Chapter 1
One
Zellie
Three curt knocks at the door left ignored.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
I sigh, my head dangling over the edge of the sofa, taking in the sights of the sprawling city of Astralis outside my window. This apartment, while my escape, is also a prison of sorts. It’s hard to be free when you’re bombarded by the onslaught of emotions of others.
Veneration. Fear. Envy. Concern.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
One more knock and I’ll knock whoever’s teeth it is out. “Go away!” A fireball ignites in my open palms. “Shit!” I jump up off the couch, shaking my hands and clenching my fists, willing the flames away.
“Zellie? You alright in there? Let me in.”
Orion. The flames burn brighter, hotter. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” I sprint to the sink in the kitchen, extinguishing my hands and the lingering irritation until it’s contained to a simmering rage. To my luck, as soon as I’ve contained the issue at hand, the smoke alarm is triggered.
Orion shoulders the door once, twice, three times until the lock is disengaged, and he bursts through the frame.
He frantically takes in the scene, his eyes frantically scanning until landing on me.
I hide my hands behind my back, but not fast enough—the admission of my guilt is evident.
He gives me a knowing look before snatching the dish towel off the island and fanning the smoke alarm.
Once the blaring comes to a close, the silence between us is palpable; the island a living barrier between our souls.
“That’s the fourth time I’ve had to shut off the alarm.” He runs a hand through his golden hair, his tan skin gleaming under the faint orb lights. Stars, he is gorgeous.
“Is it?” I could have sworn it was only the third time.
“In a week,” he throws the towel back onto the counter before grabbing the marble with both hands, as if he is physically holding himself back from me.
I examine the ends of my hair, the once silver locks now iridescent white that reflects a multitude of colors. “Perhaps it’s faulty.”
“Perhaps it is time you allowed someone to train you.”
“I do not require training, Orion.” I’ve had enough of that to last a lifetime. How long is my lifetime now, anyway?
“You are inexperienced with magic and have obtained not one, but four, elements. That requires teaching.”
“I’m fine,” I hiss, narrowing my eyes.
Orion’s voice drips with exasperation he cannot mask. “It has been three weeks. You’re clearly,” he waves his hands wildly towards the smoke alarm and around the apartment, “not fine. You have holed yourself up in here and are going to hurt somebody, if not yourself, with this ignorance.”
An angry wave crests within my chest. Stars above, not now. “And whose fault is that, Orion?”
“You can blame the Children of the Constellation or me all you want. Assigning blame does not negate this precariousness! I don’t care anymore.
You have the remainder of the day to wallow in your self-pity.
” I don’t need a mirror to know my eyes glow from the flame within.
The disappointment in his gaze stings more than I am willing to admit.
With a shake of his head, he turns to the door, adjusting the wood on the hinge.
“You’re better than this, Zi.” The nickname reaches something deep within me, softening a hardened piece of my heart.
He disappears as the darkness settles in.
The spiraling, haunting thoughts no longer concern me; I’m well acquainted with the monster I’ve become.
After the Order covered up his ploy—well, his and the Children of the Constellation’s, apparently—life carried on almost exactly as it was, except for the Games being over.
Turns out Orion was as good at keeping secrets as I was, and had been covertly meeting with Brinn and the rebellion to plot their move against the Order.
Their move being, of course, me. In a demented turn of events, the Order used my transformation as a plot twist in their story.
The human hero is awarded levels of power unheard of within the galaxies; bestowed with magic beyond what the Kosmos themselves possess.
“A Champion for the Ages”, they are calling me.
Orion has yet to be reprimanded, and I fear what they’re likely plotting for him.
For now, the Kosmos are biding their time and, thankfully, leaving me be.
Out of fear or for reasons far more sinister, but that remains to be seen.
The competitors remained after the “ceremony”, but being around them no longer feels easy.
The stakes have changed—I have changed. Instead, unrest and uncertainty plague the City of Wonder, trailing behind me like a dirty stain.
Nothing feels the same. Not with my friends, not in this city, and not within me.
While the magic whirls within me, one thing remains the same, stoking the rage that burns through my veins as surely as my heart beats:
I hate Leo.
I hate Pluto.
I hate the Kosmos.
But most of all, I hate myself.