“When you’re as large as I am, Rho, you realize attaching too much meaning to individual members of a species is a downfall. It’s tragic to send so many people to Empyrean so soon, I know, but they’re sacrifices for the evolution of your race. They will all die anyway—we’re just moving up their time lines. The earthlings who settled the Zodiac also left most of their people behind on a dying Earth, and aren’t you better off for it?”
He cups my cheek in his palm for an instant, and I feel the same buzz I’ve felt every time I’ve touched him and Morscerta. It’s not the Barer’s electricity—it’s his Psynergy I’ve always been able to sense.
“The irony is,” he says, his pink eyes bright with warmth, “now at the end of the worlds, I finally love a human. I haven’t felt this way since . . .” He clears his throat but doesn’t look at Ophiuchus. “You are the child I always hoped to lead, but this galaxy can’t appreciate your light. I want to gift you a universe that’s worthy of you.”
My brain is completely blank. Aquarius is out of his mind, and Ophiuchus is dying at my feet. No one is coming to rescue me.
It’s up to me now to save them.
I can’t stop Aquarius with violence, which means meeting him on his own playing field. I have to use my words.
“You say it’s weak of me to attach so much meaning to individual members of my species, but do you know what I find most amazing about humans?”
He quirks his head curiously at my question, and I answer, “How at times a single person, or small group of people, can lift our entire species onto a new rung of evolution. How a single achievement can thrust us all forward in time, and all of a sudden what was unknown is known, and we’re ready for what’s next.
“Like Galileo Sprock’s creation of the first holographic communication, or Tinga Baron’s invention of Abyssthe. Or think of the first Wave, the first Zodai Ring, the first Ephemeris. The social impact of visionaries like Empress Wen, who came up with the axiom Trust Only What You Can Touch; or Sage Huxler, who was the first to coax the other Houses into sharing their secrets with the Zodiax. Sometimes something as seemingly small as a single individual can change the entire course of a species’ future. And that means within each of us lies the potential to be infinite.”
Aquarius is nodding vigorously. “That’s beautiful, Rho. It’s exactly how a leader ought to feel about her people. And that’s why you deserve this.”
“You’re not hearing me,” I say, my tone growing exasperated. “At the Tomorrow Party’s ball, you said change is the universe’s only currency and that it’s human hubris holding us back—Plenum politicians who won’t let go of their power. But the flaw you’re most passionately set against in us is the one you’re blind to in yourself. You aren’t growing or evolving because you won’t give up your immortality. You won’t follow your own advice and let go.
“You think you’re the exception to the rule because humanity needs you, and your mission matters so much that you have to stick around to lead us. I bet you even think you’re coming from an altruistic place. But your naked need to survive and see more is as human as it gets. It’s greed. Or do you honestly believe in your heart that you’ve been a better Guardian for us than Ophiuchus might have been?”
In my peripheral vision, I notice the Thirteenth Guardian twisting around to look at us. He seems so pathetically weak that I don’t return his stare. I’ve failed us. I’ve failed the Zodiac.
I drop my gaze to the floor. “You said once that I was only good to you if I wanted this,” I say softly, “and I don’t. So if you’re going to force me like you did Ophiuchus, just know you’ve killed us both. I won’t be that leader you admire anymore, and my light will go out.”
Aquarius is silent for so long that I make myself meet his eyes, and I’m startled by the change that’s come over him.
He looks as defeated as Ophiuchus, his hair less silver than gray, his features sunken in. “Of course,” he says to himself, and his mouth curves into a sad smile. “The right person would refuse, wouldn’t she?”
His gaze pans from me to the Thirteenth Guardian, and he seems to be seeing his legacy in one shining moment of lucidity. “Your parents couldn’t appreciate you or raise you right,” he says to me suddenly, “because you’re a child of the stars. But I’m going to love you the way you deserve.”
He kneels down beside Ophiuchus. “You were right, my love. I couldn’t kill you then. And I can’t kill you now.”
All the air rushes out of me in relief.
I can hardly believe it.
I stopped Aquarius with my words.
He leans over and presses a kiss on Ophiuchus’s forehead, and he stays there a moment, like he’s giving him a blessing. “I’m sorry I was blind,” he says gently. “You were always the star for this job. Unite this species. Take them to new worlds. Give them the hope I couldn’t bring.”
He stands up and faces me. “Killing Ophiuchus on his planet was only the plan because you’re right—I am greedy. I believed humanity would need me forever, so I planned on taking his Star Stone with me through the portal. Only you’ve given me a greater purpose to serve.”
He bends down and presses a kiss on my forehead, and I feel tingly Psynergy come over me, like the stars of the Zodiac have just blessed me.
“I’m doing this for you, Rho. I’m so proud of you, and based on everything I just heard I know more than ever that you will be a great leader who will heal humanity’s wounds. Remember me, and I will always be with you.”
He takes out the Unity Talisman and wraps his hands around it.
His forehead suddenly begins to bulge, and his glow grows so bright that I have to fall back a few paces and shield my eyes.
Then Aquarius falls, his body limp and lifeless, and the Stone explodes into a massive cloud of Psynergy.
The molecules of air around me start jittering, and the whole world seems to be undergoing a metaphysical earthquake. I can hardly catch my breath. The sky outside lights up with small flashes, like a whole galaxy of shooting stars, and some part of me feels Aquarius’s soul returning to its rightful place among the stars.
It’s over.
Ophiuchus gasps, and I kneel down beside him. “He’s gone,” I say, my eyes shiny and wide. “We’re okay.”
“No,” he manages to get out. “He just activated the portal.”
33
WHITE MIST FROM THE TALISMAN’S explosion hangs in the air, turning the room into an Aquarian thought tunnel, and I watch someone’s silhouette charge inside.
A Marad soldier armed with a Murmur.
I don’t shield myself or bother fighting now that I know I’ve failed us. In seven days the portal will be fully open, and as soon as the first ship goes through, the Zodiac will be undone.
The soldier rips off their mask.
“Nishi!” I run over and crush her to me in an embrace. “What are you still doing here?”
“I’m not leaving without you,” she says when we pull apart.
“It’s too late!” I say, shaking my head. “He’s done it—Aquarius killed himself with Ophiuchus’s Talisman and activated the portal.” Her face pales, and her eyes grow glassy. “It’s over—”