A PROLOGUE
Written and Performed by Rubin Rima
Everyone has a different story of how our universe began.
I’ve heard several myths from elders I’ve met on my many journeys over the years. What can I say? I’m a curious being. The most persistent theory is that bacteria collided with particles floating aimlessly in space. That collision created interstellar creatures that could see and shape the future. These creatures, called the Jadu, were in a constant and painful state of forming and reforming. They were hungry, alone, afraid.
Until, by chance, the Jadu found something magical: stardust. Fragments of life, death, and everything in between.
Stardust gave them solidity and satisfied their hunger. And with stardust, they could do anything... Trouble was, the universe needed stars to have a constant source of stardust—and in turn, stars could never foster life without stardust. So the Jadu made gods who could create stars, create life, and keep the Jadu fed.
Sounds ridiculous, right?
Yet, it’s the one story told in every culture from Minor Sidarra to Maru Monchuri still being told.
Regardless, I think we can all agree, where once there was silence, now there is a symphony.
Some believe all of this is because of gods that the Jadu created, and others don’t. There is no right and wrong. But I hope—I need you to exercise compassion and keep an open mind. Because otherwise, this story will mean nothing to you. And that’d be a real shame.
So let’s start with The First Chaos, and let’s do it in a not boring way.
Once upon a time, there was a god named Indigo.
They could create life through songs.
They created whole solar systems with a movement, an aria, a melody... Yet, the more they created, the more the universe needed balance.
Thus began the chaos. Stars began to disappear. Some will tell you that Indigo forgot their notes, but that’s not true. Indigo did too much, too fast, and the universe reacted accordingly.
Ozvios, the god of Destruction, was born.
Ozvios was like a black hole—his sole purpose was to devour worlds. His power was immense and growing stronger with each life he destroyed. And as Ozvios thrived, Indigo became weak.
These two opposing gods could not exist simultaneously or peacefully on principle. Worlds fell into nothingness, until finally, Indigo and Ozvios faced off in a final battle.
Indigo, determined to save the last of their worlds, relied on all their creations. If they joined together in unity, they could defeat Ozvios. And they did. They sang a song so harmonious Ozvios vanished. Peace came to the universe at last and Indigo faded away, no longer needed.
The gods, it seemed, were gone.
But that’s not where this story ends. No, I already called this the prologue, so keep up! This is where I beg you to posit: What if the gods, who may or may not even exist, never perished?
What if they were biding their time, waiting for the right opportunity to clash again?
And what if Ozvios chose a new path of destruction, one through colonization and manipulation?
And what if Indigo no longer wanted to save us all?
That’s where this story begins.
CHAPTER ONE
Zaira
“Every line in every love song is about her. She’s the stars in my eyes and we’ve never even met.”
—Allister Daniels, unfinished songs
Tomorrow night I will die and yet my hands remain as still as stone.
Since I was born, I’ve been told that I’ll hold the universe in my grasp and I must never shake. Even when the world around me is unsteady.
Never shake. Never falter.
Nevertheless, my insides are currently flipping and fluttering at the alarm wailing in my mind. I’ve barely lived and I’m doomed to die tomorrow. Acid rises up my throat and I stare down at my lunch sitting untouched in front of me. I should eat. I’m ravenous. And yet I can’t.
“Zaira.” My grandmother’s voice cuts through my thoughts. “Your emotions are loud.”
I chuckle mirthlessly, my bracelet thudding against the table as I pick up the fork beside my plate. “The curse of being an Andarran, I would imagine.”
Her bright gray eyes pierce mine as she smiles. Her light brown skin shimmers against the white dress—a style we both wear for her upcoming period of mourning. “Do you know, that’s my favorite part of being an Andarran?”
“Really? Not the fact that you see the future and past simultaneously?” I cock an eyebrow. “If I could see the future—”
“You would be less morose,” she says quickly, glancing at my food and then back at me. “Eat. We have plans, my darling, and they will require energy.”
“Yes, Arja.” The Mal Aresian title of grandmother leaves my lips with all the respect she deserves. As an Andarran, she’s eternal, and the only living family I have left. Though we aren’t related by blood or race, we’re related by choice. By need.
Despite the knots in the pit of my gut, I shovel the flavorless prota mash into my mouth. Unlike her, I may not know what lies ahead, but I do know I need to be strong for it.
