The Dark Between The Stars

ONE HUNDRED AND SIX
OSIRA’H

Osira’h awoke in terror. From the raw burning in her throat, she realized she must have screamed. In her mind’s eye she could still see the echoes of blackness, the images burned into her thoughts.

She sensed the strands of thism throughout the universe, a glorious web that strengthened and bound the Ildiran people—but in her nightmare it had become a tangled tapestry. She saw intersection points, frayed and weak strands beginning to turn black, darkening, tightening.

The Shana Rei could strike in more insidious ways than the gigantic hex cylinders they had used at Plumas…

Before going to bed, Osira’h had spent an enjoyable hour with Prince Reyn. He was having a good day and seemed strong and engaged. Even though Osira’h watched him closely, she barely saw any signs of his illness.

They sat with a dozen quiet and fascinated Ildirans in a storyteller’s bowl, a small sunken theater ringed with seats. In the center, a mound of rough-cut orange fuel crystals glowed, shedding warm light on the audience.

Rememberer Dyvo’sh and the human scholar Anton Colicos told a story they had recently resurrected from the document crypts. Taking turns, Anton Colicos and Dyvo’sh talked about a small Ildiran splinter colony on Carii, which was due to have an eclipse. Ildiran astronomers had staked out a camp in the path of totality, an hour’s flight from the main city, ready to take measurements as the planet’s moon slid in front of the sun. The total eclipse lasted less than four minutes.

In that brief span of time, the Shana Rei emerged—manifesting out of the shadow and swallowing the astronomers. Even though the scientist kith remained in contact with the Carii colonists in the main city, the thism strands were knotted, then severed. And when the eclipse was over, everything in their camp was gone: astronomers, equipment, and records. The trees themselves were black and lifeless…

The tale chilled the audience in the storyteller’s bowl. The story reminded Osira’h of her brother Gale’nh, all alone aboard the dark-shrouded Kolpraxa.

Reyn leaned close to her and said, “If the rememberers are searching old records to find useful information about the Shana Rei, what can we learn from that story to help us defend ourselves?”

“Maybe the lesson is that we should avoid eclipses.”

When they each retired to their quarters, Osira’h drifted off to sleep, thinking warm thoughts of how much she enjoyed being with Reyn. She had hoped to have dreams of Reynald. Instead, the blackness struck at Osira’h through her dreams.

She heard shouts and pounding at her chamber door before guard kithmen forced themselves inside. Still shuddering, she climbed to her feet, trying to push away the nightmare. One of the guards looked around, crystal sword drawn. “We heard you cry out—are you in danger?”

The words caught in her throat. Maybe they were all in danger, Ildirans and humans. But apparently the others hadn’t felt it. She drew a deep breath before answering. She gestured around her, trying to sound aloof. “I’m unharmed. As you can see, there’s no threat.”

Rod’h burst into the room, his eyes flashing. “Osira’h?” He was normally haughty and confident, but she saw a gray tinge of fear on his face. With her enhanced telepathy, she could feel his thoughts reverberating through the thism.

“Yes, I felt it,” she said. “I saw darkening strands of thism. I saw the network tangled and broken.” She thought about the perfectly normal Ildirans who had suddenly turned on her mother during the birthday procession, trying to assassinate her.

“I think the Shana Rei are poisoning the thism,” Rod’h said. “They’re trying to attack Ildirans from the inside, by striking at the very thing that binds us together.” He straightened. “It may be up to us again, dear sister, to find a way to fight it.”

“I’m worried about Gale’nh,” she said. “If he felt it too…”

The guard kith accompanied them as they hurried to their brother’s quarters in the Prism Palace. Gale’nh was awake. Ever since his rescue from the Kolpraxa, he had been wan and pale, but now he looked full of dread.

Their warrior sister Muree’n stood next to him, breathless. “I came to protect Gale’nh. I had the nightmare too. I knew something was wrong.”

Osira’h looked at her siblings. “We must see the Mage-Imperator—all of us.”

They found Jora’h in his contemplation chamber where the walls of crimson crystal let in a dark and brooding light. Blazers illuminated the private chamber, but the Mage-Imperator was alone with his thoughts, his concerns.

Seeing how haggard and weary her father looked, Osira’h wondered if he had experienced the terrible dread as well. Was he afraid to sleep? With the thoughts of all Ildirans thrumming through his mind, he, too, must have been sensitive to the shadow, the darkening strands of racial telepathy. Somehow the Shana Rei had infiltrated their racial network.

“Father, we all felt the nightmare,” Osira’h said.

“Nightmare… or maybe it was a message,” Rod’h interrupted. “The thism is growing dark. The Shana Rei are looking for weak points.”

Jora’h lifted his head, squared his shoulders. “I am the Mage-Imperator. I am the heart of the thism. I need to defend our race against all threats.”

In a rough voice, Gale’nh said, “We know the stories of how the Shana Rei attacked—not only by physically destroying worlds but also through subtle and insidious ways. How can Ildirans be strong enough to fight it?”

The Mage-Imperator rose to his feet. “Come to the rooftop. I need to be in the sunlight when we speak of this.”

They followed him to the top of the highest minaret tower where mirrors and lenses bathed the deck in rainbows. Jora’h sounded tired as he confessed, “I thought I was just experiencing nightmares, but they may be a manifestation of a more tangible darkness… something inside of me.”

“If it is inside of you, then it is in all Ildirans,” Muree’n said.

Gale’nh added, “You are the Mage-Imperator. You are the soulfire of our race.”

“And I am—I must be—strong enough to save us all,” Jora’h said.

Osira’h watched her father, listened to his voice, observed the determination in his eyes. He raised a hand to wipe the perspiration from his brow. For an instant—just a startlingly quick flicker—the veins on the back of his hand were highlighted by a tracery of black, then they returned to normal.

She grabbed his hand, touched his skin with her fingertips, but she could find no sign. He smiled at her, squeezed her hand, and Osira’h wasn’t sure she had seen anything at all.