmere heard the thought and felt her own body withering around her. She didn’t need to open her eyes to see the gaping hole in Seela’s chest, didn’t need to feel her own flesh to know green blood was splattered on her. Its warmth and promise of life grew cold as Seela shook with her last breath.

And then there was nothing.

“Josmere?” Layela knelt before her, blocking the sight of the dead Berganda. Josmere focused on the deep blue of her eyes and the warmth of her flushed skin. Layela hesitated. “She would have killed you, Josmere.

I just, I only had a second to act, and...”

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A sob knocked the back of Josmere’s throat, hard. The Destiny shook with the impact of a massive volley and the lights flickered. The two friends struggled to keep balance, while Seela’s body slid and rolled, her green blood carpeting the metallic floors of the ship.

“We have to go.” Layela pulled Josmere up, unresisting.

“You did kill me, Layela,” Josmere whispered, but Layela did not seem to hear, energized by the need to escape.

Still, as they both ran towards the nearest access point to reach the bridge, sob after sob kept catching in the Berganda’s throat.

Layela had sealed her people’s fate and doomed them.

She had killed the last.

The Victory manoeuvred

Chapter 26

by the last of the Solarian fleet, its allies protecting its flanks. Gobran Kipso stood by his chair, clutching its back but refusing to sit in it. A volley blew past them and the ship rocked. Gobran lost his footing and stumbled back by Yoma.

She kept her eye on the purple menacing sky before her, but she snagged Kipso’s arm and pushed him back up. She didn’t undo her own seat belt for fear of suffering the same fate.

“Lady,” the captain mumbled. He blushed and waddled back to his seat, his fingers turning white as he clutched at it.

“Entering the nebula in thirty seconds,” Loran, Kipso’s second-incommand reported, her voice wobbling with obvious relief. She met Yoma’s eyes for half a second, gave her a tentative smile and quickly turned around.

Yoma shook her head, not sure whether to laugh or cry. She was a bloody thief, had always been a bloody thief, and all their tall tales of royalty did nothing to change her plans to always be a bloody thief. Nothing in the world filled her like the thrill of the hunt, finding forbidden objects and claiming them as her own. It filled her the same way the sights and smells of flowers filled her twin. But she would endure the tall tales now, to ensure that Layela remained far behind her, safe.

“Captain,” Loran whispered as the first wisps of the purple beast stroked the Victory’s hull. The metal of the ship shuddered in response.

“Other ships arriving on the starboard side. Solarian, sir. About thirty more.”

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Yoma sat up in her chair and Kipso exhaled loudly.

“Just take us through, Loran. Where we go, they won’t be able to follow.”

“Sir, the Destiny is badly damaged. She looks dead in the water.”

Kipso hesitated for a second. “Keep us on course, Loran.”

Yoma tried to jump to her feet, the belt pulling her back. “Bloody Rankok Rot!” She swore as she unclasped it, her eyes locked on Gobran.

He whirled around, wide-eyed at the profanity.

“You can’t leave them!” Yoma jumped up and approached Gobran, her abdomen almost touching his. She looked up at him, squaring her shoulders, placing her right foot back. Her fists clenched. She prepared to do whatever was necessary to stop them.

Without revealing that her sister still lived.

“You can’t leave the Destiny and the others!” Yoma continued when no answer came. “Those are too many ships for them to handle! They’re already being slaughtered!”

Kipso’s dark eyes looked back into hers without flinching. They narrowed — not with anger, but with deep sadness. “I have no choice, Lady Layela.”

Layela! Everything she had done was to spare her. Everything. And now she had left her to die on a ship.

“You can’t.” To her surprise, her voice cracked.

“Entering the nebula,” Loran whispered. The ship rocked and Yoma took a deep breath. Layela!

Fresh air pummelled into her and she fell to her knees, blades of grass prickling her hands.

“Yoma,” she heard the voice beside her say, and she was standing again.

Layela smiled beside her as they walked on a bridge.

Blood.

“Layela! Lady Layela!” Yoma’s consciousness flew back to her body, to the present, but still she could not shake the feeling of the warm blood on her hands, and the sight of her sister’s eyes.

She opened her own, the last of her vision washed away by the worry in Gobran’s eyes. He cradled her in his arms.

Great. She struggled to sit up on her own, a few other crewmembers looking wide-eyed at her. Her visions had picked the worst possible time to re-surface.

“I’m fine,” she mumbled.

“Was it a vision, Lady?” Gobran asked, his voice filled with awe and a hint of joy. Yoma raised her eyes and looked at him. Before she could

Destiny’s Blood | 188 answer, he filled the silence. “The queen has always had visions and powers. Now that we come closer to Mirial, now that we are within her great shields, your powers should become full.”

“Great,” Yoma muttered. Gobran helped her to stand and led her to his captain’s chair. “I already have enough problems with this power,” she joked as she sat gratefully. This was much better than having to keep going through the visions while out on a caper.

“Tell me, Lady,” Gobran kneeled beside her, his eyes hungry for answers. Everyone on the bridge held their breath as he voiced the question on all of their minds. “Will Mirial be saved?”

Yoma looked towards the sky and its thickness. She felt drawn towards its centre, where she now knew her true home dwelt. She felt Mirial calling to her and she yearned to respond, her hands wanting to reach out and grab the star, her feet wanting to run towards it, her soul yearning to break free of her body to join it.

She held the arms of the captain’s chair, pressing her hands hard against them until the edges bit into her flesh and the pain interrupted the longings.

“She will live, Gobran Kipso,” Yoma replied in a voice that didn’t even feel like hers, that sounded older to her than her own. “She will live,” she continued. His eyes were wide with relief that came at the expense of her sister’s blood, “but at a greater price than you could ever understand.”

She broke her gaze from his, not caring to see the effect of her words.

Looking out toward where she knew Mirial waited, her sight was haunted by her darker half. The vision confirmed one thing, at least. That Layela would live at least long enough to see the day when one of them would die before the other, to save a home they had never seen. She leaned back into the chair, the old leather creaking in greeting.

She had simply been arrogant to believe she could stop what a large fleet, a purple nebula and professional assassins couldn’t. Mirial would have her way, no matter what Yoma craved and desired.

I can’t stop it. She swallowed hard as peace descended on her.

I can’t stop it, but I can make sure it is my blood that is shed, not Layela’s.

/

The green blood, lifeless and growing thicker under the cold lights, caught Romero’s eyes and held them before he dared look further. He took another step forward, focused on the green liquid. His brow was covered with sweat, his mouth dry.

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He had smelled death before, but never like this. He had inflicted it on others, had even felt their last moments. He had followed them with his powers until he could no longer do so, the connection broken as the flesh grew cold.

His eyes strayed upwards. The green blood gave way to a long, yellowing leg. The skin, perfectly smooth and enticing but hours ago, was already drying.

Despite his explorations, he knew very little about death.

Her ripped pants, soaked in green blood, revealed a tease of green thigh. Romero remembered the feel of his bare hand on the fabric. How soft and warm it had been.

After years of searching for an afterlife, both through his powers and Layela’s, he doubted much existed beyond the fear and the final breath.

And never before had he really cared.

The wound was in the chest. The shirt ripped, the hole hardened and crusted over where ether had failed to heal her before the last breath was drawn.

It smelled fresh, like a lawn being cut. Romero’s stomach turned.

Death was not supposed to smell good, not like this. He forced himself to look at her. Her face was still recognizable, but it was beginning to sink in where sap no longer pushed on her skin, and the skin itself was hardening without its constant feed. Her hair had yellowed and had mostly fallen out. He looked away for a moment, and in so doing, saw her hands.

She had died with her hands covered. Romero’s vision blurred. He knelt, not caring about the blood, and reached down to take her right hand in his own. He remembered her hand’s vitality and the joys and ether they had shared. So different, yet so alike.

He turned the hand over and gently pulled at the glove, working it around the pommel of her slim hand, over her thumb and four delicate fingers. It slipped off, a lifetime of wear on it. A lifetime of oppression.

The green hand seemed untouched by death. The fingernails were still perfect, their tips white, clinging to their colour as though in hope that one day they would be allowed to see sun again.

He turned the hand over. It was perfectly smooth and without prints, as smooth as the rest of her had once been. He swallowed hard, shifted a bit as the sap stuck to his knees, and pulled his own glove off with his teeth.

His dark fingernails, outlined by his orange skin, were trimmed painfully each day to keep them as comfortable in the gloves as possible.

The glove fell in the sap and he didn’t care. He closed his hand around

Destiny’s Blood | 190 hers, her slenderness vanishing in his thick fist. But where his mind had exploded in light before, where the two had connected more deeply than he had ever believed possible, all that he felt now was her cold, withering hand, and no spark of life.

He clutched her hand and feared letting go, his instincts repulsed by her lack of reaction, as though it was his own heart that no longer pumped blood. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath of freshly cut flowers and dead legacies.

A howl ripped from deep within his throat, its echo only adding to his grief.

/

“I’m fine.” Josmere clenched her teeth, refusing Layela’s help.

“Why must you always be so bloody stubborn?”

“Because I’m a Berganda!” Josmere forced herself to grin sideways at her, flicking loose strands of green hair to her back. Layela did not look impressed. Josmere shrugged, wishing she could tell Layela she just didn’t care if she lived or died now. There had been little left for her before, and now there was nothing at all. “Seriously. I am healing my wound. I’ll be fine in a few hours.”

Layela sighed in frustration. As the two of them reached the ladder, a howl sounded through the Destiny. The friends’ eyes met briefly, and Layela looked towards the ladder with newfound urgency.

“And I suppose you’re fine enough to climb this to the deck?” she asked Josmere, who nodded.

“I need my hands. One leg will do.”

Josmere grasped the rungs, but ducked instinctively when a shot ricocheted off the wall beside her. Layela, crouched, felt her blood turn cold. The Kilita’s gun was trained on them. His orange eyes were slit and threatening, the pupils clenched like a snake’s.

“Why?” he hissed as he advanced. His ungloved hands and shirt were covered in green blood. Layela was surprised that it was Josmere at whom he aimed his gun, and even more surprised that her friend didn’t seem to care.

I saved you, Josmere! You won’t die here, like this. You’re not meant to! No mists assailed her vision, and she wondered if they would leave her alone now — if she had somehow beaten them back by fighting against their predicted outcome.

“You shouldn’t have let her die. You couldn’t have let her die,” the Kilita’s voice remained as calm and as steady as his hands, only his

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unblinking eyes betraying his intensity.

Josmere’s green hair flicked her arms as she shook her head, as though at a loss for words.

“She would have killed us,” Layela said.

“She would have killed you,” the Kilita answered, his eyes still on Josmere. Layela dared to lower her hands, which the intent Kilita appeared not to notice. She held her breath. With or without mists, she was certain he meant to kill them.

“She would have killed you, but you would have lived!” He hissed, as though only breath was left to him, his voice as lost as the look in his eyes.

Josmere kept shaking her head and Layela didn’t bother wondering what he meant. She reached for her gun and fired it, striking the Kilita in the shoulder. Orange blood oozed out and mixed with the green. He returned fire from his wounded arm, the bullet ricocheting harmlessly on the wall beside them. Even with his shoulder wounded, he was fast.

He switched his gun to his other hand and fired again. The bullet struck Layela’s gun and grazed her flesh as she fell back against the wall.

“Run!” Josmere screamed. She grabbed Layela and pushed her, first down one corridor and then another. Bullets followed them closely.

“He’s slow but determined,” Josmere whispered through gasps. She hobbled behind Layela at an amazing speed. “Just keep running!”

Layela didn’t bother replying, her ragged breath echoing in her ears. She turned down several corridors, passed by what she thought might be her room, and kept running. Soon, she was hopelessly lost on the big ship.

Turning down another corridor, she realized the gunshots had stopped.

She chanced a glance back as the main lights flickered, and then they died, leaving only the eerie flash of red lights. Her blood turned cold.

Somewhere along the way, Josmere had stopped following her.

Her heartbeat quickened further as she turned around and ran back, fearing her wounded, foolish friend had decided to take on their foe alone.

/

A few corridors and some minutes back, Josmere had ducked into an entryway and watched Layela vanish around a corner. Her own footsteps and ragged breathing would be enough to fool her into thinking the two were still together.

She pressed herself heavily against the cold metal wall as the Destiny lurched again. The main lights flickered twice before dying completely.

Only the eerie glow of the flashing red lights remained. She was

Destiny’s Blood | 192 Berganda, and her sight depended greatly on daylight. She wished she knew if the Kilita, being an ether race like hers, faced the same limitations. Still, she could see well enough to battle, and the darkness might yet be to her advantage.

A grunt around the last corner alerted her that he was coming and she pulled her gloves free.

Cover all exits. Yoma had often repeated as the two snuck through the shadows, wraiths rarely seen but with great consequence. And success.

The memories of her oldest ally made her grin and feel stronger as she pulled her knife from her boot.

In her grief for the family she could now never have, Josmere had almost forgotten about the family she did have: the Delamores. Josmere’s hesitation could have cost Layela her life. She was all she had left right now, and she didn’t intend to lose her, too.

She clutched her knife tighter. She wasn’t certain her powers would work, but her long blade always did.

The smell of sap overpowered her senses, and a second later he passed without noticing her in the shadows, his gun trained forward on Layela’s path of escape.

I hate heroics, Josmere thought. She jumped out and slashed down toward his neck. The Kilita moved sideways swiftly, the failed blow sending her forward and throwing her off balance. He turned around, victory flashing in his eyes. He had set a trap of his own.

And she had leapt right into it.

Layela ran towards

Chapter 27

the Kilita harder than she had run away from him. Her chest throbbed and her breath burned, but still she ran. Her footsteps echoed on the metal, and she did not care.

She tried to figure out how long it had been since she had heard Josmere behind her. The answer frightened her and she pushed herself even harder. She had no weapon, but the sight of Josmere’s wounded leg and the flash of her grin was all she could think about.

She turned the next corner so quickly she rammed into the wall.

Josmere was at the end of the corridor; the Kilita’s gun was drawn.

Josmere crouched, about to jump. The Kilita screamed deeply and fired.

Josmere’s leg failed her and she stumbled, her eyes wide and impossibly white against her green skin despite the ship’s flashing red lights.

Layela’s gasp burned her lungs. Josmere’s body was flung against the side of the corridor, hit in the centre of the chest. Her green blood coated the wall as she slowly slid down it, her eyes closing. Her head collapsed forward on her chest.

“Josmere!” Layela screamed, the sound mixing with the Kilita’s holler.

The Kilita turned around. His pupils were devoured by grief and his eyes glowed such a deep red that Layela took a step back.

/

Romero aimed his gun like it was an extension of his limb. He

Destiny’s Blood | 194 wondered if the girl had seen her own death, and if this would be it.

With the scent of sap still filling his nostrils, he suddenly longed to feel the girl’s ether again, to force her mind to travel past the brink of death and show him the afterlife he now needed to believe in.

Her eyes met his with a chilly sadness in them. She was seeing his death again, he knew, and he wished the ether still courted him and allowed him to remember more of her memories and visions.

He felt relief as he aimed and pulled the trigger. This wretched pain would soon end, one way or another.

/

“Our shields are gone and I’m losing too many guns!” Avienne shouted over the explosions.

“We’ve lost two starboard engines, Captain!”

“What you have is all that’s left, Ardin. We’ve used up our fuel supplies.”

“This is fun,” Lang muttered from his console. His eyes grew wider and wider as he tried to count the number of destroyed ships, ally and foe.

Avienne sucked in her breath as the shields went out completely. From his console, Cailan saw the same. The captain leaned back in his chair.

“Armour won’t hold long without energy shields,” Avienne whispered.

“We’ll have to run for now,” Cailan said, sitting up in his chair. “Ardin, I’m giving you all we have left. One boost, and if a hit doesn’t stop our momentum, we might make it within Mirial’s shields. We’ll be safe there.”

“You mean just run?” Ardin asked incredulously.

“First he wants to save the girl, then he wants to save everyone else…”

Lang took a swig from his flask.

“The Victory’s already through, Ardin,” Cailan replied, not interrupting his work. “We can’t access engineering, and we’re almost done for. We can help Layela on the planet. She’ll need our help.”

The last argument seemed to convince Ardin, who turned back to his controls. “On your orders, Captain.”

“Put her on full and let’s see how far she takes us.”

Avienne took a deep breath and watched the screen. The purple beast that would save them grew sharper.

/

The Kilita raised his gun without expression, looking through Layela as though not seeing her.

Sap. All I see is sap! Had she not managed to save Josmere by killing

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the other Berganda?

He pulled the trigger. Mist clouded her vision as the shot thundered.

She closed her eyes and waited for the impact, but it wasn’t a bullet that hit her. Someone tackled her from the right.

She opened her eyes, only to see a dark shadow closing in on the Kilita, not slowing as more shots were fired. A flash of light ran down the shadow and struck the Kilita, and the gap was closed. Layela heard a gurgle and the Kilita fell over, orange blood shining almost as red as human blood in the dim light.

She looked into the Kilita’s dead, sightless eyes. She remembered the hunger akin to lust in them, the feeling of his coarse hands on her skin as he forced ether from her, and she wished she could feel relief at his death.

But there was no time for even a sigh. Layela pushed herself up and ran to Josmere. The front of the Berganda’s shirt was covered in blood, releasing the smell of a thousand freshly cut plants. It reminded Layela of happier days at Sunrise Flowers and how she had initially greeted Josmere with suspicion. It reminded her of how precious her friendship and her smile had proven to be.

“Josmere,” Layela whispered, kneeling by her. She pushed hair out of her way to see the tight, drawn face. Even in the red light, Layela could see it was more yellow than green.

She tore her eyes away and focused on the wound on her chest, just below her right breast. Gently, without moving Josmere from her slumped position for fear of causing more harm, Layela pulled the broken strips of shirt aside.

Lukewarm green blood covered her hand, black in the red light, and Layela tried to get a closer look. But any attempt to examine the wound was blocked by the dimness of the light emanating from the red alarm.

“Here,” Layela jumped as Zortan knelt beside her, a bit of blood trickling down his cheek. He handed her a pocket-sized flashlight. A splattering of orange blood clung to his gloves.

“Thanks,” she mumbled. She turned to Josmere, shining the light onto the wound. Thicker blood oozed lazily from it. As Layela watched, the Berganda stopped bleeding altogether. She moved nearer to Josmere’s chest to get a better look.

“A bit close, don’t you think?” Josmere slurred, and Layela jerked her head away and looked at her friend.

“Josmere, are you all right?”

“Been better.”

Destiny’s Blood | 196 “I’m so sorry, Josmere,” Layela said as she fought the urge to hug her friend and simply kissed the top of her head.

“My choice. Stupid heroics.”

Zortan stood and Josmere lifted her weary head, leaning back against the wall.

Layela allowed herself a smile, which Josmere returned weakly.

A second later, the great engine of the Destiny stopped rumbling in her core, and they were plunged into deathly quiet darkness.

/

“She’s dead in the water,” Ardin whispered from his station. Avienne knew he had tried everything, punched every button, pulled every lever.

Destiny shook and then groaned mournfully.

“Her armour’s hurting bad,” Avienne reported. She wished she had left the ship and dragged Ardin with her when she had the chance.

“The good news is,” Lang leaned back, hands interlaced behind his head, “that there are a lot of ships shooting at us right now, so this should be fairly quick. I hate suspense.”

Cailan also sat back from Travan’s panel. There was no power left to redirect, and they were without the one person who could revive the Destiny’s sputtering engines.

“If anyone cares,” Avienne said as new readings scrolled on her screen, “thirty more government ships are approaching.”

“The more the merrier!” Lang laughed.

“Could all insane crew members please be quiet?” Cailan ordered softly, eliciting a few more chuckles from the navigator. But the captain ordered nothing more, leaving Travan’s old station to sit in his chair. The panel before him flashed red with complaints from all Destiny’s systems.

He turned it off.

“Three torpedoes are heading straight for us,” Avienne whispered. She didn’t mention that they were nuclear warheads.

“Fasten your seat belts,” Cailan whispered. Ardin complied, while Lang muttered about adequate death safety rules. Avienne looked at her brother, who looked back. She gave him a crooked grin and he smiled back weakly. She saw regret in his eyes and wished she could relieve his final moments of it.

All in all, as bad as living on a ship is, Avienne decided, dying in one is, without a doubt, even worse.

Thirty more of

Chapter 28

our ships have arrived, Colonel.”

Dunkat sat in his chair, no longer excited nor intrigued by the battle around him. He had it on good authority that the girl had been on the ugly ship, long swallowed by the shields of Mirial.

Dunkat had been tempted to order some of his ships to follow, if for no other reason than to relieve some of his annoyance, but he remembered what the shields of the First Star did to wayward ships that did not originate from Mirial.

Instead, he fought a meaningless battle with meaningless ships to dull his anger. It did help a bit.

“Minister Noro is on the line,” a young, useless soldier reported. His features were pale, as drawn as a well-made army bed sheet. Dunkat hated him for his uselessness. He hated all of them.

“Patch it in to my private office.” His long strides quickly brought him to his small room, equipped with the latest in holo-screen technologies.

The small light on the table indicated a communication was waiting.

Waiting impatiently, Dunkat thought. He stood by the viewing screen, ignoring the light as he stared at the stars, looking away from the purple beast that clouded his vision on the right. A ship exploded not far from him, but his ship’s energy shields were strong. He could withstand twenty more hits like that.

But not the shields of Mirial.

Destiny’s Blood | 198 The console beeped, trying now to catch his attention through sound.

Dunkat ignored it still, staring at the stars — so far, so beautiful, yet none as stunning as the First Star. He had not seen it in almost twenty years.

“I know you can hear me, Dunkat,” Noro’s voice boomed into the room.

Dunkat did not turn, making a mental note to reprimand the communications officer for overriding the voice circuit without his authorization. Minister or not, Noro held no rank as long as he wasn’t on this ship.

The simpler the system of rule, the better the results.

“Your actions led to the destruction of one of the oldest tunnels, Colonel,” Noro spat the title. Dunkat waited as patiently and quietly as the faraway stars. He was already well aware of Noro’s plans. He had, after all, been planning for a long time.

“And led to the destruction of a ship bearing royalty from Thalos, making an already shaky alliance even more expensive. And all for a little revenge, Dunkat.”

“Get it over with, Noro,” Dunkat said, his anger piercing through his pretence of peace and shattering it. He turned away from the sky and stared at the lighted comm unit.

He could feel Noro smile and he hated the man. Hated him for his pettiness, for his lack of foresight, for his small-mindedness. Revenge?

Was that truly all they thought he sought, when they had also witnessed the wild destructive powers of the First Star and what it could mean to their people?

“You’re relieved of duty and rank, and are to be tried for a higher offence in Solaria.” Noro paused, and Dunkat knew the worst was to come. “And you’re forbidden from using the name Groosh until further notice. I’m sure your father would agree, it is better not to soil his name by associating it with your shame.”

Dunkat clenched his jaw, turned around and punched the view screen.

The skin of his knuckles broke and blood trickled on the screen. He kept his fist there, breathing deeply. Droplets of cold sweat ran down his back.

Noro was already gone, he knew, satisfied that he had crushed him. He looked at the blood on his own knuckles — his blood, his father’s blood.

It bore a hero’s name, which was his own. Following the blood’s dripping trail led him to the sight of one of the Mirial ships. It was small, worn, and dead in space.

He lowered his fist and straightened his shirt. The ship was just outside their energy shields, blue flickers bouncing off of it.

It was a useless relic to any man but one hunting the past.

/

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The air shimmered around them and coated them, the Victory gliding effortlessly through the sky. Yoma remained in the captain’s chair and Gobran held onto the back of it protectively, as though he feared Yoma might fall or vanish. Now no longer worried about her sister, Yoma found she could relax and enjoy the comfort of the Victory and Gobran’s company.

She swore he smelled of old maps, the dust on his jacket reminding her of the thousands of old parchments he had meticulously kept.

“What about your maps, Captain?” Yoma asked him. It was good to hear some sound, even if it was only her own voice.

“Those maps were nice, but I have so many more on Mirial, Lady.” His eyes twinkled with such excitement that she didn’t even bother telling him again to call her Yoma. “On Mirial, I had the oldest maps, the rarest and the most accurate, plotting much, much farther than even Solari has, and maps showing Mirial as perceived through various worlds.”

His excitement was contagious and Yoma found herself smiling at him and sitting straighter. She wondered why he believed his maps would even still be in one piece, or why the planet named after its sun would still exist, but she held her tongue. If nothing else, her own visions showed her that something yet lived near the doomed star.

The captain continued, gesturing widely as he described various maps, materials and mythologies. “I even have one that shows the journeys of the ether creatures. There’s the Lorpas—which actually continue to live, despite popular belief, but they’re very shy; and the Kilita, a nasty little folk, really. And my most beautiful one spans four entire walls in a very large room, and shows where the Berganda have dwelt and dwell still, and the impact they have on the plants around them.”

Yoma smiled at the mention of the Berganda, thinking of Josmere, picturing her friend’s quick smile. She could smell sap. Why could she smell sap on a ship? She looked around her, her smile fading, and Gobran wavered in her vision as she rose to her feet.

“Can you smell that?” She looked around the bridge and under stations. The crewmembers moved away in advance of her as if she were royalty, or insane.

“Smell what, Lady?”

“Plants. All cut and bleeding…” She paused and looked down, gasping to see Josmere sprawled on the floor beside her. She knelt down, unable to touch her friend or the green that bled out all around her.

Destiny’s Blood | 200 “Josmere!” she cried, patting the floor. She knew the Berganda was not actually there, but she was unable to stop herself. So much blood! The eyes were dull and open, the skin yellow, the hair withered around her head…

“Josmere!” she screamed. Gobran was pulling her back, but she needed to hold her, to save her friend. Josmere had only been wounded because Yoma had wanted her to help her sister.

“No!” she screamed. She kicked, elbowed and kneed, and was rewarded by shouts of pain. She was tackled down, could hear Gobran shouting at her to be still, could hear him shouting at others to be gentle, and then she could only hear her own screams. “Josmere!”

She was on her belly on the floor, beside her vision of Josmere’s corpse.

The stench of sap attacked her nose; the blood, so thick and cold, oozed toward her until it covered the side of her face and clung to her hair. She tasted its bitterness in her mouth.

Tears erupted, mixing with the blood, and Josmere’s glassy eyes looked at her. Josmere’s dry, dead lips moved: “Be strong, Layela.”

Yoma felt herself snap. “Nooooo!” She managed to throw three crewmembers off of her as she stood, looking toward the heart of the nebula — toward Mirial, where her soul ached to be. She pleaded with all of her heart, with all of her sins and heroics. She pleaded that her friend be saved, and offered to pay the price. She pleaded that they be allowed to meet once more.

“Please,” she whispered, exhausted. The faint light of Mirial seemed to flicker and grow. Gobran was beside her in an instant.

“Lady...” His voice shook as he held her, and she looked down. Josmere was gone, the vision ended, yet it continued to clutch her soul. The side of her face still felt sticky with Josmere’s blood. Her hair felt weighed down by its thickness. Her nose was still filled with the smell of death.

