Destiny's Blood by Marie Bilodeau (superbooks4u txt) 📕

The warmth of his hand vanished into the door, replaced by a soothing coldness. He wished it would spread to the rest of his body, dull his mind and slow the pain in his heart.

Sixty-eight dead now, and the main engineer among them, his body lost in space. Twenty years of unfailing loyalty and friendship. He, like Cailan, had devoted himself to serving a cause he thought no longer existed.

It had been years since he scanned that region of space. It was something he had done religiously, once a day. When such things still mattered.

And now, Gobran Kipso had turned his world upside down.

Two daughters, and only one can live. That would save Mirial, he had said.

Then why do I feel like I murdered a child I was meant to protect?

With the rising of Mirial’s fleet and its shields — the great purple monster that lingered where once the first star had shone — it seemed that they would once more try to regain their homeworld.

He could no longer feel his hand, but instead of removing it, he placed his other one near it, as though attempting to open a door he knew led only to empty, dead space.

Rejoin a fleet, rejoin Mirial...and bring the Malavant children into a life of military, loyalties and promises, betrayals and disappointments. Not what their father would want, not now, not after everything that had happened. He pressed his hands to the door, forcing his warmth to be replaced by fiery cold.

They would be made to pay for their father’s mistake. Such was law on Mirial.

I never imagined I would hope Mirial was actually dead.

Travan would have been able to lift this mood; Travan always could, with just a simple look. But Travan hadn’t lived to see these times.

“Maybe it’s better that way,” he whispered. He removed his numb fingers from the door and gazed as the moisture slowly froze in the shape of his palms, formed small crystals that soon vanished into the unforgiving cold of space.

“Rest in peace, old friend. Rest in peace.”

He turned and walked away, to meet his duty once again.

i

The knock on her door came softly at first, then increased in tempo and strength. It was accompanied by the soft whispering of her name. Layela wanted to fling the door open, but also to ignore it completely. She chose a less dramatic approach and simply spoke.

“I’m fine, Ardin.” She was surprised by the calmness of her own voice, surprised that it did not quiver or shake.

She heard him sigh in frustration and imagined him running his hand through his hair.

“Layela, I’m coming in.” She remained seated as the door opened and light poured into her room. She looked up and saw only his outline, leaned against the doorframe.

“Are you sure this is what you want to do,” he said after a moment.

She nodded. She wished he would come to her and hold her, so that she could lose herself in him and forget the grief she couldn’t feel. But he did not come to her, and she did not go to him.

“Captain Kipso insists on having you on his ship, but Destiny will follow.” He paused. “I could go with you aboard the Victory, if you’d like.”

She looked up at him. Her eyes, adjusting to the light, were able to make out the concern etching his features. “You’re needed here, Ardin. The Destiny can’t spare you.”

He hesitated a moment. “Will you at least take Josmere with you?”

Layela felt the mists tugging at her vision, just as when Gobran had spoken of the end of the Berganda. She could hear laughter, feel warm sap flow onto her, and knew that it was Josmere’s death she recalled in her vision. She could sense it, feel it, raw like a fresh wound. She could taste her grief and knew she was meant to witness it.

“No. Josmere will stay here.” Away from me. Safer.

“Either she goes with you, or I go. You can’t go with them alone.”

“Ardin,” she protested. He crossed the floor and crouched in front of her, looking deep into her eyes. He brushed a strand of hair from her face.

“Why, Layela? Why do you insist?”

She shrugged, trying to find an explanation, but no lie jumped to mind. She wasn’t interested in the lies anymore. There had already been too many.

“I have visions,” she whispered, keeping her eyes locked on his. He didn’t react, keeping his features smooth. “I, I don’t usually remember them, because I only have them in dreams. My sister remembers,” she caught herself and swallowed hard, “could remember them, since she had them when she was awake. But, there are certain visions I received, once.” She didn’t want to give him those details, the violation of her mind still too fresh. “Visions of death. I saw those guards’ death outside Sunrise Flowers, and Yoma’s, and now I see Josmere’s. Not clearly, but an impression of it. I’m going to be with her when she dies, Ardin. If I don’t get away from her, then...”

She trailed off, having said much more than she intended. Ardin’s eyes remained locked on hers for a second longer before he spoke.

“Then it’s settled. I’m going with you.” He stood up and was gone, plunging Layela into darkness once again. Spots of light danced before her eyes and a protest hovered unspoken on her lips.

She allowed herself a slight smile and remained seated, counting her breaths and waiting.

The darkness had always frightened Layela — it was in darkness that her mind was captured by visions, in dreams she could not recall on her own.

But now, she found some solace as she sat in the darkness in her cramped, windowless room, with only the sound of her breath for company. She sat in the middle of her quarters, her legs crossed and aching from touching the cold floor, her hands numb where they had rested too long on her thighs, her open eyes straining for light and seeing nothing but imagined ghosts and shadows.

Yoma had loved the darkness. The safest