We’re on the banks of a vast body of water, and docked on the blue shore is a piece of home I never thought I’d see.
A giant ridged shell reaches up on either side of the iconic Cancrian vessel we called the Mothership. It’s the floating residence where our Holy Mothers used to live. Aquarius must have moved the Party’s headquarters here for me.
I’ve always dreamt of seeing this place up close. I studied it so much as a kid that I memorized everything about it, and Mom promised to take me one day if I trained hard enough.
The top part of the ship is domed and crystalized, and it looks like a pearl caught in a giant nar-clam’s jaws. This Leonine replica is smaller than the real vessel, but it still looks sizable enough to hold a few hundred people.
Even though it’s a knockoff, I still feel a chill as I step onto the boarding ramp, like I’m entering the holiest home on House Cancer. Since it’s an abridged version, the Leonines only included the parts that are best known to us, so we step directly into one of the most famous places in the ship—the Family Room.
It’s a hall decorated with the crests of Cancer’s twelve founding families, and it’s where Mother Origene used to hold her beloved “seaside chats.”
She would sail to different parts of the planet and invite families from all levels of society to sit with her and discuss everything and anything. Then she’d listen to questions and complaints from anyone, even kids, and Lodestars would broadcast the chat to the whole planet. I wanted so badly to attend one so I could show her everything Mom taught me and make both of them proud.
Which inspiring initiatives will Cancrians remember from my tenure as Guardian? The way I ran away from the Crab constellation right after my coronation, or how I led an armada of Zodai to their deaths?
I try to keep focused on the present as we climb up a spiral staircase that’s polished and pink, like the inside of a seashell. It goes on for so long that my muscles start screaming in agony, reminding me that my body hasn’t fully recovered from the Sumber yet.
I breathe a sigh of relief when we finally reach the top, and I lean against the wall to catch my breath. We’re in a domed room encased in crystal, a place few people have ever seen—the Holy Mother’s reading room.
The Marad soldiers are no longer with us, and now it’s just Blaze, Ophiuchus, and . . . Aquarius.
He stands before us in a billowing aqua cloak, but he’s not looking at me. He and Ophiuchus are staring at each other like Blaze and I don’t exist.
It’s strange to see the Original Guardians in these bodies—Aquarius as a forty-something man and Ophiuchus as a teen. Yet both are really fallen stars who’ve shared an eternity together.
Ophiuchus’s silver eyes gleam with emotion, like he’s finally yanked his head out of the astral plane and joined us in reality. Aquarius moves toward him until they’re standing face to face.
“I meant for you to leave Pisces with me. But when I was hit, my people chose to save me rather than follow my orders to bring you with us. I’m sorry.”
“Your eyes.”
Ophiuchus’s voice is so soft it’s almost a whisper. “They’re the only part of you that hasn’t changed.”
Aquarius reaches into his robe and pulls out the diamond-bright Talisman he brought to the Cathedral—Ophiuchus’s Star Stone. The Thirteenth Guardian stares at it in muted shock, and I spy his jaw clenching.
But Aquarius doesn’t notice his reaction because he closes his eyes and holds the Talisman between his hands, concentrating so hard that a vein bulges on his forehead, and he seems to be in terrible pain. After a moment, his face relaxes and he lowers his hands.
When he opens his eyes, his ivory features glow, a ghost of the moonlight he gave off long ago. His silver hair grows silkier, and even his voice sounds different, more velvety than before. He looks ageless and otherworldly, like he’s shed his human skin at last.
“Does this please you more?” he murmurs as he slips the Stone back inside his cloak.
Ophiuchus exhales heavily. “You know I never cared for such things. It was your soul I admired, not your shell.”
“Where’s Nishi?”
Aquarius jerks his face to me, like he’s just noticing I’m here.
“Wandering Star, welcome!” He gives me a bow that only serves to remind me of how little power I actually have in this room. “Thank you for coming.”
“I’m not here for tea,” I say, my voice a low growl. “I came to bring you Ophiuchus in exchange for my friend. Now free Nishi.”
“You’re quite wrong,” says Aquarius pleasantly. “Ophiuchus came to me of his own accord, same as you . . . but you have other things to barter with.”
I cross my arms. “What do you want?”
“When you’re really ready to listen,” he says in a maddeningly condescending tone, “I’ll tell you.”
I ball my hands into fists at my sides and try to restrain the Barer from activating. “Please—I can’t wait anymore. Every moment she’s in there, Nishi’s suffering.”
My voice cracks, and though my gut hardens in disgust, I fall to my knees before him.
“Take me instead. Let me take her place in the nightmare world. I’ll do anything—just get her out of there. Please. Name your price and I’ll pay it, but don’t make her stay in there another moment. I’m begging you—”
“Rho.”
Aquarius frowns, and to my shock he drops to his knees before me, too. His pink eyes look so concerned that a more trusting version of myself might have believed he actually cares. “I told my army to avoid inflicting pain on her at all costs. They should have used the Sumber’s dream chamber, not nightmare. Were you also—?”
He reads the answer on my face because he grows even more pallid. “I’m so sorry . . . I have forgotten how frail mortal minds can be. We will have her awoken immediately, and you can go to her straightaway.”
The whole Zodiac suddenly fades to background noise.
“I can go now?”
“Absolutely.” He looks to Blaze. “Please see that this is done immediately, and let Rho have some privacy with her friend. I expect Nishi to receive the best care possible, and I will personally see to anyone who disobeys me. Clear?”
Blaze nods. “On my honor.”
I take one last glance at Ophiuchus, who’s still staring at Aquarius and looking hopeful for the first time, and though part of me would like to stay to hear what’s said between them, nothing matters more than Nishi. So I run after Blaze, who’s climbing down a different spiral staircase.
I remember from my studies that the Mothership has four wings, just like the Cancrian embassy has four bungalows, but what’s new are all the books stuffed into every shelf and nook and cranny—the paper kind that are rarely sold on most Houses anymore, since everything went holographic centuries ago.
“Aquarius is quite the reader,” Blaze explains as we step into a sitting area crammed with more manuscripts. “He’s read every single book every Zodai on every House has ever published.”