“Captain, something’s happening.” Loran reported. The sky filled with light and a deep wail crossed through Yoma and caressed her soul. “The nebula — I mean, the shields of Mirial...They’re expanding!”

The ship rocked gently and Yoma smiled.

Mirial had heard her daughter and granted her wish.

/

“What’s that?” Avienne asked from her station as she looked towards the nebula, the lights that danced at its edges shimmering brighter and turning faster, as though the entire beast was twirling. ...28 seconds to impact...

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“Death,” Lang replied simply. He swigged the remaining liquid in his flask and threw it away in disgust.

“It’s Mirial,” Cailan whispered. The faint light of his home shimmered in his eyes.

Another hit rocked the Destiny, but Avienne couldn’t pull her eyes away from the nebula. The sun throbbed with a different light, as if it was pushing against its previous boundaries.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered.

It’s home. Her eyes warmed with tears.

“It’s expanding!” Ardin shouted in surprise. As Avienne watched, Mirial vanished within the glow, its shields pushing outward until they swallowed the few ships before the Destiny. She held her breath. The Solari ships went dark. Their hulls cracked and the oxygen escaped, and some of their crewmembers were sucked out into space — Avienne could see them as small, bright specks of dead weight floating away. The ships of the dwindling Mirial fleet seemed unaffected as they were swallowed by the purple beast; they only vanished into the purple, while the Solari ships died.

The nebula’s light approached slowly, like a bride walking down the aisle. Destiny was helpless to get out of her way. As it washed over them, it rocked Destiny gently sideways, as a mother soothing a crying child.

Purple was all they could see. Mirial and the other ships had all vanished from view.

Destiny’s lights flickered, responding to Mirial’s caress.

“Torpedoes were destroyed!” Avienne cried joyfully.

Cailan sat quietly in his chair, looking at the purple around them as though poised for what came next. Avienne’s panel flared to life.

“Distress calls, Captain,” she whispered. “From the farming communities. The nebula, it’s not stopping.”

“We have some power back. We could get to them, maybe,” Ardin said, his voice thin and hesitant.

The distress calls ended abruptly, and Avienne frowned. “Our systems are still up, I don’t understand…” A glance down at her instruments stopped her. The planets had been as easily destroyed as the Solari ships.

“Blood and bones,” she whispered and fell back in her chair, unable to tear her eyes away from the purple beast. It had swallowed them, killed thousands, but also saved them.

“Blood and bones.”

Destiny’s Blood | 202

/

“I’m fine, really.” Josmere smiled at Layela from Zortan’s arms. He carried her as though she weighed nothing. “In fact, I feel quite giddy to be carried by such a handsome gentleman.” She smiled coyly at Zortan, who ignored her.

“Stop making fun of the man who saved our lives, Josmere,” Layela scolded, but she smiled. Zortan ignored her as well, his dark eyes focused ahead. Layela lighted the way with Zortan’s flashlight. If Josmere felt good enough to joke, then perhaps the wound wasn’t that bad. She wished she knew more about Berganda physiology. In all their years of friendship, Layela had never needed to tend to the Berganda’s wounds.

“Where are we going, anyway?” Josmere asked.

“The shuttle bay,” Zortan replied.

“Why?” Layela turned to him, flashing the light in his face.

He stopped, but didn’t turn away. “The Destiny is too wounded to go on.

She’s taken bad hits, her engines have stopped, and her armour, as strong as it is, will eventually fail. We need to leave and cross Mirial’s shield.”

“But, we can’t just leave everyone else!”

“If Captain Cailan can get his crew out, he will. In the meantime, we have to reach your sister, Layela. Gobran was right about one thing: the powers of Mirial must be complete to be restored. If not in one body, then in two, but they must both be together.”

“I don’t know what he’s telling you,” Josmere said drowsily from his arms. “But I don’t think it’s couth.”

Zortan sighed. “You have to be with your sister on Mirial, or she’s just as likely to get herself killed.”

Layela nodded and shined the light back down the corridor. They resumed walking. She felt cold and numb, and she wished she could make sure the rest of the crew was escaping safely. She thought of Ardin knocking on her door — Ardin, who thought she was long gone from this ship and out of reach — and she wished he was here now, with her.

The ship rocked sideways, sending them crashing into the wall. The lights flickered back to life, blinding Layela, and Josmere began to scream, a wail so loud it felt as though a blade had pierced Layela’s ears.

She forced her aching eyes to face the light and saw Zortan kneeling by the Berganda. Josmere screamed, not stopping for air, her eyes wide open and her arms clutching herself.

Layela feared the wound had reopened, but no fresh blood covered her

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friend. Josmere jerked, and her ungloved hand grabbed Layela, who reeled back as their minds connected. She was assaulted by deep, impenetrable silence. Layela knew she should be hearing a song through Josmere, and now it trickled towards her from Josmere’s memory: the cry of thousands of sentient Booknots begging to be rescued, and the silence that followed.

The Berganda, through careful love, had brought sentience to the Booknots generations ago, and the rare plant had kept the Berganda company as their race withered. Their death was the source of her grief.

Josmere’s emotions assaulted Layela, and she saw Josmere’s memories flash before her like exploding light bulbs. Her sprouting, the death of her aunts, leaving home to find good earth, finding no more Berganda, meeting the twins and finding comfort in others with powers and no home, bleeding into the earth...and now, the blood quiet where a song should have existed.

Silence. Silence, and Josmere’s screams, now turning to broken sobs as she heaved for air. Layela kept her hand on Josmere, forcing herself to bear some of the pain. She cradled the small, broken body, wondering how much more hurt her friend could take before the road proved to be too long.

The Destiny moaned

Chapter 29

and shrieked from somewhere deep below, a howl that carried through her cracking metal to batter the ears of her crew. For an instant, no one moved. Then Cailan looked at his station, and the old captain straightened his shoulders and turned to address his two protégés and Lang.

“The hull is buckling,” he said. Avienne’s blood turned to ice and Ardin jumped to his feet. Cailan put up his hands. “She’ll still make it, but we’ll have to close most sections and preserve power by lowering life support functions.”

He looked at each of them. “I want you all off this ship. I’ll take her in myself.”

The reaction was immediate. Avienne bounced to her feet as Ardin objected. “We are not leaving you.”

“You and Avienne can fly the shuttles out. You’re leaving.”

“We’re staying with you.” Avienne answered this time, narrowing her eyes.

“You have to get Josmere out of here. She’s wounded, remember? Go to the shuttle bay and evacuate.”

“Avienne can take her,” Ardin said.

“I am not leaving you, Ardin Malavant!” She forced the tremor out of her voice. “I did not leave you before and I will not leave you now!”

“You have to take Josmere out of here,” Ardin began, turning to face her instead.

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“You are both taking Josmere, Lang, and the rest of the crew out. This isn’t up for debate. It’s an order.”

Lang mumbled from his station and shook his head, scanning the data on his display. The siblings and the captain ignored him, still intent on their face-off.

Cailan sighed and put a hand on each of their shoulders. It was the closest thing to an embrace Avienne could ever remember receiving from him, and her shoulder squared under the weight of it.

“The engines will carry the Destiny home to Mirial. There’s no need for this.” He gave them a half-smile. “You should worry more about yourselves. I don’t know what awaits you on Mirial, but I doubt it will be extremely pleasant. That’s why I want both of you to go.” He squeezed their shoulders gently. “You’ll look after each other on Mirial. It’s what you’ve always done, and what you need to do now.”

His hand slipped away and Avienne’s shoulders dropped. She knew Ardin’s had, as well.

“Let’s head to the shuttle bay. Avienne, sound the evacuation and alert all crew.”

Avienne headed to her station, each step slower than the last. The deck went quiet as Lang ended his mumblings and Destiny’s great belly sighed.

/

“All hands are ordered to the shuttle bay for evacuation,” Avienne’s voice boomed over the creaking of the ship. “And since we don’t evacuate unless necessary, and it never has been before, I don’t need to tell you to move it. What? Oh, coming...” She paused, then added quickly, “To the shuttle bay, now!”

Her voice died away just as Layela stepped into the shuttle bay.

“Looks like we’re not the only ones with this idea,” Josmere mumbled from Zortan’s arms. Layela smiled at her friend, but had to look away from her yellowed skin, her browning hair, the already ill-fitting clothes.

Her entire body seemed to be melting away.

“Let’s get them ready,” Zortan said. He gently placed the Berganda on the floor of the shuttle bay, leaning against the same control station where Josmere had overpowered the drunk Lang. It seemed like a lifetime ago. Layela felt a strange sense of déjà vu as she sat at the console, hitting the right buttons and flipping the switches necessary to power up the shuttle, as Josmere had taught her. Yet, everything was different without Josmere beside her, joking and laughing.

Destiny’s Blood | 206 “I thought you were gone.” Jaru entered with two other crewmembers.

“Well, I guess you’re not, since you’re here, but still. It’s odd that you’re here.”

The shuttle bay opened again and Avienne’s laughter collided with the stern silence of the room. Ardin mumbled something and the siblings shared a chuckle. Layela could hear them approach as she returned to Josmere’s side, and then she finally saw them from where she knelt by her friend. Ardin saw her first, his eyes growing wide for an instant as though not understanding. Then his brow furrowed and, before Layela could say anything, Avienne was rushing towards them.

“What happened to you?” Avienne asked, her wide eyes searching Josmere’s.

Josmere managed a small grin. “Getting slow in my old age.”

Avienne pulled her coat off and laid it gently on the Berganda, eyeing the wound on her stomach. Layela saw what Avienne did — a constant trickle of bubbling green blood, as though Josmere was deflating.

“You’re not really going to let a little wound like that get to you?”

Avienne asked with a lift of an eyebrow. Josmere gave her a strained smile, but her reply was stolen as a spasm shook her body. A small sob escaped her lips, but when it was over, she was smiling again.

“I’d hate to miss out on the fun.”

Avienne grinned. “It’d be less fun without you.” She squeezed the Berganda’s shoulder and paused as though she wanted to say more, but remained silent. Her eyes caught Layela’s for an instant and then she stood up and walked towards the shuttles.

“I thought you were on the Victory,” Ardin said. He remained standing, observing her and Josmere.

Layela whispered a reply. “That was my sister.”

Ardin looked down at her for a moment longer, then simply nodded and knelt by Josmere.

“Let’s get you on a shuttle,” Ardin said. He lifted her easily, surprise flickering in his eyes at how light she had become.

“My hero,” Josmere whispered. She leaned her head against Ardin’s shoulder, too tired to hold herself up. “I like this one, Layela.” She ended with a slight grin, eyes closed tightly.

“I’m not leaving her side,” Layela heard Zortan say. She squeezed Josmere’s hand and left her in Ardin’s care.

“There’s only enough air for three in each shuttle, and only three shuttles are left,” Cailan said, turning to Jaru. “And why are you still here? Go now, or I will blow you out an airlock!”

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Jaru nodded and began turning before taking a pause and facing him, his hand coming up to his forehead in salute. “It’s been an honour, Captain.”

He turned and dragged the other two crewmen to the shuttle before Cailan could respond, but he whispered loud enough for them to hear, “The honour was all mine.”

Layela thought they stood straighter as the shuttle doors closed, and then the small ship was rolled to the exit bay. They were gone.

“Avienne and Ardin are the only two who can fly these shuttles,” Cailan turned back to Zortan. “Unless you’re qualified in Tri-Pak shuttle flight manoeuvres. Considering these were the only ones ever created, I somehow doubt you are.”

Zortan tensed and was about to protest when a crack broke through the silence. Destiny moaned as a piece of her gave out.

Layela’s whisper carried over the moan. “I’m not leaving Josmere.”

Cailan looked at Layela and spoke gently to her. “No one would expect you to leave your friend.” He shot Zortan a pointed look.

“I can take them down to Mirial,” Ardin said as he joined them. All that Layela could see were the green flecks clinging to his shirt.

“We can join up on Mirial,” Avienne said, holding the last word captive a moment longer than necessary.

“If Mirial still exists,” Lang muttered.

“I’ll take care of her,” Ardin spoke up in the silence that followed.

Zortan slowly turned to face him as Ardin continued. “I’ll take care of Layela and Josmere until we meet with you again on the planet.”

Zortan examined Ardin closely. Ardin met his gaze and straightened his spine. The two summed each other up. Layela wondered what it would take to impress Zortan, remembering his speed and inhuman ability to avoid bullets. And the sword that had cleaved the Kilita like bread.

After a time, Zortan nodded, his eyes still fixed on Ardin’s. “We must also remember that Yoma lives and she’s only safe as long as they believe her to be Layela, the only heir.”

“My sister can take care of herself,” Layela said, flushing. Her own words implied that she could not.

“Nevertheless, let us be careful.”

“See you on the planet, and…thank you for saving Josmere and me back there.”

Zortan nodded slightly. “It’s my duty.” His eyes softened. “I’m only sorry I couldn’t always be there when you needed rescuing.”

Destiny shuddered and her lights flickered. Ardin cast a look at Cailan.

Destiny’s Blood | 208 “You’re sure she’ll hold all the way to Mirial?”

“She’ll hold. Her hull is reinforced by ether now that we’re nearing Mirial.” Ardin hesitated, and Cailan repeated, “She’ll hold.”

Ardin nodded and turned to his sister. “Would you please at least try to stay out of trouble until we meet again?”

Avienne grinned. “I will. It’s no fun making trouble when you’re not there to witness it!”

Ardin closed the gap quickly and bear-hugged his sister, lifting her off the ground. She swore as the air was squeezed out of her. He dropped her just as suddenly.

“I’ll throw the emergency locator as soon as we land. Come find us.”

He cast one more glance at Cailan and headed for the shuttle.

“Keep him out of trouble,” Avienne asked of Layela, who nodded in response.

Layela turned to go, but Zortan held her arm fast. He leaned in and whispered in her ear. “There will be dangers there that even I can’t predict, but your powers will grow stronger. Believe in yourself, and you’ll be fine.”

He released her arm and walked toward the other shuttle, picking up supplies and stacking them inside.

Destiny shuddered with a strained groan. “We have to go, Layela,” Ardin shouted from the shuttle. Layela hesitated, her eyes trained on Zortan. She shook her head, then turned around and headed toward the small ship. Cailan whispered, and his words managed to reach her ears even as the shuttle door slid closed.

“Mirial depends on you, Lady.”

/

Avienne watched her brother’s shuttle leave. He had departed with a girl who might very well be dying, and another whom he looked at in a way that she had never seen him look at anyone else before.

Stay safe, brother. She held the quiet prayer in her heart as she checked the last of the shuttle’s supplies. Zortan had expertly chosen, stacked and secured them.

At least I won’t be flying with a rookie.

“We’re ready to head off, Captain,” Avienne said. She lost her footing as the Destiny jerked and an explosion sounded deep in her hull. The ship’s exhalation was familiar, becoming violent as air was sucked from deep within her. Her lights flickered and the shuttle bay doors went into automatic lockdown to avoid additional loss of life support.

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The great lady jerked again and Avienne supported Lang so the navigator wouldn’t fall. Metal creaked on metal and slammed against itself, sending tremors through the entire hull. Destiny was done exhaling.

The main section of the ship had no more air to give.

“I don’t think she’ll make it,” Avienne said after a few seconds of silence. “I don’t think the patch jobs done by those Mirialers will hold.”

Cailan didn’t meet her eyes. “She’ll make it, Avienne. She’ll make it home.” She narrowed her eyes and studied him. He looked at her then, with grey eyes that had always comforted her.

“Come with us,” she said quietly, and again as she took a step towards him. “Come with us.”

The Destiny jerked again. Its gravity engines failed for an instant and they floated up, only to be tossed to the floor a moment later when they kicked back in. Only Zortan managed to remain standing.

Cailan kneeled before Avienne and he helped her up. He held her eyes.

“Go. Go and help your brother.”

Avienne jumped to her feet. “Not without you. We’re all going.” She braced herself for his anger, and was disappointed and frightened when none came.

“There is only one shuttle left, Avienne, and barely enough air for three in it.” Avienne opened her mouth to protest, but Cailan held up his hand. She pushed on anyways.

“We’ll find a way. We can bring air tanks from the space suits. That’ll keep us all going longer. And…” “Avienne,” Cailan’s tone grew stern and stopped her. “We never refilled the air tanks on Collar. All we have left is on those shuttles already. There isn’t enough.”

Never refilled…on Collar…Avienne felt her blood grow cold. She had not had enough time to refill the oxygen after rescuing Ardin from Sunrise Flowers. She had not had enough. And one shuttle was gone, thanks to Layela and Josmere.

“We take our chances then, but we all go.” She moved forward and grabbed Cailan’s upper arm, intent on dragging him to the shuttle. His arm moved up faster than she thought possible, his hand rising to the side of her neck. She felt a prick.

“Blood and…” she mumbled as she crumpled in Cailan’s arms, the paralyzing agent rushing through her fast-moving blood.

She felt his warm breath on her ear. “Who do you think taught you everything you know?”

Destiny’s Blood | 210 Cailan, no, please! She wanted to scream, to hit him, to break his teeth if necessary, but she could not move. Wrapped in his comforting arms, she was carried to the shuttle. She remembered being carried before when she was very young, after having been hurt during a fall. Her father was gone and she barely remembered him, but when Cailan had carried her to the infirmary and whispered consoling words in her ear, she had understood what having a father felt like.

This man had been more of a father to her than the great Captain Malavant. This man, the man who was staying behind on a dying ship, was her father.

“You’ll be fine for take off, just let the shuttle do her work. She’ll head automatically for Mirial,” she heard him say once he had placed her on one of the two front seats. “The landing will be tricky, but Avienne will be able to handle that one.”

A pause stretched into eternity as Avienne, trapped in her own body, fought to move a finger. Just one little finger would be the beginning.

Cailan spoke again, hesitantly, and she knew that he spoke to Zortan.

“Your actions cost their father his life. Now, I have no choice but to ask you to take care of her. Please.”

She heard no response, but she felt Cailan lean in toward her, then kiss her cheek. “Take care of your brother. Take care of each other,” he whispered into her ear. He paused but stayed close. She could feel his warmth, and she wanted him to hold her again and never let her go.

Then, he pierced her with his final words. “Good bye, my daughter.”

And he was gone.

/

Cailan did not feel smothered by fear as he had years ago when Captain Malavant had died in battle. Back then, he had not known whether he would live or die, but his fear of death had been so great that it had clouded his every action.

Now, as he stood before the shuttle that would leave him on a doomed ship, he felt strangely at peace. The Malavant children would live, and that would be his repayment to Captain Malavant for his kindness. And it would be a testimony to his own life.

Zortan stood near, still a mystery to Cailan except for the fact that Radin Malavant had died believing in his closest friend. Cailan knew he would have trusted him with the life of his children, as well. He looked into the shuttle, Avienne’s eyes closed and her cheeks glistening in the

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fake light. He wished he could hold her again, wished he had done so more frequently when she and her brother were growing up.

He forced his gaze away. What was done was done.

He turned to face his officer. “Board up, Lang.” He handed him a small pouch of coins. “Your payment for the next month.” He met the navigator’s eyes, which were surprisingly vivid and sober. “I’m sorry I dragged you into this, but you were good for this crew.”

“I always thought the old adage about a captain going down with his ship was a bit tired, myself,” Lang replied, pocketing the coins.

Cailan gave him a half smile. “Get on board and try to stay out of trouble.”

Lang looked at the shuttle, took out the small pouch of money and jiggled it a few moments before pocketing it again. He met Cailan’s eyes.

“I’m not going.”

Cailan could not keep the surprise from his features.

“I’ve always wanted to die rich, and this is my best shot!” Lang joked, and Cailan’s features darkened. The navigator put up his hands.

“Seriously, I think we might be able to get her through. The bridge still has oxygen, and I looked at all the navigation data. We might be able to pull her to Mirial and lay her to rest there.”

Cailan felt his features soften. “She’s a doomed ship, Lang.”

“And you’re very negative today, Captain.” Lang smiled widely, for the first time since Cailan had hired him. “I believe you’ve been around me too long!”

Cailan shook his head. He didn’t know much about his navigator, really. Only that he was one of the best, and had been in jail when they found him. They had rescued him and hired him, and not once had he wanted to contact family or anyone else off-ship. Once, Cailan had caught Lang drunk and crying, staring at the picture of a beautiful blonde girl in a wedding dress, hope flashing in her eyes. The half with the groom had been burnt black.

Cailan had never asked. Lang had never offered.

The ship jostled, cracked, and an engine sputtered and died.

“With just half our engines, we’re going to spin out unless we compensate,” Lang said, heading towards the ladder to the bridge. “I think I’ve watched that young hotshot enough to know how it’s done!”

And he was gone, climbing the ladder, not waiting for another argument.

“I will,” Zortan voiced and Cailan turned to face him. “I will take care of her.”

Cailan nodded, and thanked him, the words tasting less bitter as he

Destiny’s Blood | 212 said them. He still couldn’t help but think of the man as responsible for Captain Malavant’s death, and the wounding of Mirial.

He was surprised when Zortan held out his hand. “Thank you for raising them so finely.” He paused, swallowed hard, and then whispered, “Radin would be proud.”

Cailan looked at the offered hand and felt a great weight lift from his shoulders. He took it, strength flowing from the hand of the captain of the Royal Guards to his own. Cailan suddenly understood why Radin had liked Zortan so much. He wondered what price exile had demanded of Zortan, and if the man had tried as hard to forget Mirial as Cailan had.

As he looked into Zortan’s dark eyes, he knew that the green fields, blue skies and white architecture of Mirial haunted him still. He imagined that the stories and laughter of those left behind still visited him in his dreams, as well. He remembered the day the queen had died. Zortan had vanished with the heirs, pursued by the fleet with their divided loyalties and goals, only to head into exile. Far from their families, they had followed orders issued a lifetime ago by a Council that probably no longer existed. If anything of their home still existed.

They broke contact and Zortan walked away without looking back.

He closed the shuttle door and Avienne vanished from Cailan’s view. The shuttle was gone before Cailan’s heart finished its long, heavy sigh. He watched a moment longer and turned to take the long ladder.

He paused at the bottom, hearing Destiny’s soft moan, feeling her shudder as he placed his hand on her cold metal. It’s not a tired old saying, and I won’t leave you, Lady Destiny.

He removed his hand and took the rungs quickly, skipping some as he headed to his grave. He felt strangely at peace and was glad that he would not be alone with the great ship. It was past time to find out who the blonde woman was, or had been, and what strength she had left in Lang’s heart.

And how that strength would help them carry through.

Avienne watched the

Chapter 30

great purple cloud swallow Destiny, the ship’s starboard hull crushing as though a giant fist had slammed into it. One of its engines had twisted sideways and was slowly being pulled off its hinges by the odd strength of Mirial’s shields. When the engine vanished into the purple clouds, she realized it was probably the last she would ever see of her home. Home. She had wanted to leave it, yes, but she had also wanted to be able to come back when her heart chose to.

The numbness of her body spread to her soul. Beside her, Zortan said nothing, looking down at the panel read-outs from time to time to make sure they were still headed in the right direction.

Avienne wanted to scream and part of her wished that Zortan would, to help free her pain, trapped within her unresponsive body.

As though feeling her need, Zortan softly began singing. His voice was strong and hit more notes than it missed. The sound filled the shuttle and Avienne closed her eyes and let it fill her, too. She knew this song. It was a song she had sung since she was little, a song to welcome sailors home after a long journey.

A song she had heard nowhere else but on the Destiny, and she now understood that it must have been a song from Mirial. Now Zortan was singing it for the Destiny.

She wished she could join him.

“Avienne?” The voice flared from the communications panel and

Destiny’s Blood | 214 Zortan turned it on to reply. Nothing happened.

Blood and bones! Travan had been scheduled to repair this shuttle, but had never gotten around to it.

She swallowed hard, feeling the lump in her throat. It felt good to regain some sensation, even if that sensation happened to be discomfort.

“Avienne,” Ardin continued, “I’m reading an explosion on the Destiny.

Something’s wrong. I’m heading back to check it out.” He paused. “Stay on course. We’ll meet you on Mirial, with Cailan in tow.”

Avienne managed to moan. It was low and guttural and all she could do, but the moan carried from deep within her throat into the shuttle.

Zortan tensed beside her, and Avienne knew he feared for Layela, the girl he had sworn a lifetime ago to protect.

“I’m going to try to follow,” Zortan said. He grabbed the controls firmly and pulled them back toward him to stop forward thrust.

“Hold your course, Destiny 3,” another voice boomed over the communication link, and Avienne recognized it as Gobran Kipso’s.

Before them, out of a swirl, emerged the Victory and a number of smaller ships, all the survivors of Mirial’s once-proud fleet.

“Hold course or we will have to fire on you,” Kipso paused. “I would rather not do that.”

The communications clicked off and around them, vanishing and reemerging through the thick clouds, the Mirial fleet closed in. They were surrounded. If Avienne could have moved, she would have tried to lose them in the clouds. She would have escaped them and gotten Ardin away from the Destiny.

“Avienne,” Ardin’s voice came up again. “Avienne, the Destiny’s in bad shape.” She heard him take in a breath of stale shuttle air. “Her starboard engine is completely gone, and she’s without lights and power. I can’t hail Cailan, but we’re boarding her now to get him out, if he’s still in there.”

He paused. “Blood and bones, Avienne, you’d better be all right, yourself.”

Zortan sat up, his spine straight and his hand dropping down to the pommel of the sword resting beside his chair. As Avienne wondered if he could somehow sense that Layela was in danger, an explosion rang across the communications system from Ardin’s shuttle. Avienne held her breath.

They had been in the shuttle bay when the Destiny exploded!

“Ar..” Her body had started to regain feeling and she might have been able to whisper his name, but her mind and soul were captured in the clutches of loss and her voice failed her.

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Tears coursed down her face, but she couldn’t bring her hand up to wipe them away. She couldn’t tell if it was the drugs or the shock that caused her continued paralysis.

Zortan sat still beside her, silent and unmoving as their shuttle glided along with Mirial’s fleet. Gobran spoke softly.

“My sincerest condolences. The Destiny and her crew will not be forgotten.” And the system went quiet, Gobran Kipso probably already planning his next step and leaving the Destiny’s carcass behind.

Avienne understood him, in a way. For him, there was still Yoma, parading as Layela on the great beast before them. But for Avienne, who only wanted to grab the controls and find her brother or die trying, there was nothing left.

Nothing at all.

/

Captain Kipso stood beside his chair, the tension on his bridge as palpable as the shields of Mirial which nuzzled at the Victory. Gobran was not fooled by their appearance, knowing that any ship not built with the correct combination of alloys and ether would crumble at their touch.

For the thousandth time he wondered if that was what had doomed the Destiny — a shabby repair job done quickly and without the right plates.

A repair job his crew had completed under his supervision.

For the thousandth time, the same answer haunted him as he clutched the back of his chair. There was no point dwelling on it. Destiny’s fate had been sealed long before Gobran had found her again.

The jostling stopped and the ship suddenly glided forward easily. The sky cleared and the screen dimmed to compensate for the great light that now washed over them: Light from the first and purest sun.

