Chapter 17 #6
Her eyes moved behind her lids. Her fingers twitched on the sheet. Then, with a sharp gasp, she shot upright in the bed, looking wildly around her.
Atlas stayed rooted to the spot, waiting for her.
Vesperin clawed at her throat, then her fingers tangled in her hair. A thin trail of blood slipped from her left nostril.
He knew what the first word would be out of her mouth, even before she opened her lips and uttered brokenly, "Atlas."
As if drawn by a string of fate, her eyes found his.
Her hands dropped to her lap. She surged forward, crawling across the small bed, her feet tangling in the sheets before she kicked them away.
A cuff was strapped around her arm; she looked down at it and tugged it off. A soft beeping sound filled the room.
Atlas lifted a hand. The sound died instantly.
She drew up onto her knees and all but fell into his chest, where he stood at the side of the bed.
The past and the present currently warred within her.
To Vesperin, she very well could have been eons ago, standing beneath a willow tree. That was where she was in her mind, yet Atlas felt her body beneath his hands—so real. She was so cold. He was unable to stay the faint tremors as he touched her hesitantly, reverently.
If he did not have to be so strong for her, surely he would break, fall to his knees, and hold her.
This was the only moment of weakness the Celestial allowed himself before he pulled away, and she almost tumbled off the edge of the bed.
"Atlas, Atlas," she chanted. "You are here. I knew it, my fallen Star." He heard echoes of the past in her voice, a soft lilting tone that made her words rise on the end—like the cadence of Luxuria, her very first life.
Atlas was no man, but at this moment, he felt as weak as one as he yearned to go to her.
From this point on, it would be…
Quick.
He steeled himself. The ends of his black coat fluttered as he stepped forward and held out a hand. A dark shadow was cast on the white sheets, stretching out toward her.
She looked down at it, whispering, "My shadow. It is you."
He was still, silent, waiting for her—he would wait until the Stars burned out.
She took his hand, and as his fingers wrapped around hers, he pulled her with him.
Together, they fell through the darkness of the shadows to Earth. It was but a second, and when that second was over, his feet touched solid ground. Though it would not be solid for long. The Earth would soon quake and tremble.
Vesperin fell, and he caught her—always. Her human body could not stand the combined weight of her unlocked memories and traveling through the shadows as Atlas did.
They stood in the front yard. The swingset was rusted, swinging faintly in the too-hot, dry air.
Even five years after Vesperin’s neighborhood had been cordoned off, the area was unrecognizable.
After the false Nova exploded and the Rogues attacked, the area had not been cleaned up.
It had been boarded up, dubbed Nova Zone 173.
Vines twined up half-bent streetlights. Dirt beds, which once housed gardens, lay empty, some full of bone.
The front door to Vesperin’s home was gone.
Time was meaningless to Atlas. It felt like yesterday—and perhaps tomorrow, all at once—that he had come for her, running through the blasted-open door in his haste to finally find her in this life.
Atlas lifted Vesperin. She was unconscious.
Distantly, a Rogue roared. They would not come for them. Not with Atlas’s presence here, with his true Nova. The Rogues were entranced by the Celestial Nova, yet knew not to come too close.
In an echo of the time before, he walked up the sidewalk to her front door, this time with her in his arms. Inside, dust caught in the dull light that filtered in through the shattered windows.
Here, it was like time had never passed. It stood still, waiting for both Atlas and Vesperin to return.
In her bedroom, the paint was faded. The carpet was stained a faded brown from her blood.
The Celestial placed Vesperin down gently on her bed. Her head lolled to the side, white hair fanning out on her dust-tipped pillow.
He stroked the back of his hand over the side of her cheek. "It is almost over, Vesperin."
Kit slammed his hands against the glass. "Let." Slam. "Me." Slam. "Out." Slam.
He would not stop.
They had taken her from him again. After he had—
Taken from her.
Every time he recalled how she felt under him, trembling, his half-metal, frozen heart cracked.
The fog had made them sleep.
Kit had fought harder than her. She passed out first. Even the Phoenix was not invincible. He had fallen unconscious, only to wake up alone.
Vesperin—his fingers twitched as he slammed his fists against the mirror—had been taken from him. Again.
"Why?" Kit roared. "She is mine! You can’t have her!"
