by Adam Silvera
His body is shutting down, but when Sera kisses him, there’s so much love that blasts through me. Love that I’ve never known because I’ve never taken this leap. Bautista wants to stay here, he wants to keep living, and I do too, but darkness conceals everyone, and it’s just us, dying together.
Then, right on the edge of death, gold and gray flames drop around me and I’m screaming in my own body.
I’m alive, I’m back.
I’m drenched in sweat and I haven’t felt this dizzy since when I used my powers for the first time. Brighton, Prudencia, and Wyatt are all at my side, and they want to know if I’m okay, if I saw Bautista or became him, if I discovered the ingredients. But it’s too much too soon.
My body is still aching, and I lift my shirt—not giving a single damn who sees—to make sure that there isn’t a hole in my stomach from where Bautista was stabbed. The only scars are my own. How Luna killed Bautista is what she intended to do to me the last night of the Crowned Dreamer.
I rock back and forth, haunted by how I felt Bautista’s death. I watch Maribelle in her dark yellow flames, hoping she can return to her own body before she has to feel every ounce of pain as her biological mother is killed too.
Forty-Seven
Honor
MARIBELLE
Sera is still alive, but all her light has left her.
Bautista’s pain may have left me, but Sera’s heart is so shattered it’s as if I’m reliving Atlas’s death all over again. Except she doesn’t have my rage. For all her talk about how she and Bautista won—a code to let him know they succeeded in getting baby Maribelle to safety, maybe even figuring out that power-binding potion—her brave face has fallen.
Luna rests her hand on Sera’s shoulder, and Sera doesn’t bother shaking her off. “You were worthy by my side. We were going to create a world where you wouldn’t need to worry about losing your loved ones as I have. No more visions of danger and death because everyone would be safe, untouchable. Instead you both betrayed me and tried to undo all my work. Tell me, my one and only. What do you think of this world of death as you hold his corpse?”
Sera looks her mother in the eyes. “It’s unfortunate I won’t be around to watch you die.” She turns to Bautista and kisses his lips for what she feels will be the last time. “I’ve seen the end already. Get on with it.”
“Very well,” Luna says. There’s remorse alive within her, but her need for survival is sharper.
Luna grabs the infinity-ender dagger, pulls Sera’s head back by her hair, and slices her throat. Sera ungracefully crashes against Bautista’s shoulder, blood pooling under her. By the time the pain begins, darkness takes over and it’s only me and Sera dying in it until my familiar dark yellow flames vanish and I’m back in my own life.
I suck in the sharpest breath and almost punch Tala as she tries pressing a cold towel against my forehead.
“I’m back, I’m back,” I whisper.
“You’re okay,” Emil says, still sitting where we first started.
Retrocycling has the potential to be beautiful. But this was a nightmare.
“I’m going to kill Luna,” I say.
“What happened?” Tala asks.
“Can someone fill us in already?” Brighton asks. “Curious minds.”
I’m half expecting to feel Sera’s emotions, but I only feel mine since I’m no longer by her side. There’s one takeaway I keep rolling around in my head. “How did we not know that Luna was Sera’s mother?”
“Wait—what?!” Brighton asks.
Everyone is as surprised as I was, and this is the problem. Sera being an alchemist herself wasn’t enough of a clue, but it’s certainly an important piece of the puzzle now. Why didn’t Mama and Papa tell me? Sera said it wasn’t necessary for me to know that I was her daughter, but why couldn’t they have trusted me with the knowledge that Sera’s mother was Luna? Maybe to them it didn’t matter, but it’s yet another family secret, and this better be the last one I hear from anyone or so help me.
“How did we not know?!” I shout.
“I’m remembering something,” Emil says. “When Luna had me hostage, she mentioned something about a traitor enthralling Bautista. She didn’t say anything else about them, but Sera fits the bill.”
“Why didn’t you mention that sooner?”
“It didn’t seem important with everything else we had going on,” he softly says.