Before them lay Mirial. The great sun of Mirial was tired and not nearly as bright as Gobran remembered. Long ago, it had warmed his skin in the summer. He wondered if the sunsets were still riddled with the deepest of blues, reds and oranges. Now, as far as the eye could see around the sun, the universe was purple, proving that the shields were still strong.

Caught in the sun’s gravity, a chunk of planet floated not far from the Victory, the giant piece of rock black and charred and desolate. The planet had been small and, like all planets this near to Mirial, Gobran knew it had once borne life. Slowly it rotated, half of it still showing the sphere it had once been, the other half crumbled and destroyed, its exposed core frozen and hard.

Destiny’s Blood | 216 “Is that…” Loran began.

“No,” Gobran whispered. “Our home was protected by strong ether.”

After years of studying the maps of his home, always thinking of where Mirial was now in her orbit, always prepared for the day when he would find the heir and bring her home, he knew where to look. He wished he felt pride and not simply dread as he pointed to the right. Just at the sun’s edge, a small dark dot crossed against the dimmed ball of light. His voice was hushed as he spoke the words he had waited so long to speak.

“That...is Mirial.”

He could not see the surface of the planet from here, only that it still existed. He forced himself to stay where he was and not take a step forward to try to get a better view. Despite his confident words to Loran, he still wanted to see for himself that Mirial had been protected. A chill caught hold of him and went to his bones, and he wished he could be there now, warmed by her sun, laughing with his wife and children on the great sandy shores of Glass Lake. To be warm again.

“Captain,” Loran’s voice was a welcome distraction. “We’re being contacted. Channel 000.” Gobran sucked in his breath. Channel 000 was the capital’s military frequency. For the first time in almost twenty years, he would be in contact with Mirial.

He took a deep breath and held out his chest just a bit. Not caring that they could not see him, he straightened his jacket.

“Open a channel,” he replied, and Loran nodded. He felt a collective breath being held by all the crew members — the older ones who were still haunted by memories of Mirial, and the younger ones who were spurred on by their hopes and their longing for a true home.

“This is Captain Gobran Kipso of the Victory.” His voice was clear, strong, and proud. He flushed. “We are approaching the planet, E.T.A. 47 minutes.” He hesitated, and decided not to mention the heir. There would be time for that yet. “Request permission to land at the capital.”

The pause on the other end lingered just a bit too long. Gobran’s heart skipped a few beats, and then gained a few more as the answer came. “This is Alecya Kipso,” the voice rang high with laughter and relief.

“Welcome home, Father.”

Gobran laughed until his sides hurt and his eyes filled with years of unshed tears.

/

“You might want to straighten us out,” Avienne said from her seat,

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leaning back as she closed and opened her left fist, testing her returning strength. Zortan grunted and the shuttle jostled in the general direction of the Victory’s bay. “I meant straighten us towards the bay,” Avienne clarified.

“This is not my area of expertise,” Zortan said through clenched teeth, his tall, strong frame awkward in the small shuttle.

“I would have never guessed,” Avienne said, pleased her words were no longer slurred. “Let me have a try at her.” She pushed herself up, feeling a bit dizzy but stronger by the minute.

“Are you sure you can handle her?” Zortan asked. She grasped the controls before her and switched main flight to her console.

“No.” She shot him a grin. “But I am sure that we’ll wind up with our noses flat against the Victory if you try.”

The controls jostled in her hands, and it felt good to hold them steady and urge the shuttle towards the Victory’s open mouth. The numbness still cast a thin veil between her and reality, but she suspected it no longer had much to do with the drugs.

Victory was an impressive ship, a model Avienne guessed was just a bit younger than the Destiny. Her hull was smaller and sleeker, but less care had been taken with her design. Gun towers were pulling back into the hull as they approached, so the more delicate equipment would not detach during atmospheric entry.

Her viewing ports were sparse, but they were all lit, meaning this ship was still at full power. She guessed they had stashed her away and maintained her upkeep — unlike the Destiny, which had flown steadily and without pause.

“She’s a beauty,” Avienne said as they entered the shuttle bay, unlocked the wheels and gently landed.

“She was actually considered quite ugly when she was built,” Zortan voiced as the bay pressurized around them. Avienne urged the shuttle forward on its wheels. When it came to a stop, they waited for the doors to open. “But, then again, she was sister to a much greater ship.”

Avienne gave him a slight grin. “She was a great ship, wasn’t she?”

Zortan smiled, his features softening. Avienne suddenly wondered if perhaps he was a father. Another mystery with no answer. “She was the best.”

The doors opened before them and several of the Victory’s crew lingered about, weapons strapped to their belts.

“The captain will expect me on the bridge,” Zortan said. “We have… unfinished business. You might be safer here.”

Avienne opened the door of the shuttle and hopped out before Zortan,

Destiny’s Blood | 218 pleased to find the ground fairly stable. She turned back to face him as he exited, sword in hand. “No way I’m staying out of this one.”

Zortan studied her for a moment and simply nodded, strapping the great sword to his back above the cloak he seemed to favour over a coat. He didn’t seem to mind the tensing of the crew around them as he carefully secured his weapon. Avienne suspected he enjoyed it.

“This should be fun,” she mumbled as she followed his long strides towards the functional elevator, escorted by two nervous crewmembers.

She swore she heard Zortan respond, “Quite.”

/

Flames erupted around them, the blast hurtling the shuttle off the pad seconds before Ardin had fully landed. The shuttle shook in response to the Destiny’s final screams.

Cailan! No time. Ardin knew he couldn’t save the captain and he swallowed hard.

“Hang on!” The shuttle complained as he urged her forward. The bay door was already closed and Destiny’s metal was collapsing on itself as the fire sucked out the ship’s remaining oxygen. He pushed on the controls and hurtled forward, toward the second exit, when a second explosion rocked the ship. This time the Destiny moaned so deeply it resonated in his chest.

The ship buckled sideways and the shuttle’s top scraped Destiny’s hull.

Metal separated all around her but no sparks flew; the oxygen had already been eaten by the first fiery explosion.

Behind Ardin, Josmere’s moans echoed Destiny’s and Layela reached back from her seat to grab her friend’s hand.

Ardin slowed the shuttle, trying to mimic the movements of the ship, but still they were knocked around. The Berganda’s moans ended.

“She’s just knocked out,” Layela whispered, as though trying to convince herself. Ardin cast her a quick look, and saw features pale and drawn but determined. She didn’t intend to die here and, quite frankly, neither did he.

He brought the shuttle to the last bay, long ago closed and without oxygen or power. The Destiny had been badly wounded during her last battle and her starboard engine had been compromised. It meant that the hull was at its weakest here and with fuel no longer running to the engine, the chances of an unplanned explosion were limited.

“I never thought I’d shoot my own ship,” he muttered. Forgive me.

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He fired his two rockets. They impacted near the engine, the ship lurching at the new explosion. The metal ripped and shrieked, and the engine was pulled half out of its joints, revealing a hole big enough for the shuttle to fly through.

Ardin slowly brought the shuttle out, careful to pay attention to the Destiny’s lurching movements. Dark space surrounded them and he allowed himself a deep breath. He leaned back onto his seat. Layela squeezed his arm gently, and he covered her hand with his, glad he wasn’t alone. He wondered if that was the only way they would ever connect. By seeing each other’s homes and dreams being destroyed.

He didn’t dare turn back for one final look, keeping the memory of his home intact. The Destiny was quiet behind them.

As quiet as a graveyard.

The elevator doors

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hissed open on the bridge of the Victory.

Bright lights and the faint scent of lemon assaulted Avienne’s senses. She couldn’t hear the engines’ hum, and wondered if Destiny had once been this quiet.

The panels reflected the light, in a similar configuration to Destiny’s, except this one was cleaner and not worn away by years of use and poor repair jobs. Avienne’s stomach lurched with regret — regret at Destiny’s slow and long deterioration, and regret that she had never taken the time to treat her better. She let the regret wash over her and slip away, to leave behind only the slow numbing knowledge of loss. She did not fight it, but she did not let it encompass her, either.

“Captain Zortan Mistolta,” Gobran Kipso greeted them, ignoring Malavant’s redheaded child.

“Captain Kipso,” Zortan acknowledged the man with a nod. His dark eyes locked with Kipso’s, and neither man backed down or turned away.

Avienne gave a low whistle. It took guts or stupidity to face down Zortan.

“I must admit,” Kipso let the words come slowly, “I have long imagined the scene in which I took down the traitor of Mirial.”Avienne grinned at the thought of Gobran Kipso taking down the tall, imposing man before her. “However,” Kipso broke out in a huge grin. “I just received very good news and don’t wish to spoil it by having to kill you!”

“What news?” Zortan asked, ignoring the fat man’s bold claims.

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Gobran gave a short, quick laugh. “Survivors, Zortan! Survivors! My beautiful daughter lives yet!” He paused and his smile faltered a bit. “I asked about Adina,” he continued in a soft whisper as he met Zortan’s eyes. “She lives, too.”

Zortan stood perfectly still for a few moments, and Avienne wished she could see his face. She wondered who Adina was. Then Zortan nodded and Gobran clasped the side of his arm warmly, as though the two had once been friends.

“I’m still bringing you in,” Gobran smiled. “But alive. And I don’t expect you to cause too much trouble for an old friend!” The ship roared through the atmosphere, flames licking its hull, as the old planet of Mirial welcomed one of its wayward children home.

She could hear the smile in Zortan’s reply. “Only as much trouble as an old friend is willing to cause me.”

Gobran laughed as he braced himself at the slight turbulence, and was about to say something else when Loran interrupted him.

“Captain, there’s something coming towards us!”

Considering Gobran’s size, Avienne was surprised at his speed. He was on tactical in moments, pushing the young crewman out of his way.

Avienne looked out the viewing port and gasped. Coming towards them, in a great foaming sea, was a wave of white, broken by shades of blues and greys. The ship jostled once more and was still as it stabilized in the planet’s sky, but still the wave came towards them, and Avienne could have sworn it even diverged slightly to cross their path.

“Mirial’s guts,” Gobran whispered, his features taut and white. He walked to his captain’s chair with slow, awkward steps.

“Do what you can to avoid that,” he whispered to Loran, whose big eyes remained glued to the screen. “Loran,” Kipso placed his hand on her shoulder, jerking the young woman back to reality. She pulled sideways on the controls and the ship turned slowly.

Too slow, Avienne knew. A ship this size wasn’t made for quick manoeuvres in an atmosphere. She trained her eyes to the wave, now almost on top of them. The greys and blues shimmered and took shape, and she strained her eyes to make them out. Faces!

She took a step back and gasped. The wave overtook the ship and small sounds like knocks resonated over the entire hull. It was like they were caught in a bad hailstorm, except that each knock seemed to be followed by a whisper, a plea to be let in. A thousand icicles formed on her spine.

“Captain, they’re dragging us down!” Loran cried, desperately pulling

Destiny’s Blood | 222 back on the controls. Kipso went to help her.

“Gant, weapons!” he shouted. “See if you can’t hit them with the ether cannons!”

Avienne turned to the young man at the tactical controls. Sweat ran down his brow and outlined his wide eyes.

In two quick steps Avienne had closed the distance to the tactical station. The young man didn’t even seem to notice her, his eyes filled with terror and reflecting the ghostly features of their assailants.

“Blood and bones, out of my way!” Avienne pushed him aside. The man slid off the seat and onto the floor, his mouth still moving and his eyes still transfixed.

“Cannons, now!” Kipso screamed. He pulled hard on the controls while Loran stood beside him, sobbing and paralyzed with fear. For half a second Avienne saw what she saw — faces looking at them, colliding with the view screen. Some were distorted almost beyond recognition, blue shimmers pointing out old features; others, the most blood-chilling ones, looked so human that if they had not been white and translucent, Avienne would have believed them flesh and blood. All of them, in the vision of their eyes, held a plea echoed by their mouths and reaching to the farthest tips of their diluted fingers and toes.

There were thousands of them, so many that the blue sky was gone and the surface still unseen.

No need to aim, then, Avienne thought. She quickly familiarized herself with the layout of the console. The symbols were familiar, all but one. It was a sun, similar to the one in the symbol of Mirial. Those must be the ether weapons!

She pulled back on the levers. The hull creaked as the weapons were released, and she idly wondered if the wraiths circling them would find access into the ship through the weapons bays. She quickly pushed the thought from her mind — the weapons were isolated. They had to be, to be safely used in space.

Avienne powered up all five of the guns she could identify: two starboard, two on the port side, and one on the stern of the ship. She suspected there was at least one located on the stem, but could find no sign of it.

“Come on, faster!” she muttered, watching the readings. The power meter displays slowly crept upward, until they became full and red.

Avienne did not hesitate.

“Firing!” If Kipso was surprised to see her at the station, he did not show it.

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The blast of the ether weapons wasn’t as impressive as laser fire would have been, but still Avienne heard the satisfying clunk and jerk on the ship, impressed that all five had fired within seconds of each other. She looked at the view screen, where an orange wave passed through the wraiths, sweeping their features away.

The hull was silent. No more knocking, no more pleading.

Avienne hit the “warm” key on each of the weapons to recharge them, never taking her eyes off the mist that scintillated before them. Kipso stood awkwardly over the pilot’s chair, muttering to Victory and urging her to respond faster. Avienne chanced a glance at her panel. The ether weapons were recharging, but not nearly fast enough for her liking.

Loran was quiet now, her two hands covering her mouth as though stifling a scream. Avienne hoped her hands would stay there.

Then a slow shriek began, at first mixing with the sounds of the Victory’s straining engines, but then rising in pitch steadily. A spasm travelled through the whole mist like a single heart beating wildly, and the faces reappeared, angrier, louder, and stronger.

They clutched the Victory’s hull, banging on the metal.

“Seventeen more seconds and I can fire again,” Avienne said.

Kipso grunted agreement. Good enough! She glanced down at her console and ticked down the last few seconds until she could fire.

Gant rose to his feet, looking from the view port to Avienne’s fingers, hovering over the keys. “You’ll just make them angrier!” he screamed. He charged her to unseat her from the station as she had unseated him, but her leg came up automatically. She would have kicked him had Zortan not intercepted him. One quick hit to the neck and the young man crumpled at Avienne’s feet, no longer moving.

Avienne looked down and kicked him sideways.

“He’ll live,” Zortan said.

“I don’t care about that,” Avienne replied, kicking the unconscious Gant again. “If the ship lurches bad I’m going to trip on him!”

She turned back to the controls to find the ether weapons red and full.

She heard a thunk behind her and winced — she guessed it was Gant’s head coming in contact with something hard as Zortan moved him.

“Firing!”

The ship made the same clunking sound, except this time it was followed by a bang. No orange wave travelled out through the wraiths.

“Malavant!” Kipso half-shouted, half-grunted from the front. “Fire those weapons!”

Destiny’s Blood | 224 Avienne ignored him, looking down at her displays. Three of the weapon bars uncharged.

“Blood and bones,” she whispered as she realized what was happening.

The wraiths had hit the weapons hard, as though they knew where to hit.

One by one, the ether weapons that would have saved them were destroyed.

“Blood and bones.”

/

Dunkat broke from the Mirial fleet’s pathetic formation, doubting he would be missed in the chaos. The shuttle he had appropriated had impressive manoeuvring capabilities, but in the chaos of the wraiths before them, those capabilities proved useless.

His arms were strained from holding his shuttle upright, and he was getting increasingly annoyed. These wraiths, no doubt a remnant of the true nature of Mirial, were blocking his view of the planet. He had been looking forward to seeing it from the sky, seeing the devastation the Fates had wrought.

His small ship groaned, and he felt a twinge of worry. Just a twinge, but enough to bring a small sweat to his brow. He pulled up on the controls, the ship’s engine complaining as his lift clashed with the wraiths’ intentions. The ship straightened but quickly buckled and its nose dove again, at a greater angle. He felt another twinge of concern and resisted the urge to shift in his seat.

He lowered his eyes to the instruments for an instant. His one-man fighter ship was not faring too badly considering the assault it was receiving. Then again, this was Mirial technology, and despite his hatred of some of their practices, even he had to admit that Solari technology was far behind Mirial’s decades-old defences.

He frowned. The readings on his navigational instruments were erratic.

He tapped on the console once with two fingers, setting the altitude dial spinning. A greater twinge struck him, and he felt cold sweat imbue his cotton undershirt. He cleared his dry throat and looked up, his hands feeling numb as he fought to control the ship.

He could not see. No break existed in the wraiths before him. He could very well be within impact range of the ground, and had no way to know it. He tried to recall how far he might have come, but it was all lost in a sea of white.

He gritted his teeth and pulled up on the controls, his muscles bunching. “I did not come this far to fail.”

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He had barely spoken the words when the knocking abruptly stopped and the downward pull on the shuttle ended. The shuttle’s nose jerked up before Dunkat loosened his pull on the controls, his arm muscles warm and aching and finally able to relax.

He could see sky before him, blue and crisp, but the land was still white. He waited, his fingers flexing and unflexing around the controls in anticipation.

The sky grew cloudy before the ship, and Dunkat braced himself for another attack, his breath long and calm. He waited as the sky shimmered, but instead of forming many wraiths, it formed a single one, its features harsh and eyes piercing deep into Dunkat.

The colonel leaned back into his chair, his grip loosening, his breath even deeper. He gazed back and shuddered, and greeted the wraith in a hoarse whisper.

“Hello, Father.”

The sky was

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dark and the land was darker, with no sign of the wraiths to be seen on any horizon.

“Where did the little nasty freaky creatures go?” Avienne asked. She placed both her elbows on the station and cupped her chin in her hands.

A laugh burst from Gobran. He clapped Loran on the back as the young woman took her seat again, still as pale as the wraiths. “They knew better than to continue their attack on us!”

Avienne raised an eyebrow. “Really? Seems they were doing fine, to me.”

“Avienne is right, Gobran.” Zortan stepped up beside her. “We need to know exactly what drove them away, or what lured them away.”

Gobran’s good humour vanished as quickly as it had come, his eyes shredding Zortan to pieces. As he spoke, the temperature in the room seemed to drop. “Do not ever tell me what I must do, Zortan Mistolta.”

Avienne glanced at Zortan, disappointed that the tall man’s hands remained relaxed at his sides. She sighed. She heard the familiar hush of the opening lift doors, and turned.

Her breath caught in her throat for a moment and she stood straight as she looked at the familiar dark hair and oval face. She almost blurted out a question about Ardin’s safety, before she realized that the eyes were different and the stance too brash. Their eyes met, Yoma’s widening slightly as though understanding the confusion.

“What happened?” Yoma asked, not moving from her spot.

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Avienne broke contact first, put both her elbows back on the station and cupped her chin. She gritted her teeth at the sound of the voice, deeper but still so similar.

Gobran gestured grandly towards the view screen.

“Welcome to Mirial, Lady.”

Yoma took a few steps forward and stared out. Avienne followed her gaze to the dark, desolate landscape.

“It’s so very dead,” Avienne grumbled, shifting her feet and sighing loudly.

Yoma’s reply was but a whisper, so thin that Avienne barely heard it. “No, it’s full of life.” She turned to face Avienne, as though afraid her words had not been heard. The green eyes held Avienne’s gaze; she stiffened her spine at the spark in them.

“Life, Avienne.”

They locked eyes for a moment longer, as though they were the only two individuals on the bridge, and then Yoma turned as though nothing had happened. Avienne wondered if Yoma knew that Josmere and Layela had perished. She pondered mentioning it, but knew she couldn’t trust her own voice to utter the words. She remained silent, watching the landscape stretch below them and remembering her own dead.

/

Gobran remembered this part of Mirial better than any other. They were now above the old city of Thistle, just a few hours’ walk from the capital. The old captain felt as weary as the buildings looked. The city had been gutted. The old stone structures, some of which had survived for millennia, had fallen over or were missing sections.

With the help of the Victory’s lights, they could tell even in the darkness that the place had been charred, no colour remaining — no plants, no hangings or draperies. Only the stone had survived.

Gobran placed a hand on Loran’s shoulder. The young woman looked up at him, her eyes a bit dimmer than when he had first met her.

“That was the great city of Thistle,” he told her, breaking the silence on the bridge. They were the only two here now. The rest of the crew had scattered; even the lively daughter of Malavant had been sombre. “This is where your family lived before the Great Fall.”

Loran turned her gaze back towards the city and Gobran wished he could show it to her the way it had once been. He knew that the archives had been kept here, in Thistle, but doubted that even the protected building had survived. He craned his neck to see, but did not wish to veer

Destiny’s Blood | 228 the Victory off course, lest those wraiths show up again. Three more ships had fallen to their attack, and the few that remained were too precious to toy with their fate.

“Why have I only heard about Mirial from my parents and in stories, Captain?”

Kipso smiled. “Mirial was hidden, Loran, to protect it and its power.

Twenty years ago, the queen gave birth. As her powers weakened, so did our protective shields. The Mirial fleet is ready for such occasions, to protect her from those who would use her powers. But this time we encountered the Solarian alliance, led by a man named Groosh.”

“The man who attacked us?”

Gobran shook his head and smiled. “No, that’s his son. Minister Groosh was a good man who simply wished to learn of Mirial and forge an alliance, but he did not make it off our planet alive.” He shook his head again and stared at the city. He had said enough, for now.

It seemed silly to worry about the past when so much of the future lay at stake.

/

“This place smells bad.” Avienne stepped off the Victory with Yoma and Zortan. Gobran moved quickly forward and crushed one of the women greeting them in a fierce hug.

“Well, ain’t that cute,” Avienne mumbled, feeling slightly jealous. She was finally on a planet she could call home and she was alone.

“It’s so…dead,” Yoma said. They were on a landing platform, linked by a bridge to a bunker where Mirial’s survivors dwelt. It was the biggest, greyest, ugliest bunker Avienne had ever seen. What they could see of the dark land around them was just as dead as the rest of the planet.

“Layela would have hated this place,” Yoma said with a slight smile.

Avienne gave her a grin. “Weren’t you the one going on about life, back on the bridge?”

Yoma shrugged, and even in the darkness Avienne could see the thief was blushing. “I get…lost, sometimes. Especially since I’ve come closer to Mirial.”

“Sounds fun,” Avienne mumbled. A tall man approached Yoma, bowing deeply before her. Avienne gave a short laugh, to be rewarded by a grin from Yoma and a stern look from the tall man.

“La~dy...?” the man asked, ignoring the redhead. Yoma seemed to hesitate for a moment, lowering her eyes for just a second to hide the

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indecision Avienne could feel radiating from her.

When she decided which name to give, her voice was but a whisper.

“Yoma. My name is Yoma.”

The man nodded, and with style and flourish said, “La~dy Yo~ma, the La~dy A~dina wishes to see you.”

“Lady Adina?” Yoma repeated in a disinterested tone.

Avienne took on the man’s stylized flourish. “No, Yoma, it’s La~dy A~dina.” Another short laugh received another stern look. Avienne felt better. Maybe this planet could offer some fun after all.

“The Lady Adina wishes to speak with you,” the man repeated without the flourish. Avienne gave Yoma a disappointed look.

Yoma grinned and shrugged. “All right, then, lead on.”

The man looked intently at Avienne, his beady eyes almost fully closed.

“Alone. She wishes to see you alone.”

Yoma cast a glance at Avienne, who shrugged. “You okay with that?”

Avienne heard herself, and winced.

Ardin, I’m starting to sound like you!

Yoma offered her a grateful smile. “I’ll be fine, thanks. I was always the dangerous sister, you know.” Avienne shot her a grin as the two walked off. Gobran and his daughter were also gone, as was the rest of the procession. And Zortan had vanished into a shadow somewhere.

“What, no greeting for me?” she asked the darkness. Avienne walked across the high bridge and entered the bunker. It was ugly, but at least it had been left unlocked. Metal stair upon metal stair greeted her, and she caught the smells and sounds of a city below.

A city meant food and drink.

Avienne began descending the steps two by two. Soon she arrived on stone steps, and, turning another metal wall, she was greeted by colours and laughter and smells of meat. The city went all the way through the large bunker, at least a thousand feet in length, and every inch of it had been crowded with makeshift homes — some stone, some wood, some just colourful sheets used for privacy. She could hear chickens and some sheep, but couldn’t even begin to guess where they were kept in the maze before her. She could smell burning wood and a musk that told of many people and few baths.

She came down the last few steps, some guards looking at her with suspicion and some with surprise. She rewarded them with her best smiles. The people she could see were ratty and tired, but the children ran and laughed and she swore she even heard a dog barking. She could

Destiny’s Blood | 230 not discern any of the buildings or shelters, from one another, but in such a big area, surely a bar or pub existed.

She grinned wider and entered the chaos, leaving a sea of whispers behind her. She walked along what she believed were the streets, although she often had to duck below hanging sheets. Finally she heard a call that interested her.

“Come get your lunch!” She turned towards the sound, hoping she could locate it. Where there was food, there was usually drink.

Cailan, Ardin and the Destiny had flown hard and well, and it was time that she toasted their good life.

Blood and bones, she intended to be drunk within the hour.

/

The tall man had introduced himself as Gresko Listan. He led Yoma through a series of metal stairs and stone tunnels. Only a few blue-garbed individuals crossed their path, each bowing their heads respectfully. From their weaponry, Yoma guessed they were guards.

The way was poorly illuminated with sparse torches, the shadows thick and heavy. Yoma’s heart slowed and her breath quieted, instincts honed through years of thievery. Gresko Listan’s steps were also muffled and the air around them grew more and more humid the deeper they went. A roar grew louder the further they walked.

“What is that?” Yoma asked, hushed. The man did not lower his voice when he spoke.

“There are places on Mirial that are deeply connected with the star of Mirial. The Lady Adina protects us from such a place.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

The man turned around and examined her briefly, as if deciding whether or not she was truly a child of the queen. Yoma could not help but lift her chin. She had never liked being looked down upon by anyone. As if satisfied, he turned around and waved her ahead around the next corner.

“This will answer your question, Lady Yoma.”

She hesitated for half a second, not fond of letting others follow behind where they could easily slip a knife in her back, but she went ahead, hoping her instincts would protect her if necessary.

The second she rounded the corner, her concerns slipped from her mind. The cave was big, its high ceiling covered with stalactites that shone and glistened with dew. Droplets fell once in a while, as though in a light rain. The roar had come from a large waterfall to Yoma’s left. It

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formed a clean mist as it tumbled into a lake, and the lake split off into small rivers that crossed the cave before vanishing into the walls. Yoma could not see where the waterfall began, but it seemed to be at least as high as the roots of the stalactites.

Illuminating the entire cave was an odd glow, filled with whites and pinks, giving a ghostlike quality to all that lay in the valley below. It took her a second to identify where the glow was coming from, and once she did, she felt tears well up in her eyes. Lacile flowers, of more colours than Yoma even believed possible, clung to the cave walls and grew on the stone walls and bridges. She felt a large lump form in her throat, remembering Layela’s fondness of the flower that only glowed when it was happy. Yoma had thought it was the perfect flower for Layela.

Yoma took a deep breath and started down the stone steps. Lacile flowers clung to the stone ramparts and tumbled down, shadows dancing freely all around them. She could now see that the small rivers served as irrigation for fields of rice, wheat, vegetables and flowers, some of which Yoma didn’t even recognize.

