It’s as Gideon holds out his hand that I realize he understands my intention—and that, in every way I could ever have imagined, he’s with me.
I leave the gun and everything it made me behind. I break into a run, dimly aware of Tarver’s voice shouting something; of Lilac’s outraged shriek as she fights him off; of the fact that she ought to be able to crush him with a thought and yet she’s struggling, pushing at him with her hands, screaming to be let go. Of the fact that I must be beyond the range of the shields now, and yet my mind’s my own. I stumble over a pile of debris and scramble, scraping my palms and knees and using the jolt of adrenaline pain brings to move that much faster. I throw myself forward and feel Gideon’s hand wrap around mine, the warmth of his touch more real than anything else.
I choose you.
Our fingers interlock, made for each other, like two halves of the same pendant—and together we leap into the rift.
The others, the children we were meant to watch and judge, swarm around me in a futile attempt to either kill Lilac or save her, but they mean nothing now. I have seen humanity. If my brethren have not yet learned how to make choices, then I will make the choice for us all. And those who are not killed when their link to our world is severed, I will seek out myself and destroy.
It is so easy, now, to see the choices these five souls will make. Some will choose to try to kill me—some will try to save me instead. Whichever they choose, they will fail.
But then I see two of them sprinting toward the rift itself, moving too quickly for me to stop. A choice I did not see—a decision I could not have predicted. I reach out to rip their minds away only to have something pull me back, a force coming from within me, a voice saying,
NO.
LILAC.
It comes like a light in the dark. Not a voice, not a thought, but the brush of something intangible, like a warm breeze…though there’s no air, no warmth. Only that sensation: Lilac.
I cling to it, desperate for this one glimmer of something in a world of nothing, and it leads me onward through the emptiness until I feel another touch, and then another, and then suddenly I’m surrounded by others like me, overwhelmed by being a part of them again.
I’ve been here before.
Yes.
On the planet…when I was something else. Someone else.
Lilac LaRoux.
I remember. You…
We are the… Their name for themselves comes not in words but in a rush of feeling—of a billion minds together, infinite thoughts, combining like every color in the universe to form a blinding white truth that, had I breath or voice to do so, would make me cry out. We have brought you home.
Home?
When we gave you life, we told you it wasn’t time for you to join us. Not yet. But we have seen what we have done to you, and you may remain with us if you wish. Become one of us.
My whole self still aches and throbs with the force of what they are, and the longing to join them, to truly understand, makes it impossible to think.
But…there is someone I’m supposed to be. There was a surge that brought me here, memories coming in disjointed flashes. A pair of joined hands, two souls whose choice to sacrifice themselves opened the door to this world. The creature in my body trying to stop them, as I gathered the last of my strength to pull it back. No…you will not hurt them. The beings on the other side of the door reaching out to pull the tortured creature back into its world.
And there’s someone whose face is the only image my dazzled thoughts can summon, like afterimages from staring at the sun.
Tarver.
You are energy, you are of the light. He is humankind, one of billions, and unique. We cannot bring him.
I want to go back.
We have had a decision to make, ever since your people’s first ship pierced the stillness—what you call hyperspace. Whether to close the door between our worlds, or leave it open. You have flooded our world with images and words and ideas so powerful that, unchecked, they will destroy us. Pain and loneliness and hatred, and beautiful things too; love for family, for lovers, for friends. Faith. We have learned this from you. And the five who came to save you.
You’ve been watching us? All this time?
Time, for us, is not quite the same as it is for you. We see all the possibilities ahead. We had to follow those who would know pain and loss and rage, for it is not a fair test to observe those whose lives are free from sadness.
And it’s what…fate? That we all came together, here, to this spot?
Small nudges, here and there. Within the confines of your father’s cages there is little we can do. But tiny changes—ensuring two survivors of a deadly crash, or preventing an explosion from claiming a rebel’s life, or drawing a particular identity to a hacker’s attention—that we can do.