Chapter Twenty-Nine
Roar wasn’t sure what he expected, but he never imagined this.
Leda was a star, burning bright and strong and true. Thousands of tiny glowing creatures swam around Leda, lighting up the darkness of space. Big ones, like whales in the ocean. Small ones, the size of pelicans and robins. And some were so tiny he could see the glow but not their shape. They all had wispy tentacles drifting underneath them, like the arms dangling from a jellyfish. Leda reached out as one drifted by her right hand and it slid over her luminous palm. The light, it came from her.
And like rays of sunshine, where the light touched him, its energy pierced his body, his mind, his essence.
She’s okay?
Hope blossomed deep in his chest.
A funny smile pulled her mouth to one side as she played with the creatures. She saw them? He hadn’t imagined them? Roar blinked, just to be sure. The creatures were still there, surrounding Leda. One tickled her nose and she laughed.
As if she felt him watching, she met his stare, and her lips parted in a million-watt grin. Then the creatures of light buoyed them both across the blackness of space and back to the ship.
Once the airlock was secure and the room pressurized, he took off his helmet and held her close.
“I told you I’d be all right,” she said, laughing. “And Roar, I figured it out.”
“Oh?” He pressed his head into her shoulder. He couldn’t get enough of her.
“Pay attention.”
Reluctantly, he lifted his head from her shoulder. Something in her eyes made him uneasy.
“We’re the same,” she said. “Aurelites, Woede. We’re the same.”
“The same? What do you mean?”
But he already knew—the song whispered through time and space, an answer to a question he never thought to ask.
Here beneath the setting sun, the day complete and night begun; in the æther, both together, hold my hand dear, can you feel it? You and me, we’re both the same, we live as one and die as one; we need each other, friends or lovers, one won’t survive without the other.
“Live as one and die as one,” he murmured, staring at the Woede ships.
“One won’t survive without the other,” Leda finished.
Roar snapped his attention back to her. “How did you…?”
“I can hear the song. I don’t know how.” Her gaze traveled around the vessels locked in battle, unaware of how close everyone came to extinction. “I have an idea. Have you ever played poker?”
A knot formed between his eyebrows. “The Earth card game? No, I haven’t. Why?”
“Because you and I are going to pull the biggest bluff the universe has ever seen.”
Despite every protest he made, Roar piloted a shuttle containing Leda and Arne to the coordinates she’d given him. Battle-ready warrior drones hovered around a menacing black ship with enough artillery of its own. Toorn’s ship.
In a last attempt to sway her, Roar brushed a kiss on Leda’s cheek. “You don’t have to do this.”
“I know.” She adjusted the legs on her suit and stood up straight, one hand closed around her locket. “I want to do this.”
“But what if—”
She touched a finger to his lips, silencing him. “It’ll work.”
Grabbing her hand and placing it flat on his chest, above his stampeding heart, was his opening plea. He followed with: “How can you be sure?”
“Because I sent him a warning.”
“What do you mean?” Then he realized. “The light from you. The weapon.”
“Exactly. You felt it, and so did he. And he knows what it means. Now he knows what I can do. What I will do. I can’t wait to see the look on his—”
“I hope you’re ready, Leda.” Arne motioned to the screen. “We’re being hailed.”
Warning seared a path down his spine as Roar looked to Leda for any hesitation. Her shoulders were relaxed, her eyes focused. Up for whatever the universe threw her way next. She was brave and strong and beautiful.
Rather than feed any fear she might feel, Roar squeezed her hand and whispered, “I believe in you.”
She flashed a brief smile. “Thank you.” Without a second thought, she hit the button to accept the incoming hail.
Onscreen, the image faded from ships in space to a dark figure perched on a black throne-like seat. He knew in an instant, this was Toorn. Even though his cloak obscured any view of his face, Roar could sense the Woede was smiling.
“What a lovely surprise,” Toorn said, although his tone betrayed his rage at seeing her alive. “You brought me some toys.”
Anger flashed bright through her whole body, but Leda held firm. She raised her chin, drew in a breath, and pressed a panel that broadcast to every ship gathered. Then, she began to sing.
“Here beneath the setting sun, the day complete and night begun; in the æther, both together, hold my hand dear, can you feel it? You and me, we’re both the same, we live as one and die as one; we need each other, friends or lovers, one won’t survive without the other.”
As she sang, Toorn rose from his chair. The black cloak trembled and thinned with every step he took closer to the screen, until Roar could see the skeletal form beneath the Woede’s threadbare facade.
“We’re the same. That’s what you kept trying to tell me earlier.” Her words were clear, her attention fully engaged with the specter on the shuttle’s display. “If I destroy the Woede, I’ll also destroy the Aurelites, because we’re the same.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Toorn said. “I will destroy you.”