Many individuals worked the fields and cared for them, their heads popping up and out on occasion, only to vanish again as they concentrated on another root. The more steps she descended, the more the scent of summer surrounded her, of fresh plants and pollen.

At the other end of the fields, where Yoma knew they were headed, was a magnificent palace built directly into the stone. Two large circular stairways led to it, illuminated by Lacile flowers that grew up from a colourful garden. She could hear singing, though she could not see the singers. The music was soft and soothing, and Yoma looked inquiringly at Gresko.

“The keepers of this cave,” he said simply. He neither missed a step, nor pointed out where the singers were. Yoma felt her legs grow heavier.

Layela used to sing to the Laciles, she remembered. She sang to them and kept them glowing for a long, long time, her voice soft and comforting in the dark, long nights. She missed her sister so much her heart ached.

You would have loved this place, Layl.

The palace rising before them was small, or at least its façade was, but it was impossible to tell how deep into the rock the sculptors had carved its rooms and halls. The front of it was graced with some windows and a few stone balconies carved with intricate designs, all of them flowers, birds, animals…a celebration of the life that had once graced the planet.

As they crossed the fields and several rock bridges over small rivers,

Destiny’s Blood | 232 Yoma strained to see the designs more clearly through the shadows. Some flowers, she recognized; the central one—the one that adorned the main balcony and was biggest amongst them—was definitely the same as the one on the side of the Victory.

She recognized most of the creatures depicted, but a few she had never seen, and doubted she ever would. She passed two guards who stared at her in awe, and she and Gresko began scaling one of the staircases. Both led to a grand balcony, with large columns lining the way into the palace.

Yoma did not immediately enter the palace, but paused and leaned against the cold stone of the balcony railing, pressing both her palms hard into its grooves. Gresko stepped inside the palace, his duty apparently done.

She gazed at the waterfalls, their sound muffling all other noise, and smelled the plants below her, watched the drops from the stalactites tumble onto them. The valley was humid but not uncomfortable. The yellow shimmer that clung to everything made it seem even more surreal.

But then, since entering the great shields of Mirial, nothing much had seemed real. Visions assailed her so frequently she found it difficult to tell them from reality. She shivered as she recalled the vision of Josmere’s corpse and Layela’s death…At the thought of them, Yoma felt some of her strength grow, and some of her hope dwindle at the same time.

Avienne seemed convinced that Ardin, Layela and Josmere had perished. Yoma wished she was as certain.

The roar of the waterfall lulled her. From her vision, she remembered the sound of a waterfall and Layela’s blood. She clutched the stone with her hands. She remembered, but it had been more than a day since the vision had come to her, a longer gap than she had ever had before. She felt her tears welling and swallowed hard.

Maybe that meant her sister was dead. But maybe not.

Still, Yoma thought as she loosened her grip and let her arms fall to her side. I wish you were here. You would have loved this, Layela.

She turned to enter the palace and jumped as she came face to face with a woman. Yoma swore. Were her instincts so dimmed?

“Welcome, Yoma.” The woman smiled, though the smile did not reach her eyes. They were lined with deep black grooves, and her skin ghastly white even in the yellow light. “I am Adina.” The smile strained her features. “Your aunt.”

Yoma took a deep breath, unsure how to greet an aunt that was royalty, or to greet the first family member, aside from Layl, she had ever met. She remained guarded and simply nodded.

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Adina took a step closer, looking deeply in her eyes. Her hand came up, and Yoma refused to flinch. The woman brushed back a strand of hair to see both her eyes more clearly. Hesitation crossed her features for a moment, but she quickly narrowed her eyes and removed her hand. “I’m sorry to hear about your sister.”

“Are you?” She spat. “It seems to me, Mirialers were intent on one of our deaths.”

Adina gave a tight smile. “If things had happened as they were meant to, you would not have had to suffer with the knowledge that your sister had to die. And Mirial would still exist.”

Yoma returned the tight smile. “But I might have been the one murdered as a child.” Adina flinched at the word murdered. “And then we wouldn’t be having this pleasant little reunion now. Would we?”

Layela would have tended the flowers of Mirial, Yoma wanted to scream to her. She decided that she truly disliked the first family member she had ever met.

Adina waved her hand, as if to dispel Yoma’s words. “It doesn’t matter now. What matters is that you are here. My strength fades, and you need to take control of Mirial’s powers before we all perish.”

“I don’t need to do anything you tell me. I’ve only come this far to try to save my sister.” She took a deep breath to steady her hammering heart.

“Why don’t you do it? Why don’t you restore the powers of Mirial?”

Adina’s features hardened and her mouth opened, only to close again.

She took a deep breath, her voice shaking with anger. “I do not have the power. Only Mirial can choose who of the royal bloodline will be granted that power. The chosen is born into the role, like you were.”

“You mean Layela and me.”

Adina waved her hand dismissively again. The green fabric she wore, probably very beautiful once, was faded, just like her dark hair seemed faded, and her eyes were faded…everything about her that must have once been beautiful was now faded and covered with dust.

“The capital is where you need to go. There, in its largest temple, you will find a source of power that will allow you to control Mirial and lower her shields again.”

“Wait, you want me to lower the planet’s defences?” Yoma shook her head, feeling days of weariness creep into her bones. She wondered how long it would be, if she stayed on Mirial, before she began fading like Adina had. “You Mirialers make no sense.”

Adina looked toward the waterfall as though searching for words or

Destiny’s Blood | 234 memories buried deep within her; as though only the tumbling water could remind her. “The shields were put up too strongly, and Mirial’s very ether is trapped. The sun accumulates power and then releases it, but it keeps getting trapped, and it is destroying our planet.”

Adina’s piercing gaze focused once more on Yoma. “The night you and your sister were born, the balance was thrown off and Mirial paid the price. Your mother died, the sun released its defences, killing half the planet and trapping the ether, and it remains trapped here still. It’s not just about your life and the life of your twin, Yoma. Without ether, no race can exist. Some will feel it to a greater degree and perish quickly, like the Berganda.” Yoma flinched at the mention of the race, and she suddenly wondered how much Gobran had told the woman. Probably everything, she thought, flushed with anger. “But every race will eventually perish as well. No world can exist without ether, and only Mirial, the First Star, provides it. That’s what makes this journey so important.”

Adina took another step forward and Yoma closed her fists. She debated slugging her. “Your visions will lead you, but you have other powers now that you are here. Let the ether fill you, trust it, and it will guide you, Yoma.” She added as an afterthought, “Just as it would have guided your mother.”

“I have a question,” Yoma suddenly asked. “What’s my name?”

Adina narrowed her eyes. “I assume Yoma has always been your name.

It means day, as Layela means night.” She paused. “Your mother would have liked that.”

Yoma sighed. “I mean my last name. Delamores was the name of the old woman who took care of us. What’s my actual name?”

Adina shook her head. “This is hardly of importance right now.

Delamores was an old maid who had tended your own mother. I thought she had perished, but I suppose she lived and somehow found you and the captain of the Guards.” She spoke the title with unease.

“I really thought this was a simple question,” Yoma said tightly, and exhaled with annoyance. “So, my apologies if this is so complex. What I mean to ask is, who was the king? Who was my father?”

Adina waved the question off. “It is tradition on Mirial that the father of the royal children is never revealed. It is a matriarchy, full and complete, since the ether courts women more.”

“Nice,” Yoma said. An odd loneliness clung to her heart. Her father might still be alive, and she might actually like him, but she’d never know. “What about Zortan?” Yoma asked suddenly, thinking out loud.

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“He went to a lot of trouble to save us. Maybe he’s our father.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Adina spat, surprising Yoma with her vehemence.

“Some people still believe in keeping their word and duty. Zortan is amongst them.”

Apparently, her aunt had some unresolved issues with the captain of the Royal Guards. Interesting. It could prove to be useful knowledge...

But not today. Yoma was weary, and she was tired of having to wage war for every answer, no matter how small.

“Well, it was great meeting you, really. But I want to get some rest.”

Yoma paused, and then added, “I want you to know, I don’t intend to stay here. Once this business is over, I’m gone, and you can keep this royalty business. Is that a deal?”

Adina looked into Yoma’s eyes again and her features softened for a moment, as though she was about to say something. Instead she turned and walked away, her strong stride defying her fading body.

“You leave in the morning,” she called back, and Yoma did not bother answering.

A temple in the capital. Yoma could see the temple in her mind, but still her old vision refused to assault her, as though the future it had predicted was no longer possible. She took a deep breath and looked down at her hands.

“They would be covered with your blood, Layela.” She knew it with certainty, and wondered if the quick death in space might have been better for her sister. The fragrance of unfamiliar flowers tingled her senses and soothed her weary mind.

Layela.

She wished she could convince herself that her sister’s unforeseen death had been merciful.

Adina Mistolta stood

Chapter 33

on her balcony above ground, the flickering light of the torches outlining her body through her thin white robe. Her eyes travelled the length of the land as they did every night, as though other survivors might come stumbling from the darkness. She had searched long and wide, and fiercely protected the remaining few with her dwindling powers.

But it had never seemed like enough, and now, as she had gazed into her niece’s green eyes, knowing that one should be the colour of deepest night, she knew that her time had come. She felt no sadness at that. All of her grief had been spent a long time ago.

It was time to pay for what she had done and to take charge of the life she had created.

Hearing the door open and close gently, Adina smiled. She had waited a long time for this. Hurrying was not necessary.

She had all the time in the world.

As much as he would give her. “Adina,� she heard him say her name. It fell on her ears like the sweetest honey. He did not say it harshly, nor passionately. But he had said it. That was all that mattered.

She breathed in deeply, taking count of her image. Her long hair was freed from any restraint, outlining her upper body as he had always preferred. She remembered every detail of their relationship, even if it

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had been so long ago.

Closing her eyes, she turned around. She wanted to smell him first.

He approached her slowly and she raised her head, bathing in everything her senses could tell her before she could lose herself in the sight of him.

He still smelled as good as he always had, a sweet and masculine aroma that only a lover could truly learn to appreciate and crave. She had always imagined him as a wild creature, untamed except in her arms. His smell reminded her of it. The wildness.

He stood so close that she could hear his breath now. It was calm, as it had always been. The sound that had reassured her during so many sleepless nights. And the sound she had missed the most.

Lightning coursed through her body as he gently brushed the side of her face with the tips his fingers. Tears escaped her and he gently wiped them away, one by one. His coarse skin felt wonderful. So real. So warm.

Bringing up her own hand, she took his and kissed it. She could taste her own tears mingling with earth and sweat. He had always been so real to her. Her anchor in this wild, crazy world.

She fought to control her tears. She felt like a young, foolish maiden again, being courted by the most handsome man.

But that time had passed long ago.

Finally she opened her eyes, looking up at his. They were dark, as dark as the day she had first seen him. The day she had fallen in love with him so deeply that even her soul had cried out for him.

He was still beautiful. Older, with more scars and pain etched on his chiselled features, but those didn’t matter. He was still the most handsome man on Mirial. To Adina, her husband, Zortan Mistolta, would always be the most handsome man in the universe.

“Adina,” he repeated, more softly now. She knew he had expected the worst. It was simply the kind of man he was. But she still loved him, no matter what had happened.

It made her feel good to know that he still loved her, too. Even though he tried to hate her. She put her arms around him, her mouth reaching for his. He did not resist. She didn’t think he could have.

The bitter taste in her mouth was washed away with his honey. How she wished she could stay here, forever. Burn their past and fly towards the future, together.

Perhaps in another life, she could meet him and they could love each other as they had been meant to, simply as two individuals. She wished she had been born a peasant, free from the cares and hatreds that had led

Destiny’s Blood | 238 them here, to this moment.

How could she explain to him what she had done? How could she explain to anyone her pain?

Her pain had begun when her younger sister, whom the ether courted more strongly, became queen in her stead. It was a pain that had intensified each night her husband, the captain of the Royal Guards, stayed late, helping her sister in her queenly matters while Adina ached for his presence. It was a pain that culminated the day her sister gave birth, and called her captain to her side, instead of her sister.

How could she explain to him the anguish she felt at the queen’s death, at what one moment of anger had done to them all? And the anguish of learning the truth: her sister had given birth to twins. And her sister had known Adina, unlike her soft-hearted husband, would do her sworn duty and kill one of the children.

How could she explain to the captain of the Royal Guards that she had killed the queen because she loved him too much?

She couldn’t. And so she didn’t try. Instead, she lost herself in him one last time. When the kiss ended, so gently, she saw the pain in his eyes. He had tasted the bitter poison that coated her lips. He knew she was dying.

He didn’t ask why. He took her in his arms instead, hugging her so fiercely that his heartbeat became the only sound in her world.

They had become lovers the day they had met. The stars themselves sang at their union. Words had never been a necessity. They communicated on a much deeper level.

Twenty years of separation had not dulled their link. She had known he was aboard the Victory from the first moment the ship penetrated the atmosphere and fought against the wraiths of Mirial. She had known he was coming for her. To kill her for what he knew she had done.

She had killed the queen he had been sworn to protect.

He should have understood back then, as he surely did now, that everything she had done had been for him. And it still was: she would take her own life, rather than have him live with the knowledge that he had killed his wife.

She felt herself slip away. His heartbeat became hers. She was dimly aware of him lowering her onto the bed, lying down beside her and holding her.

She thought she heard him whispering to her. That he loved her. That he always had. And that he always would. No matter what.

But she could barely hear him.

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All she could hear was his heartbeat.

Until her own heart stopped beating.

/

Dunkat landed his shuttle near a cave. His father’s soul lingered at the entryway, a shadow of what he had once been. Dunkat opened the door without hesitation and stepped out, following the soul into the cave.

Rocks crunched under his boots. The glow from his father’s spirit was enough to light his way, as long as he kept his pace brisk.

He was not surprised that his father, or at least a piece of him, had survived. He had always been strong, and stubborn. Dunkat had modelled his own behaviour after him, admiring his quick and steep climb into politics. And his luck: when Mirial was uncovered, as it was once every twenty to thirty years, his father had happened to be leading a survey mission of the area.

It would have led to great heights, had it not all gone so foul. Now, Dunkat could barely convince the council that Mirial existed at all, much less that it posed a threat.

The air in the cave was growing a bit thin, but despite being middleaged, Dunkat kept himself in superb form and his body maintained its strength.

A faint glow could be seen approaching his father. Dunkat’s gut turned.

What if it was his mother? He would be surprised if she had lived, being a weak creature, and he wondered how he would react if he saw her again.

He had loved his mother, but had hated her at the same time. It was she, he was certain, who had created his father’s weakness — his love of art.

Dunkat was certain his father had accepted Mirialers so easily because he shared their passion. Everything on Mirial had been finely manicured, from her ships to her gardens, all meticulously tended to and cared for. Had he been more suspicious and not lingered on the planet, even bringing his family to take in the sights…Dunkat stopped his thoughts from heading too far in that direction. What was done was done, and who knew what kind of man Dunkat would have been, had he not had to fight for his survival these last twenty years.

The tunnel ended abruptly in a cavern with an odd yellow glow bouncing off the walls, although Dunkat could not see any source for the light. A small pond, three metres across at most, rested in the bed of the cave, shimmering with yellow highlights and some hints of greens that Dunkat assumed to be algae.

Destiny’s Blood | 240 His father’s soul came to rest above the pond, the light of the cavern giving him a sickly yellow look.

“Dunkat,” his father said, his mouth moving just a bit after the syllables reached his ears. Dunkat concentrated on his eyes. They were as stern and hard as he remembered they had always been...except when he had been looking at a fine piece of art, of course.

“Mirial must not be allowed to revive,” his father said, and Dunkat bit back his reply — I told you that twenty years ago, when you were still flesh and blood! His father had been a terrible enough foe when he lived. Now that he was some form of wraith, Dunkat dared not make an enemy of him.

“I can give you the means to stop Mirial’s rebirth.”

Dunkat braced himself for the words that he knew would follow.

“It will require the use of ether.” Of course. Dunkat felt himself flush, his anger boiling high in his throat. Ether was the source of all their problems.

“There must be another way,” Dunkat spat out. He felt like a teenager again, about to be scolded by his father. But the anger did not come.

“I have looked. It is the only way. If you stop Mirial, all of us will be allowed to rest and we will no longer need to worry about the terrible threat of ether.”

Dunkat clenched his fists. His father had looked, and his father would have been meticulous. Dunkat wanted to ask about mother, but feared that might draw his father’s wrath. He wondered if she lingered in some form, waiting to be reunited with her family, alone and afraid.

He wondered how hard his father had looked for her, and he imagined the night wind carrying his cries of anguish when he could not find her.

“How do I stop it?” he muttered, then braced his feet and spoke again.

“How do I stop Mirial?”

His father seemed to smile for a moment. It sent a shiver down Dunkat’s spine.

“You must kill the heirs. Two little girls, both on this planet, both heading to the same place. We can do it together, Dunkat.” The shade hissed, and its voice grew smooth again. “My powers in death can take form in your living body. I cannot approach them, but in you, we both can.

If we join, an army will follow you, and the opportunity to win is ours.”

Dunkat nodded and walked towards the shade, trusting as he always had that his father would not lead him to his doom.

Bridge. Temple. Hurry!

Chapter 34

Yoma?

“It’ll be okay, just hold on to me, Layela.”

Yoma?!

“It’ll be okay.”

Blood!

Layela woke up with a jerk, the sound of her own deep breath greeting her return to the world of the waking. She waited, her eyes closed, letting the images wash over her, afraid to move for fear they would leave her. She could see some of them almost as clearly as if Josmere had recalled them for her. Her skin still tingled with the sensation of warm blood; goose bumps travelled the length of her arm at the memory of Yoma’s voice.

A temple. They would head to the temple together. And blood. Blood that she believed to be from one of them.

“It’ll be okay.” She heard Yoma’s voice whispering still. “It’ll be okay.”

Her heart skipped a beat and she opened her eyes, shedding a tear as she did so.

“It won’t be okay,” she whispered to the vision that clung to her mind, unaided, unwelcome, and frightening.

“What sweetheart?” Josmere mumbled, the Berganda’s head on her lap as she lay across the two seats. When Layela did not immediately answer, Josmere’s eyes fluttered opened, whiter than before. Her hair and skin

Destiny’s Blood | 242 were more green than yellow now, since Layela had shot her full of water and nutrients.

“What is it, Layela?” Josmere shifted but did not get up, looking at her intently. Layela hesitated and looked away, towards the front seat where Ardin faithfully controlled the damaged shuttle. He had not spoken since the Destiny had exploded. Layela had not asked.

Josmere grumbled and pushed herself up, Layela helping her settle comfortably on the seat. Josmere gave Layela a coy smile. “I can’t take you seriously when I’m looking up your nose.”

Layela gave a short laugh. “Nice to see you’re feeling better.” Josmere cocked her head sideways and said nothing, waiting. “I think,” Layela began, finding it difficult to find the right words. “I think I know why Yoma didn’t want me to follow.”

Josmere’s eyes widened. “You remembered your vision without my help?”

Layela nodded once. The smile showed first in Josmere’s dark green eyes.

“I’m glad.” She settled lazily back into her chair, as though a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders. “I’m very glad.”

Seemingly drained from the short conversation, Josmere closed her eyes and her breath deepened. Layela sighed. She hadn’t wanted to tell Josmere any of the details, but still found herself disappointed at her friend’s lack of curiosity.

At least she had seen most of this vision already. Except the actual blow.

“We’re approaching Mirial,” Ardin said quietly from the front. Layela shook the cover off of herself and placed it on Josmere. The Berganda’s skin was still clammy, but much better. She crawled over the front seat and sat ungracefully in the co-pilot’s chair. The planet loomed before them, the atmosphere covering it with a great white cloud. She wished for a glimpse of the green earth that had once been her home — or, should have been.

“Why?” Ardin’s voice startled her and she turned to face him. His deep grey eyes looked into hers. “Why did your sister not want you to follow?”

Layela met his gaze. She wondered if she should lie, but knew it would change nothing. Whether Ardin knew what the vision implied or not didn’t matter. What would be, would be.

“One of us will be killed on Mirial,” she whispered, turning to look down at the great hidden planet. She couldn’t meet his eyes. “And I think it’s going to be me.”

“No,” Ardin said, and she turned towards him, but now it was he who looked away.

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“It won’t be. I won’t let it.”

As if in response to those words, the ship jerked and moaned, entering the atmosphere. Layela held onto her seat.

“She’s not doing so well,” Ardin said through gritted teeth. “Make sure Josmere is secured!”

Layela scrambled over the seat. The ship shuddered, jostling her into the shuttle’s low ceiling. She felt blood in her mouth and realized she had bitten her tongue. Swallowing the bitter metallic taste, she straightened Josmere and strapped her in, before falling beside her and doing the same for herself.

“Never a dull moment.” Josmere smiled weakly.

“What in the world…” Ardin muttered from ahead. Layela saw the planet, its dark shapes coming into view below them. The white cloud that had shimmered around them was gone.

“It looks like it just upped and left,” Ardin muttered, the ship jostling again. “We’re going to land quick,” he shouted back, surveying the dark land before him.

“I know this,” he mumbled just loud enough for Layela to hear. “I know this! There’s a lake here!” He grew increasingly excited. “My father used to take me here!”

“That’s nice,” Layela mumbled. She strained to see, leaning as far forward as she could with her seat belt on. “But can we land on water?”

Ardin looked back and shot her his first grin since Cailan’s death. “She’s fully equipped. We could land on a turbulent ocean with no problem!”

“My stomach would have a problem with that,” Josmere mumbled, and Layela reached over and grabbed the Berganda’s hand. Ardin’s excitement was contagious.

“Just over there...That depression in the land,” Ardin said, steering the rapidly falling shuttle, barely keeping her under control. “It’s not going to be a great landing, so hold on!” He pulled two levers, releasing air and inflating the emergency water-landing gear.

“We’re almost there,” he said through gritted teeth. The shuttle nosed too fast and he struggled to keep her aloft long enough to reach the lake.

“Almost there.”

Josmere squeezed Layela’s hand, and Layela returned the gesture.

“There!” Ardin screamed excited, almost bouncing in his seat. “There’s the lake! Now we just…Bones!”

“What?” Layela asked, sitting forward.

“No water! Hold on!” A second later the shuttle impacted the bottom

Destiny’s Blood | 244 of the old dry lake. Layela’s body was thrown forward, the seat belt cutting into her skin. Her head jerked back just as quickly and banged into the seat. Stars exploded before her eyes as the sounds of crushed metal deafened her.

She bounced high in her seat twice as they passed over rocks, the air cushions exploding as jagged stone scraped the bottom of the shuttle. She clenched her teeth and her fingers dug into the seat’s arms as firmly as the belt dug into her. The shuttle tilted sideways, tumbling once or twice.

Blinded by her hair, she closed her eyes and tried to keep her feet on the floor. She heard the crush of synthetic glass and then silence.

Through some miracle, the shuttle had landed upright. Josmere appeared to be unconscious but still well strapped in her seat. Green blood dripped onto the seat belt. Layela looked up front and met eyes with Ardin, who was turning to check on them both. The side of his face was covered in blood, but he was still grinning. “Touch down.”

/

Josmere felt the warmth of the fire on her skin, but it penetrated no deeper than that. She was cold. So cold.

When they had first pierced the purple sky and seen the sun of Mirial, she had realized that it would be the last true light she would ever see.

This fire, whose light flickered through her closed eyelids, was nothing compared to its intensity.

Layela and Ardin spoke softly in the background, and she could only make out a few of their words. They were excited over their upcoming adventure, discussing plans to reach a nearby city, which Ardin swore he remembered, and Layela teased him about the lake. Josmere was glad. It had been a long time since she had heard such a wonderful tone in her friend’s voice.

And last night, Josmere had been happy to see the look the two had shared when Layela had parted from Ardin to come sleep with Josmere and keep her warm. Most of the shuttle’s supplies were unsalvageable after the crash, but Layela had kept her warm throughout the night with her own heat.

And Josmere had loved her even more for that.

“Are you ready to go?” Layela knelt beside Josmere. I guess my thief ’s breaths are no longer what they used to be, Josmere mused. She opened her eyes only to see the worry in Layela’s.

Josmere smiled at her.

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“I’m not coming.”

Layela’s look suggested that she had expected the Berganda’s response and wanted no argument.

Josmere laughed, but pain flared from her belly and turned her smile to a wince.

“Layela,” she whispered when she found her voice again. Layela leaned closer, her eyes wide and richer than the dark sky. “I’m sorry I didn’t trust your strength. I’m sorry I didn’t believe in you, and I’m sorry I kept so much from you.”

Layela’s eyes clouded with tears. Josmere knew the last few days had pushed Layela close to her furthest edge. The one she had barely returned from, years ago.

Josmere took a deep breath. She didn’t want Layela to leave with the horrible burden of guilt. “I stayed to protect you, well, because I didn’t think you’d get me so banged up,” she grinned. “But, also, because I love you like a sister. You and Yoma.”

Tears were falling down Layela’s face. She had accepted Josmere’s lie about the severity of her wound, but the lie was crumbling now with each new word. Josmere blinked back some of her own tears. In the background, she could see Ardin’s profile, his head lowered. She was glad she had the chance to know him. It made her feel better about leaving Layela in his care.

It was time for her to stop running. She clutched the ground beneath her with her hands, her tears now falling from joy. It was so fertile it made her body ache and her blood sing in tune with it. Where only a year ago she had felt the life-giving properties of her blood wither and die, a piece of her own self vanishing with them, she could now feel a dance of joy in her blood, so strong it energized her very soul. Her body ached in anticipation, her fingers tingling and electricity running through to the tips of her hair.

The mystical planet renewed her ether. She could feel its power begin to heal her wound slowly, but maybe fast enough...She hurled the thought from her mind, clutched the strong earth beneath her in her still-weak grasp, and let the ether wash over her with its only important truth. A bit of her blood would certainly sprout a new Berganda.

All of it would save her race.

“Layela, I need you to be strong for me one last time.” Josmere brought her hand up to Layela and let the dirt caress her fingers as it escaped her fist. Layela reached up and caught some of it.

Destiny’s Blood | 246 Josmere gave her a thin smile. Realization suddenly dawned in Layela’s eyes, as Josmere had known it eventually would. She knew Layela would remember their time in the dead gardens on Thalos IV. “Josmere, I…” she began, shaking her head vehemently. Her dark hair veiled her face.

“Please, Layela.” Josmere’s body ached from the wound, her blood urging to be free. She swallowed hard and steeled herself. “I’m dead anyway.” She paused and ignored the tingling at her wound where the ether was already beginning to heal her. The lie didn’t feel bitter on her lips. “I can’t heal myself and you know it. Let me die knowing I did my part for my people.” Josmere winced as pain shot up through her. She waited for a bit of her breath to return before she spoke again. “Please, Layela. My blood is only good while I live.” Please, before too much of me is healed, and not enough blood escapes. In case this is just temporary renewal of my ether. In case I lose this hope again.

She didn’t need to say what needed to be done. Layela understood, she was certain. Layela nodded and more tears rolled down her face. She rose and vanished from Josmere’s view. The Berganda closed her eyes and let the flickering fire grace her vision. She wished she could see the stars one more time, beyond the great purple beast. She wished she could see Yoma, and know she was safe.

