Chapter 18

Chapter

Eighteen

T he ship is ghostly without 99. My senses play cruel tricks on me, sending distorted visions of him in the corners of my eyes, mistaking metal panels on the wall for his armor in my peripherals. A phantom cloud of his smell follows me but never fully lets me inhale his scent.

Seeing his empty chair as we strapped in for takeoff felt like a stab in my side. I asked August if I could sit in it, trying desperately to feel closer to him, but he said the straps were too high for me. Sitting in it now is a poor substitute for sitting on 99's lap with his strong arms caging me in.

The straps are indeed much higher on the wall, and it's also the only seat positioned for the occupant's legs to direct out into the middle of the cockpit. I never put much thought into it until now, but maybe August customized this area for 99, as all the other seats would not allow for his bulky frame and armor.

My heart does a little twist when I think of how effortlessly considerate both of them can be, how their care gets written into our existence in small things, like a tilted outward chair for a taller friend.

I stare down at the pages of my book and look straight through it, like the words are written on translucent paper. It's hard to think of anything else other than 99's strongly woven tether, fizzling out the moment the ship exited Viathan's atmosphere, sending a pinch in my chest when it finally severed.

I assumed when we disconnected, a sort of wall would cast itself across that space, but instead I can see a faint frame of the entrance. If I push too hard, my hand seems to fall through it like a window left open at night, colder and darker on the other side.

"Ferren!" August's voice cracks over the speaker in the cockpit. "Come to the mess hall, eat with us."

I'd rather bring the food up here. Sitting with them for dinner only highlights another place 99 is missing from.

"I mean it," August says like he is about to come get me himself, which he had to do this morning.

I leave my book on 99's chair and follow the smell of food into the mess hall, where Calliape and August sit around the large metal table.

"Oh, you brought some of the Viathan books?" I ask, noticing the two stacked on the dining table as I enter.

"I slept most of the way last time from Cosima to Viathan. I wanted something to read," she replies shyly, like I have caught her.

I never officially let the scholars know I was taking books out of the library for Calliape to read. If anything, picturing the stuffy archivist realizing they are missing while we are away makes me smile.

"Is that what you call reading? Whispering the words over and over? Creeped me out so bad, I had to hide in the cargo hull earlier."

"Oh no, August, you're all alone on a ship with a priestess and a Mother-blessed woman. What could possibly happen?" Calliape teases.

August laughs a little, but the coloring in his face blanches like it always does when anything close to speaking of divinity comes up. He shifts in his seat and scowls at her.

"Are you . . . memorizing something?" I try to dig further on the strange comment from before and remove my designated bowl out of a translucent box that keeps the contents warm at the food stations.

"Well, there are some useful spells and rituals that I found."

None of the books she requested had spells in them; I would have noticed. I stare at her, wide-eyed. "Spells?"

"Yes." She touches the older of the two books, the one I notice she has face down on the table. "There were some leftover texts in the Viathan temple. Some are from the priestesses of old. I thought perhaps they would be useful."

"Oh . . . well, be careful. Some of the spells from that time were used to try and wake First Mother during the war." I shake my head, and now August isn't the only one feeling uneasy. "Mary always said they went terribly wrong. Why would you need spells? You're so gifted already."

I get a small pang in my chest that Calliape is hiding something from me but remind myself she is only trying to help anyway she can. Spells are rarely, if ever, used in the Estate, thought to be unrefined and unnecessary, replaced by rituals and long-winded prayer.

"Well, let me know if you find anything interesting. Sorry, I didn't mean—" I interrupt myself with a long gulp of too hot tea.

"No, it's ok. Like I said, I needed something to read and then I found some rituals I thought I might try and learn."

She made sure to say rituals, not spells this time.

I smile at her and nod. I must be disorientated from traveling between worlds because now I am not only having visions of 99 in the corners of my eyes but also over analyzing simple conversations.

"Are you worried about seeing your sister?" Calliape's voice is a little high-pitched, like she is trying to change the subject to anything else.

The question makes me sit up a little straighter before I answer, "Oh, honestly yes."

"When was the last time you spoke to her?" August asks and then winces a little, like maybe he should not have.

"It's ok. It's no secret. My sister hasn't spoken to me in a few years, a concept I am sure you are not familiar with," I tease, hoping to convey he has not offended me.

"Ha! I have been on the receiving end of my fair share of the cold shoulder. At any time, at least half of us are not talking or in an argument." He gets a dreamy look on his face every time he speaks about his family.

I love seeing it and wonder how it compares to my expression when I speak of my sister and if he can see the hurt written there instead.

"But I can't imagine if I knew one of them was in danger," he continues. "If they were, any argument or grudge wouldn't matter. It's a different kind of love with sisters maybe. When you're not together, it feels like there's a big, empty hole through your gut, like part of you is missing." He shrugs as if he said nothing at all.

I blink away my watery eyes, hoping he doesn't notice. When I look at Calliape, she is staring at him like she wishes he would continue speaking this way.

He clears his throat and crosses his leg to appear more casual.

"I think I am more worried about finding evidence of corruption before time runs out," I confess, trying not to think too hard on the subject of seeing Leema again.

Calliape touches the top of my hand, likely seeing distress written on my face. "I will help anyway I can."

"I know you will. You always do," I assure, trying to express just how much I appreciate her.

August leans back in the metal chair, having finished his food. "I would not be delivering you back to Cosima if you didn't have countless people believing you could do this, Ferren." He sits forward again quickly. "You think 99 would let you go if he didn't think you could do this?"

My chest aches from hearing someone else express how 99 sees me.