Shadows surged up suddenly. He barely paid them mind. The mirror wavered, then cracked beneath his palms. Kit seethed, slamming his fists against it with everything inside him. He would not stop.
With a guttural roar, the glass mirror shattered—revealing the startled face of a female doctor. She fumbled for the desk before her, pressing a red button. A siren blared, a flashing red light filling the room. She stood slowly, backing up against another door. Her eyes never left Kit’s.
He had not dressed fully. He wore only his pants.
The broken glass cut his feet and his left hand as he swiped it away and hopped over the ledge with ease.
He left bloodied footprints on the spotless white floor as he surged toward her, taking her neck in his right hand.
He lifted her, slamming her against the door.
Her feet left the ground as she struggled.
"Where is she?" Kit demanded.
The scientist shook her head, unable to speak.
Kit released his hold, just a bit.
"They took the subject for observation after you engaged with her," she croaked.
Kit lowered his face to hers, seeing his dark eyes reflected in her wide, frightened stare. "Engaged? You mean raped?"
She shook her head. "It is science." Her hands scrambled for purchase on Kit’s wrist. "There is always sacrifice."
Kit snapped her neck. The body dropped to the ground. He stepped over it and broke the door handle, pushing it open to reveal a long white hall, lit neon from the warning lights.
They never learned. The Phoenix could not be contained.
If they were scared of him, they should be scared of themselves, because he was what they made him to be.
His shadow stretched before him. And behind him, in his wake, were only red footprints.
He followed his shadow, and it led him down silent corridors.
He found himself before a large window. Beyond, he saw Earth, alone in the darkness of space.
He placed his hands on the window, staring out.
For one moment, Kit felt peace. It shattered with the approaching sound of footsteps, thundering a deadly march.
He was in the hangar bay.
Something distant and fleeting sparked, breaking through his conditioning. He stared at the space suit on the wall.
He found himself kicking off his pants, then pulling the suit on with ease.
Each movement was familiar to him as he zipped up the side and tugged the tight material over his body—too snug, not fit for his bulk.
The footsteps grew louder. He tugged the sleek, dark helmet over his head, staring through the tinted visor.
He turned to the panel on the wall. A small pod hissed open at his request. It was barely big enough for him. He sat quickly, pressing a small button as the hatch slid shut. The wailing alarms grew muffled. He was trapped with himself, suffocated.
The pod came to life around him.
"Navigation online," came a robotic, feminine voice. "Destination?"
With shaking hands, Kit dragged the restraints across his chest. "Earth," he said. "Solar City."
"Coordinates?" the ship prodded.
He did not know any coordinates.
His fingers twitched against his thigh. He did know something. He had a sudden memory of writing a birthday card to Vesperin, penning out the address and adding a crooked heart sticker in the corner of the envelope.
Kit recited the address to her childhood home.
"Address located. Converting to ground coordinates." There was a soft chime. "Trajectory located. Estimated time to surface impact: twenty-five minutes, seven seconds."
The pod lurched, and the force slammed Kit back into the seat as the launch system engaged. The pod was dropped into the chute, and metal groaned around him, before it was ejected into space.
He lifted slightly against the restraints, suspended. Until the internal gravity engaged and the thrusters ignited. He slammed down into the seat as the pod reoriented, angling toward Earth.
His breathing slowed as the Stars swept past him. Darkness flashed by as he soared through space, and peace threatened to break his carefully slow, automatic pattern of breathing.
"Descent vector stable. Atmospheric entry in ten… nine…"
Kit closed his eyes.
"Two… one."
The pod began to shake.
"Outer hull temperature exceeding optimal thresholds."
The edges of the viewport burned red and white. His fingers tightened over the restraints, but his expression did not change. If it was built by his makers, it would hold.
Heat licked at him, even through the temperature-regulated suit.
It did not matter. Nothing did. If he burned, he would burn for her.
The pod screamed as it tore through the sky, then Earth came fully into view.
Clouds replaced the streaks of fire through the viewport. Vast cities and bodies of water stretched beneath him.
The fire returned. Not from the pod, but from Earth itself, below him. It was burning.
Smoke rose, darkening the sky. Districts glowed, veins of destruction cutting through arching spires of buildings.
Fire devoured Earth.