A shadow came between her and the fire and she opened her eyes, smiling as Layela knelt beside her. She heard Ardin digging on the other side of the fire.

“He’ll be good to you,” Josmere said. She raised her hand and wiped a tear off Layela’s cheek. She paused, catching sight of her skin, profiled by the fire. It was turning translucent, already so different and dead it didn’t seem to be hers. She had lost so much time, she doubted even the ether could save her body now. But my people...

“I saw your death,” Layela whispered, her eyes endless depths. “I saw your death, and I tried to stop it.” She took a deep breath. “I thought I could save you.” She trailed off and looked down, her mouth trying to form words that couldn’t get past her lips.

Josmere shifted. She had never seen that vision, and she had seen all of Layela’s visions — she was the one to unlock them from her mind.

Unless... Unless another ether creature had unlocked Layela’s visions, too?

“Who showed you those visions?” Josmere asked, ignoring the fire gripping her body.

Layela met Josmere’s eyes. “The Kilita, years ago. I saw death, Josmere,

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so much death, yours included. Yours was at the hand of that other Berganda. I thought...I thought that by killing her, I would save you, and...” Her voice broke and she looked down again.

Some of Josmere’s blood escaped her wounds, and just as it parted her body, just as it slid down her yellowed skin, she could feel it sing, like the strings of a violin vibrating with sound and life. Then it struck the ground with a crescendo. She could hear the music of life all around her, and she was certain she had just given birth to another Berganda. She felt her life flow into the new being, the sprout that she had seeded, the Berganda she would become, and the children she would in turn seed.

Her mind grew heavy as the rest of her body joined in the song of birth.

“Oh Layela,” Josmere whispered, unable to hear her own voice for all the music around her. “Oh Layela, you did save me. You let me live long enough to save my people. It’s not about death, Layela, but about life.”

The music soothed Josmere as Layela met her eyes, the tears still clinging to the corners. Josmere could feel the strength flow from her too; her ether, which she was beginning to embrace, joined the symphony.

“I don’t know what to say,” Layela whispered, taking Josmere’s hand.

Her coldness broke through the music that was filling Josmere’s mind.

The Berganda fought back a sob. “Say goodbye, darling. Say goodbye.”

Layela wept bitterly and hugged Josmere. The Berganda held her back with what little strength she had left, tears streaming down her face as well. She wept for what was and what could never be. She wished she could see her daughters grow up. She wished she could see the sun again.

“Never doubt yourself,” Josmere urgently whispered in Layela’s ear.

“Remember, it’s about life, not death. We all forge a path for those who follow us, Layela, and no path is fully laid out before us.”

Layela lifted her head and searched out Josmere’s eyes. She held them for a long time, and then nodded. Josmere wondered if she too could hear the song of the Berganda and feel what she was feeling — life, blossoming all around them on this dead landscape.

In the darkness, Ardin had stopped digging. It was time.

Josmere leaned heavily on Layela as she walked her around the flickering flames, so cold and distant now that Josmere felt she was in a dream. Her friend’s tears were dry. She ached with hope that Layela’s life would be long and filled with few occasions for such sorrow.

As the grave Ardin had dug came into view, Layela’s steps faltered, but Ardin walked beside Josmere and supported her for the last few steps.

Josmere smiled weakly to him.

Destiny’s Blood | 248 “Do you think your sister would mind if I kept her jacket?”

He swallowed hard and forced a smile. “I’m sure she would insist on it.”

His eyes shone with tears, which made Josmere feel a bit better. It was a comfort to know that more than one person would grieve her.

Layela crouched and jumped into the hole. It was only about a metre deep, but it would be plenty. Layela reached up and helped Josmere down.

There was nothing left to say. Josmere wanted to joke to Layela that she was a plant, she would be fine. But she didn’t trust her voice, and she didn’t want her friend’s determination to falter.

Layela held Josmere’s shoulders firmly as she lay down. The Berganda closed her eyes, letting herself slip into much needed rest. She didn’t open her eyes again as Layela bent down to kiss her cheek. She didn’t want her friend to see the fear in them.

“Goodbye,” Layela whispered, and then she was gone.

Josmere was alone, so very alone, and so very afraid.

She didn’t want to die, but now was her time. For herself and for her people.

Seconds were lost. She heard nothing, but imagined Layela was looking at her and hesitating. Josmere wanted to scream at her to stop looking.

She didn’t to be remembered as this broken, withering creature banging on death’s door. She wanted Layela to remember the lively Berganda she had been, beautiful and feisty.

Josmere smiled. It had been a good life.

A few seconds later, earth fell on her. Quickly. Without hesitation.

She felt her blood mix with the earth, could feel it sing. She could sense Mirial’s ether infiltrating every wound, every scratch, and travelling the length of her blood from her heart to her hair. The earth was still filled with enough ether to merge with her blood and do what even Seela’s stillfertile blood failed to do, no matter how many different planets she had shed blood on. Still, she was afraid. She hummed Layela’s Lacile song, imagining her friend in the shop once more, happy and fulfilled.

She hoped Layela would sing that song to her children.

That thought made her feel calm, made her let go.

She stopped humming, letting the earth greedily creep into her body, securing with her blood the future of her people.

It still took a long time for her to die.

Drums resonated throughout

Chapter 35

the caves and the bunker, reaching the crew of the Victory. They stopped working for a moment, wondering what spurred on the distant lament. In the bunker, some wept, others screamed, but most just removed whatever rag was on their head and sat down, sombre, as though their last strength had dwindled from them.

Curious, Avienne followed the echoes to their origin. She passed the weeping women and the fallen men, the frightened children and screaming babies. She ducked below house separations, sometimes crossing through houses. She had already given up on making sense of this place.

The guards did not challenge her as she passed them to head down into a cave, but simply watched her with tears in their eyes. The drums’ echo was loud and beckoning, and with each new beat her heart skipped.

The hallway amplified the sound of the drums, so that the sound lingered long after the initial note had been struck.

Reaching the end, she turned and was amazed at the roar that greeted her. She stood above a valley filled with plants, a waterfall and rivers, and below many people were gathered. At the other end, she saw a palace with many small balconies and one huge one, and it was there that three large drums sat. They were accompanied by two gongs, creating a slow rhythm which her heart could not help but follow. The whole cavern was

Destiny’s Blood | 250 filled with the noise, accented by the waterfall. Six guards led a casket out of the palace, a beautiful piece of oak and gold. They were followed by the stylized gentleman who had escorted Yoma away. Even from where she stood, Avienne could see that he was crying.

She felt momentary panic and looked around, relieved when she spotted Yoma on a balcony of the palace. She saw a shadow in another window and thought it was Zortan looking on, but he was too far and it was too dark for her to be sure.

Guess her time didn’t go too well, either. She turned to head back to the settlement. Her ears could not take much more of the pounding of the drums. Other settlers were now wandering into the tunnel. Avienne accelerated her pace and was soon out, where the sounds of grieving were less intense.

“Can you believe it?” one of the guards asked her, his eyes wide and filled with tears.

“Honey, I still can’t believe this place doesn’t have an ounce of booze.”

The guard frowned and turned to a more understanding ear.

Avienne sighed and started up the stairs that would lead her back to the Victory, heartened by the thought that Gobran Kipso might keep a personal stash of ale.

/

The drums were still pounding when Yoma broke free of the proceedings and let an old maid lead her to her room. There were more stairs to climb, circular ones this time, in some sort of tower. At the top, a hall spread before them. The maid led Yoma to the last door and opened it. The woman bowed, and Yoma feebly thanked her.

She needed to get out of here fast, before these people drove her insane.

She smiled as she closed the door behind her, trying to imagine how these loyal servants would react if they knew of Yoma’s past: a petty thief and when necessary, a killer.

It had only been necessary once. Yoma sighed and walked to the other side of the canopy bed, surprised to see that the room had a window. She walked to it and looked out at the dark night sky. Apparently this section of the castle reached above ground. She could see a bit of the Victory from here, and could make out the large fences that protected the settlers.

She looked up, gasping as white mist stretched across the sky. Wraiths?

No, this was different.

The mist clung to the sky wherever she looked, except…she could

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hear water falling. From here? The waterfall is deep below me. The sound of rushing water slammed into her and she held her breath. The mist cleared and she could see the temple again, above ground and deep red, and she was crossing the bridge. She felt an icy shiver of fear and her breath grew cold. She hesitated, but then looked beside her anyway. She laughed to see Layela, well and alive…and then the blood came. Blood covering her hands, dark and thick and warm.

“No!” Yoma screamed, hitting her fists on the window ledge. The pain dispersed the rest of her vision.

The door opened behind her and the old maid entered. “Is something wrong, Lady?” she asked, hurrying to her side. Concern lined her every tired feature.

Yoma gave a weak smile, but the maid looked out the window and gasped. Yoma followed her gaze. In the sky, previously hidden by the mists of her vision, was a large, blood red moon.

“What’s wrong with it?” Yoma asked. She didn’t like the look of it, but moons were different on each planet.

The maid turned to face her, her face white despite the red glow that illuminated her and seemed to infiltrate every crease of the room. “The moon, my Lady, has not shone on this land since the day of your birth.”

Yoma looked back out at the strange moon, so big and so sad, soaking the land in its eerie red light. The hairs on her arms stood at attention.

She wondered where on the planet her sister was, and if she felt the same fear when she looked at the monster in the sky.

“Thanks,” Yoma said to the maid, who still stood mesmerized by the sight.

Something terrible would happen, she could sense it. She needed to lock Layela in the deepest, darkest cave she could find before it caught up to both of them.

She ran down the tower stairs and out of the palace, where the proceedings were now reduced to quiet meditation. The casket was gone, and the mourners with their lowered heads did not notice her. Still, she stuck to shadows and walked quietly, her steps accustomed to blending into even the thinnest of crowds. She still practiced the thief ’s habit of locating exits in every room, so she knew there were only two ways out of this bunker — one was with a ship, which would be faster but too easily detectable, and the second was through what she guessed was the original entrance, the one used by the settlers in the main hall.

Yoma reached the main hall and quickly stole a garment to throw over her shoulder and head. It was a type of dress — or maybe a sheet, she

Destiny’s Blood | 252 wasn’t sure — but it was enough to get her past the mourners undetected.

She snuck through houses and walls, over fences and under clotheslines, spotting the sought-after break. It was easy to spot, since no house had been built close to the exit for fear that wraiths might break in. Yoma cast glances left and right, and found everyone too absorbed in their grief to even look up. She slipped into the corridor, shed her acquired clothing, and dropped into a crouch. Two guards watched the corridor, whispering in panicked tones to one another. News of the moon had travelled fast, and so would news of her escape.

She hesitated, not wanting to hurt the guards too badly. She felt some sense of responsibility toward the people who would claim her as their queen. Yoma looked at her remaining weapons, most small and easily disguisable. Her biggest by far was a knife, but she found that she still had two sleep darts, and she smiled. Nice and easy.

She peered around the corner again, took note of their positions and swerved around. The darts were gone from her hand and into their skin before they had even realized she was there.

Their eyes rolled back into their heads and they collapsed. Yoma stepped over them and tried the door, which was locked with a strong deadbolt. Of course. She sighed as she searched the first guard, and then the second. She came up empty handed, save for a gun that she tucked into her belt.

She searched her back pockets and grinned as she pulled free two metal pins. She wished she had more light, but a good lock-picker had to rely only on her hands.

She inserted the pick and a small tension wrench, intent on scrubbing the lock quickly. She turned it once, twice, while carefully feeling the lock’s mechanism, and on the third try it opened.

Already getting rusty. She had, after all, spent the last few weeks on ships, and had cut down on her thieving beforehand for fear of dragging Layela’s growing business reputation down with her. One witness was all it took, and as a twin, they had twice the chance of identifying her. She deftly put her tools away and quietly stepped out into the night.

The air of Mirial was cool, the moon casting her disadvantage with its red hues. Part of the bunker had a huge fence around it, but this section was protected by cliffs, a door, and probably extra security inside, and had not been fenced. A small advantage.

From here, she couldn’t see where the corridor of the cliffs led. It was filled with cracks, shadows and maybe even caves. She took a deep

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breath and slowed her heart, keeping her ears and eyes alert for danger.

She wished Josmere was with her to watch her back and prayed that no visions would take hold of her mind.

She crept along the side of the darkest cliff, sticking to the thickest shadows and the smoothest terrain. Suddenly a voice rang out of the darkness. “Where do you think you’re going?”

Yoma spun around, gun drawn. Avienne stepped out of the shadows and held up her hands.

“Even as bored as I am right now,” the redhead said, “I don’t think a firefight is quite the entertainment I’m looking for.” She lowered her hands and grinned. “But thanks anyway!”

“What are you doing here?” Yoma hissed, hoping no one had heard the loud smuggler.

Another voice shot out of the darkness and made Yoma’s heart almost beat out of her chest. “We should all stick together.” The voice was followed by Zortan, stepping out of the shadows right beside her.

He’s good. Yoma cast a wary glance at him.

“So you’re both stalking me?” Yoma’s anger boiled.

“Actually,” Avienne responded, kicking dust as she joined them. “I’m looking for ale, and since there was none in there, or on any other ship…”

Zortan ignored her. “We need to stay together to stay strong.”

“When did I join this happy little party?” Avienne mumbled.

Zortan ignored her again. “We need to keep you safe, Yoma, lest Mirial be lost.”

“I can’t believe I come from a place that doesn’t even have anything to drink. I think of all people, I miss Lang the most right now,” Avienne mumbled.

Yoma held up her hands to silence them both. “Please, I have to go, and the two of you will just slow me down.”

Avienne gave a short laugh that challenged that notion.

“You two stay here and help the Mirialers. I have to go and help Layela.”

Zortan’s eyes grew wide, but nowhere near the size of Avienne’s. “You mean she lives?”

Yoma nodded.

Avienne took an excited step forward. “You mean, my brother lives too?”

Yoma shrugged. “I assume so.”

Avienne’s hand came up so fast neither Yoma nor Zortan had the time to react. Her fist collided with Yoma’s chin. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” she demanded, her voice low and laced with cyanide.

Destiny’s Blood | 254 “I just found out,” Yoma said. She pulled herself back up, rubbing the side of her face. Not bad, and she was certain the smuggler had held back her strength.

“Blood and bones, Yoma! You could have saved me all that angry swearing in there! So many young ears spoiled by my carefully chosen words!”

Yoma couldn’t help but smile. Avienne Malavant might be insane, but she had a joy for living that was hard to match.

“I can’t believe I’m from here and I just hit the woman who’s supposed to be my queen,” Avienne mumbled again, and Yoma laughed.

“Call me queen again and I’ll be the one to punch you!”

Avienne grinned widely. “Some fun for another day, then!”

“We can settle this on the way.” Zortan, who had wisely stayed back, now stepped in. “Now we should go. With Adina gone,” he swallowed hard, as though poison clung to his throat, “they will be even more protective of you, Yoma.”

The two women nodded, and resumed walking. An inhuman scream pierced the night, and seconds later an alarm sounded, slow at first but then strong and intermittent, urgent and impossible to ignore.

That alarm alone would make me panic! Yoma thought. The bunker’s strongest spotlights blazed to life on and aimed at the outskirts of the red glow. They struck far, and at the edges of the light, where it was most diffused and almost gone, the land seemed to be moving, as though the earth itself was taking many quick deep breaths.

“What the…” Avienne started. Zortan grabbed both Yoma and Avienne by their upper arms and twirled them around. The two barely stayed on their feet for his speed, mostly carried by his strong grip. The door of the bunker was opened and then shut behind them in a second, and Zortan locked it and tested the handle.

“Let’s go,” he said as he released their arms and stepped over the two guards.

Seconds later, the walls shook with gunshots and explosives.

They were in an old bunker, filled with villagers and peasants, and no army.

And they were under attack.

To the ships!”

Chapter 36

The cry echoed off the walls, to be shouted again and again in low voices of disbelief and in high, panicked tones. Yoma led the way, followed closely by Avienne and Zortan. Some settlers desperately tried to grab their few remaining belongings. In the chaos of the packed bunker, parents screamed for their children, answered by faint yet piercing youthful cries.

Yoma crossed a wall, flapping the red sheet aside and sidestepping to avoid a small family that clung to one another. A wife, a husband and a little girl huddled together as though they had run far enough, and could go no further. Yoma clenched her jaw and walked past their dim faces, turning back when she heard Avienne’s shout.

“Blood and bones, die here if you will, but let the child go!” The redhead had already pushed the father down and was now trying to release the mother’s clutch. Zortan walked by Avienne and, without stopping, grabbed her upper arm and pulled her around hard, tugging her along.

“Let go of my arm, you filthy bark-eating Gratka sewer monger!”

Satisfied they were following her, Yoma worked a path through the crowd. The crush of people grew thicker as they neared the staircase to the surface.

An elbow caught Yoma in the gut and she quickly kneed back, wincing for breath. The crowd jostled her, closing in on all sides and blocking the

Destiny’s Blood | 256 stairs. Tightly packed people fought each other with knees and elbows, their arguments only temporarily silenced when an incredibly loud explosion rolled through the bunker. Guards shouted desperately over the din, but their commands to remain calm and go one at a time were ignored.

“We’ll never bloody get through!” Yoma shouted as the others joined her.

“Bloody, useless, genetic variant of pond scum!” The redhead screamed, pulling her arm free from Zortan’s grip. She shot the tall man a venomous look. “There will be an exit for the royal family, I bet you, from within the castle itself. Let’s head there instead!”

Yoma smiled and shouted above the crowd. “Good thought!”

Avienne shrugged and grinned. “Insane, not stupid!”

The three took off sideways, no longer fighting the crowd. The guards were not even bothering with the entrance to the palace, which stood on a ledge overlooking the entire bunker. Just as they reached the cavern, screams rose beyond them. Yoma turned and saw oddly shaped tar-like creatures slithering into the bunker. A few settlers were immediately trapped, vanishing in the tar, their screams coming to a sickening, gurgling end.

The creatures were fast, and although Yoma couldn’t identify any limbs, she could imagine where they were. The settlers screamed and fanned out, the panic on the stairwell boiling as people began fighting one another to save themselves.

Yoma heard a faint scream over the rest and turned. The family Avienne had tried to break was surrounded by the creatures, the little girl clinging desperately to her mother. The woman looked up and caught Avienne’s eyes, hers shining blue with tears as she clung to her little girl.

Avienne turned around, her face set in stone. “Let’s go.” Yoma swallowed hard and followed, Zortan staying close.

The sound of the waterfall soon rushed around them, blocking some of the artillery noises and screams. Avienne was running up ahead, Yoma and Zortan not far behind. When Avienne reached the entrance to the valley, she stopped dead in her tracks, Yoma catching herself before crashing into her.

The valley rocked from the weapons, the whole mountain shaking.

Crack! Above them a huge stalagmite broke free and fell into the side of the palace, rocks crumbling as two balconies broke and crumbled.

Dust fell freely from the ceiling, and so much condensation was being shaken free that it felt like rain.

Another stalagmite broke free and fell into the lake. A huge wave

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crashed into the crops, ripping them free of the tender earth.

Yoma swallowed hard, her hands and feet tingling with adrenaline, her heart pounding in her chest.

“Quickly!” Zortan pushed them both and they began scaling the steps down. They took two and three steps at a time, hoping the adrenaline and fear would keep them from losing their footing. They had just reached the valley floor when an odd gurgle sounded behind them, and Yoma chanced a glance back. At the top of the stairs, the tar creatures were oozing out of the entryway, already sliding their way down.

“Faster!” Zortan screamed and the three broke into a wild run through the crops, sliding a few times on the wet earth. Avienne tumbled once and fell, but was back up in an instant, her entire right side covered in mud.

Ggggrrrrrggggggggg. Yoma could hear the odd sounds of the creatures behind them, and she pushed her body harder, her lungs screaming and burning.

Crack! Another stalagmite broke free and landed a few feet from them. The ground shook from the blow, a shudder that vibrated through Yoma’s body.

Avienne was the first to reach the stairwell. She climbed the circular stairs three at a time, hopping and leaping as the creatures gained ground and the roof crumbled. Yoma was not far behind, and Zortan hovered protectively behind her. She reached the top and dared but a quick glance at the grounds below, unable to see the greenery through the fallen rocks and smears of tar.

“Where?” Avienne screamed to Yoma. She pulled a small explosive charge from her belt and motioned the other two through.

“Back here,” Yoma screamed as she passed Avienne, who unhooked the charge and threw it on the balcony. They did not stick around to see the result. The whole palace shook from the explosion, statues and paintings flying off the walls and shattering at their feet.

Think, Yoma! Exits and entry points.

“Shouldn’t you know this, oh captain of the Royal Guards?” Avienne asked Zortan behind her.

“This was built after my time,” Zortan responded casually, his breath betraying none of the fatigue that laced Avienne’s voice.

Concentrate! Yoma let her feet guide her, fumbling through her memories. Her mind was becoming foggy, and Yoma hoped it was simply fatigue and not a vision.

She felt tugged in a direction and she followed her instincts. They

Destiny’s Blood | 258 had never been this insistent, but they had often proved right. Another stairway. She heard Avienne groan behind her.

She took the stairs, two at a time, energized by what memories and instincts told her. Upstairs. By the royal rooms, which looked out of the cliff side. The exit would be there. She was certain of it.

Yoma broke onto the main floor and ran past her rooms. The door was open and the blood red light glowed all around them. She ran to the end of the corridor, flung open the last door and entered the small room beyond it. It was empty, save for the statue of a woman.

“It’s here,” Yoma said between breaths. She ran her hands along the walls, feeling for a fissure, a crack, an irregularity, anything that would point to a hidden opening. The stone was smooth and betrayed nothing to her well-trained fingers.

“Blood and bones, Yoma. This is an empty room! In a tower with no other way out! We’ll be trapped!” As if on cue, gurgling sounds began to carry along the hallway. Zortan quickly closed the door and bolted the heavy metal lock.

“They wouldn’t have such a big lock unless it was to protect something valuable,” Yoma mumbled. “And it wouldn’t lock only from the inside unless it was most valuable when someone was in here.”

Avienne smiled. “I’ll buy that.” Without warning she threw herself into the statue, which teetered warningly. Before it could settle, the smuggler threw herself onto it again, toppling it over with a great crash that shattered it.

“Well, I’ll be.” Avienne bent down and brushed crumpled stone and dust away, and pulled on the door in the floor where the statue had rested. She flung it open.

It led to a dark drop. Avienne kicked a piece of the broken statue into the hole, and Yoma heard it strike ground in less than a second.

“Sounds good to me.” Avienne grinned and jumped down. Yoma and Zortan were treated to a string of swears as the smuggler landed on the piece of statue.

“I have a flashlight,” Zortan said. He pulled it free and shone it down the hole. Avienne’s brown eyes blazed up at him.

The door shook and cracked, and tar seeped in from under it.

“Move,” Zortan said, half pushing Yoma in. She fell beside Avienne and scrambled aside for Zortan as she got to her feet.

The sound of splintering wood echoed throughout the long hallway.

“Go,” Zortan said from beside them. His light illuminated the way.

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They ran, the corridor lit only by Zortan’s bouncing light, the three not speaking for fear of wasting their precious breath. The further they ran, the louder the screams and shells became ahead of them. The grunting and gurgling of the tar creatures neared behind them, although they dared not stop to glance back.

Yoma swallowed what little saliva she had left, her throat dry and aching, her breath harsh in her own ears. Red light illuminated the end of the passage, and she would have laughed if she still had the energy.

She had feared all this time that they had been heading toward a dead end — dead in too many ways for her liking.

Avienne slowed and let the other two pass her as they neared the exit, pulling something from her pouch. Yoma and Zortan broke free just as the mountain shook, rocks tumbling around them. Avienne cheered as her last explosive barricaded the tunnel.

Yoma looked around her. They were just above the docks and the scene below was horrific. Panicked masses of people were gathering around the ships, the crews desperately trying to control the flow as everyone tried to get on board. People trampled each other and some were knocked off the walkways. Echoes bounced off the cliffs for a few seconds after the abrupt halt of their screams.

“Let’s go,” Zortan said. He scaled a stairway down, and Yoma and Avienne stuck close behind him.

“Lady!” Yoma heard the shout before she saw Gobran Kipso, running toward her. “I knew you would find your way. I kept the Victory on hold for your arrival. Quickly!”

Gobran grabbed her wrist and jerked her into the crowds, pushing people aside easily with his strength and size. His grip was iron around Yoma’s wrist and she glanced back, relieved that Avienne and Zortan were following her. The bridge leading to the ships was even more densely packed with people. “Hang on,” she thought she heard Gobran call. He was knocked aside and lost his grip on Yoma. Yoma took a shove to the back that pushed her against the railing of the bridge and, before she could catch herself, she was tumbling over the edge. Her hands madly grabbed for anything within reach, and they closed on a metal support, wet and slippery with what she thought might be blood. She tried to pull her feet up, but the slickness only made her slip further down. She tightened her grip as much as she could and looked up. Gobran shouted at her to hold on, but it was Zortan’s eyes on which she focused.

“Blood and bones!” She heard the familiar cry as someone plummeted

Destiny’s Blood | 260 past her into the darkness.

“Avienne!” Yoma screamed down. The ground below was piled high with fallen bodies, the deep shadows cast by the red moonlight making it impossible to judge exactly how far the smuggler had fallen, or if she was all right. She squinted, only able to make out some of the corpses’ features. Her stomach lurched and she looked back up. The screams from the airfields changed to sharper and more desperate cries as ships began to take off. People clutched to them, only to fall from farther above.

Yoma’s grasp slipped a bit. She looked back up into Gobran’s despairing eyes.

“Gobran!” Yoma screamed up at him. “My sister lives! Find her and keep her alive!” Gobran nodded. He waited by the railing, as if waiting for her to fall, to ensure that only one lived. Zortan locked eyes with hers before turning against the flow and heading back to the palace.

Yoma’s hand slipped again and this time she could not catch herself.

She closed her eyes and waited for the impact.

See how easily

Chapter 37

they accept darkness for one more chance to live?” Dunkat’s father hissed at his side. They stood together on a cliff, too far away to see faces but close enough to hear the screams. The wraiths, souls trapped by the shields of Mirial almost twenty years ago, had willingly accepted the tainted ether for the chance to live again.

And now they were under his control, powerful and unstoppable.

Only fragments of their souls were still intact enough to realize that it was their families and kin they now destroyed.

“Mirial has always been tainted,” he whispered. He could feel his own growing power in his chest, and it was a sturdy, comforting presence even though it was made from the same ether he had learned to hate. It was the only way left to him to stop the twins, and that was all that mattered now.

Noro, the Solarian defences, his own dishonour...they were all far away and insignificant. Stopping the ether was what mattered. He had seen too many suffer horribly to believe that ether could ever be a force for good.

“To reach our full power, we must be corporeal,” his father hissed, cool air brushing against Dunkat’s ear. “Then we can stop them.” Take out the enemy’s allies, then close in. It was a strategy that both Dunkat and his father had always favoured. It was one of the few things they had agreed upon, in the end.

“They will be stopped,” Dunkat confirmed. His father’s answering smile sent a chill down his spine.

