Chapter 23
ELLA
Icradle him in the sling, walking through the Underground Concourse like a ghost with a secret.
Neon signs flick overhead. Hovertrains hum a distant lullaby.
The scent of ion-smoke, fried street-foods, and synthetic perfume clings to the damp air.
Vex’s breath is warm against my chest, steady and quiet.
He babbles something, a low, raspy coo. I turn my head, squint toward a cluster of commuters, when motion at the edge of my vision snags me.
Seven feet of shadow, sharp angles of muscle.
My heart freezes.
I press my free hand to the rail for balance. Vex squirms. I shove fingers into his fleece. His lips widen in a half-smile, or maybe it’s a flinch.
“Mommy?” he says, voice small in the cavernous terminal.
I swallow hard. “Yes, little spark?”
He babbles again, excited. I stay still. The figure moves — just a few steps — through a space between a hovercab dock and a holo-ad. I try to catch the face: strong jaw, broad shoulders, the scent of scale and metal, memory stirring. But when I blink… nothing.
I lurch forward.
My heel scrapes the metal walkway. I jab forward, trying to cut off his path. But the crowd swallows him up, folds him into motion.
“No!” I gasp.
Vex squeaks, frightened, and pressing closer. I spin, trying to track the blur. But it’s gone.
I stand, breath stuttering, head swimming. People glance. Some stare. A kid tugs his mother’s sleeve. “What’s wrong?” she whispers.
I whisper back, “He was here.”
We stumble home. My hands shake. The city hums outside the window — hovercars swooshing, distant alarms, the salt tang of night air. Vex falls asleep before we reach his bedroom. He doesn’t cry. Never does.
I tuck him in, pressing a kiss to his hair.
Then I pace.
I go to the window and stare. My eyes burn red. I whisper what I saw into the night. “You’re alive. He’s alive.”
I hear Dad’s door creak, footsteps. He enters quietly.
“You okay?” he says, and it’s gentle, cautious.
“I saw him,” I hiss.
“You saw who?”
“Takhiss.”
Dad’s face tightens. He crosses the room. He peeks at Vex. Nods.
“He was there?” he asks.
“I don’t know. One second he’s there. The next, gone.”
Dad shakes his head. “You shut yourself in that sky every night. Doesn’t mean he’s walking through it.”
I stare at him, chest hollow. “You don’t know him.”
He nods again. “I don’t. But I know you. And I’ll help.”
He reaches for my hand. I flinch.
“No,” I whisper. “I have to do this alone.”
That night, I dream.
He is walking toward me through corridors of ruins. Sparks rain. The smell of ozone, burning wiring. I reach. He stops. Lips parted. Eyes full of longing and guilt. He utters my name, Ella, soft, like it costs him.
I try to stop him from disappearing. My hands catch nothing. I fall.
I wake in a sweat, the room thick, the silence loud. Vex’s cradle hums.
I slip out of bed and go to his door.
When I enter, he’s awake, staring at me. His small face glows in the red night-light.
“Mommy?” he whispers.
I drop to my knees and take him in my arms.
I whisper over and over, “I’ll find him. I promise you, I will.”
He presses his cheek into mine. Breathing soft.
I stay there until dawn, in the hush, holding what remains of my heart in one hand and my son in the other.