“But you won’t. Because if you even think about it, I’ll end this war, no matter the cost.”
Toorn narrowed his eyes. “You wouldn’t.”
“I would. My life has been one choice after the next taken from me. Not this. If it’s the only meaningful thing I do, I will end this war whatever way I must.”
Toorn hesitated a second. “You’re bluffing.”
Sunbeams blinked to life in Leda’s hands. “Are you willing to test that theory?”
The most feared man in several galaxies appeared frail and defeated. “Name your terms.”
“The Woede will leave Aurelis, and never use violence against another living soul, or I swear I’ll find you and destroy you.”
Deafening silence hung over the strange congregation as her words permeated every last conscious being. Live in peace, or die now—that was the choice. And Roar felt the weight of her promise, so he knew the others would, too. He tried not to think about what would happen if Toorn didn’t back down. All along, he’d feared the end; the end of his people, the end of his time with Leda, the end of everything.
The Woede commander spoke once more. “How do I know you won’t hunt us down anyway?”
Ice melted from her eyes, replaced by softness as she aimed her gaze at Roar, then Arne. “I have reasons to live. The only way I’ll consider sacrificing myself and using the weapon is if I see no other solution.” Now she turned back to the screen. “Do we have another solution, Toorn?”
Toorn growled. “You know I’ll find you. You know this won’t be the end.”
“I know you’ll try. But until then, I’m not giving you a choice.”
The Woede commander narrowed his eyes. The view screen changed back to an image of space and the ships outside. Toorn had cut off the message. But the sensors now showed that the Woede ships were moving away. Retreating.
Roar almost dropped to his knees. Just like that? Game over? White flags raised and treaties signed? It seemed too easy. Too quick.
But…really, when he put all the pieces together, every detail leading up to now deserved a final chapter. A closing line. This war had dragged on for so long, taken so many lives, wasted so many opportunities. Hadn’t it all been racing toward this moment? He watched Leda type some document, watched Arne read it over, and then, when it was his turn, Roar absorbed the words. They swirled in his brain, a thick soup. Words like “peace” and “surrender” and “vacate Aurelis immediately” waltzed happily through his body. It took his mind longer to accept reality.
For now, at least, the war was over.
“We’re going home,” he said.
She gave him a wobbly smile. “You are. But I can’t go with you. If this is going to work, I have to disappear. Maybe forever.”
Leda looked up at him. She could see the whites of his eyes and the stark paleness of his skin. She could feel him trembling. Her throat hurt when she swallowed. Breathing hurt. Everything hurt. Especially seeing the look in his eyes. But that was the price she’d pay.
“What are you talking about?” he said.
“You have to know it’s not going to be this easy. We bought ourselves a little time. And tenuous peace. But we both know it’ll only last as long as I’m alive.”
Anger surged in hot waves from him. “So what? You’re just going to leave?”
She nodded. “I have to.”
“Where?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. And it’s better if you don’t know, either.”
He looked at her, blinked, and a tear slipped down his cheek. “Because you’re worried Toorn will get it out of me?”
“Maybe.”
“But you know he won’t. I won’t let him. He could torture me for eons and I would never betray you.”
“I know you wouldn’t.” Her voice sounded like broken glass. “And that’s why you can’t know at all. If you don’t know anything, he’ll leave you alone.”
“Then I’ll come with you—”
“Roar, no.” She turned away from him, hiding her own tears. “Even if you came with me, I’d have to worry about you. This way, if he comes after me, if he finds me—it’s just me. No one else.”
“Leda…”
She blinked back her tears and looked at him, her devoted protector. He wasn’t lying. No matter what came after him, he’d stand up for her. But then what good would she be? A weapon who saved everyone at the cost of everyone she loved? She was done with people sacrificing themselves for her. The weapon’s final use wasn’t as a gun. It was as a sacrifice. She hadn’t asked to be the weapon, but this was her fate, and she embraced it proudly. She was strong enough. But Roar was her one weakness.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
He licked his lips. “Leda, I love you.”
The words cut through her. She croaked out a low, “I know.”
Every emotion she’d ever known threatened to overwhelm her. She wanted to repeat his words back to him, but she held them back—words had power, and she wouldn’t make this any harder for him than it already was.
Through the chaos, one thought remained clear:
I cannot allow him to suffer for me.
Roar grabbed her arm. “You listen to me,” he said, his voice so low it was almost a growl. “I just found you. I can’t lose you again.”
“It’s not up to you.” She leaned in and kissed him, and that kiss contained all the feelings, all the words she didn’t dare speak.
She turned from him and walked away. Each step felt leaden. Even when she was halfway down the hallway, it took every ounce of her strength not to turn around.