He was careful not to show it.

Destiny’s Blood | 262

/

Silence. No more shells. No more screams. No more gurgling.

Yoma hurt. She was still foggy from having the wind knocked out of her. Every inch of her skin felt bruised. She was surrounded by thick, heavy silence, and the red light of the moon teased her eyelids open. The first thing she saw was an arm, sticking up near her face. She fought down panic as she remembered that she was on a giant pile of bodies. They had all been knocked down by their frightened kin, who were now the few survivors of a once great people.

Her legs were weighed down. Someone was on her. She wiggled and pushed at the body, not wanting to see its face. She moved carefully, afraid of being swallowed by the limbs below her.

She could hear moans and sobs and was careful not to add her own.

She was stiff and sore, but nothing seemed broken. The bodies had cushioned her fall.

“Avienne?” she whispered around and waited patiently. Thief ’s breaths.

“Avienne?” she called again, fighting back her panic. She dared not push herself off the body underneath her. She tried not to think of the spine she was sitting on and its strange angle; tried not to think of the pile of bodies that had saved her life.

“Am I on what I think I am?” Yoma finally heard the slurred reply.

She rolled over and crawled carefully towards the sound of the smuggler’s voice. The pile of bodies gave way and shifted underneath her, trapped her arms and legs between limbs several times. Her heart pounded.

“Blood and bones, it is.” Avienne’s voice became stronger as she sat up, making it easier for Yoma to spot her, the woman’s hair vibrant in the light. The red moonlight reflected morbidly on pale skin and lifeless eyes.

Yoma focused on Avienne, not looking down to make sure her path was secure, not thinking about the lukewarm surfaces beneath her.

“Are you okay?” Yoma asked.

“I will be once we’re off this thing.” Avienne pushed herself to her feet, biting back a yelp of pain.

“What’s wrong?” Yoma stood carefully, wincing as something crunched under her foot on her way forward to support Avienne.

“I sprained my bloody ankle. Of all the rotten luck.”

“I think being on a pile of bodies is worse luck.”

Avienne grinned at Yoma, but the smile did not reach her eyes. Yoma didn’t feel much like laughing, either.

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“Come on.” She walked ahead and helped Avienne, carefully guiding her feet onto backs instead of limbs. She tried to avoid looking at faces, to ignore slight shifts or small noises. She didn’t look at the few others who were getting up, looking for their loved ones or simply staring in shock.

Avienne stumbled a few times and caught herself on bodies. Yoma tried her best to hold her up, wishing that the surface beneath her wasn’t so squishy.

The queasiness in Yoma’s stomach wasn’t helped by the smell of the blood. It quickly became unbearable. Unable to help herself, she closed her eyes, bent over and vomited.

She quickly stood back up without looking at the ground and held her hand out to Avienne again, resuming their descent. Avienne said nothing, but Yoma guessed from her tight features that she felt quite the same.

They took a few more steps and reached ground. Neither Yoma nor Avienne looked back.

A shadow was scaling the riverbed quickly and moving towards them.

Yoma stopped supporting Avienne and pulled her gun free, relieved that it hadn’t tumbled from its holster.

“Shoot, no questions,” Avienne urged from beside her.

“That will get you supplies,” the deep, familiar voice said. Zortan jumped gracefully to the riverbed. “But it will deprive you of my wonderful company.” He approached them, carrying a couple of bags.

“Blood and bones! We’re on a pile of bodies and he goes pillaging!”Avienne smiled, and this time the light did reach her eyes.

“We could make a smuggler out of you yet!”

“Or a thief,” Yoma said with a raised eyebrow.

“Maybe we should go into business.” Avienne leaned her weight back on Yoma, her one good leg already tiring.

“Maybe we should get out of here.” Zortan said. He looked questioningly at Avienne.

She winced. “Sprained it.”

Zortan gave a low chuckle. “Only a Malavant could take such a fall with little harm. Remind me to tell you stories of your father, one day.”

Avienne grinned widely at the idea, sitting down carefully with Yoma’s help.

“There’s not much time, so I’ll just make you a quick splint. I can carry you afterwards.”

“You can splint me, Zortan, but no carrying. It’s really not my thing.”

“Suit yourself, but don’t slow us down,” he said. Yoma winced, watching him trap the ankle with wood and fabric. Avienne’s face turned paler and more taut with each of the man’s abrupt movements. Still, she said nothing.

Destiny’s Blood | 264 When he was done, she got up on her own and managed a weak grin.

“Shall we?” she asked.

Zortan nodded and picked up the pack, pointing toward the west.

“The capital is that way, and so is the main temple.”

“The Temple of Mirial,” Yoma whispered, a chill travelling down her spine.

“Don’t you go all creepy on me, too,” Avienne pleaded. She searched out Yoma’s eyes, and Yoma managed a weak smile.

“Let’s go,” Zortan said.

Layela, stay safe. Yoma cradled the promise in her heart: her sister’s blood would not be shed.

/

Layela’s fingers bled, the nails cracked and broken, the skin dry and dirty. She had covered the grave with her two hands, forgetting any tools, wanting to feel the earth that would forever hold her friend.

Josmere. Layela lay on the earth and covered her friend’s grave with her body, soaking the ground with her tears. The earth was so dry that it greedily swallowed them. She imagined her tears reaching Josmere, and the thought calmed her.

“She might still be alive down there,” she whispered to the earth.

“It’s been almost an hour, Layela,” Ardin replied. She felt his hand on her back, rubbing her gently. It made her notice for the first time how cold she had become, and how her breath rose around her in thin wisps.

She sat up slowly, keeping her back to Ardin. “She was my best friend.” The words blanketed the loss in her heart, making it less sharp but more enduring.

“I know.” Ardin wrapped his arms around her to warm her. She leaned back onto his strong frame, cradled by his arms, warm and safe. She remained quiet, imagining she heard a familiar tune on the wind, letting it soothe her spirits, and she even allowed herself a smile. She realized the music was only in her mind, but she softly sang it to the earth below, to Josmere’s blood. It was a promise of life, to the past and the future that could now never be.

Rise gentle flower, rise with the rain, Rise my love, dare to bloom again, Shine like the sun, like the light of day, Shine, shine forever, always with me stay.

She sang it over and over again, and Ardin hummed along with her after a little bit. The tears ran freely down on her cheeks, tumbling in the red

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light and soaking Josmere’s grave.

The vision of Josmere’s death was already growing dim. She knew that she had felt different, in her vision. Here, she felt some peace. In the vision, she had felt only pain and anger.

Although the end result was the same, it was like night and day. She let her head fall back onto Ardin’s shoulder, felt his breath as though it was her own, and tried to recall her vision of his death. She had seen it, this she knew, but she couldn’t envision it now. She could hear bells on the edge of her consciousness, but that was all.

“I don’t believe things are meant to turn out only one way,” he suddenly said. It was as though he had heard her thoughts. “I don’t believe that there’s only one path for us, and that no matter what choices we make, we will wind up at the same destination. That makes no sense.”

He took a deep breath, and she let herself feel it with him.

“I know your visions tend to come true,” he continued, his voice soft and his breath warm on her ear and neck. “But I think it’s just something that’s likely to happen, based on how people have made their choices so far. So if one element changes, then I don’t think what you’ve seen has to be. Just like you believed you could save Josmere, Layela. I think, in a way, you did.”

He paused as though looking for more words, but just held her a little bit tighter in silence. She let herself be cradled in his warmth. She remembered the first time she had felt that warmth, when her flower shop had been destroyed and death was writhing in the Solarian soldiers.

That vision had been different too, she suddenly realized. In the vision, she had been terrified and alone. In real life, she had been exhausted and comforted by Ardin’s presence, much like she was now.

She put her hands over his and closed her eyes. The Kilita’s touch years ago had unleashed only visions of death, and since then, only visions of death courted her mind. He had changed the written future for her, in a way, just like she had for Josmere. She had to believe she had done some good for Josmere. And she had to believe the vision with Yoma could also be avoided.

That, she realized, had been her mistake. She had believed she could avoid death by avoiding fear, but no matter what she did, fear would find her. Even hiding in a peaceful flower shop couldn’t keep fear and death away from her. And if that was to be her destiny, if she couldn’t keep it away, then at least she could fight the bitter end with all of her strength.

She had changed Josmere’s future and bought her time — and, in a way,

Destiny’s Blood | 266 eternal life through her children. Now, she needed to heed the vision and make sure it would come to pass as predicted, and that it would be her blood spilled and not Yoma’s. She knew Yoma had seen the full vision in her waking mind, and also knew she intended to change it, even if it meant sacrificing herself.

But Layela was determined that Yoma would live, even if it meant her death. She needed to make sure of it.

She felt Ardin’s heart against her back, every strong beat turning to the clanging of bells, and she knew she was remembering a vision now. She had tried to recall it just moments ago, but now she fought it. She didn’t need to know how Ardin would die, and live in fear of it. She would enjoy her time with him now, not wait in fear for the moment when it would all end. She would not make the same mistake she had made with Yoma and Josmere.

Life, not death. She gave a short laugh.

“Imagine the army of brats that woman will leave us with!” Layela exclaimed, turning around to face Ardin. He smiled at her, his own eyes full of sorrow and concern.

“Thank you,” she whispered and kissed him full on the mouth. The bells were replaced by the beating of both their hearts and the taste of their tears mingling together.

She imagined Josmere standing beside her, laughing, encouraging her, telling her to take chances, to learn to live again. Telling her she was strong, and she would always be, no matter what the Kilita had once let her see and believe.

She broke from Ardin, traced his strong jaw line with her fingers, saw the fire in his eyes and smiled. She stood, Ardin beside her. It was time to forge her own path.

“It’s about life, not death,” Layela said. She looked down at the freshly dug earth and blew a kiss to her friend.

“Goodbye, Josmere Berganda.”

The landscape spread

Chapter 38

bleak and forbidden around them, no plant, no water, no life. The companions had walked for the better part of three hours, and their legs now felt heavier, their stomachs emptier and their throats drier.

Avienne leaned on Yoma, her features tight. Zortan had re-splinted her bandage twice, both times just as tightly, and each time the ankle had swollen further. The smuggler did not complain once, but her lack of smiles, jokes and swears was worrisome. A small cropping of hills lay before them and Zortan led them to a spot between three hills, blocked from view.

“We’ll rest here briefly,” he said as he lowered the bag, and then he vanished around the next hill, scouting to make sure the area was safe.

Yoma helped Avienne sit down.

“How’re you holding up?” Yoma asked, offering some dried meat to Avienne.

“Bloody painful. If I had two good legs, I would kick Zortan.”

Yoma smiled and nibbled at the meat, forcing the food down. They still reeked of blood and for the first time in her life, she found herself craving a bath. Dirty, she was used to. Disgusting and bloodied, she was not.

She took a swig and handed the water skin to Avienne, who sighed and looked it forlornly before taking some herself. She winced as though it was poison.

Destiny’s Blood | 268 “I hope my brother’s having better luck than us,” Avienne said as she handed the skin back to Yoma.

“With any luck, Gobran found them and brought them somewhere safe by now,” Yoma said. She offered meat to Zortan as he joined them again.

“It seems safe, but we shouldn’t linger long.” He crouched by Avienne and felt her ankle. “I’m going to have to re-splint this.”

Avienne shrugged her assent. “If stars didn’t explode in front of my eyes every time you touched me, it just wouldn’t be the same.”

“Just don’t lose consciousness, or we’ll have to leave you behind if the enemy closes in.” Yoma was about to protest, but then she saw that Zortan was smiling. Avienne slit her eyes at him, but the humour in them was obvious. Zortan turned his attention to undoing the splint and Avienne squeezed her eyes shut, her face losing what little colour it had left. The moon, full and bloodied, was now almost over them.

“Why did this moon not shine before?” Yoma asked.

“The moon was created to reflect ether from the sun to the dark side of the planet,” Zortan answered as he skilfully wrapped Avienne’s foot again. “For Mirial, which is so close to the First Star, it’s like a warning system. Imagine not drinking water for a long time and then drinking too much. You would make yourself sick. If you drink a bit at first and get used to it, then your body can drink greater portions. That’s what the moon is to Mirial. Small sips of ether before it gets to gulp.”

Yoma looked at the moon. “So that means the sun will rise soon?”

Zortan nodded and stood up, finished with Avienne’s ankle. “Yes. Adina kept the planet safe from the sun with her ether, but without her controlling it, the planet has resumed its normal rotation.”

“Is that so bad?” Yoma looked out at the hills, as dead as everything else on Mirial. “This land looks like it could use some light.”

Zortan sighed. “The sun of Mirial is wild with ether right now, and could flare up at any moment. A flare would wipe out the entire area touched by sun — maybe the whole planet, now that Adina no longer protects it.”

Yoma shook her head. “That’s ridiculous. Why didn’t Adina just reset the sun, or however it works?”

Zortan was very still for a moment, gazing at the moon but not seeing it. He spoke softly. “Because she couldn’t. She would have given her soul to save her people, but only the heirs can actually link with Mirial. All that she could do was channel its ether, not take full control of it. And that wasn’t enough.”

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His shoulders squared again, as though shedding the memory, and he looked down and held Yoma’s eyes with his own. “We’re running out of time. If the sun strikes this half of the planet and you lower the shields, the First Star will flare and destroy us. And it might shed its overflow of ether anyway before the next sunset.” He paused, took a deep breath.

“If you think this part of the planet is dead, where it has not seen light in almost two decades, then imagine what it will be like after the sun destroys it. At least we’ll probably all be instantly killed, and we won’t have to witness it.”

“Sounds fun,” Avienne mumbled, sitting up. “I like Zortan’s plan better than the death thing, Yoma.”

Yoma cast a glance at Avienne, the smuggler pale and drawn. “I can walk,” Avienne insisted. She clenched her jaw and struggled up, her eyes cold and set. Yoma went to her side, but the woman refused assistance.

She hobbled forward. “I can walk.”

“The capital is just beyond these hills.” Zortan said. “Let’s go.”

Avienne hissed and followed after him, limping surprisingly quickly and refusing all help from Yoma.

“Aren’t you just the little stubborn one,” Yoma said, staying near.

Avienne didn’t answer, too focused on keeping pace.

A sound caught Yoma’s ears from all sides, odd yet chillingly familiar.

Zortan was at their side in a moment. Without a word, he grabbed Avienne and threw her over his shoulders as if she was nothing more than a sack of potatoes. Avienne screamed in protest.

“Blood and bones, what are you doing?”

“We have to move fast.” He broke into a run that left Yoma struggling to keep up with his pace, despite his extra load. Avienne was tossed by his strides, and the repeated collisions of her ribcage with his shoulders pulled short, high pitched swears from her. Around them, the gurgling was closing in.

Yoma pulled her gun free and fired as the first creature moved out of the shadow of the hill beside them. It jerked back, but Yoma doubted it was dead. She didn’t linger around to find out.

She chanced a look back. The creatures were pouring into the path behind them, gaining speed. They looked like a tumbling, thick river of tar filling a dry riverbed.

“They’re gaining!” She screamed ahead as she fired again, the bullet lost in the mass of goo. Zortan stopped and she smashed into him, not fazing him. He dropped Avienne and pulled his sword free, the blade blood-red as

Destiny’s Blood | 270 it swung at the first creature. He struck it and sliced it, the creature shrieked and evaporated. White smoke rose from its vanishing remains.

Avienne jumped back on her good leg and fired her gun, throwing knives in between shots. Yoma fired as well, but her bullets and Avienne’s knives had very little impact beyond buying them a few more seconds.

Zortan’s thrusts and parries proved so quick that Yoma couldn’t keep up with his movement. The dark-clad warrior blended in with the dark creatures until only the flash of his sword allowed her to see him — and to see that he was losing ground, as well.

Yoma fired again. The creatures were barely two metres from her and Avienne. Her gun choked. No more bullets! She fumbled into her pockets, finding no refills. Why hadn’t she taken the other guard’s gun too?

“I’m out too.” Avienne closed ranks and pulled two more knives free, handing one to Yoma. “Just in case,” she said over the rising gurgling sounds, and Yoma knew what she meant. Just in case they got too close, it was better to die by a blade than to get sucked into the tarry mass.

The land was covered by the dark creatures as far as Yoma’s eyes could see. She clutched the knife and prepared to fight with her bare hands, wondering if the dark flesh would give at all.

Gggrrrrrrrrrggggggggrgbbbbbbbrrrrrrr. The sound washed over them, the ground shaking. The creatures closed in around them, their noise shifting until they almost seemed to be purring in anticipation.

“Let go!” Avienne screamed. Yoma whirled around. Avienne was down, her good leg clutched tightly by the tar.

“Bloody and bones!” She swung the knife at the creature, only to have it absorbed into the mass. The smuggler screamed in anger. It was dragging her in further now. Her fingernails dug into the ground and her leg kicked out, but the creature continued unfazed, ensnaring Avienne’s second leg.

Yoma threw herself to the ground and grabbed Avienne’s hands, pulling her back with all her strength.

“Zortan!” she screamed, chancing a glance at him. He was surrounded, and soon even the ether of his sword would not be enough.

The smuggler was ripped from Yoma’s grasp and pulled into the creature. Only a few strands of red hair stuck out from its side.

“Avienne! No!” Yoma felt her insides boil, her vision becoming black.

Her anger exploded, covering the world in light for an instant. She remembered the warm embrace of Mirial, as she had felt it on the Victory, when she had wished for nothing more than to save Josmere. She called

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out again, not with her voice but with her thoughts, hopes and fears. Her breath ripped out of her in a warm gale; her body was struck with heat so great that her fingers and legs grew numb. Mirial responded with a caress on her cheek, like a kiss blown from far away. The world spun, and her limbs tingled again. Her eyesight returned and she blinked. The land was free of the creatures; there were only knives strewn about on the ground.

Avienne sat up and stared at her, eyes wide.

Yoma blinked again. She wanted to see if Zortan was okay, if she was dreaming, but her body would no longer respond.

She closed her eyes and concentrated on her breaths, not surprised when she felt herself meet the ground a few seconds later.

Avienne still leaned

Chapter 39

against Yoma, but now Yoma needed her strength as well, the ether having greatly sapped her energy.

She couldn’t quite focus her eyes and she found that concentrating on the ground at her feet made her dizzy, so she looked up instead, towards the horizon. Beyond the hills would be the capital where, according to Zortan, the shields should still exist. Thoughts of rest and safety spurred Yoma on and they slowly made their way, guarded by Zortan’s deep shadow.

Yoma caught Avienne glancing at her sideways.

“What is it?” Yoma asked. She wished they could stop for just a few minutes so that she could grab a nap. Just a few minutes would restore her, she was certain.

“How did you do that?” Avienne asked. “I mean, killing all of those things in one blow? If I could have done that…” She dropped the idea, pulling a piece of tar out of her hair in disgust.

“I don’t really know. I just sort of wish it true, if that makes sense.”

Zortan walked before them and carefully examined every crevice, sword in hand. Yoma was certain he was listening closely.

Avienne was quiet for a few moments, long enough that Yoma thought the smuggler had dropped the conversation. She was surprised when Avienne spoke again.

“Well, I’m glad you wished that. I mean, thanks,” she mumbled, then turned and flashed her a brilliant smile. “I still have things to do, you

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know! Not a good way to go, all dirty and tarry.” She winced as she put too much weight on her wounded ankle.

Avienne took a deep breath and focused on Zortan instead, reassuming her indifferent manner.

“How come your sword can kill those things?” Avienne asked.

“It’s the sword of the Captain of the Royal Guards. It’s meant to protect royalty against any attacker.” He shot Yoma a look, and added, “And it can track missing royalty.”

“No wonder I can’t shake him,” Yoma mumbled.

“Can’t someone else use it to track down the twins?” Avienne asked.

“The sword can only be used by those most loyal to the heirs. It can’t be used against them.”

“Oh.” Avienne sounded disappointed.

“My sister is coming from the other side. Can you sense that, Captain of the Royal Guards?”

Zortan hesitated. “Yes, but only faintly. The power is weaker, split in two.”

“I need you to promise me something, Zortan,” Yoma said, her footing more sure as her next words gave her strength. “Promise me that you’ll protect Layela before me. If you have to choose, protect her, not me.”

Zortan kept his gaze focused ahead as he answered. “I can’t promise that. If one of you is to die, my blood will also be spilled.”

“Oooooooooh,” Avienne murmured, her interest perked.

Yoma was about to reply angrily when they stepped out of the hills, and words were lost to her. Before them lay what could only be the capital. Domes and towers rose from the ground, woven into cliffs and mountains, glittering white in defiance of the red light. In the centre was a thin tower, tall and proud, bearing the emblem of Mirial on a cloth that flapped in the wind despite the heavy air.

The sight of it tugged at Yoma’s heart.

“This is where you and your sister were born,” Zortan said, stopping to look, as well.

“Looks pretty dead to me,” Avienne said. She kicked a rock in disgust.

Yoma looked at Avienne in surprise. It was the most spectacular city she had ever seen! But when she turned back, she sucked in her breath as she saw how the city had changed from the vision that had shrouded it a moment before. The towers had long ago crumbled, the domes collapsed, and the high tower bore but a tattered, limp rag. The buildings were scorched and black, as though a great fire had raged and consumed all in its path.

“What happened here?” she whispered. She clung to the earlier vision

Destiny’s Blood | 274 in defiance of the broken wreck that now lay before her.

“Your mother died, ether was unleashed and people suffered.” Zortan resumed walking, but Yoma could not tear her eyes away from the rag, seeing the banner and its beautiful emblem so clearly in her mind.

Flowers had been interwoven to form a giant flower which hugged a sun, filled with colours that would rival the best painter’s palette.

“Come on,” Avienne whispered urgently. A familiar gurgling was rising in the horizon, beyond the hills.

She moaned and they began walking. Zortan waited for them and let them pass first, his sword ready as the gurgling grew louder.

“The shields have to be taken down before we can pass,” he said casually, as though it were the simplest thing to do in the world. Yoma turned and looked towards the city, noting now that a faint blue shimmer blocked her path. When she held out her hand and touched it, energy coursed through the tips of her fingers and lights danced around them.

Gingerly she pushed on the shield, but it was as ungiving as a brick wall.

“You’ll have to use your powers,” Zortan called back, the gurgling now louder. Yoma knew at any second the creatures would be slithering out from beyond the hills and they would be trapped.

Yoma took a deep breath. “I’ll try,” she said, putting her other hand out and looking up. The shields extended like a dome around the capital.

She tried to see a weakness, but could see none. She closed her eyes and imagined it as a door. She had to pick the lock, only this time her mind was the tool. She let ether flow through her, the familiar mist clouding her vision. She gathered and held it within her until there was too much and it stopped her breath. Then she focused it and hurled it at the shield with all her strength. Her eyes opened and she watched blue ether flowing wildly across the shield’s surface.

“Blood and bones,” Avienne said.

The shield stopped flickering. Yoma pushed on it, and felt her blood leave her extremities. It was still solid.

Behind her, she heard Zortan move into action as the gurgling rose in pitch.

“Try again. Now,” Avienne said. She turned around, putting too much weight on her bad foot and almost falling. Knives flew free from her hand before she had even fully turned. Yoma couldn’t ignore the slight tremble in the smuggler’s usually confident arms.

Yoma took a deep breath. Her limbs were numb, her lips cold, her eyes blurry. She was running out of energy again and feared she would pass

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out. The sounds of battle raged around her and her breath turned cold.

She realized that she had no idea what else to try.

/

“What do you think this is?” Ardin placed his hands on the blue energies. The shimmer travelled inside and up the dome it formed. “It’s at least ten metres deep.”

Layela was about to answer when blue light travelled the shield and they both took a step back, Ardin moving in front of her protectively.

Layela gazed at the blue light, mingled with white, and gently urged Ardin aside. She stepped up to the odd dome, placing her hand on it.

“It’s a shield,” she whispered, placing her other hand next to her first, watching the blue lights dancing all around her skin. She gazed at the shield, and beyond it at the capital, and then her mind’s eye took her further still. The mists overpowered her vision and she saw, far away, her sister, Avienne and Zortan. They were locked in a battle, Avienne’s knives flying to the last and Zortan’s sword energized with ether, swinging swiftly at the creatures...but not quickly enough.

Her sister’s hands were pressed against the shields. The blue light tingled around her hands, and she said something, but Layela could hear nothing — not her sister’s words, nor the sounds of battle. She looked closer, past the white mist, into Yoma’s eyes. She saw fear and fatigue in them.

Layela smiled, knowing Yoma could see her too, and Yoma smiled back, her green eyes shining with unspent tears.

Layela screamed and flung the white mists against the shield, willing them down. She felt her sister do the same, felt their ether mingle and crackle like thunder in the night.

Layela fell to her knees, gasping as the vision of Yoma left her.

“Let’s move,” Ardin said. He half-carried, half-dragged her across the empty space where the shield had been. “We don’t know if it’ll come back up!” Layela found her footing and ran with him.

They heard another crack in the sky above them. Barely a metre from where they now stood, the blue shimmer returned, flickering angrily.

Ardin looked down at her questioningly, but Layela could not break away. Her eyes were locked on the capital, wishing she could still see her sister beyond it.

/

The shield buckled before Yoma. She fell head first, barely catching

Destiny’s Blood | 276 herself with her hands before she struck the ground. She rolled to her side and took deep breaths, fighting to remain conscious. The demons, frightened by the bursts of ether from Zortan’s sword, had retreated for the moment. A few still dared come near, only to be quickly downed by the blade.

“Go!” he shouted at them.

“You heard the man.” Avienne hobbled up to Yoma and offered her hand. Yoma reached up and Avienne pulled, almost toppling over from the force of it. All of Yoma’s blood seemed to drain from her head and she felt faint. She would have fallen again if not for Avienne’s strong grip.

“Come on, we have to move,” Avienne whispered urgently. Yoma struggled to open her eyes, but she was so drained, and her lids were so heavy...

A slap rang across her cheeks, jerking her awake. Avienne still held her, barely, her right hand extended.

“I’m starting to like hitting you.” Avienne grinned. “Now stop snoozing and start moving! I can’t carry you!”

Yoma nodded, the sting in her cheek keeping the warm call of sleep at bay. Her limbs felt like lead as she moved, so slowly. After a single step, thunder clapped and the blue shimmer sparkled around them, catapulting them back towards the creatures, outside the reforming shields. The ether protecting the capital pulsated angrily.

“That’s hardly fair warning!” Avienne shouted at the shield and punched it, yelping in pain as she pulled her fist back. “Bones that hurts!

Take it back down, Yoma.”

Yoma shook her head. It had taken all that she had left to give, plus Layela’s help, to take the shield down the first time. Zortan took a step back, losing ground quickly to the tar creatures.

“Guess we gotta fight them again.” Avienne sighed. “I’m still all tarry from the last time, and I’m down to three knives.” She cast a nervous glance at the creatures before grinning weakly to Yoma. “Should make things interesting, wouldn’t you say?”

Avienne let go of Yoma and leaned against the shields for support, flipping two knives in the air as though waiting for the right creatures to use them on. Yoma stared at the creatures, her arms still so tired, and she had no more weapons to use. She concentrated on gathering the ether around her. As she was pulling the mists into her, a light broke above them.