“I must tend to the Ilori,” she admits with a grimace. “We cannot afford to alienate them yet.”
“Why? It’s not going to stop them from killing me like they killed my people.” My voice cracks, and I swallow the rising anger. The Ilori colonizers have long controlled Mal Ares, my home planet. They slowly starved its inhabitants to death, and those who didn’t die naturally met their end in ways I’d rather not think about. Ways that were unfair and unjustified. Punishable, if anyone in the universe cared.
“Behave, Zaira.” She rises from her seat, holding my gaze. “Trust me.”
I dip my head at her command and wait until her footsteps retreat down the hall before sneaking off.
Under the constant night sky and in a tattered jumpsuit that doesn’t cover my long legs, I leave the crumbling palace on the hill and head for the thicket of dead, dry trees. They’re remnants of a time long ago when Indigo made this planet to be lush and full of life. When Indigo was a god bursting with power and a desire to create beauty.
Indigo could save this world, but instead they died and were reborn into a Mal Aresian body.
Mine.
Indigo’s black constellations swirl upon my skin, so faint one might easily overlook the markings, unless they knew what they meant. That I am power enclosed in the body of a teenager, with the universe Indigo created printed upon it as a reminder of whose name I bear.
Sadly, that’s all the god gave me. I haven’t acquired Indigo’s power or memory—anything that would be helpful in saving my planet and its people. And unless I manage not to die tomorrow, I never will. But I doubt the Ilori will suddenly change their minds, finding a way for me to be useful to them after all—not when my existence poses a threat to their god, Ozvios, remaining in power.
A cool breeze nips at my cheeks and I hurry up toward the mausoleum, careful as I tread through the dirt. The Ilori always have their eyes on me wherever I go, but once I’m inside the mausoleum, I’ll be hidden
in the crushing darkness. My eyes can adjust to the lack of light here, but the Ilori can’t. They may be powerful, but their power could never touch nightweaving.
The door squeals open and I dart through, letting it whoosh shut behind me. There are so few intact structures left on this world, and this one has endured out of sheer will.
And magic.
“Zaira,” the shadows whisper my name.
“Family,” I say, bowing to the floor. “I have come to you on my last day to beg your forgiveness.” My knees sink into the cold earth and I keep my eyes cast downward. “I have failed you. I have not lived up to the god within me.”
“Shh,” one shadow cries out, and I instantly recognize the voice. A chill creeps up my spine and I gasp. Her presence circles me in an embrace. The woman who gave me life. Halsiba. Not a mother, no, a carrier. My eyes close and the world around me drifts away, replaced by the time before. When this world was vibrant and beautiful instead of dead and dusty. When it was full of people and houses and...life.
The time before the Ilori.
The vision settles into place and I let out a long exhale as the magic washes over me.
Halsiba’s frigid finger lifts my chin. “See me.” I slowly open my eyes, meeting her gaze. She smiles down at me. Dark brown skin, gold eyes, thick body, and voluminous curls tucked into a bun. I look like her daughter. Her skin glimmers in the light of the flickering nano chandeliers hovering above us. The room is all yellows, oranges, and reds of tapestries covering the walls that match the traditional garb worn by Mal Aresians. Children chase each other giggling, and my people sit in beautiful, ornate gold chairs playing games and drinking sweet drinks. Eating foods that no longer exist here. The delicious scent fills my nostrils. It smells so much better than the prota mash from my lunch.
But it’s not real for me. It’s only real for them. They are trapped in time. Trapped in the magic. Trapped on a crumbling world with a dying core.
“Come, child.” Halsiba steps back, her long ocher caftan billowing in the warm wind. I follow her through the hall and stop in a square of starlight. Back when the stars shone brightly here, when there were more stars than ever. “You are our greatest dreams come true. You are the last of the nightweavers—of our kind—gifted with the power of Indigo. Your existence could never be a failure.”
I shake my head. “The Ilori will kill me tomorrow for their god—”
“Ozvios will never be as strong as you. That is why he hides behind the Ilori, commanding them to kill all who pose a threat to his power. He is a coward. Look what they have done.” She gestures to the world that no longer exists in reality. All of these people, my people, are dead. The children running and laughing, the mothers, fathers, parents,
grandparents... Murdered by the Ilori.
