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Kinned to the Sea
Kinned to the Sea
Kinned to the Sea
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Kinned to the Sea

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Rowan’s tribe of merpeople call him a war hero, and he’s finally earned the love and respect of his family. But Rowan also knows he is suffering the consequences of breaking his oath not to kill: he is losing his magic, and will soon lose his life.

When his tribe kidnaps a human teen named Solei, planning to sacrifice her life for a new weapon of war, the ritual goes horribly wrong. Rowan realizes the power his people wield cannot be controlled, and they will all be destroyed if they kill Solei.

Now Rowan must choose between the love of his people and the life of his enemy. Between keeping the acclaim of a war hero, or embracing the dark fate of a traitor.

LanguageEnglish
PublisherMelissa Stacy
Release dateMar 6, 2017
ISBN9781370070213
Kinned to the Sea

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    Kinned to the Sea - Melissa Stacy

    KINNED TO THE SEA

    BOOK I

    A Novel

    Melissa Stacy

    This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

    Copyright © February 2017 by Melissa Stacy

    All rights reserved.

    No part of this book may be reproduced, copied, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

    Published in the United States by Melissa Stacy.

    Cover design by Beth McMacken, Athena Communications.

    Ebook design by 52 Novels.

    Smashwords Edition

    To the plankton,

    the diatoms,

    To the coral,

    viruses, fungi, bacteria,

    To all the microbes at work on this earth

    every day,

    The heart of life in the ocean

    the blood of this planet

    I wrote this for you

    Contents

    Title Page

    Copyright

    Dedication

    KINNED TO THE SEA

    Part I: THE JUSBEL OF LLYR

    Part II: GUARDIAN OF THE SEA

    Acknowledgments

    Author’s Note

    About the Author

    Part I

    THE JUSBEL OF LLYR

    1

    Ceto called herself a sea dragon, a rare and powerful kind of water sprite capable of astonishing magic. She stood three and a half inches tall in her prettiest sea dragon shape, with four clawed feet the size of tiny pebbles, her eyes shining like two black pearls. Ceto was small enough to fit in my palm, but strong enough to run off with my tools, and right now she had my favorite knife in her teeth.

    She sprinted across the stone floor of the room, and skidded to a stop at the door, where she dropped my weapon long enough to yell at me. Her translucent body shimmered like sun-dappled water, a piece of the ocean come to life.

    "You see, Rowan? If I were an obakee, how could I carry something this heavy? Admit it—I’m a dragon, a real dragon! And you’re only a—"

    Ceto broke off her speech the instant I left my work bench to sprint after her. She clamped her sharp teeth around my knife again and raced down the hall. Her scales and spiny fins flashed in the lamplight, impossibly bright against the dark basalt of the floor.

    She warbled and shrieked as she ran, looking back several times in a mad hope to evade me. Obakee were shapeshifters, water sylphs able to change form at will. A true dragon could cast a variety of battle spells, and even manipulate their environment, but Ceto didn’t have those gifts.

    She craved power though, and I was sure that was why she sought out my company so much. We had that desire in common, Ceto and I: the wish to be something else. Something stronger and better than what we were now.

    When she darted into an unlit storage room, I followed. To catch Ceto wasn’t difficult, but I wouldn’t be much of a friend if I didn’t play along with her game. Her antics made me want to laugh, stealing a weapon more than three times her size. While I was careful not to mock her by laughing aloud, I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face.

    I’m only a what? I asked, staring into the rock crevice where she’d chosen to hide.

    Just a boy! Ceto snapped. I could swallow you whole if I wished!

    I knelt so I could peer into the crevice. Why don’t you kill me then? Why spend your time with a mortal?

    A faint silvery light glowed deep in the darkness, emanating from Ceto’s body. You are ugly and gross, Rowan. Better to keep you alive so I look nice in comparison. She snorted with a sound that resembled a sneeze. Plus, everyone knows an eminent sea dragon should always have a mage around as a servant. So you can worship me and do all my bidding.

    I reached into the crevice and snatched back my knife. Shouldn’t you be at least two hundred feet long, and fifty feet tall, if you expect me to grovel in fear?

    As I returned my knife to my belt, Ceto shot toward me, baring her teeth in a squeaky growl. She scrambled up my leg, jumped on my arm, and closed her jaw around the skin of my wrist.

    Oh no, I’m done for, I said, as I grasped hold of her tail and pried her away. Ceto sputtered and twisted as I lifted her to eye level. She had an elegant face, with a graceful snout and invisible ears. Her decorative fins flared along the lines of her body, iridescent when she was angry, like now.

    Her voice rose, high and clear. Tremble in terror, you pathetic mage! I, Ceto, will one day be your doom!

    And what is my crime, great sea dragon? How have I wronged you, to deserve such a punishment?

    By being ugly and gross! Ceto shouted, clawing the air with her wee talons. And disrespectful! You are a blight in the ocean, calling me an obakee. I will devour you in my vengeance.

    I lifted my other hand, and placed Ceto in my palm. So you were spying on me again, is that it? You overheard someone complaining about the puddles you leave on the floor?

    Ceto snapped her teeth in response, fuming.

    If you creep around hiding in walls, and I don’t know you’re there, you can’t hold me responsible for what other people might say.

    Yes I can! Ceto cried. But her tone was so strident, she knew as well as I did that she was being irrational.

    I lowered her to the floor. Then maybe you should go ahead and transform, so you can eat me alive, and everyone can see what you are.

    My words infuriated her, and she expressed her rage by leaping back onto me, tearing off one of the pouches on my belt, and dashing away.

    So I hurried into the hall and gave chase. Ceto had a lot of speed despite her tiny size, and I set a pace that would let me follow her for a while. When she finally darted into another work room, I switched to a faster sprint, prepared to lean over and catch her.