The number of ways I’ve been screwed over by this sad excuse of a chosen one is astounding. “I plan on honoring Sera by undoing all of Luna’s work. You better have memorized those potion ingredients because I’m not reliving that again!”
Emil nods vigorously. He grabs the journal and begins marking the true names of the ingredients. I hear him talking about crushed torch grains before I tune him out.
All the pain I’ve been through this year feels cruel. It’s as if the gods hidden in the constellations hate me, as if they’re punishing me for defying nature with my existence as a hybrid celestial-specter. Grieving my parents and Atlas has been hard enough, but living in Sera’s heart as she loses the love of her life and the father of her child? Of me? I have to repay blood with blood, and all roads lead back to Luna.
Tala takes the journal from Emil and reads. “I’m not in love with exploiting a phoenix’s pain to use their tears, but it’s certainly better than all potions that call for their eyes and talons. There’s an underground market in the city where I’ve done business before. They should carry some of these rarer ingredients.”
“We’re going to get a bloody Nobel Prize out of this, yeah?” Wyatt asks. “Well, posthumously awarded to Sera and Bautista.” Everyone is staring at him. “Messing around, of course. Long live our phoenixes, heh.”
“Maribelle, ride with me?” Tala helps me up. “Everyone else stay put.”
“We can help,” Brighton says.
“You can help by keeping your famous face away from the public,” Tala says.
He turns to me as if he wants my support, but I’m following Tala’s lead here. “We need discretion.”
“Fine. But this fight is all of ours,” Brighton says.
“Absolutely. As long as it’s understood that Luna is mine.”
It’s my duty to kill my last living family member.
Forty-Eight
Oblivion Night
EMIL
It’s wild how much time I lost while traveling to the past.
I already didn’t get enough sleep last night, but now I’m so drained. Brighton brings me two salad bowls with tofu, quinoa, and chickpeas, and I could easily throw back another. I’ve already given Wyatt my official report on everything that went down while retrocycling, and while he’s busy updating his commander, Brighton is still picking away at every last detail. I swear he won’t chill until he can grow out a beard like Bautista.
“He had more edge than I expected,” I say.
“Of course. No one ever saved the world by being casual about it,” Brighton says. That feels like a slight against me. He picks up his phone. “Are we sure we can’t do any content about retrocycling? Now that we have the potion ingredients, we can make sure that if anyone even thinks about trying something then the Infinity Kings will stop them.”
Prudencia rests her hand on Brighton’s shoulder. “It’s not in our best interest to brag about retrocycling. We need to surprise the Blood Casters with the Starstifler so they won’t be prepared.”
“Good point,” he says.
“We’re also going to be drinking the potion ourselves,” I remind him.
Brighton looks like he’s fighting back a massive eyeroll. “You do understand that immediately drinking the potion won’t solve any problems, right? It’s our responsibility to use our powers to protect as many people as possible before the election. Otherwise all this country will see is more havoc because heroes aren’t stepping up to save them.”
“I know that—”
“Then buckle up, bro. If Sunstar wins, sh
e’ll still need a few months to set up the Luminary Union, so we’ll continue defending the country until then. But if Iron takes the White House, we’ll be in this for the long haul until we can set this world right.”
There’s a part of me that thinks Brighton wouldn’t mind Senator Iron winning the election so he can keep playing hero. I don’t want this, I’ve never wanted this, and I’m so damn nervous that Brighton is going to keep pushing back the goalposts on when we give up the powers. And the truth is that I doubt he ever will give them up, though I don’t understand why. He could easily make a living out of being Brighton Rey, the dude who was once infinite. He could chill back and engage with his millions of followers and publish some tell-all memoir about what it was like being on the inside of this war. But I know my brother too well. No spotlight will shine bright enough unless he’s the Infinity Savior.
I tell Brighton and Prudencia I need air and then bounce.
I head straight to the library without a second thought. I enter cautiously in case Wyatt is still busy with his virtual meeting, but it’s quiet and completely empty. I’m nervous he might be sleeping, wherever he’s set up his bed in here. I step quietly and find Wyatt lounging in his usual spot on the balcony, dressed in the leather Halo Knight jacket with black feathered sleeves I haven’t seen him in since we met three days ago. Nox is eating away at some of the foliage wrapped around the stone railings as a sun swallower blazes across the dark sky.