Bombs exploded in their midst and the creatures scattered. The light was blue, just like the shields of Mirial. Yoma looked up as a small ship landed before them. The door opened and Gobran Kipso waved madly

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at them to get on board.

Avienne laughed heartily. Zortan was beside them in an instant, Avienne refusing his help as she hobbled towards the ship. Yoma let him support her. The sounds and warmth of the ship lulled her the second they entered.

“I’m glad I found you, Lady Yoma,” Gobran greeted them as they took off again. Yoma was squished between Avienne and Zortan, their warmth like a blanket. Even the smell of tar clinging to Avienne was comforting.

“And Layela,” she mumbled as her eyes locked with his. A slight rush of adrenaline kept her awake for a moment longer; she remembered his desire to see one of them dead.

“Safe,” he answered and lowered his head respectfully. When he continued speaking, it was to Zortan. “They used their ether together, I could see from up above. Perhaps…perhaps I was wrong to assume that we need to keep all of Mirial’s traditions in order to save her.”

Yoma smiled and closed her eyes. Her head lolled back and forth as the shuttle rocked her into a deep, welcoming sleep.

A familiar voice called

Chapter 40

Yoma from the heavy threads of sleep. She smiled before she had even opened her eyes.

“It’s good to hear your voice,” she whispered, her voice cracking a bit.

Layela sat on the comfortable bed beside her and held a cup of water to her lips. Yoma drank slowly, remembering Zortan’s analogy about the moon and the ether. If their powers had grown so much with only the ether of the moon, she couldn’t fathom the strength they would reach under the light of the sun.

She met Layela’s eyes of night and smiled sadly, feeling pain clutching at her chest. If we both live to see the sun. Through the room’s small window she could see the sky. The red hues now mixed with blue, turning it electric purple like the nebula — the shields of Mirial — had been. Which meant the sun would soon rise. Precious little time left.

Layela ran her hand along Yoma’s cheek, still swollen from Avienne’s strike. Yoma laughed at her sister’s inquisitive look, remembering Avienne’s quick anger.

“Yoma,” Layela’s voice held no laughter, only weariness. Yoma prepared herself for the blow she knew would come. Layela swallowed hard, searching for the right words. “Josmere’s dead.”

Yoma slowly sat up, leaned against the headboard of the bed and sighed deeply. She felt just a bit of her own life escape in the breath. She had seen Josmere’s death, and had thought she could stop it. Tears welled in her

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eyes as she remembered her vision of the wilted Berganda, and she closed her eyes and forced herself to remember how lively she had been instead.

Yoma’s short laugh came out more like a sob. She remembered Josmere’s own laughter, which crackled like electricity in the night air, and tears ran unchecked down her cheeks. She had wished to Mirial that they could meet again, and ached to see her friend one final time.

Layela hugged her and Yoma hugged back, each finding comfort in the other. The smell of sap still clung to Layela despite the clean clothes. Yoma whispered in her ear, “She died because I asked her to stay with you.”

Layela gently broke away from her twin, and Yoma looked into her deep eyes. There she saw the same strength that had resided there a long, long time ago, before three days at the hands of a Kilita had broken her.

“Yoma, Josmere died because she loved us both. She died fighting for what she loved.” The words were spoken with a calm reassurance that made Yoma smile. This was the Layela she had hoped would return to her one day. Not afraid of losing everything, not looking for a place to hide for the rest of her life. The woman before her was facing life. Yoma smiled, pleased, feeling her sister’s strength flow into her. Josmere must have been so proud of you, Layela!

Layela’s eyes did not waver from Yoma’s. When she spoke again, her voice did not crack. “Yoma, we have to do this together. All the way.”

I just found you again, Layela, she thought. Tears retreated as she looked deep into her twin’s eyes.

I just found you again. Why would I let you go?

/

The remaining ships of Gobran’s fleet were filling with calm civilians, a pleasant change from the chaos a few hours before. Gobran’s crews were busily making sure that they were space-ready, leaving behind whatever supplies the twins and the Malavants would need.

Gobran sighed. Each second he stayed on his decayed home planet made him feel older. He had argued with Ardin and Avienne that they should not stay behind, but they were adamant. Well, the boy was adamant and the girl wasn’t about to desert her brother. Even as he argued with them, he knew he was losing the battle. Radin and Sasha’s offspring were no longer the children he remembered. They were now stubborn adults like their parents, so it was not surprising that, in the end, he had lost.

At least he would leave them with what little he had, to help them.

His own daughter was near and he knew that she, too, feared that parting

Destiny’s Blood | 280 would mean forever. He wished for the thousandth time that he could be sure he would save them and not just bring them to a quicker death in space. Then again, even that might be a blessing.

He heard a shuffle behind him and smiled.

“I congratulate you, Captain Mistolta. It seems you know of more ways to cheat death than most.”

“Yoma is awake and she’s recovering her strength quickly,” Zortan said, and Kipso nodded. He could hear the sounds of evacuation all around him; not the frenzied sounds from the bunker, but instead a heavy hush.

“I’m going to take the twins to the temple.”

Gobran suddenly missed the safe, nurturing rays of the sun of Mirial, wishing it would dispel the darkness he felt clutching his soul. “Tell me, Zortan, what will you do if one of the twins must die after all, to save Mirial?”

Zortan stiffened visibly and Gobran put his hands up. “Don’t get me wrong — I would gladly follow one or both girls into battle. But, the truth is, this will rest in your hands. I just need to know that Mirial will be safe.”

“It’s my duty to see them safe, Gobran,” Zortan whispered. For the first time, Gobran felt sympathy for his old friend.

Gobran approached him and placed his hand on Zortan’s shoulder.

He remembered his youth, when they — along with Radin — had pursued similar dreams. He remembered how he had once trusted him, and let the matter rest.

“I will evacuate what I can of the city,” Gobran said. “Some of the ships barely made it here, but I think we can get a lot of people off this planet. I’ll try to make it to the shields before Mirial sheds another layer.

The further we get, the greater our chances of survival.” He took his hand off Zortan’s shoulder and added, “Our people’s chances of survival.”

“If Mirial perishes, you will not be long for this life, no matter where you run.”

Gobran gave a short laugh. “Always the positive thinker, Zortan Mistolta. Perhaps we will perish either way, but maybe, just maybe, those stories were wrong, too.”

Zortan chuckled. He held out his hand and Gobran clasped it warmly.

“Best of luck to you, Gobran Kipso.”

“Oh no,” Gobran chuckled. “I’m leaving all the luck with you. Our luck is entirely dependent on yours.”

Zortan gave a tight smile and nodded before turning to walk away.

Gobran watched his swift movements as he vanished between ships. He would soon need to leave again, but this time, he would not be pursuing

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one of his old friends. He would be leaving him behind.

“Ships are full and ready for departure, Captain.” Loran came up beside him, handing him a well-prepared report of passengers and crew.

Less than one thousand of the original population of Mirial remained.

He felt another white hair claim space on his head.

“Thank you, Loran. Please prepare her for flight.”

Loran stayed beside him, shuffling her feet a bit, then looked at him, determined. “I’m not going with you, Captain.”

“What?”

Loran swallowed hard, but held her ground. “I spent my whole life trying to find where I belong, and where Mirial was. My parents did not leave me with much, but they did leave me with a love for Mirial. I want to fight for her.”

Gobran took a step closer to her, Loran’s eyes defiantly meeting his.

“You froze on the bridge when the wraiths attacked, Loran. What makes you think you can handle an army of dark monsters?”

Loran flushed. “I can learn from my mistakes. I need to do this, Captain, with or without your blessing.”

Gobran sighed. Another white hair. He shook his head and placed both his hands on the slight woman’s shoulders. They were squared and proud, and whatever doubt he had when he had made her First Mate now vanished.

He removed his hands and formally saluted her, and she flushed with pride as she returned the gesture. She nodded and walked away, her spine straighter than before, her head held high and proud.

He felt a slight hand on his arm and covered it with his big one.

Today, it seemed, he could save no children but his own.

/

With each passing minute, the sky became a lighter purple, the red hues slowly defeated by the blues as the moon took its bow. In the distance, the creatures wailed and the blue shields flickered, attacked from all sides. Layela wondered how long they would hold.

Yoma walked beside her, still tired from her recent trials. Layela wished she knew more about the ether. She felt certain that it could revitalize as well as drain. Around them, the evacuation proceeded calmly, although no ship had yet taken off. Layela frowned. They would need to start going soon, if they had any chance of getting far enough.

“Layela, Yoma!” She turned to see Avienne sitting on a low wall, her

Destiny’s Blood | 282 swollen ankle resting on a pillow. The twins walked towards her.

“What happened to your foot?” Layela asked. It was grotesquely swollen, and she doubted it would support Avienne’s weight. She also doubted Avienne would leave the planet without her brother, and she doubted Ardin would leave without Layela. Part of her was pleased he was staying, although part of her wished he would go.

“Ask your sister. She’s responsible for this.”

Yoma’s eyebrows shot up. “Who’s responsible for my face? And who, might I ask, refused help even though she limped like a three-wheeled land rider?”

Layela ignored the two and took a closer look at the ankle. “May I?” she asked, reaching for the bandage.

Avienne sucked in a deep breath and mumbled, “Help yourself.”

If the powers of Mirial were strong enough to fight off darkness and save an entire planet — if ether was so necessary for life that the world outside the shields slowly withered without it — then ether should be able to heal a simple sprain. She felt Yoma near her, and wondered if the powers of night or day were needed to heal.

Layela shed the question and concentrated on Avienne instead, pulling the mists around her and focusing them on the wound. She could see them dancing around the foot, but they did not penetrate it. Layela frowned and placed her hand on the ankle, pressing on the bulge, as though making it real for the ether with her touch.

Avienne gasped but made no protest, and now Layela could see the mists travelling from her hand into the ankle. She closed her eyes, letting her fingers feel the muscles and ligaments relax, their rips repair, and the ether vanish within them. Her own energies dwindled, and she forced the ether into herself as she would water a plant, her tired body absorbing it easily. Ether flowed within her, and she no longer felt tired. She grabbed her sister’s arm, though Yoma jerked a bit at the touch, and forced some into her, too. Ether was like the Lacile flower, she decided. Encouraged to grow, it would, and it would stay.

She felt re-energized, and Avienne’s ankle felt normal beneath her touch.

She smiled and opened her eyes, Yoma and Avienne were both watching her closely. Ardin was at her side too, looking at his sister’s ankle.

Layela felt herself grow red, and she shrugged. “Compared to lowering those shields, that was nothing, really.”

Avienne slid off the wall and landed gingerly on both her feet, grinning wildly at Ardin. “And you thought you’d get rid of me!”

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“I would never dream of it,” he said, placing a hand on Avienne’s shoulder. He let go and gently slid his arm around Layela’s waist, looking at her with a question. She merely shook her head.

“I’m sorry to interrupt the festivities,” Zortan said, stepping out of the shadows. Layela wondered how long he had been watching. “But we should get going. The sun will rise in less than an hour. The temple is not far, but we should go, now.”

Layela glanced at Yoma, who refused to look at her. Ardin’s arm tightened around her.

He looked at Zortan. “I’m coming too.”

“Blood and bones, sounds like fun! I’m in, too!” Avienne immediately chimed in as she tested her newly-healed ankle.

The blue shields danced in Zortan’s eyes. “You can’t.”

Ardin stiffened beside Layela and she put her hand on his arm to hold him back. She doubted confronting Zortan was a good idea, especially if he had even half the skill Avienne and Yoma attributed to him.

In answer, Zortan looked up. The blue shield danced and energy sliced through it, the purple sky suddenly covered with less shimmer.

“Let me guess. It’s not supposed to do that,” Avienne said, leaning back against the wall.

“The creatures will break through soon. Someone has to keep them at bay.”

Avienne perked up again. “And here I thought you were just trying to keep us out of trouble!”

“I would never dream of it.”

“How are we supposed to keep them back?” Ardin asked, removing his arm from around Layela. She missed its warmth immediately.

“There are still weapons in the capital; ether weapons. Some of them still work. There,” he pointed towards an old crumbled wall, with two long-nosed, sleek-looking guns hitched on a rampart. “And there,” another broken wall, with three more guns.

“Doesn’t seem like much,” Ardin said. He scanned the horizon, where the creatures would be breaking through.

“It isn’t. You won’t be able to hold them back for long. Once they close in, you’ll have to hold your ground,” Zortan said. He held out his hands.

Avienne leapt forward at the sight of a knife belt, filled with gold-handled knives. A sword, smaller than Zortan’s but with its pommel decorated with the emblem of Mirial, was in his other hand.

“These are old, but they were weapons used by my guards, and they

Destiny’s Blood | 284 were forged with ether. They will help you hold your ground.”

Ardin took the sword, pulling the blade free from the old scabbard.

The metal gleamed red in the dwindling moonlight. Avienne hesitated, cocking an eyebrow up at Zortan.

“If I take the weapons of your guards, does that mean I have to obey you?”

“I would never make such a demand of you.”

Avienne broke into a huge grin as she took the belt. She pulled a knife out and flipped it, whistling as she caught it again. “Perfectly balanced.”

She brought the knife closer to her face and studied the finely decorated gold hilt. “These must be worth a fortune.” She was rewarded with a warning look from her brother.

“I’m just saying, not selling.”

“If you live through this night, Avienne Malavant,” Zortan said, “you can have the knives and do whatever you wish with them.”

Avienne’s grin grew wider. Before she could answer, a voice sounded from behind them.

“I’m staying to help.” Layela turned to see a woman she recognized as one of Gobran’s officers, looking at them in defiance. Try and stop me, her eyes challenged.

Ardin nodded. “With only five weapons and lots of enemies, we can use all the help we can get.”

“Six weapons,” Jaru said as he joined them, oblivious to the relief of the group at seeing one of the Destiny’s crew. “I’ve repaired another one, although the power cells will never be the same. Can you believe they haven’t upheld their networks? Otherwise I’d be able to hook them and fire from a distance, which seems much safer to me.”

Avienne closed the distance and hugged Jaru before he could go on.

The man seemed stunned for a moment, but returned the gesture. “I’m glad you made it,” she said as they broke apart, and he smiled.

“I’ll stay, too.” He turned to Ardin. “Doesn’t seem right to see you go into battle without me.”

And he was off towards the weapons, mumbling about inefficient upkeep of equipment.

“We have a problem with the evacuation.” Gobran walked up to them now, the man nodding curtly to Loran.

Layela felt a lump form in pit of her stomach. “What do you mean, a problem? These people should already be gone, Gobran.”

He nodded politely. “I agree, Lady, but over two hundred — pretty much all our able-bodied men and women — refuse to leave.” He turned

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and pointed toward the fortifications of the city, where the six weapons stood. People were hard at work, strengthening the walls with fallen rocks and wielding weapons by the artillery holes.

“Their weapons won’t make much of a difference,” Yoma whispered.

“No, but it has been a long time since they have had hope, and they wish to buy you the time you’ll need.” Gobran turned to Ardin. “You have some captain’s training, and so I leave you in charge.” He looked towards the Victory with regret. “I would stay, I really would...”

Layela placed a hand on his arm. “You have to go, Captain. These people depend on you.” He nodded gratefully and opened his mouth as though he would say something, but instead he bowed fully, then turned around and started shouting orders for the ships to take off.

Zortan turned to Ardin and Avienne. “When Yoma and Layela release the sun’s ether, the creatures should vanish. Hold as long as you can.”

“What happens if the sun rises before they do that?” Ardin asked, tying the sword to his back.

“Then we’re all dead, but the universe has a chance.”

Avienne turned to Yoma. “I’d aim for before sunrise, if I were you.”

Layela stood up, looked at her sister and finally caught her eyes. “We’d better be off, then.”

Yoma nodded and walked toward Zortan. Ardin grabbed Layela and held her, whispering in her ear, “Be careful. A vision doesn’t need to come to pass.”

Layela hugged him back, losing herself in the smell and feel of him for an instant, before letting go. “You be careful too,” she whispered and walked away.

“Aaaah, how cute,” Avienne said. She called to Yoma, “You keep that one alive, and I’ll keep this one alive. Surely we can’t waste such a pretty love.” Ardin playfully hit his sister on the back of the head and Yoma smiled back.

“That’s a promise, Avienne,” Yoma said. Her voice was too soft for Avienne to hear, but she was looking at Layela when she said it.

Layela felt a shiver run down her spine, and wished for the sun — a safe and gentle sun — to warm her.

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Yoma and Layela

walked side by side, following Zortan in silence. The shields barely sparked and would soon collapse. The Malavants would be fighting to stay alive, and to buy them the time they needed.

Yoma looked ahead, her steps faltering for a second as the buildings gave way to a courtyard. In that courtyard, past a bridge, was the temple.

Its old stones gleamed in the light of dawn, as though bleached by sunlight a long time ago and unyielding to the forces that had wounded so many other buildings. The symbol of Mirial was above the temple.

Yoma shivered, remembering the vision. Her hand fell to her gun as Zortan stopped just outside the courtyard, pulling his sword free.

“What’s wrong?” Layela whispered, her eyes wide. Yoma grabbed her sister’s hand, and Layela looked at her. She was certain the same fear was reflected in her own eyes.

“Not yet,” Zortan said, stepping carefully into the courtyard and keeping an eye out. Layela and Yoma still held hands, both remembering the vision, both remembering the warm blood as they crossed the bridge.

Yoma squeezed Layela’s hand and smiled at her. Layela smiled back, the fear still deep in her eyes.

“Stay close,” she mouthed and Layela nodded.

Stay close, Yoma finished the thought, so that when the blow comes, I can take it for you.

/

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“So, you like her?” Avienne teased her brother as he leaned over the side of the rampart to check that nothing blocked the nozzle of the gun.

“So, you like your teeth?” Ardin replied with a grin as he hopped back down.

“I knew it!” Avienne grinned and waited for Ardin to take a deep gulp from the water skin she handed him, timing her words. “I’ve always wanted nieces and nephews!”

Ardin spat out the water, and Avienne barely caught the skin as he tossed it at her head.

“How are your guns?” Loran called from the other rampart, her team milling around her. Just over two hundred souls to stop an army seemed foolish to Avienne, but she wasn’t about to desert her brother now, and she knew he wouldn’t leave Layela. Besides, she thought, this place isn’t much, but if we manage to win the day, it could be home. One that I don’t even have to drag Ardin to!

Ardin shouted at Loran, “They’re fine! Yours?”

“Seem to be working!”

He waved and turned back to his sister, who was watching Loran.

“That woman completely froze on the bridge when we were attacked by wraiths,” Avienne said quietly. She looked down towards the valley stretching below them. Dawn was just beginning to blanket the dead grounds that would soon be overrun with monsters — monsters that frightened her and made her skin crawl. Yet, she would face them. She had to.

“Everyone finds their courage at some point,” Ardin replied. It was one of Cailan’s old sayings. Avienne felt a heartstring resonate at the familiar words and she smiled.

“You’re right, they do,” she said, and Ardin shot her a grin.

“Getting contemplative in your old age, little sister,” he teased. She was about to reply when the sky cracked. The shields turned white for a split second, then vanished. Avienne and Ardin stood frozen for an instant, looking out at the oozing army quickly closing ground toward the capital.

“Guns!” Loran shouted from the other rampart, and Avienne shot a grin at Ardin as they each manned one. They only had five shots per weapon, so they waited.

“Prepare weapons!” Ardin yelled. The rest of the Mirialers were protected by the ramparts, their weapons aimed out of old artillery holes.

Destiny’s Blood | 288 They would do nothing more than slow the creatures down, but that was all that was needed. Time.

Engines gunned and the Victory, the last ship to leave, flew overhead, warm air playing in the loose strands of Avienne’s hair as she waved at them. The engines kicked into high gear and then all that remained of her was the sonic boom she left behind, and a streak in the sky as she escaped the atmosphere.

Avienne took a deep breath and focused again on the army. The smell of tar struck her nostrils and made her gag. The creatures gurgled towards them.

“Loran, fire!” Ardin screamed across. Loran fired the first shot, and Ardin paired it with one of his own. The two blue bombs exploded in the midst of inky black. Some creatures melted and vanished in smoke, and others shrieked and shied away from the blue light. A few seconds later, the ether had vanished and the hole was already filling with more creatures.

Ardin cast a look at Avienne. She grinned at him and cocked her head sideways. “What? Didn’t you know that heroics require shedding blood?”

He gave her a slight grin and she turned back, firing her weapon.

Counting the creatures and the seconds the bomb had bought them, she quickly realized, as had Ardin, that it would not be enough. Three more shots were fired, but still the creatures closed in fast.

“Fire all weapons!” Ardin screamed, his voice echoing off the broken buildings below. “For Mirial!”

The cry echoed back to him. The Mirialers fired their weapons, but the creatures were only marginally slowed by them. Avienne held the trigger for a second longer, finally pushing down on it. The gun gave a satisfying thump as it fired its last shot. The bomb landed in the middle of the creatures.

“Three, two, and one,” she counted. The creatures were swallowed the hole by the end of the countdown.“That was my last shot.” Avienne leaned against the gun, watching the creatures get closer.

Ardin fired his gun one more time, and Avienne looked with detached interest at the landing explosion.

Three, two and one.

“One more, but let’s wait until they’re just a bit closer.” Ardin backed away from his gun and took a swig of water, handing the skin to his sister. She took a deep swig from it as Ardin aimed the large gun towards a nearby bell tower, the metal creaking in protest.

“I think I’m getting used to this stuff,” she said with a grin.

Ardin shook his head. “I guess I did witness a miracle this day.”

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Avienne secured her belt of knives. She had twenty-four, and had counted them many times to make sure. If the ether in them was strong enough to kill one creature, she could take out twenty-four. And at the monsters’ current speed and sheer number, they would close the hole in under three seconds. The knives were too short to wield against the creatures — they would have to rely on the longer blade for that. Even if her brother was good with a sword, he was unpractised in real battle.

And, despite the Mirialers’ wish to help, only she and her brother had ether weapons. They had barely been holding ground for five minutes, and already they were losing.

The creatures had neared the ramparts when Ardin fired his last shot.

The bright green shell sped over the creatures, sending a few scattering in the wake of its heat, and struck the ivory tower near its foundation.

Energy rippled the stones and a blast hurtled from it, sending the siblings to take cover as the tower toppled and fell into the black creatures, its bell tolling a final plaintive cry.

The Malavants stood back up, Avienne taking another deep swig as Ardin stared intently and waited for the curtain of dust to fade. As the cloud dissipated, they heard the creatures before they saw them. They were climbing the ramparts, barely slowed by the tower. The creatures grunted their way up the other rampart first. Loran and her two teammates drew their guns. Ardin took a step towards them, but Avienne held him back.

“They’re too far away, and this is our best ground for fighting.” Ardin nodded and stood his ground, watching Loran until he lost her in the maze of darkness.

Avienne felt the wall shake and saw the first monster approach.

“Blood and bones, this is a smelly way to go,” she muttered, unsheathing her first knife. She let it fly, followed by her second. Dark creatures tumbled before her, but were replaced too quickly.

She hoped she would find a way to keep her promise to Yoma.

/

Layela paid attention to every sound, every smell, every change in the wind. Anything to tell her what might strike. She knew her sister did the same as she walked beside her, their hands still firmly clutched.

The vision had shown them many details, but never how the blood had come to flow so freely. Zortan was not far, scouting a few metres ahead, his walk tense as they approached the shadows of the great temple.

Her steps wavered and she took a deep breath as the shield vanished

Destiny’s Blood | 290 and the Victory flew away. They all paused. Seconds, maybe even a minute passed before they heard the first shots fired by the Malavant siblings and their makeshift army.

The capital fell silent for a few seconds, and then thunder shook the ground below them, a bell tolling loudly.

The tolling of bells. Ardin! Could that be the bell, tolling Ardin’s final moments? She knew a bell was part of his end, but she had been unwilling to see the vision. She had believed it wouldn’t matter, that the future could not be stopped or changed. What if she had been wrong? What if she could have saved him?

She felt her heart lurch and Yoma squeezed her hand. Layela turned to look at her sister, seeing her questioning look. She swallowed hard, the echoes of the bell forming a lump in her throat. Looking deep into her sister’s green eyes, Layela tried to find the same truths Yoma had seen, wondering if death haunted her as well.

Then a movement behind Yoma caught her eyes, glinting red in the vanishing moonlight.

Mists clouded her vision for just a second, all thoughts of Ardin vanishing as she saw the blade that would take her, and she felt the pain in her back. She could avoid the blow, this she knew, since she had seen where it would land on her. But to do so would mean that Yoma might take it for her.

Yoma!

“Yoma!” Layela screamed, pushing her sister aside as the last of the mist vanished. She was not quick enough to avoid the blow herself, twisting but still too slow. A tight grip closed around her throat and a knife hovered between two ribs below her left breast. The blade lingered but, save for the prick of its tip, did not pierce her.

“Layela!” she heard Yoma scream. She fell to her knees, looking into Dunkat’s familiar eyes — familiar, but different, laced with a hatred that hadn’t been there before.

A dark wave suddenly extended from him, seconds before she heard Yoma grunt behind her. She wanted to turn and make sure she was all right, but Dunkat held her chin. He lowered his face near hers, raising her eyes to look deep into them as though seeking out the ether. She managed to bring up her arms, trying to pull him off her, but his hand still held the knife that pricked her tender skin.

“The ironic thing is,” Dunkat said, his breath reeking of tar, “that this is the ceremonial knife used to kill a twin at birth.”

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With those words he drove the knife home, sheathing it between her ribs. Layela gasped at the pain. He still clutched her chin in his hand, hungry for the spark of pain in her eyes. She tasted blood, felt her body grow warm and heavy. Mists crowded her vision for a moment, showing her own death, which she had failed to avoid. Her last hope was that she had saved her sister. The last thing she saw was victory flashing in Dunkat’s eyes.

Layela,” Yoma pushed

Chapter 42

herself back up, forcing her bruised body to move. Zortan was beside her in an instant.

Dunkat crouched near Layela’s crumpled body, as though waiting to see if she would rise.

“Get away from her!” Yoma screamed and ran towards him. Zortan grabbed her arm and flung her back behind him just as Dunkat extended his arm again, sending another dark wave towards them. This time Zortan was ready, and he held up his sword and sliced it to harmless mist.

Dunkat looked at the sword with interest, and Zortan swung it downwards. Ether crackled in an arc towards Dunkat, hitting him square in the chest and shoving him away from Layela.

Zortan quickly closed the gap and stood between Layela and Dunkat.

Yoma ran to her sister.

“Layela,” she whispered, rolling her onto her back. Her face was pale and drawn, blood drying at the corner of her lips. The knife was deep, and Yoma didn’t dare to pull it out for fear her sister would bleed to death.

“Layela.” She bent closer, feeling a slight, thready pulse and her sister’s laboured breath. “I think he pierced a lung,” Yoma said. The loss her visions had promised crystallized as she spoke.

“Take her and go, quickly!” Zortan said without turning. Yoma put Layela’s arm around her shoulder and whispered comforting words as she dragged her sister toward the temple.

