“Guardians are all targets. We should split up.”
Hysan takes my hand, and I know he’s coming with me no matter what the Ariean General has to say about it.
We disband to regroup with our teams, but before we can do anything, an army ten times larger than ours creeps out from the swamp’s trees, like they’ve been waiting for us to corral ourselves.
They’re all in white with porcelain masks, and they move with a confidence that feels like they’re already native to this land. Their Murmurs are trained on us, and even though our Zodai shout and lift their weapons, nobody shoots. The standoff seems to be because the Marad is expecting something. Or someone.
And then a figure in all white steps forward through their ranks, the only one not wearing a mask.
It’s Blaze.
40
HIS FACE IS A KNIFE blade to my gut.
Hysan’s hand squeezes mine, but I can’t focus on anything but Nishi’s killer.
“My name is Blaze Jansun, and I am the leader of the Tomorrow Party,” he says, his voice amplified. “I’ve come to bring you hope. If you let down your weapons and join us, we will not harm you, and you may come with us through the portal to discover a new universe.”
Silence meets his words, and a few more people in white, also without masks, come up beside him, and I see Traxon and Mallie and Barg and Geneva and June in her hover-chair—all the people I met and liked from his Party. Blaze learned well from Aquarius: He’s baiting me with empathy.
“All we ask is that you hand Ophiuchus over to us,” he goes on, “and you will be saved.”
The Thirteenth Guardian is surrounded by a platoon of Arieans, but I can see his face through their ranks, and he looks like he’s resigned to any fate. Just as he struggled between his conscience and his love for Aquarius, I wonder if now his loyalty to his people will keep him from saving the Zodiac.
It seems impossible to ever know what side he’s on.
As I pan across the familiar faces next to Blaze’s, I know that just like all the Zodai here, these teens don’t deserve to die. They’ve been manipulated—we all have. But there’s a better weapon than violence for undercutting lies.
Traxon was right.
It’s time we told the truth.
I let go of Hysan’s hand and step forward into the empty space between our army and Blaze’s. “The sun going dark isn’t inevitable!” I shout to them.
My voice isn’t amplified but it’s still strong, and the Party members look to me. “Trax, Mallie, Barg, Geneva, June—you guys aren’t fighting for our universe’s survival but its destruction. I know you’re afraid to trust that because Aquarius was so convincing and you’re afraid of staying and dying, but if you don’t believe me, you’ll be wiping out our entire solar system!”
Hysan is already next to me again, a pistol in his hand, and Mathias and Pandora come up on my other side with their blue-bladed Barer swords out. The three of them scan everyone around us like they’re ready to defend my life with their own.
“You have a choice,” I go on, avoiding Blaze and addressing the Marad soldiers and Party members. “You can trust your fear, or you can have some faith. As someone who’s trusted her fears her whole life, I can tell you it doesn’t lead anywhere good. To the Marad soldiers, I myself hail from your lineage. My mother is a Riser. My mother’s mother was an imbalanced Riser. Ophiuchus, your own Guardian, stands with us. I know you’ve been wronged, but you don’t have to do this—we can choose to be better than the generations that came before us.”
The same silence that met Blaze’s words meets mine, and my shoulders slump in defeat. But then the guy next to Blaze begins to move forward.
Trax, with his shaggy mane of hair and pierced eyebrows, steps across the divide. When he’s in front of me, he says, “I’m sorry. I was just tired of the lies . . . and I thought I was finally hearing some truth.”
“I understand,” I say, and he hands me something small and shaped like a scorpion. The Echo Stan stole from Link on Scorpio.
I take the device in my hand, and it reminds me of my brother’s pluck and protection and sacrifice. And touching this piece of proof that he lived and fought once makes me feel stronger. “Thank you,” I whisper.
He nods and stands beside Hysan, who rests a comforting hand on the Leonine’s shoulder. Traxon’s face immediately burns bright red.
I look over to the other Party members beside Blaze, hoping they’ll follow Trax’s lead. But no one else comes over.
On our side, people from every House have now stepped up beside me. Brynda, Rubi, Eurek, Fernanda, Ezra, Gyzer, Mom, Gamba, Skarlet, Engle, Numen, Qima, Hexel, Jox, and more, until we’re one indivisible, colorful mass of Zodai from across the universe. And from this gesture, it’s clear that everyone in our army is willing to give their life for the Zodiac.
Just as Nishi did.
This isn’t hate: We’re fighting with love.
“Rho, this is silly,” says Blaze, like we’re old friends having a private conversation and not enemy generals meeting on the battlefield. “You’re going to get everyone here killed. We outnumber you ten to one. You can at least save these people—it’d be such a waste to let these Zodai die just because you can’t let go of the past.”
One of the Marad soldiers steps up and rips off his mask, revealing yellow eyes I’ll never forget.
My brother’s murderer.
“You’re testing our patience,” he says, only he’s talking to Blaze. “This is our home now. That was the deal we struck with Aquarius. Whether you people make it through your portal isn’t our concern—this planet will survive, and so will we. We want you all off our land, same way you wanted Risers off yours. So get your guy and screw off.”
Aryll doesn’t even care enough for his own Guardian to use his name. Then he turns to me, but he doesn’t raise his Murmur yet. He doesn’t have to—not when his brethren are already pointing theirs.
“But Rho is mine.”
Hysan and Mathias block me from view with their bodies, and it looks like things are about to get violent—when suddenly, there’s a shuffling noise on both sides of our armies, and we all turn to look.
A collection of strange creatures slithers out from the swamp. They walk on four legs and make raspy sounds that almost seem like part of a language, except it’s unintelligible. There are enough of them that they surround both our armies, and the Marad doesn’t seem quite as sure what to do—some aim their Murmurs at them and some keep them pointed at us.
“What are those?” I hear Brynda ask.
A few of the creatures start rising up on their hind legs, revealing humanlike bodies, and they lift their faces to stare at us. They have skin just like Ophiuchus.
Holy Helios.
This world’s population didn’t die out—it mutated over the millennia.
These are the last Ophiuchans.