The nightweavers were the magical inhabitants of Mal Ares, the first world in the universe, and favored by Indigo. And like Indigo, my people could use song to move things with a magic unlocked with desire and emotion. It was—is—beautiful.
But the Ilori called the nightweavers evil creatures. Enemies. Monsters. Witches. First, they stripped the nightweavers’ magic. Then the Ilori stood by as the world crumbled before our eyes; the rivers dried and the land decayed. Our home became the ashes of toppled buildings and piles of debris, a pit of nothingness, rotting on the cusp of space.
Colonized.
But the Ilori did not know the shadows they created. They did not know that nightweavers cannot die. Although we may shed our forms, the magic lingers. That is how I can see them now. Be with them now.
Yet, this world is falling apart. The core is dying. If it breaks apart...even the shadows will be lost.
And without the ability to unlock Indigo’s magic within me, I’m powerless to stop it.
That’s not to say I haven’t tried. I prayed to the universe, screamed into the void, and tried and tried and tried. I even let the Ilori experiment on me in the hopes they could unlock something I couldn’t. But I failed, and soon I’ll join my people in this ghost of a world. Which...wouldn’t be so bad. At least I won’t be alone when my body is gone.
There’s a tug on my side and I twist around to find a little girl holding a doll. Her face brightens. “Zaira, will you play with me?”
Halsiba tuts. “Zaira will join you soon, Sola. She is very busy now—”
I squat down to give Sola my full attention. She is so small, maybe six or seven when she died. And they called us monsters. “Can I play with you tomorrow? We will have all the time in the world then.”
“Really?” She beams up at me. “Do you mean it?”
I nod once, strangely calm despite the reality I’m facing: my death. And maybe that is for the best. This universe is cruel, unjust, and it has taken everything away from me and my people. Why should we not live in this little peace we’ve created? In this gift Indigo gave us?
Sola giggles and bolts off, her little footsteps echoing on the hard floor. When she’s out of sight, Halsiba takes my hand, giving it a squeeze.
“I...” My voice cracks. “I should’ve fixed this world. I have all of this power somewhere within me and I failed to use it. Why?” I ask her for the millionth time, my eyes downcast. “Why couldn’t I have succeeded for you?”
Halsiba sighs. “You could never fix this world, child. We are already dead, and the universe has forgotten about us. I cannot know what will happen when Mal Ares is fully destroyed. Perhaps we will be free, among the stars. We can begin again. Begin better.” She’s quiet
a few beats and I’m not sure what to make of her words. All I can think is that I can’t let this happen. I can’t lose them among the stars. My people deserve this magic. Deserve this home. Deserve to exist. But after tomorrow, I won’t be able to do anything about it.
Halsiba startles me out of my thoughts by asking, “Do you still dream of him?” I swivel to regard her and she laughs. “You did not think you could hide your thoughts from me here, did you?”
I take a few moments to push the images out of my mind. Halsiba cocks a sharp eyebrow and I sigh. “Every night.”
“I’ve seen him in your mind... The one who makes your heart sing.” She closes her eyes. “He is kind, gentle. Your match.”
“They’re only dreams. I will never know him. I’ll never get the chance.” I shift my feet and avoid her gaze so she can’t read my feelings on my face. Sometimes I try to sleep longer to be in his presence. He serenades me. His smile makes me feel warm on this cold planet.
He’s just another thing I’ll lose after tomorrow.
“Dreams for nightweavers are often realities not yet come to pass.” She squeezes my hand once more. “Your place is among the living. With him, with—” Her whole body stiffens. “Someone is coming.”
The magic pulls away too quickly and I’m left gasping in the center of the tomb, in the dark, in the dirt. My people linger in the shadows. Forgotten. Trapped in their own world.
The door swings open across the distance and I stand on high alert. When he steps inside, my shoulders sag in relief. Ciaran. A friend. His orange eyes meet mine as the violet aura of power clings to his skin. Not too bright, but then he’s not very old for an Ilori.
“Zaira.” He bows slightly and his black tunic crinkles in the orb that circles him, lighting his path. “I was looking for you.”
“You found me,” I say breathlessly. I bow deeply and he sucks in a breath.
“Don’t bow to me.” He strides closer and smiles before pulling me into a hug. “We are equals here.”
“We are not equals anywhere, Ciaran.” He doesn’t let me go, instead embracing me tighter. I let out a laugh. “You’re going to crush me.”