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“One down,” she heard Dunkat say, although two voices seemed to be coming from his mouth. “One more to go.” She turned briefly to see Zortan stopping another wave of darkness, ether crackling in the air as they collided.

“Go! Now!” Zortan screamed and Yoma moved faster, air like fire in her lungs as she stepped onto the bridge. She wanted to scream at Zortan to follow them, remembering his promise that he would die before them, but she needed all of her strength just to carry Layela safely to the temple.

She pushed harder, the ether behind her so heavy it sapped the air around them.

She fought back tears as she crossed the bridge, looking down to see Layela’s dangling hand covered in her own blood.

/

The creatures came without pause and Avienne clutched two knives.

She downed another close one. The ether in the knives was more powerful than she had dared to hope. Another creature leapt through the vanishing smoke and she struck, but was misbalanced as she swung around to slay another.

She fell hard.

“Off!” she screamed as she felt her leg being sucked in. “Once is enough!” She threw a knife into the creature, and then quickly tried to retrieve it. Before she could get to it, another creature had already moved up into its spot.

“That’s less than three seconds,” she mumbled, backing up, and used the wall to push herself to her feet. Ardin swung his sword as he closed ranks with her, sweat plastering his hair. She felt pride swell in her breast.

“So, I was thinking,” Avienne said casually.

“Really?” Ardin sounded surprised. Avienne wished she could kick him without getting him killed.

“Maybe I’d like you to teach me how to use one of those swords,” she finished.

He grinned, and nodded without breaking his stride.

“Consider it a deal,” he said, his words broken by increasing fatigue. A creature closed on him, and Avienne threw her last knife. Ardin screamed and lowered his blade. Below them the ramparts cracked, and more screams could be heard. The creatures were through and feeding on the few survivors of Mirial.

On the horizon, the moon was now black, a red outline around it.

Destiny’s Blood | 294 The setting moon and rising sun were forming an eclipse, and the light that broke through was scorching the hills in the distance. Whatever life remained burned at the simple touch of the sun’s rays.

The sun was rising.

And there was nowhere left to hide.

/

The creatures came in waves, like slime oozing between the buildings of the capital, which meant the Malavants had failed and probably already fallen. Zortan pushed the thought out of his mind and concentrated on his enemy.

Black lightning sizzled from Groosh’s fingers and crackled on Zortan’s sword, so powerful that it nicked the blade. Zortan could feel his strength chip away with each new attack, through the deep link he shared with his sword after years of wielding its powers.

“I thought it was you,” Dunkat said, taking a step forward. Zortan placed his right foot back and held his sword before him, forcing his breath to remain steady and not betray his fatigue. “My parents died because of what you did. Because you took the heirs. You didn’t stick around to see the consequences, but trust me, it was quite a show.” He smiled, his teeth blackened with tar, the darkness in his eyes absorbing the dawn.

Zortan didn’t bother replying. The man was insane, and there could be no negotiating. This battle would see one of them dead.

“It was your duty to obey your queen,” Dunkat continued. “A duty that saw to the death of your queen and her kingdom.” As Dunkat mentioned duty, Dunkat seemed to falter, and Zortan sped forward. The man wasn’t fast enough to get out of his blade’s way, and the sword neatly severed Dunkat’s left arm at the shoulder.

Dunkat looked down at the fallen limb. From his shoulder, only a black substance dripped where he should have gushed red. “I understand duty,” Dunkat said, looking back at Zortan. Beside him, the black waves of creatures stopped.

Zortan’s arms throbbed. His sword was weakened from having absorbed so much tainted ether, and he was unable to recharge it without the sun that would see him dead.

Dunkat smiled again. Zortan held up his sword, and for the first time in his long years of faithful service knew it to be insufficient.

The black lightning came slowly, teasing him before engulfing him.

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Zortan felt his hold on his sword slacken. He was not surprised to meet death while protecting his queens and nieces.

He felt his flesh burn with the dark magic, and then he felt the fire soothed by the touch of his wife’s loving embrace.

/

Yoma entered the great temple, grunting under Layela’s weight. She scanned the area quickly. The temple itself was one giant room, with water trickling through the wall and surrounding a central altar. It had no roof — probably to let the sunlight in, she guessed.

Yoma walked toward the altar. She had seen it often enough in her vision to know that she needed to shed some blood there. She dragged her sister across the small stone bridge, the waters grey and still despite the constant feed. Long-dead trees surrounded the altar; some were incinerated, others were just petrified from lack of sun.

Yoma sat Layela near one of the trees and propped her up to check her wound. Blood was still trickling from it, and she could only guess at how bad the internal bleeding was.

“Hang on, Layela,” Yoma whispered close to her sister’s ear, hesitating a moment before standing. The ether battle still raged outside, but it was the trail of blood leading to Layela that made Yoma’s heart lurch. “I won’t let you die,” she said strongly, walking towards the altar. If she shed some blood, she would gain the full powers of Mirial. Then she should be able to heal even her sister’s horrible wounds. If the powers of the First Star couldn’t save Layela, then no one could, and Yoma refused to accept that.

She pulled a knife free from her boot and closed her fist around it, pressing down hard and without hesitation. She bit back a cry of pain and forced the blade deeper, until a trickle of warm blood fell from her hand into the altar. The stone absorbed some, while the rest formed a puddle in the middle.

She looked at the reflection in the blood. It turned clear, but nothing else happened. “What am I supposed to do?” she demanded, dropping the knife with a clang. “What do you want from me?”

It struck her like a blow. Layela’s blood. Since the ether had been split between the two of them, Mirial also needed Layela’s blood to feed her.

Yoma glanced back at her sister.

She needed something to carry the blood in. She couldn’t make Layela bleed anymore, but there was enough on her. She picked up her blade and ran back to her sister.

Destiny’s Blood | 296 “I’ve got it Layl,” Yoma exclaimed. She leaned in close to cut off a piece of her bloodied shirt when she noticed her sister’s stillness.

Alarmed, she looked up. Layela’s face was no longer drawn, her features now peaceful.

“Oh no,” Yoma sobbed, feeling for a pulse she knew was no longer there, checking for breath that no longer existed. “Oh no, Layl. Please hang on! Please!!”

She looked at the knife still buried in her sister’s chest and, in one swift motion, feeling as though the blow had been hers to bear, Yoma pulled it free. The blood lazily trickled out, no longer marching to the beat of a heart.

“Hang on!” she ordered. She ran back to the altar and threw the bloodied knife in. Again, the blood turned clear like water.

“Please!” Yoma screamed at the water. “Please save my sister!”

“Nothing can save you now.”

Yoma looked up, her tears dripping into the useless water. Dunkat stood in the entryway, wounded but, aside from a missing arm, whole.

He tossed Zortan’s bloodied sword to the ground with a clang that made Yoma jump.

Two voices seemed to speak from Dunkat’s tarry mouth. “How sad to fight so hard, only to fail.”

Yoma felt her anger boiling deep. She looked down at the water and saw that one of her eyes now shone the deepest blue of night.

“I won’t let you die,” Yoma spoke softly, looking at her deep blue eye. She grabbed the ceremonial dagger from the altar, still covered with her sister’s blood, and cut deeply into her hand, mixing her fresh blood with Layela’s.

This time, the blood did not turn clear.

Chapter 43

Yoma gasped as

Mirial called to her, tingling her blood with ether and anticipation. She could feel Mirial embrace her, and she welcomed the First Star as it soothed her pain and asked that Yoma help soothe hers.

“No!” Dunkat screamed. He threw a wall of dark ether into Yoma, shattering the altar. Pieces of stone cut into Yoma’s skin as she tumbled to the ground. “You will not revive ether!”

Yoma stood, but she did not feel the anger she had expected. She felt calm, and she looked at Dunkat as though he was but a little boy—a frightened little boy who had lost his parents when he was barely thirty; a boy who had witnessed their deaths in the ether storm that had vanquished Mirial’s capital when her queen had died.

And in him, a soul that did not belong, bent on vengeance for the death of the woman he had loved. Yoma smiled.

“She did not die,” she said. “Your wife, Minister, simply returned to Mirial.”

Dunkat’s features twisted in anger and pain, and Yoma guided the mists into him, as she had witnessed Layela do to Avienne’s ankle. She knocked the soul of the father out of the son’s body. The wraith hovered for a few seconds, its face twisted by years of rage and pain, before disintegrating into nothing, his soul finally purified and released.

Dunkat fell to his knees, his father’s powers no longer holding him together. The wounds Zortan had inflicted finally began to take their

Destiny’s Blood | 298 toll. Blood poured from his shoulder and he gurgled, his eyes staring wide at Yoma.

“You were right, Dunkat. It will end soon.”

Dunkat spat blood and fell forward onto his face, no longer moving.

She stared at him for a long moment, before a bright flash at the corner of her vision caught her attention. Zortan’s bloodied blade gleamed with the first rays of the sun. Yoma closed her eyes and reached out, lowering the purple shields around the solar system and gently letting the sun shed its extra layer of ether. The light passed over the planet but obeyed Yoma’s will and did not crumble it. She smiled as she felt the ether races rejoice — even Josmere’s young, already firmly seeded into the ground.

Yoma’s peace faltered as she looked at Layela. She walked to her body and clutched the cold skin, kissing her forehead and softly calling to her, even though she knew her voice could no longer be heard.

She held Layela’s limp hand, uncertain what to do. She remembered feeling this lost only one other time. When she had crossed the threshold and killed to save her sister. When Yoma had given up all hope of ever being anything more than a derelict. Unlike her sister, who wanted to be more. Who could have been more.

“Layela,” her voice cracked on the familiar syllables, her tears flowing freely and falling on her sister’s pale skin.

Layela! Her heart and mind screamed the word over and over again, unable to shed the pain of having failed to save her. Her tears became sobs as memories assaulted her, the cold skin an insult to her sister’s liveliness.

“Why didn’t you take me instead? You just needed one! Why wasn’t it me?” she screamed. She felt Mirial dancing all around her, in her hair, brushing her brow, filling her heart. She closed her eyes, quieted her sobs and made a final prayer.

Lady Mirial, please make it so that my sister will be the one to walk out of this temple.

Yoma smiled as the warmth welcomed her home.

/

Mirial breathed life into her as easily as the blade had taken it away, with breath as warm and soothing as the mists of her ether. She hovered for a moment before leaving Mirial’s heart, understanding so much more in death than she ever could have in life.

Even her deepest aches were soothed. She saw life, thousands of lives, which continued beyond death and flowed with the ether of Mirial. The

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millions of deaths she had been made to live at the hands of the Kilita extended beyond the lives she had seen end and became a beacon of hope. She heard Josmere and Yoma laughing, and the fear and sorrow that had clutched her heart vanished into memory.

Her eyes opened and she embraced the pain of her body, healed but scarred. She pushed herself up. Sunlight warmed her cold skin and the trees were crowned with leaves. Mist flew around her, and as she looked up the waters of Mirial began tumbling into the temple once again, arching down in a waterfall and branching into two streams. The waters bubbled as they parted to surround her and flow past on both sides, as though breaking and bowing to her.

In the reflection of the pure silvery water, Layela saw herself: dishevelled, dry blood clinging to the side of her lips and chest. But it was her eyes that held her attention. One of night blue, the other of day green. She saw herself in one, Yoma in the other. Night and day had been reunited once again to serve Mirial.

She blinked and was surprised to see tears gathering over the green.

/

The Victory jostled not far from orbit. Gobran felt tears sting his tired eyes as he looked upon the stars surrounding Mirial, her shields finally lowered.

“Turn her around.” He spoke in hushed tones, not wanting to break the spell. The sun of Mirial greeted them, as beautiful and bright as he remembered it. He exhaled and shed years of worry — his home planet was still there, barely minutes away.

The twins had succeeded.

“Take us home,” he whispered and the crew broke out in cheers.

Gobran’s daughter hugged him fiercely, her tears wetting his shoulder.

“Sir,” Gant interrupted. “A ship is approaching Mirial.”

The crew grew silent and tension became thick.

“Show her to me.” The ship came into view, a battered old thing devoid of life, one engine completely missing. Still, she was a sight to behold. Slowly, she was dragged into the atmosphere of the planet, her broken armour burning up.

Gobran began to sing. His daughter was the only one to raise her voice to join him, but he didn’t care. He didn’t care that tears ran unchecked down his cheeks and that his voice cracked.

Some traditions had to be respected, and he had to welcome the sailors home.

Destiny’s Blood | 300 The Destiny had faithfully borne her crew to rest on Mirial.

/

The world was washed with light so bright Avienne covered her head, despite the creatures clawing at her. She felt warmth and reached out to grab hold of Ardin’s arm so as not to lose him. Then the light vanished and she opened her eyes. The ramparts were empty of creatures. Below, only the dead and a few living remained.

She could see Loran on the other side, unconscious and bleeding. Her right leg was gone. Three Mirialers surrounded her and Avienne looked away, towards her brother. His face was covered in nicks, his right arm bled freely and one eye was badly swollen.

He was looking up, and she followed his gaze. The sky was a perfect blue and the sun shone in the east, its rays soothing her cold skin.

“Layela,” Ardin whispered and turned to his sister.

She smiled. “Go. I think I can handle things here.” He hugged her quickly and was gone with a speed that defied his wounds. Around him, a cheer rose from the Mirialers, as they, too, came to understand the meaning of the sun on the horizon.

Mirial was saved, and day could rule once again.

Avienne smiled and joined in the cheer, then turned and started to collect the twenty-four expensive ether knives she intended to sell. She would look into buying a home. A real home. For herself, near wherever her love-struck brother would go. But first, she would definitely be spending some of the profits on soap and new clothing.

Blood and bones, she didn’t think she could smell much worse.

/

Twenty years. It had been almost twenty years.

Twenty years since Mirial and her weakening shields were discovered

by Solari, two days before the heir was to be born. Most remembered the after-effect of that birth — the exile, the pain, the loss of their home — but Dunkat remembered the moment: the exact moment he learned of ether.

The stench of flowers mingled with the smells of people all around him. His father was proudly discussing the spiral architecture of the royal palace, holding his wife’s elbow as though she were his most precious and fragile possession.

The Mirialers, wary at first of the strangers, were growing to enjoy Minister Groosh’s love of art. It was something they took great pride in,

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but were rarely able to share with outsiders. Their duty and choice had always been to remain hidden; to protect and hide Mirial from those who would take advantage of her ether.

He heard bits of conversations, his tired mind playing them over and over again, whispers and shadows from a past only he seemed to remember.

“Minister Groosh, you must see...”

“Minister Groosh, the Destiny’s design was meant to...”

Groosh. That was his name too. He had been thirty, full of ambition.

And he’d had a name.

Silence broke through his memories and he heard his rattling breath.

But soon a crying child shattered that sound, too.

“The heir!” a hopeful voice cried. Dunkat already understood that they needed a girl. A boy-child would be whisked away and given to some other family. Dunkat wondered if it would be the family of the father. The father: a man unknown, un-acclaimed and uninvited to his own child’s birth.

The thought was forgotten as he glanced around, his own memory growing dim as the taste of blood grew stronger in his mouth. The captain of the Royal Guards headed towards the back, where the birthing room nestled hidden behind layers of rich gold and red curtains. He knew the captain’s face — the man had kept a close eye on the Solarians since their arrival.

Dunkat took a deep breath. Cooling mist soothed his senses, seconds before his memory exploded with vivid colours.

“Loretta!” he heard his father scream as a roar smothered them. His mother’s knees seemed to weaken for a moment. Then she turned and he saw that the delicate silk of her dress was melting, bubbling and turning her body black. Her mouth was twisted in a silent scream and her knees slowly gave out, her grace as a dancer defying the agony of her body.

His father’s hair was sizzling, his skin melting as he reached her. He managed to remain standing long enough to catch his wife, holding her crumpling body in his own as they both caught fire.

The smell of burning flesh and fresh mist mixed past and present, and Dunkat felt his heart break and harden, all at once. Around him more fell, struck by the mysterious ether, but he and a few others remained standing. The ether ripped through them without care or discrimination, downing one and leaving the next unharmed.

And the screams, the fires, the heat on his flesh as he ran away, away from his burning parents...Dunkat gasped. The metal in his mouth was stronger than before.

Destiny’s Blood | 302 That was the power of ether. He forced his tired eyes to open and, made out the blurred shape of the heir near the waterfall, her back to him.

He needed to stop the revival of ether. He needed to kill her.

But he was dying.

No! I must stop it!

His father had found ether. His father had found a way to survive, to try to avenge his love, and Dunkat would do the same.

The wraiths of Mirial. The tainted ether. Ether that could go against the very laws of life, unless purified by Mirial herself. To cling to the dark ether in death would offer him the powers of ether, of the evil he had no choice but to use so that he could destroy it. And unlike his father, Dunkat had never been weak with love of art.

He took a deep breath, felt the blood rattle in his chest and tasted it on his tongue. He clung to his anger and hatred, clung to the powers he had felt from his father.

He clung to the darkness until his breath stopped coming and his sight grew dark.

Silence. Darkness. Nothingness.

And then he could see, clearer than ever before. His heart and breath no longer sounded in his own ears, his memories no longer assailed him but supported him, his entire body animated by a deep, scorching fire.

The need to stop the wild ether from killing others ignited him beyond death. He could feel it tingle and come alight around him as the heir charmed it safely back to her planet.

But it wasn’t fully reborn yet, and he still had time.

He would stop her.

Layela!”

Chapter 44

Layela smiled and turned at the familiar voice, tearing her eyes away from her changed reflection.

“Ardin!” she screamed back. He emerged into the altar room, his steps faltering by Dunkat’s body for an instant. He looked at her eyes, a question in his, as though unsure who she truly was.

She was about to reassure him when a movement caught his eyes and he jumped sideways. Layela felt her blood freeze in her veins.

Dunkat’s body shifted and twitched and then, without effort, he stood. Blood clung to him like a second layer of clothing. His face was grey and ashen, his eyes deep pools of twilight.

His mouth moved for an instant, as though he wished to say something but his tongue no longer remembered how to form words. Beside him, Ardin hesitated barely a moment before throwing himself towards Zortan’s discarded blade. Even from where she stood, Layela could see that Ardin’s movements were slower than they should have been. A bad wound on his right arm forced him to favour his left, which slowed him further.

Ardin screamed and sliced down with the blade. Dunkat kept his place, intent on Layela who stood frozen by the ghastly sight of him. The sword struck the dead man’s shoulder but barely pierced him. Black mists escaped his wounds and Ardin quickly backed away.

“It’s like the black tar!” he called to her.

Destiny’s Blood | 304 Dark ether. Tainted ether that needed to be cleansed by Mirial. She could do it. She had to. But as she stared into his black eyes, watched his peeling skin turning dark purple, her limbs refused to move.

Ardin! She wanted to scream, but fear crushed the words in her throat.

As though hearing her anyway, Ardin struck again. The sword failed to break skin this time. Ardin threw himself back out of range and Dunkat’s flailing arm missed him by a hair. Ardin fell hard on his wounded right arm. He was already weakening, Layela knew, and adrenaline was draining from him.

Dunkat moved now, not towards Ardin who struggled to rise again, but towards Layela. His mouth twisted into a repugnant smile and two rotted teeth fell to the ground.

Layela entire body seemed to ache with the desire to move, but her breath was short and her mind blank. She closed her eyes to force the sight of him out of her mind, calling to Mirial instead. Mirial would save her.

“Layela!” Ardin screamed and her eyes snapped open. Dunkat was barely two metres from her. How had he moved so fast? She took a step back and raised her arms defensively, all thoughts of ether forgotten.

Dunkat was intent on her, ignoring Ardin as he neared him, screaming.

“Ardin,” Layela whispered. She took another step back, wondering if she had a gun. She did, she remembered, and her right hand slowly lowered towards the holster. So slowly…

Dunkat reached out and Ardin was on him, a howl breaking free of his throat as he sliced down. The ancient sword of the Royal Guards heeded his plea for help and came to life, ether dancing wildly on the blade as Ardin struck, hard. Layela felt the warmth of the ether radiating from the sword, as though it tried to soothe her.

The sword cut deep into Dunkat’s torso. Ardin fell forward with the unexpected strength of his own blow. He tried to catch his footing and swerve back in front of Layela, but Dunkat moved too fast for him.

Dunkat’s right arm came up, knocked the blade out of Ardin’s hand with a sickening snap of shattering bone. Dark ether rippled into Ardin’s chest.

“Ardin!” Layela screamed. She took a step toward him, but Dunkat tossed him to the side as though he were nothing more than bag of feathers. Ardin rolled a few times, a trail of blood glistening in the sunlight filtering through the roof. When he came to a stop, he did not move, his left arm jutting from under his body at an unnatural angle.

Layela fought the urge to run to him, and planted her feet firmly on the ground instead. Dunkat stared at her, his advance starting again

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as though nothing had happened. Black mists flowed from his severed shoulder and the wounds in his torso.

She couldn’t run. She knew she had nowhere to go, and running now meant abandoning Ardin. She could heal him, as she had healed Avienne with ether.

Ether.

To soothe. To heal. To purify.

To fight.

She could use the ether. She knew she could, and she needed to.

Yoma, Josmere, Ardin, Zortan, even Mirial herself had all protected and supported her. But now it was her turn to stand alone and protect them.

She felt the weight of her own destiny clothe her shoulders like a mantle, and did not try to shrug it off.

Mirial’s breath was all around her. She captured it with her mind, feeling its power penetrate her body.

Dunkat was close, his dark mists licking her exposed skin. She did not back away, but looked up again and focused on his eyes; eyes of twilight.

This time, fear did not clutch her soul or paralyze her. He took another step, reached out with his arm and grabbed her throat. His grasp constricted her airway and his fingernails extended, growing long and piercing the side of her neck.

She wanted to cough, but no breath could escape her or enter her.

The reek of his flesh was trapped inside her, and she could taste her own blood at the back of her throat. She could feel tears running down her cheeks and her arms came up, but instead of trying to pull his hand free, she reached for his head.

The time has come to let go, Dunkat Groosh. Warmth invaded her body.

Layela let the ether flow through her and take hold of her, and then slammed it into the dead man, purifying him. The colonel’s eyes seemed to soften for a moment.

His eyes were definitely softer as he looked past her. Layela felt the presence without turning, and she let Dunkat’s parents claim his soul to bring him back to Mirial. His body, now an empty shell, hissed and bubbled. When the arm let go of her throat, she collapsed beside it, inhaling a deep, panicked breath that smelled like the stench of death.

She could feel the warmth leaving her, but forced it to stay, forced Mirial to remain with her for a moment longer. She stumbled to her feet. Her body felt heavy, as though lead had cooled at her core and now weighed her down.

Destiny’s Blood | 306 Ardin. She reached out with her ether as she walked toward him. She didn’t need to touch him to heal him, she knew, but she wanted to. She needed to.

His breath was weak, but he didn’t want to die. He clung fiercely to every heartbeat. Layela knelt by him and ran her tired hand over his cold skin. He was so pale, his features drawn with pain even in unconsciousness. His chest was seared and still bleeding; the flesh, where it was exposed by the blackened shirt, was burnt and cracked.

“Make him warm,” she asked of the ether, her mind too clouded to simply think the words.

She blinked and looked up. The world around her was full of light.

Sun poured into the temple, and ether blanketed every tree, every stone, every drop of water. Mirial was alive. Mirial was life.

“Please,” she whispered, lowering her head onto Ardin’s chest. She was desperate to hear his heart. “Please, allow him to live.”

Her eyes were heavy with sleep, but she could not tear them from the light swirling around them both. His heartbeat grew stronger and stronger and she felt the taste of blood lessen from her own throat.

She closed her eyes and listened to his breath steadying, his heart pumping, his stomach even gurgling. She smiled.

Yoma. Her sister had given up her life to save her. Layela imagined Ardin’s heartbeat as her sister’s, and called to her soul. Come back to me, sister.

Like a petal floating in the winds, Layela felt the gentle reply. Her sister loved her and always would. But she couldn’t return.

A life for a life. Yoma had offered her soul to Mirial in exchange for Layela’s, and none of Layela’s newfound powers or connection with Mirial could reverse the pact.

That was it. She had reached the height of her powers, the limits of life and death Mirial would allow her to cross.

In her mind’s eye she saw her sister winking at her, felt her huddling close through so many years of childhood, her warmth the only hope in the dark, frightening nights. She saw the flowers Yoma brought her to do with as she wished, whether to sell for food or to keep and nurture.

A sob escaped with her breath as she smelled the blooms again, mixed with her sister’s sweat when she would return from her dangerous escapades. Yoma would laugh the pain and tears away as Layela tended to her wounds. Before mine were too deep for any of us to know how to heal.

The familiar ache of the Kilita’s touch did not manage to replace the warm memories of her sister’s loyalty.

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Tears streaked down her face as she remembered Josmere’s laughter and smile, remembering her plea to be allowed to die so that others could live. And she remembered the feel of the earth, the smell of it, still clinging to her despite the change of clothes and Layela’s fresh blood. But still Josmere’s death could not block the sound of her laughter, ringing so clear and true it would always resonate within Layela.

She felt a hand touch her cheek, the rough skin gently removing each tear without a word; without question.

Her eyes opened slowly. Ardin’s face was misty through her tears, his eyes deep pools of concern. A smile broke free of her lips, and she let him hold her, covering the smells of her memories — the blooms of Yoma and the earth of Josmere — with his smell. Sweat, blood. Life.

She held him for a long time. Mirial’s ether bloomed all around them, her mind singing a song she had forgotten so long ago, as she remembered who and what she was.

Layela Delamores. She was all that was left.

And she was enough.

Layela walked by

Epilogue

the great lake of Mirial, her skirts trailing after her on the lush grass. Berganda children played among the Booknots, laughing and screaming.

“You did say she would leave us an army of brats.” Ardin picked up one of the younger ones and twirled her around, to be rewarded by whoops of laughter.

“I can’t believe five years have already passed,” Layela whispered as she looked upon the sparkling waters where she had laid Josmere to rest. As soon as she could, she had decorated her grave with Booknots, and cared for the children of the Berganda as though they were her own.

Ardin laced his fingers into hers. “Avienne will be arriving later with supplies, and she won’t be here long. We should head back soon.”

Layela nodded and looked at the waters one more time. As Queen of Mirial, she had taken the liberty of renaming it Lake Feathers, after her sister.

It made her smile to think of Josmere and Yoma being together again.

“Lady, Captain Malavant has arrived and urgently requests you.”

“Probably has a prank to play,” Ardin mumbled, and Layela laughed.

“Thank you, Loren,” the woman nodded and walked off on her braces; one of her legs had been lost in the final battle of Mirial.

“You judge your sister so,” Layela said, walking towards the palace as she smelled the pure air. “She was, after all, so excited to learn she would be an aunt.”

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“I thought Mirialers weren’t supposed to know who the father of the heir was?” Ardin said, picking up a flower and giving it to her. She held it tenderly and smiled at him. He gave a low chuckle.

“I refuse to let the past dictate our future, Ardin Malavant,” she teased him, with a kiss. The future is not written, she told herself. No matter how insistent her visions sometimes were.

She took his hand and walked back towards their home, ignoring the sound of bells tolling in the distant reaches of her mind.