Aquarius raises his hand, and I’m certain he’s about to strike—but then the room blackens, and I realize what’s happening. He’s cueing a memory.
When the darkness lifts, we’re in a hall with sandstone walls that seems familiar . . . the Aquarian royal palace. A holographic solar system orbits us, and it’s so detailed that it must be projected by a Talisman.
I stare at the brightest blue light that was the crown jewel of the Zodiac, and when I pull my gaze away from home, I notice there’s something different about the constellations. There’s a large gap between Houses Scorpio and Sagittarius . . . and as I look closer, I see the Dark Matter. It’s not near Pisces the way it is now.
Does that mean the Thirteenth House wasn’t really number thirteen? Was it actually located between the Eighth and Ninth Houses, like this Ephemeris shows?
Beneath the star map is a round table, where fourteen people are gathered. Two of them are identical, so they must be the Geminin Twins. Everyone here looks human, which means this is after the Original Guardians died out.
I scan the faces until I spot an Aquarian with long platinum hair and pink eyes.
“Wandering Star,” says the Guardian dressed in red, “we must have your tie-breaking vote. Prophet Draema has foreseen a threat to our galactic sun, and she believes we must create a commission of Zodai from across our worlds to investigate the Dead Zone between Scorpio and Sagittarius and see what we can learn. She thinks they might be connected.”
“What’s the argument against?” asks Aquarius—and with a jolt, I realize he’s this era’s Wandering Star.
“The Stridents who’ve studied that area have discovered a destructive substance they’ve been calling Dark Matter, and it seems to have latched on to a planet and consumed it,” says the Ariean General. “Supreme Guardian Forsythe has foreseen that our team of Zodai will accidentally trigger the Dark Matter’s spread and cause the sun’s darkening that we’re trying to avoid. So, the question is—would investigating it save us or damn us?”
Aquarius nods, his eyebrows pulling together like he’s deep in thought. There’s no doubt in my mind that he sent his House’s Guardian that vision of doom. After a long moment of consideration he says, “I have always believed free will sets fate in motion, so I must vote against.”
“Then the matter is settled.”
We fast-forward in time, and now the same group is meeting in a different location, and once more the spectral star map hangs over them. I gasp as I take in the deep blue lapis lazuli walls around me—they look like water that’s fossilized into stone—and I know where we are.
Cancer.
There’s no roof over our heads, just the infinite blue sky I grew up staring at, and I could cry from happiness to be seeing it again.
“This is the first year that the Helios’s Halo effect has stopped happening,” says a gray-clad woman with delicate features. “It’s a sign of the prophecy I’ve Seen. We must investigate,” insists Prophet Draema.
A small voice a couple seats over says, “I’ve Seen something, too.”
Everyone looks at the Guardian in olive green—the youngest of them by far—and I get the impression she doesn’t speak often. Her brown skin pales as all eyes focus on her. “I think the Dark Matter is connected to a vision I had—”
“Speak up, honey, we’re not all twenty,” says an old man in black. Nice to know Scorps have always been charmers.
The Taurian looks like she’s not going to finish her sentence, but then the Cancrian Guardian—a stunningly beautiful woman who looks familiar—leans into the table and says to the Scorp Chieftain, “If you’re going deaf, maybe you should build yourself a better hearing aid.”
Then she looks down the table to the Taurian and says, “Take your time, and speak at any volume you’d like, Vecily.”
Vecily Matador.
I ogle at the short-haired, almond-eyed Taurian, and then I swing my gaze to the Cancrian beauty I should have instantly recognized. Brianella Amarise—the Guardian who led our House into the Trinary Axis.
She’s just as breathtaking as history says—her long blue-black curls cascade down to her waist, and her dark skin holds hints of light, making me think of the black opal Talisman. But most striking of all are her crystal blue eyes, which are spiderwebbed with faint lines, like fractured crystals.
I look one seat over to the Leonine man beside Brianella—Blazon Logax. He has a square jaw and facial hair, and his arms are covered in tattoos. He looks more like a musician than a politician.
“I’ve Seen that a Guardian from the past has betrayed us all, and we won’t escape darkness until their treachery is brought to light.” Vecily says it all in one long whoosh, and from her insecure delivery it’s clear that no one at the table takes her vision seriously.
Except Aquarius. He’s staring at her through murderous pink eyes.
“Is there anything else before we close this session?” asks the Ariean General, dismissing Vecily completely.
I look to see if Brianella will defend her again, but she’s gazing adoringly at Blazon, who’s edged his chair closer to hers.
“I’d like to introduce a motion,” says Aquarius, and I notice he’s watching the Cancrian and Leonine Guardians, too.
Everyone looks to the Ariean General questioningly, and I realize it’s probably taboo for the Wandering Star to propose something. When he nods, Aquarius says, “I’ve come across texts saying the first Aquarian Guardian believed we should each live on our own House, among our own people, so we could focus our efforts on designing our worlds and evolving to suit our environments. But it’s now been two millennia and our worlds are developed, each House with its own sense of identity—so isn’t it time we came together and lifted the ban on inter-House marriage?”
And there it is.
The seed for the Trinary Axis.
Fire ignites in Blazon and Brianella’s eyes, and the flames look like they come from the Everblaze—the kind of blaze that can’t be stomped out. With a few words Aquarius got the entire universe to look down instead of up.
Arguing breaks out immediately.
It’s obvious he’s not the first to consider this measure, but he is the first to say it out loud in this official forum. Everyone is shouting over each other, and there’s no hope of shutting this down. And as the whole meeting devolves into chaos, Aquarius quietly slips out the diamond-bright Talisman under the table and closes his eyes.
Suddenly, every Guardian keels forward, squeezing their heads like they’re hearing the screeching noise of Psynergy. A vein is popping in Aquarius’s forehead, and it looks like whatever he’s doing is costing him every ounce of life force, and as I look around I notice a shifting in the stars.