Page 79 of Starside

Darkness has nearly swallowed the sky. The moon is out. Shrieks echo as creatures take off into the fading light, the forest still roaring with flames. They’ve stopped hunting me. For now.

My head falls back against the stone, my body going boneless, relief rushing in, my fight leaving me. I’m tired, so tired. And I’m not even a fifth of the way there.

My body might be worn out, but my mind races. Before, all I could think about was survival. Now all my thoughts catch up.

My dragon. My flameless dragon.

I hope she’s okay. I hope she doesn’t do anything stupid like look for me. Not when trouble always tends to find me.

Some part of me grieves, even though we didn’t know each other for long. She is beautiful and powerful—but I could tell some shred of her needed a shred of me. And that maybe … maybe, if we’d had a little more time, we could have found our fire together.

Kira. She must be on the other side now. I wonder how her leg is doing. Xara helped her. I know she did. I hope she did.

Zane. I wonder if he claimed a Helmhawk. I can almost imagine him on the back of one, blue feathers turning silvery beneath the moonlight.

I can also imagine him mangled in the tree branches, an arrow through his forehead.

My eyes tighten against the image. No. Zane is strong. So is Kira. So is my dragon. And so am I. This will kill me, but not yet.

Not yet.

I continue to stare at the sky, lost in my mind, until the stars break through the darkness, sparkling like my sword. They shine brighter here on this side. There are so many, a galaxy, like infinite versions of the freckles across my cheeks in summer. My sister had more. She had them all over. I used to count them, one by one, to help her fall asleep. I used to sleep beside her, because she feared the dark. She used to sleep with an arm banded around me, because she was convinced one day someone would try to take me away in the middle of the night, and she told me she wouldn’t let them.

I laughed. “What is your arm going to do if a demon is intent on taking me?”

I’ll wake up, she said with pure conviction. I’ll save you.

I believed her. I believed she would save me from anything.

If only I could have saved her.

My eyes close against the memories. A tear slides down my face. It’s incredible I have any left. But they are endless, just like this agony. Just like this guilt.

Because I’m not just doing this for them. I’m doing it for me too. Maybe—maybe if I kill the goddess that ended them, maybe that will absolve me just the slightest bit. Because I’m the reason they’re dead.

I’m the reason they’re all dead.

I used to crave sleep, because in my dreams, they were still alive. But over time, the memories dimmed. As much as I fought to keep them clear, they were like sand in my palms, falling through my fingers. I tried everything to strengthen my memory. I memorized pointless things, read books then recited them backward, trying to train my memory like a muscle. It worked, partially. But still, with every year that goes by, I remember less.

Now I have more nightmares than dreams. For even though the memories of the good times have faded, those of that night never have. They are still as real as when they happened. I relive that night all the time. It always has the same ending.

And I wish. I wish I had anything of value to give to the gods, to try to go back and change it all. But even the gods can’t do that. So I’ll kill them instead.

My mind cycles through the memories. There are ten of them, the ones I treasure the most. The ones I refuse to forget.

Number one is the first time I held my sister. I was only three years old, but I remember the way she looked at me and smiled. When her tiny fingers curled around one of mine, I thought, You. I would do anything for you.

She never stopped looking at me like that—like I was someone to be trusted. Someone to be admired. Someone worthy of anything at all.

Even in the end, she didn’t doubt me. She didn’t blame me.

She—

A whisper. It barely breaks through the crackling of the forest fire. It’s so gentle, it could be the wind.

But I would know that voice anywhere.

“Aris.”