“Man, your view is way better than mine,” I say.
Wyatt turns with a dimpled smile. “My view is rather fantastic,” he says while looking me up and down. “But yours is six feet of gorgeousness too.”
“Walked right into that one,” I say.
“Glad you did. Are you here for a celebratory toast? You did something absolutely skybreaking, love. I’m proud of you.”
I’m frozen, staring at the stars. There’s been a lot of hate from strangers, calls to do more from Brighton, unappreciation of my efforts from Maribelle, and sympathy from Prudencia, but no one’s been proud of me. Even I haven’t been. “All I did was go on the journey. You’re the one who figured out the road.”
Wyatt leans forward solely so he can pat himself on the back. “Crest was pleased to hear the news. It’s been difficult for him, adjusting as commander, since he wasn’t exactly next in line by a long shot, but when all those Haloes were killed he had to rise to the challenge. Doesn’t matter that he’s only thirty-three. The Bronze Wings are now his responsibility.”
“Bronze Wings?”
“Yeah, it’s the biggest division of Haloes. The Council of Phoenixlight restructured a decade ago to better manage the thousand or so active Halo Knights around the world. The Bronze Wings are those who have been Haloes for under twenty-five years, then it’s Silver Wings for fifty years, and Gold Wings for seventy-five years and beyond. While many of the Gold Wings are councilmembers who pass down their knowledge to us, Crest is going to have the great pleasure of letting them know that one of our group’s youngest—and most handsome—worked out how to get specters to retrocycle.”
“I hope they appreciate how brilliant you are.”
“They’ll either commission a statue in my honor or bury me alive for training humans to better use phoenix powers. Frankly, I’m not sure I can survive a sculptor’s failed attempts to capture my magnificence, so I’ll opt for the elders burying me with a flashlight and a long book.”
“I’ll go up against these elders instead of Blood Casters any day.”
“They’re mostly good people. I’m curious what they’ll think of you.”
“I hope there’s some forgiveness. Brighton’s got me pretty worked up over how much longer he thinks we’ll have to be the Infinity Kings. I want to make the world a better place, just like he does—not only because it’s what I owe, but because it’s the right thing for anyone to do. That better world just looks different for me. It looks less like a Spell Walker’s and more like yours.”
“It’s not a life without its heartache, but the wins of a Halo Knight are absolutely wonderful.”
I lean against the stone railing with my arms folded across my chest. “It must be really beautiful the day someone gets to become a Gold Wing. To know that you have spent your life doing the right thing.”
“Doing the right thing means taking care of yourself too. My mum has always gone on about how self-care isn’t valued nearly enough, especially in our culture, with how much of ourselves we give to the phoenixes. We have more to offer when we take care of ourselves. I’m not sure how much time you spend doing that.”
I think about how Wyatt has talked about having great sex and how that’s something I’ve always been interested in with someone I’m dating. I really hoped back in high school that something could’ve gone down with Nicholas, who trusted me with the secret that he was a celestial, but that didn’t work out. Then how hyped I was giving that guy Charlie a tour at the museum before he revealed himself to be someone who didn’t give a shooting star about the lives of phoenixes. And of course Ness, who is so damn special that it feels insulting to even think of him so immediately after thinking of someone I was never going to get along with. But I always hold back, keeping my truths from myself, from others.
“I don’t want to be a Spell Walker or the Infinity Son or anything high-profile. I want to be a discreet Halo Knight and figure out the most effective way to protect phoenixes.”
“I think you would be a divine Halo. Now I know you can fly, but are you afraid of heights?”
“Not really,” I say. “Though I’m not super experienced like Maribelle. I’ve only flown great distances a couple times.”
Wyatt gets up from his chair and rubs Nox’s neck. “No matter. Your power will be gone soon enough—despite what your brother might think—and if you’re going to be a Halo Knight, you should be familiar with what it’s like to ride a phoenix.”
