“When you broke the threads, we thought you were …” Fin trails off, swallowing hard.
“She plans to go with them,” Kal says tightly, and I can feel the rainbow threads reaching for me once more as Tyler, Scarlett, and Finian each cry out in protest.
“It’s all right,” I promise. “It’s all right. You were together before I came, and you will be together after I’m gone. You’ll carry on, and you’ll all be safe. I need you to take Kal with you.”
“No.” His one word of reply is quiet, but hard as diamond.
“Kal, this is what I have to do,” I say, and all the Ra’haam shares my ache, because we love him so, so much, but I am a part of the Ra’haam now, and even if I wished it, there’s no way to untangle my mind from the whole.
“Is it what you have to do?” His voice rises in frustration. “Or what you want to do?”
His mind seizes on mine, tangling us together as tight as he knows how, and with the echo of those words, we’re back in the infirmary aboard Sempiternity, and I know what he’ll say next.
“To die in the fire of war is easy. To live in the light of peace, much harder.”
“I’m not sacrificing myself for no reason,” I say, desperate to make him see, giving up on fighting back my tears. “This isn’t just me deciding to die. I won’t die, I’ll live forever with them—this was the price, to help the Ra’haam see why we have to stop. I had to become a part of us, so we’d understand.”
“But it sees now!” His voice is rising to a shout. “It sees, and still you stay with it! Please, Aurora, stay with us. With me. Let me be enough for you.”
“It’s time, Jie-Lin,” my father says quietly.
And in the end, it’s very simple.
A father and daughter stand together in the docking bay of a crystal ship. They are joined not just by the bonds of family, but by ties that make them one and the same, two bodies of the same creature. And beyond them, in the black, are thousands more bodies of that same one being, and millions more minds.
Slowly at first, then more quickly, and then in a rushing torrent, they pour into her father’s body, and he becomes a vessel for all that the Ra’haam ever has been, and is, and ever will be.
The girl’s beloved catches her body as it falls, no longer needed, her mind a part of the whole now. He lifts it in his arms as he and his sister and his squad run back to the Longbow, the crystal city trembling around them.
An Aurora Legion squad waits for them, ushering them aboard as they stumble through the airlock, and the Longbow pulls back from the Neridaa as it shimmers and shakes, sections of crystal breaking away.
And all the Ra’haam gathers in one body as Aurora, the girl out of time, the Trigger, shares with the rest of them what she knows, what she can do, and together they see exactly how it must happen.
And aboard the Longbow, the Syldrathi boy cries out in alarm.
“She has stopped breathing!”
“Maker’s breath, where’s Zila when you need her?”
“Medic!”
“Get the stims!”
“It is not her body, you fools, can you not feel her mind is elsewhere?”
And it is those words from his scornful sister that have him lift his head, and look back toward the Weapon, no longer a weapon at all.
And as it shimmers once more and begins to fade
he
makes
a
leap
and his mind finds hers, and HOLDS TIGHT.
And with a cry, one by one, his squad and his cursing sister throw their minds after his, and they form a chain that keeps one small part of the girl bound in this time and this place… .
And all of them are with her as the crystal ship vanishes, and they watch as it appears so very, very far away, in the dark between galaxies, where there is no other life, where nobody’s home and heart will be taken.
And they watch as the ship melts away into nothingness, leaving just the man floating in the black.
And he smiles, and he tips back his head, and slowly he lets out his breath. And he exhales a million stars, a million souls and more, until the black space is lit as bright as any galaxy, until the Ra’haam dances and shimmers like fireflies, like new bluegreen stars, endless constellations, living and loving and joined.
And slowly, no longer needed, his body crumbles to dust.
And still the five of them cling to just one star, stretched beyond their limits, so fierce, and so full of love, and so determined never to leave another of their squad behind.
And that one star is me.
“Be’shmai,” whispers Kal. “Come home.”
“We still need you,” Scarlett calls.
“There’s too much left to see,” Fin says.
“You won’t be alone,” Tyler promises.
“He will be impossible to live with if you do not,” Saedii mutters.
And laughter ripples through all of us at that, and for a moment I almost wish I could untangle myself, but I don’t see a way.
Jie-Lin, the Ra’haam whispers, every voice joined, every voice different, every voice reveling in that newly remembered individuality.
What do you wish?
I wish …
Be’shmai, come home.
We still need you.
There’s too much left to see.
You won’t be alone.
He will be impossible to live with if you do not.
And then there is one more voice, from one more of my squad.
Cat is one of those gorgeous stars, a voice in my head, a rough shoulder pushing against mine, a quicksilver grin. A newly remembered self who will live out here forever.
I don’t think it’s time yet, Stowaway.
And with the smallest push, she shows me where to find the fault line, where to press so that …
… But the cost.
The cost.
To die in the fire of war is easy. To live in the light of peace, much harder.
I reach for Kal, who followed me into the Echo, into the future and home again, and my midnight blue finds his violet, and my mind caresses his, tries to remember every part of it, tries to learn him so I’ll never forget.
The window starts to close, the connection beginning to fade between our galaxy and the place the Ra’haam has gone, and Cat’s tangled up in me and I’m tangled up in her, and a symphony of memories flows through me: a bluegreen planet where she died and was born, and backward to an underwater ballroom, and stolen hours in shuttles, and one night that was supposed to be perfect and ended in heartbreak, and back, back to borrowed outfits and jokes in the back of class and entrance exams, the faces and feelings and moments whirling by, until they reach a crescendo, and a boy pushes a girl over on the first day of kindergarten.
She shows me how many memories a single life can contain.
And at once I see the harmony of the Ra’haam, and I see the wild, unpredictable beauty of a life lived alone—but never entirely alone.
I gather up every last part of my strength, and I turn my face so I don’t have to see …
… and I make the cut.
I sit up, gasping like I’ve been underwater, and I see my friends are gathered around me, Ty and Scarlett and Fin. Saedii has her hand on Kal’s shoulder, and I try to reach out for him, to reassure him, and—
Nothing.
It’s like smacking into a plain white wall.
“Be’shmai?” His voice is urgent as he drops to his knees beside me.
“What have you done?” Saedii asks, staring at me.
“It’s gone,” Scarlett breathes.
“What’s gone?” Finian demands.
“Her power,” Tyler supplies quietly.
“It was the only way,” I say quietly.
There’s an emptiness inside me, but the chamber that contains it is unimaginably small. I was so vast—I was infinite.
And now I am in this muffled silence, everything as quiet as a snow day.
I’ve … amputated the part of me that was joined to the Ra’haam, and I can’t sense any of my friends, any more than I could back when all this began. I’m not a Trigger. I’m not a savior.
I’m a perfectly ordinary girl.