Chapter 24
Ezra
The planetarium parking lot is surprisingly full when we arrive. There are loads of families walking toward the doors, parents bringing their children to marvel at the stars.
Grayson looks just as excited as the kids, although he’s hiding it well behind a mask of calm. The truth is in his eyes. They glimmer as he looks over at me, the freckles along the bridge of his nose a constellation all his own.
He tries to sound shocked but fails miserably. “Why, a planetarium, Ez? I never would’ve guessed.”
I snort. “You know, for being an actor, you’re terrible at lying. Shall we?”
He finally cracks a smile. “Let’s do it.”
Ballcaps in place, we approach the front door. There’s a banner just inside with this month’s theme.
Grayson raises an eyebrow. “Mythology of the constellations?”
“Guess so. Do you know this stuff? ”
He shrugs, the two of us heading toward the line leading into the large theatre. “Maybe a bit? Not sure how much I remember, though. I learned it in high school, which was, what, thirty years ago?”
I gasp. “Keep your voice down, sir. No one needs to know our age.”
The woman in front of us looks back, chuckling to herself. She does a double take when she sees my face, so I give her a wink.
“Jig’s up,” I whisper to Grayson, the two of us nearly to the theatre entrance now. “We’ve been spotted.”
“You know, for being an actor, you’re absolute shit at remaining inconspicuous.”
“I can’t help it if my charisma betrays me,” I say, mock-affronted. “Would you have me tone myself down?”
Despite my clear teasing, Grayson’s expression softens. “No. Never that.”
Well, shit.
I wipe a fake tear from below my eye, and Grayson rolls his.
After showing our tickets on my phone, Grayson and I are let into the theatre. I nearly stumble. The entire room is circular, the ceiling domed and displaying a dazzling, lit night sky. The stars twinkle overhead as we search for our seats, the rows of chairs leading steadily downward.
There were pictures online, but seeing it in person is entirely different.
“This is gorgeous,” I whisper.
Grayson doesn’t answer me with words, but he nods his agreement, his gaze on the stars above. Conversation buzzes steadily around us as Grayson and I settle into our seats. I imagine they’ll turn the lights even dimmer once they start the show .
“Do you recognize anything?” I ask, trying to pick out constellations. The projection of the sky on the ceiling is breathtaking, and I wonder if it’s real imagery or digitally rendered.
Grayson points. “Orion’s Belt.”
“The hunter.”
He nods, hand moving over slightly. “The Big Dipper.”
“Naturally bigger than the Little Dipper.”
“Naturally,” Grayson agrees, a hint of a smile on his face. He points in another direction. “Cassiopeia.”
“Wait, which one is that?”
Grayson takes my hand, leaning against my shoulder as he draws my finger through the air in front of us. “Right there. Looks a bit like a skewed W?”
“Ah. I see it. And…the sword.”
Grayson pauses before moving my hand over. He draws the shape of the sword, up the blade, over the hilt, and then down again. “The sword in the sky.”
I’m about to ask if he likes that one best considering the fondness in his voice, but the lights in the room flicker.
Grayson lets my hand go, and the theatre falls silent.
A soft spotlight comes on as the ambient light dims, leaving only the stars above and the small platform at the center of the room.
The woman there turns on her mic, a smile on her face I can barely make out from where we are.
“Welcome, everyone,” she says, her voice gentle and almost hushed, as if in deference to the stars themselves.
“Thank you for coming tonight. We have a wonderful presentation lined up for you that focuses on the mythology behind the constellations most known to us. Now, you’ll see at the top of the seat in front of you is a small panel.
This will provide a speech-to-text translation of tonight’s show.
It’s also where you’ll vote on our featured constellation.
So if you would, please take a moment to silence your cell phones and decide which constellation you’d like to examine most in depth. The choice, ultimately, is yours.”
Grayson and I remove our ballcaps as the presenter gives a brief overview of the planetarium, turning in place as she talks so that no one is looking at her back for long. I eye Grayson’s panel, curious about which constellation he’ll choose. Seeing him pick the sword, I quickly do the same.
He shakes his head, but there’s a smile curving his lips.
“All right, final votes please. We’re closing the poll in three, two, one. Ah. You’ve picked the Sword of Leandros. My personal favorite.”
The dome overhead shifts, the sky rearranging and the constellation of the sword coming into sharper focus.
