“Melissa!” The both of us lifted our heads at the sound of Heather’s voice, and we watched as she and the others came bursting out of the rippling veil. Her pale green eyes widened when she caught sight of us; and she darted to where Connor lay, kneeling beside him. “What happened?” She asked me, horrified, and turned her head in search of my Kindred. “Where’s Kana’ti?”
“He,” I swallowed, “he’s gone. Something attacked us and—” I stopped when Connor shakily squeezed my hand. Whimpering, he lifted his other hand up from the ground and pointed; and instantly, I knew what it was.
I whirled to face the cloaked figure of the Ravenmocker hovering over us, floating silently in the blackness of the night.
“I can see it, too.” Heather said, in a disbelief of what her life had come to be. From what I could make out of its warped visage, it seemed to open its mouth in a wrathful scream; and I held up my hand as it rushed towards us.
But nothing happened.
I looked up when it screeched in frustration, charging at me again and again with no success. Something I couldn’t see stopped it from coming any farther—like a shield—an invisible barrier. It let out a shrill cry as it incinerated from the inside, and I covered my eyes as it was engulfed in flames. I lowered my hand when it was finally gone, only to see a girl dressed in pink standing before me. A tall young man crowned with a head of curly dark brown hair emerged from the trees to join her.
He looked familiar; but so much had happened, I couldn’t remember where I had seen him.
She hurried through the remaining wisps of smoke and drifting ashes to bend down to my level.
“Are you all right?” She gingerly placed her hand on my arm, her voice burdened with worry. I nodded my head before looking at Connor from over my shoulder, and she glanced at him before calling the young man’s name. “Pierre, we have a problem.” He frowned; and when he spoke as he joined us, I knew.
“Is it serious?” He paused the moment he saw the gash in Connor’s back. “Oh.”
“We’ll have to leave sooner than I thought.” Dorothy sighed, and Heather’s head perked up at her words.
“Leave?” She asked what all of us were wondering.
“There’s a place where people like us go to be safe.” She explained. “We can help him there.”
“People like us?” I peered at her, more confused than I’d ever been.
I wasn’t sure if there was anyone I could trust anymore.
“You said you were from Massachusetts.”
“I didn’t lie.” She responded, solemn. “I was born in Salem in 1688.” I opened my mouth to speak—to ask her another question; but she wouldn’t let me. “There’s no time. I’ll explain when we get there.” She gazed up at the eleven girls standing around us as they shivered in the darkness. “There’s room for all of you.” She assured them, but Heather took my hand and smiled sadly.
“I think I’ve had enough adventure.” She started, squeezing my fingers as she held back the tears that refused to stay in her eyes. “Go. We’ll stay.”
“Are you sure?” Everything in me wanted to fall apart. I had done so much to get her back; and now, we’d fallen back to the beginning.
“Yeah.” She nodded, but her voice said something else completely. “This town’s got a few more mysteries for me.” She chuckled a little, if only to keep herself from crying. “Go.” She insisted and pulled me into a hug that never wanted to end. But we let go, and I felt a piece of me leave with her. Dorothy fished her hand into the pocket of her coat and retrieved a silver necklace that sparkled in the moonlight.
The pendant was shaped like a flattened explorer’s globe on a diagonal axis, and I realized that she was wearing its twin around her neck.
“Take this.” She set it carefully in Heather’s hand. “And when you need us, we will come.” She promised her, something that I’m sure she didn’t take lightly.
“Thank you.” Heather closed her fingers around it.
“There’s a boat at the edge of the woods.” Pierre added, and she grinned at me one last time.
“I guess this is goodbye.” She sighed.
“For now.” I answered, and she nodded her head.
“For now.”
“Engage.” Dorothy spoke, touching her necklace; and I waved goodbye as Heather and Charlotte and all of the others faded from my sight.
Epilogue
Everything was white—like we were trapped in a snowstorm, or the middle of a star.
Stars. That’s what they looked like.
