“My fault,” he murmurs. “Most people get dizzy their first time. I should have mentioned it.”
Even though we should stand up, neither of us moves. The space between us is so small that his breath blows on me like a light breeze. I gaze at the barely perceptible cleft in his chin, remembering how he would grow a light stubble there during exam time at the university. Now that he’s older, he keeps his skin smooth. I feel the crazy urge to reach out and touch him.
Mathias looks away first. I shift to liberate his hands, and he sits upright. “I’m sorry there’s been no word on your family, Rho.”
I sit up, too. It’s one of the rare times he’s used my name since I asked him not to call me Holy Mother. That night, he said my name like it was just a word. Now he whispers it, like it’s a secret. “Do you know anything about yours?”
“My mother works at the Planetary Plenum, so she and my father are spending most of this year at House Aries. I spoke to them before we left home.” His voice grows quiet, and he reaches into his pocket, pulling out the mother-of-pearl Astralator. “When the moons collided, my sister died on Galene.”
My throat seems to shrivel up and wither, and I can’t speak. All this time we’ve been training together, and I never asked.
“This was hers,” he says, holding up the instrument.
“I-I’m so sorry, Mathias.”
He shakes his head and puts it away, turning to face me on the mat. “Let’s go again. Only touch the Ring with your other hand when you enter the Psy. It will function as an anchor and help keep you grounded.”
I nod and close my eyes, staying seated this go-around. I place my left hand over my right and twist the Ring around my finger, until I’ve dipped into the icy energy, and I’m pulled into the Collective Conscious.
This time, the world feels steadier—like I’m standing on land instead of floating through Space. I approach the nearest shadow, something about it drawing me closer.
Rho.
It’s Mathias.
I hear you, I say back.
That’s impressive. Some Zodai can take years to send their first message.
How did I know this smoky figure would be you? I stare at the wispy mass, its shape shifting constantly, like it doesn’t have a true form.
The physical proximity helps, but it’s also because we’ve formed a connection. I’m your Guide, so you’re drawn to my Psynergy signature, as I am to yours.
I open my eyes. I’ve left the shadow world, and I’m back in the room with Mathias, holding the Ring. He’s staring at me in disbelief, and I watch his lips move without making a sound. Rho, are you still in the Psy?
I hear his words in my mind. Yes.
Speaking through the Psy from the physical plane is really advanced. “Most beginners can only access the Psy when they are most present within it,” he says, finishing the thought out loud. I pull my hand off the Ring.
He watches me, his expression mysterious. “Agatha said your mother trained you from an early age. What exactly was she teaching you?”
I feel like a flying bird crashing into an invisible wall. Soaring through today’s lesson, I was finally beginning to feel some semblance of accomplishment for the first time since being made Guardian. Mathias’s question makes me feel sixteen years old and small again.
I pull out my Wave from the waistband of my tights. I try calling Dad and Stanton.
“Rho, I don’t want to pry. It just seems like what she did had an impact on your ability to manipulate Psynergy . . . and knowing what it was could help me Guide you.”
I shut off the Wave and stuff it back in my band. It’s not that I disagree with him—it’s just that I hate remembering. I don’t know how most people’s memories work, but mine is merciless. The moment I pull a thread from the Mom years, the whole yarn unspools. And I can’t afford to let her to distract me now. Not when Dad and Stanton are still missing.
Mathias starts to reach for me, and I know he’s going to pat my back or squeeze my shoulder or do something else that should be comforting, only it won’t be. I don’t want his pity. So I twist my Ring, and I disappear into the shadow world. An instant later, a new silhouette pops into existence, and immediately I feel Mathias’s presence.
Somehow, it’s easier to talk in here, where I don’t have to hear the words out loud. I don’t like to remember. It’s not that the training was traumatic, exactly. . . . It was exhaustive and endless, but you can’t call it torture. It’s just . . . it’s because I . . .
You miss her.