It feels as if we’re traveling toward it at an alarming speed, the sword getting bigger and bigger until it’s filling the entire ceiling, each of its stars brightly lit and connected by lines drawn to enhance its shape.
“As you can see,” the woman says, “the Sword of Leandros is made up of twelve stars, forming a near-symmetrical visual representation of a sword. It sits in the northern sky and can be seen year-round where we live. One of the most easily recognizable constellations, you likely spot it often, but you might not know the tale behind how the sword came to be in the sky.”
The projection shifts again, a warrior outlined by stars, the sword in his hand. My skin prickles, goose bumps spreading over my arms.
“The myth of Leandros originates in Greek storytelling, but it’s been found in similar variations throughout the world.
The tale tells of a warrior, Leandros, known to be the fiercest swordsman of his time.
He was rumored to be unbeatable. And because of this, he was a prized part of the king’s army. ”
The image reforms, the warrior now standing in front of a battalion, his sword raised high, a helmet on his head. The stars making up the picture seem to glimmer, as if dancing.
“Leandros’s age isn’t precisely known, but best estimates put him to be in his late thirties at the time he fell.
Because yes, like many myths and legends, this one does not have a pretty end.
What we do know from his documented tales is that Leandros survived many battles, both large and small, against beasts and man. ”
The projection shows a charging boar, the animal bursting into tiny stars as it meets Leandros’s blade. The entire image changes then, the rest of the warriors disappearing, the multitude of stars coalescing into the shape of a woman.
“One seemingly uneventful day, Leandros returned to his private home outside the king’s walls to find a woman waiting for him in robes of white.
A goddess, worshiped and feared in equal measure for the blessings—or curses—she would lay upon the town.
Her beauty was unmatched, and she demanded Leandros come with her.
For he was the best warrior, and she wanted him for her own. ”
The woman above holds out her hand, beckoning Leandros closer. He turns away.
“Leandros denied her. For days and weeks on end, she returned only to be turned away. When she sent a rampaging bull with shoulders taller than a horse’s head, Leandros struck it down.”
The image shifts, showing the scene, Leandros’s sword once again felling the creature with ease .
“When snakes appeared suddenly within the town’s walls, Leandros, with the help of the royal army, eradicated every single one.”
This, too, is shown above, countless snakes bursting into tiny stars that reform as the tale goes on.
“He was not to be deterred by the goddess’s wrath. Nor her beauty, which she offered him freely. Her gifts of gold and the finest weapons were also denied, left outside his doorstep. There was not a single thing she could do to sway Leandros away.”
The stars disappear then, all of them. For a moment, there’s endless black. Until Leandros reappears, a man beside him.
“The reason why is quite simple.” The two men reach for one another across an expanse of deep blue space. “Leandros was in love.”
I pull in a breath as their hands touch, tiny stars, like sparks, lighting between their fingertips.
“We don’t know the name of Leandros’s lover. None of the stories give him one, which suggests he wasn’t notable himself. A merchant, perhaps. Or a peasant. But it didn’t take the goddess long to learn of his existence.”
My stomach sinks as the image of the men morphs, becoming more indistinct. The goddess walks into view, and I want nothing more than to strike her down before she can reach the pair. The feeling is so strong, so visceral, my hands shake with it.
“She found them one day,” the presenter says, her voice quiet. “In the wheat fields behind Leandros’s house. She was enraged, a fury like no other, for no one denied her as Leandros had.”
The image shows the goddess becoming larger, the stars making up her outline turning to red .
“Seeing the sword lying on the ground, she picked it up and spoke a curse against its blade. Leandros tried to stop her. Of course he did. But even he was no match for a furious goddess. She drove the sword through his lover’s heart, the cursed blade promising repeated death as punishment for Leandros’s refusal. ”
The projection shows the goddess piercing the starlit man through his heart, brilliant white stars falling like pigmentless blood around his body. My inhale is sharp, my own chest feeling so tight it’s as if I’m being pierced, too.
“That, perhaps, should have been the end of this tragedy. Without his lover, the goddess would be free to take Leandros for herself, his grief too strong for him to fight.”
I swallow heavily as the Leandros above cradles his dead lover in his arms.
“But what the goddess didn’t consider…” our presenter says, pausing only briefly. “Was love.”