The massive room took shape around us—every line, every tile on the floor. And in the center, a silver statue of the Earth spun slowly, covered in a million bright lights. There were people, sitting at what I could only guess were radar screens. Five—each of them more different than the next. Several pairs of legs rushed past me, and I realized that I was still sitting on the ground—next to Connor.
“I’ll get a wheelchair.” Pierre told us and darted toward the eastern wall, disappearing behind its only door.
“You were alive during the witch trials.” I thought aloud, and Dorothy nodded.
“I was. My mother, Sarah Good, died ensuring my safety.” She replied. “They were right to be afraid—but I was the one they should have been afraid of.” Pierre’s quick steps echoed in my ears when he returned with the wheelchair, and the both of us helped Connor up from the floor and into his seat.
“Follow me.” He said and took hold of the handles to push him in the direction that he had gone before. Dorothy turned the knob and pulled the door open, revealing a room filled with beds that lined opposite walls and white curtains that fell between them. A man with dark hair that fell just above his shoulders sauntered towards us and urgently gestured for us to join him.
“Come quickly.” There was an accent in his voice—English—or maybe something else entirely. The four of us followed him to an empty mattress, where two other people were waiting; and two of the strangers carried Connor from the wheelchair to the white sheets of the hospital bed.
“Thank you.” I breathed, turning to face a man in his mid-twenties and a girl no older than sixteen with golden brown hair.
“O’ course.” He responded with a heavy New Jersey accent, and I grinned when I recognized the city boy in him. “James Duncan.” He introduced himself. “And this here’s Agnus.” He gestured to her as she handed the doctor a roll of bandages.
“Nice to meet you.” I reached out to shake her hand; but she struggled to find it, her amber eyes searching but failing. The blood rose to my face, and I grasped her hand when I realized that she was blind. “I’m sorry. I didn’t…”
“It’s all right.” She smiled. “James forgets all the time.”
“Where are ya from?” James inquired, and I hesitated.
It was weird—meeting all of these people—answering their questions.
“Oklahoma,” I started, correcting myself, “Xaijena. It’s complicated.” He grinned.
“Ain’t it always?” He walked around me to reach the other side of the bed. “Jersey, 1924. Robert’s been all over. Ain’t that right, Doctor?”
“Wait…” Agnus lifted her head up from her work. “Did you say ‘Xaijena’?”
“I did.” I responded; and for the first time, I truly saw her eyes—the same eyes that I had seen on that road in Rynmoor—in the man dressed in black.
“Melissa Moonwater?” A hush fell over the room at the sound of a woman’s voice, and I turned to face the source of it.
There was something about her—something I couldn’t explain; but the mystery only magnified how enchanting she was. She was dressed in blue, green, and gold—like a princess of Persia; and two gold hoop earrings hid within her dark brown wavy hair. She wasn’t the eldest. I could tell. But there was something old in her eyes, as if she held a wisdom no one else could understand.
“Yes?” It was frightening—the moment she looked at me. But she grinned invitingly and beckoned for me to jo
in her.
“My name is Andromeda.” She paused, stealing a glimpse at the door. “Would you come with me?” I faltered at her words. “He’s in safe hands. I promise.” I gazed at her, uncertain; but nothing in her voice hinted of anything other than the truth.
“O—okay.” I stuttered, and I followed her as she left the infirmary to walk across the room that I had first come to. There, in the opposite wall, stood a door in the very middle and two others where the north and south walls met; and I wondered where each of them led to. We stopped at the one in the center, and she smiled at me before pushing it open. I stepped into a spacious corridor, where the echoes of my footsteps reverberated off the walls and grasped at my hair.
It was silent, in a reverent kind of way—as if I had set foot in a crypt of kings.
“Pierre, Dorothy, Marco, and I built these walls.” She ran her fingers along the wooden panels as she walked past me and towards the center of the room. My eyes drifted to a head of blond hair idling by the wall a few yards away from me, and I couldn’t keep from staring. There was something in his hand.
A handful of feathers? No. It was a duster.