He sniffs. “It’s better than losing you.”
“It’s another way of losing me,” I whisper, leaning into his embrace. The warmth is nice, and he has always been ready for a hug when I need one. If ever there was a time to need one, this would be it.
“We can’t let them sacrifice you.” His breath tickles my earlobe. His voice is filled with sorrow. “We can—”
“You make it sound so easy, as if I have a choice in the matter. You’re an Ilori, you know this.” I pull away from him, meeting his gaze. There’s a sadness deep in his eyes that I wish I could erase. “They never stop until they get what they want.”
“Then give them what they want.” His words turn angry, wholly unlike the Ciaran
I know. He is usually mild-mannered, always calm and polished. His light blond hair sits perfectly on his head, not a strand out of place. His body is toned but slim. He’s a true Ilori. They aren’t meant to feel, but he does. All the time. And he feels a great deal for me. Maybe too much. But...he’s not the one I dream about. “Prove to them that you are more than a nightweaver on a dying world. Prove you can be loyal to the Emperor. He will spare your planet, leave the ghosts in peace.”
“I could never be loyal to an emperor who killed my people.” I take another step away from him. “Besides, if I could unlock Indigo, you would be the first to know.”
Ciaran’s great uncle is Emperor 1lv, the ruler of the Ilori. Ciaran came here as a child to watch me grow up once the Ilori had seen the constellations on my skin and learned the truth about me. He was my age so we played together—I shared details about my people with him, although we both knew he was there to keep an eye on me.
Despite this, we became close—as close as we could grow with the knowledge that his people killed mine and destroyed my world. I know that he is not personally responsible, but a bigger part of me can’t forgive him for it either. And never will. No matter how hard he tries. No matter how hard he wishes for more time, more of me. I can only be a friend.
“There must be another way. There must be—”
“There isn’t.” He wraps his arms around himself as if it were my chilly tone that made the temperature drop, not the fact that the core of Mal Ares no longer warms this world. “Tomorrow I will die and you will go back to your home. The universe will never know or care.” My eyes get misty suddenly, and I blink away the tears before they can fall. “If there is one thing I must beg you, it’s this: don’t let him destroy this world. Let it crumble away naturally. Give my people time to move on.”
“I will try. For you.” He rushes toward me and takes my head in his hands, his fingers caressing my cheeks. The violet aura around his body pulses and pings against my skin. “I love you, Zaira. I cannot imagine my life without you in it.”
And I know I’m supposed to reciprocate. I know I’m somehow supposed to make him feel that I am worthy of his love by saying I won’t give in... I can’t. He’s not my match. He may not have killed my people like his emperor ordered, but he’s complicit. He lives a life of privilege because of his proximity to colonization and death.
Still he stares down at me, waiting, hoping. I choose my next words carefully.
“I...care about you too.” I lean into his touch. I hear him release a breath when he realizes I have nothing more to say.
He holds me anyway, and for a moment, I let myself be held by someone who cares about me. I let myself feel love for Mal Ares, for my people, for my grandmother. I let myself feel anger at how unfair it all is that we are dead and doomed while the rest of the universe carries on without a care.
They forgot about us. They abandoned us.
Perhaps it is good
then, that I depart this world of the living. For if I stayed, all the songs of power I have churning within me, demanding to be sung...I’d use them to get revenge.
I’d destroy the Ilori. And I’d let the universe be destroyed too. I would not be Indigo, an altruistic creator, or Ozvios, a calculated destructor.
I would be the last nightweaver, unleashed from her prison.
I would be vengeance and wrath, the end of all things.
CHAPTER TWO
Wesley
“Fists clenched tight, he writhed and screamed with all his little might,
and I knew, right then, that I was fated for something better,
A new life I’d get to share, but he would never know how much I care.”
—The Starry Eyed demos, “Fated Family”
There’s a foul stench wafting through the cabin’s vents, and I’m pretty sure it means my cargo died. Or more accurately, I killed it.
I slump in the pilot seat, trying to will the smell from my nostrils as the radio blares on.
“Now that Andarra has declared war, major planets are considering if they too should pick a side in the growing conflict,” the newscaster says.
“To not choose a side would present another conflict. During times like these, we must look to the stars, look to the history of Indigo’s great battle and defeat of Ozvios, ...
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