I shake my head because this is so absurd. “Nope, sorry, I don’t deserve—”
“Why not? We may carry our pasts with us in every life, but we don’t have to be defined by them. Please show yourself a thousandth of the care you show others.”
For over a month I’ve been working hard to be the hero that everyone needs me to be and rarely fueling myself with happiness. That moment alone with the young phoenixes in the tower made me stronger, did something amazing for my soul.
“What if Nox throws me off midflight?”
“Then you’ll be thankful we haven’t clipped your wings yet. Come on, I want you to see the world that’s waiting for you on the other side of infinity.”
Wyatt scratches around Nox’s beak and hops onto his back. I can’t believe this is happening, not even as Wyatt hoists me up with him. There’s no saddle, which I know is out of respect for the phoenixes, and I feel like I’m sitting on a stiff mattress that’s covered with a smooth, feathery comforter. I run my fingers through Nox’s thick black feathers, sensing that he doesn’t mind me. It makes me feel better that he doesn’t distrust me after everything he’s been through during his lives. I’m able to relax more on top of him, as much as one can when riding a phoenix that’s bigger than a horse for the first time.
“Hold on,” Wyatt says over his shoulder.
“Around you?”
“Feel free to hug Nox’s arse if that’s preferable.”
I inch closer to Wyatt, wrapping my arms around his stomach and locking my fingers together. I lean into his back and can smell so many adventures on his jacket—fresh pine, wet grass, maybe even a couple flowers thrown in there; I wonder if one is Dayrose. He tells me to hold on tight, and I don’t think it’s necessary until Nox kicks off into the air. Then I hang on like I’m trying to merge into one being.
Flying on Nox is such an odd, freeing sensation, different from doing it by myself. I don’t have to try; I can kick back as we sail across the Sanctuary’s fields and put New Ember behind us. Wyatt confidently steers Nox over the roadway that we originally arrived on
by car, but now we’re seeing the tops of trees, and a dozen evergreen blazers chase after us.
“Hold on like your lives depend on it!” Wyatt shouts over the roaring winds.
Nox screeches as he jerks and shoots toward the moon, and I’m so nervous that I’m going to fall off and drag Wyatt down into the forest with me, but the obsidian adjusts, and we’re higher than I’ve ever been before. I take in the mountains below us, thinking they could make for a challenging hike even with my strong New Yorker legs that are primed for long walks, but I only ever want to be up in the air from here on out.
The moon and stars are still so damn out of reach, and I want Nox to take us even closer. It’s like Nox can sense my feelings and does the exact opposite. We dip like the world’s most intense roller coaster toward the glistening river. My fingers dig into Wyatt’s abs when it seems like we’re about to go underwater, and I have no idea if obsidians do well there like sky swimmers. Nox smoothly transitions into a glide, his belly skimming across the surface of the river and his massive wings splashing water back at us. Wyatt is laughing as I shiver against him, the crisp air even colder now that I’m drenched. A surge of joy rockets through me, and my cheeks hurt from smiling.
“Skybreaking, yeah?”
“Skybreaking,” I echo into his ear.
I wonder if he can sense the smile in my voice the way I do with his.
We’re back in the air, but we move like a gentle wave, up, down, up, down.
Wyatt spins and faces me, patting my knees with so much enthusiasm. I hold on to his legs though I can’t lie, it’s not strictly for balance.
“How you getting on with all of this?” Wyatt asks as he shakes some water out of his hair.
“Best night in a minute.” I fight back some serious shivers because I don’t want this to end, but my chattering teeth betray me. “And a little cold.”
Wyatt takes off his jacket and holds it up. I try to turn him down because I’m me and I can never accept help without feeling weird about it, but he’s thankfully him and works a little harder to help anyway. I slide into the first feathered sleeve, and I feel this rush of power, power that has nothing to do with stolen phoenix fire. It’s like I can change the world on good heart alone. The Halo Knight jacket has some weight to it, and I want one of my own.