"I think 99 didn't want me to go through the same guilt as he does with his family," I say.

Calliape nods her head in agreement. She knows firsthand how it affects Allister; living so close to him has given her a unique perspective of that history.

"Oh, it's that too, but if it was just that, he would have kept fighting the lord general on going himself and ordered us to stay."

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"I shouldn't." August smiles in a teasing pause, feigning secrecy. "When we left Cosima for home, he spoke of how capable you are, how strong. He is determined not to control you like the temple has, constantly keeping his overbearing urge to protect you in check."

What I thought was a straightforward connection between his family and my sister is more deeply rooted in my relationship with 99 and how he loves me. How he has shown that he trusts me, listens to me even if it goes against his protective instincts so much that he has to leave and walk around the capital all night just to clear his head.

Or the many times he has asked if it was ok that he assigned guards to me, hoping I wouldn't take offense to extra protection, knowing I have my light as defense when he is not there.

I hate that I still can't fully comprehend his depth of feeling. It makes me resent the temple even more for keeping countless connections I could have made at bay, not allowing me to look side to side at my priestess sisters to learn love and friendship, only ahead to statues and the highest to tell me how to feel, to implant thoughts and emotions that I did not form on my own.

Our journey takes about half the time because of the conjunction and the positions the planets are now in. Lining themselves up closer every day makes for faster travel between worlds, a bittersweet fact that allows for less overthinking but also less time to get my head in the right place.

On the last day of travel, August announces we will be arriving at Cosima by the evening. I dress in my priestess gown, forcing myself to get used to the feel of it on my skin again, practicing the calm, precise movements I will have to embody. My back hurts from keeping it ramrod straight as I practice, and it's not until I notice I keep snagging my gown on chairs that I realize just how different and relaxed my body has become since living on Viathan.

It is silly to saunter around the ship in a priestess gown, but it could be the difference between going unnoticed or piquing a temple member's interest enough to question me. I need to blend in, be utterly invisible again.

When a soft chime plays throughout the ship, notifying its inhabitants to report to the cockpit and prepare for our arrival, my stomach drops.

I strap in for descent and worry about creasing my gown and appearing unkempt upon arrival. I wonder who will greet me at the dock and if the priestesses will take me straight inside to begin the ritual or if I will need to speak with Emperor Matthias.

I am prepared for both. I am also prepared if Crixa is present.

Will she be waiting to humble and embarrass me immediately? I'm sure she will strike me but only in private. She has done so for much less.

The entire planet comes into view through the cockpit windows. I thought I may feel anger at seeing Cosima again, or even a sense of homesickness. Instead, an anxious fluttering in my stomach blooms, urging me to get on the ground and start walking to Leema.

There is no way of knowing how long it will be before I can see her, or if I will even see her at all until I find a way to get into that temple.

I need evidence, something solid, I keep repeating in my head, but I am not exactly sure what that will look like yet.

"It's so dark," Calliape whispers from the seat next to August.

"Frith and Viathan cast it in shadow as the conjunction gets closer. Soon, it will be pitch black," I say in a strange, recited tone, as if I have already returned to my days as a scribe copying facts in the library.

"An entire world in darkness." Calliape shakes her head.

In the peak days of the conjunction, there is more crime and erratic behavior reported in the city surrounding the Estate. The moon being closer than ever affects people in odd ways, the darkness concealing some of the evils they can commit only in the shadows.

Cosima appears ominous, every energy, good or bad, heightened, and we can feel it all the way up in this ship.

"Prepare for descent," August says in a serious tone, not commenting on the dark world staring back at us.

I clutch at the armrest and close my lids, but I can't remember if keeping my eyes open or closing them helps with the empty feeling in my guts as we exit the space between and enter into another planet's domain.

August recites all the still unfamiliar ship commands aloud as he flicks buttons, and even Calliape pushes a few of the ones he points to, hoping she will participate.

The ship jumps and rocks a little as clouds stream past us. I press my back into the chair again, wishing 99 were seated behind me, that I could reach back and feel him squeeze my hand, wordlessly letting me know he has me. Instead, I squeeze the armrest and close my eyes again to stare at the inky, translucent frame where our tether used to be.

My breath gets frantic as the cockpit air slowly acclimates us to the dry climate outside. I can taste the dust and almost feel the grains floating in and out on each breath.

We pass through the resin-like protection ward, dipping downward. It passes over the ship, making the visibility just slightly less crisp, a difference that could go unnoticed by someone who does not know how thick it truly is.

Within the ward, there is another layer I don't recognize. Something new and feeding off the other for its strength. It's sticky and parasitic, like a dirty film left on the skin as we pass through.

The world is cast in a strangely blueish-purple hue, like the entire planet is hung in the balance of dusk with only a few rays hitting the buildings, giving them an unnatural halo.

"Brace for landing," August announces.

I can do this.

I chose this. I am in control.

I am different now. I am not afraid.

As the ship's feet touch Cosima's surface, the cockpit halts in a shivering rumble, making the strap on my chest dig in, bracing to hold me in place.

Dust swirls all around us, blotting out any view from the cockpit windows.

Even still, August is staring intently into the docking port like he is waiting for the sandy flumes to settle, his head moving slightly, tracking the path of something or someone.

"What do you see?" I probe, wondering why he is unnervingly silent and not his normal joking self during a rough landing.

Calliape squints and leans like she notices it too.

I unlatch my seat belts and stand between my friends.

The dust clouds do not have to fully settle to make out the orangey flames of torches.

More and more appear, lining the dock in a glowing perimeter.

The entire space is lined with Estate guards.