He glanced at me from over his shoulder, and then at the woman who had led me here.
“Andromeda…” He beamed. “Is it true?”
“For another time, Luke.” She grinned. “Would you grant us the room, if you please?”
“Of course.” He nodded and turned to me with a salute. “Auf Wiedersehen.” In a flash, he was gone, the outline of his body blurring past me and sending my hair flying around my face. I gazed at the open doorway in awe, barely able to speak.
“Whoa…”
“Most of us are Mythborn: children of beings that the world has long forgotten.” I whirled to face her as she continued. “Others—like Luke—they were born powerless…but chosen. But you,” she paused as she looked at me, as if she were seeing something she hadn’t seen in a long time, “you’re different.”
“How?” I wanted to know—so desperately.
How far down did this well reach?
She stole a step forward.
“You’re what we call a Radiant: a child of the stars. A being of immeasurable power, unspeakable influence. Someone who can shift worlds—tear the universe apart. I know Dorothy gave you a choice, but I want to be sure that you know what I am asking of you.” She said, and I took in a deep breath as she drew closer. “I’d like to invite you to join us. There are more people out there like us—like you. But there are forces that wish to see them destroyed, and I will not allow that. This place was meant to be a haven that people could come to, but I’ve found recently that it’s not that simple.”
“Like me…” I marveled to myself, struggling to understand what that meant.
For me. For Connor. For this place that I’d just begun to experience.
“Will you help us?” She asked, and my response nearly overlapped her question.
“Yes.” I answered her.
I didn’t have to think about it. This was what I wanted.
“Well, then…” She smiled. “Welcome to Star Corps.”
Acknowledgements
There are quite a few that I would like to thank for walking with me on this journey, but I would like to start with my first librarian, Mr. Alex Vargas. You spun magic with your words and captivated my mind with the power of your storytelling, and in doing so, inspired a heart for telling my own stories. Thank you for instilling that in me.
To my English teachers who recognized my talent for writing and devoted their time to help sharpen my skills, but especially to Mrs. Purvis and Ms. Perry—thank you for pulling me aside to share your confidence in my abilities. You gave me the reassurance that I needed when I doubted myself. A very special thank you to my beta reader, Michael Mahnke. You gave me the last bit of confidence I needed to know that this was always what I was meant to be.
Kodey Bell, a.k.a. Imaginesto, thank you for providing me with a beautiful cover for my book. You captured the spirit of my story perfectly with your work, and I am so very thankful for your contribution. To my professional photographer, Darlene Platt of Platt Photography, thank you for taking the picture now featured on my author page. Thank you, Dillon Barker, for helping me create said author page and advising me in all social media and advertising aspects.
My dear friends, Melissa De Jesus and Heather Current, I am so grateful for you both and your willingness to lend your names to this story. This book is a testament to my love for you. My writing buddies: fellow author Steven Shinder, budding screenwriter Melissa Sifuentes, and beloved and since past Yasmen Vidales—growing alongside you has been an honor I will hold close to my heart.
To Alexa, my sister, thank you for sticking with me through long nights staring at my laptop and my endless questions regarding my creative choices—even though our brains work best at opposite times of the day. And for absorbing me into your very own Dead Poets Society. The ideas for Moonshadow were born in that high school classroom. And Mom, thank you for supporting me in everything that I do and fostering a love for reading very early on in my childhood. For every book you read with me before bed, every short story you looked over when I was just beginning to put my imagination to paper, and every silent hour we sat together in the living room on Saturday afternoons—enjoying the books we just procured from the Borders around the corner from dance class.
About the Author
Krystina Coles was born in 1995 in San Diego, California. Though she graduated in 2014 as a chef in the art of baking and pastry, writing and telling stories was always her greatest passion. When she is not writing poetry or sewing elaborate costumes, she can be found baking desserts for her loved ones. She continues to live in her hometown of San Diego with her family and her dog, Chipper, and works with elementary through high school age children.
Moonshadow Page 20