    But Ceto hadn’t led me to just any room, and I figured that out a second too late.

    2

    The instant I stepped through the door, the cold chill of decay brushed my skin, along with the sharp, electric frisson of bone magic. The heavy air sparked with a powerful craftsmithing spell, particular to the alchemy of the dead. An icy pain throbbed deep in my body, and I halted.

    Piled on the dark sandstone floor, almost covering the entire length of the room, lay the partial remains of a ghost net. A clear plastic driftnet, one that tumbled loose in the sea, unattached to any ship but propelled forever by currents, entangling and killing anything in its path.

    A piece of garbage that fished without fishermen.

    Trash that cut me with grief, no matter how often I took in the sight.

    Sliding to a stop at the edge of the mesh, Ceto froze, dropped my pouch with a shriek, and spun around toward me in horror. Frantic for a place to hide, she leapt onto my leg, digging her talons into my skin. She squeaked in fear when she slipped, but I’d already reached down to grab her, keep her from falling, and then let her scramble from my hand into one of the remaining pouches on my belt. Her body trembled enough to make her puddle, when her body lost some or all of her shape, and she leaked. Saltwater drenched the soft fabric of the pouch, then soaked the front of my breechcloth and ran down my leg, like pee.

    Nothing sexier than to look like I stood around wetting myself. Which Ceto did to me a lot. I rubbed my face with a sigh.

    Ceto, I said quietly, as I stepped over to pick up my pouch. You’re okay. The net can’t hurt you now.

    This ghost net had been over a mile long, but Pierce hadn’t dragged the entire mess into the grotto. He’d cut a small portion away, and the team must’ve helped him maneuver the haul through the tunnel, because the mesh on the floor held a young leatherback turtle, a dolphin mother and calf, and a pregnant blue shark. All with eyes flat and staring, mouths gaping in death. Each empty gaze so much heavier than the weight of their bodies.

    Pierce walked through the far door, and spotted me before I turned back to leave. He wore an excited grin as he knelt over the net and placed his hands on the leatherback, trying to free her corpse from the trash.

    Rowan! he called. You’re just in time for the good part! Come and help me with this.

    Ceto gave a strangled little cry, and my heart sank with dread, but I circled the room to arrive at his side. No matter how much these alchemy spells reacted to my own magic, I kept the pain to myself. Pierce was my commanding officer, and I did as he said.

    He gestured with his chin for me to take hold of the shell, so I grasped the thick, oily skin of the carapace, and loosened the mesh from the turtle’s head and neck. Pierce and I were the same size, stood the same height of six-two and had the same build. Equally broad, muscled shoulders and biceps, thick wrists and wide-knuckled hands with blunt fingers. We were a well-matched team as we worked.

    Thought you had enough for this mission, I said. Don’t you want a break from making keys?

    Shaped into the form of a sea urchin, bone keys resembled bladed stars, small enough to hold in two hands. Infused with the maker’s blood from the spell, the bones became hard as iron, razor-sharp, so that even the most careful holder could be nicked by the spines.

    Pierce’s hands bore the fine scars of his creations, marks he’d never flinched from receiving. Keys were weapons of transformation, vital tools in this war. The thought of stopping his task made Pierce laugh. Maybe I like harvesting bones, and he flashed a dark smile as his fingers wove through the clear filament.

    I knew he would much rather shape rock with his magic, using his craftsmithing skills to build song caves and homes. But I grinned anyway, the way Pierce expected me to, the way any good soldier would.

    Pierce was older than me by nine years—the same age as my brother, twenty-five—and though his voice sounded lighthearted and casual, blood stained his breechcloth and the heavy fabric of his belt, as unsettling as the currents of power lingering in the air. Keys took enormous amounts of magic to make, and the task began with a grim butchery, carving out the bones of the dead.

    Ceto remained hidden, trembling and wetting me with fresh puddles. Which was embarrassing, but rather easy to ignore. Practice made perfect, sometimes.

    We rolled the leatherback free of the net. I recited a prayer over her body, and once I finished, Pierce removed the knife from his belt. I drew out my knife as well, and together we cut off the turtle’s fins and head, then split open her shell so we could slice out her ribs.

    Her corpse smelled of rot, and triggered the healer’s magic in my skin to fire with heat, reacting to the presence of so much dead tissue. An uncomfortable sensation, like pushing against a bruise.

    Pierce kept up a stream of talk as we worked, his thoughts trained on the use his bone key would be put to: eliminating a nuclear reactor. Aiden thinks we might go out tonight. He’s been tracking one of the fleets we’ve already attacked. Two frigates, two cruisers, three destroyers, and one submarine with this carrier. They might pass through our water, and he’s got a team prepped to leave if they do.

    Ceto poked me with her talons, a sharp pain I dismissed. She didn’t want me to leave the ocean again, but that wasn’t her choice. Despite her ideas that I should worship her as a sea dragon, in reality, I served my tribe, no matter how often Ceto scratched me.

    We’d been targeting aircraft carriers for the last two months. Sinking military ships had always been our sole focus in fighting this war, and now that taking down aircraft carriers had become our main goal, we’d already sunk three.

    Regardless of my desire to be a good soldier, I felt too tired for another mission so soon, and dreaded the task far more than helping Pierce with a bone key. No one ever died in a craftsmithing spell.

    This’ll be our last ship, Pierce said with conviction. After we wipe out this carrier, we’re heading to shore. The Qarin has already left with a war party. Brevyn went with him, and several of the Lokren. They should be in position tomorrow.

    The Lokren were the most powerful magi of Llyr, and they’d appointed Brevyn as our chief healer last year. The Qarin was the War Leader. Tirone Zroba. My father.

    The Qarin! Ceto squeaked. "The Qarin took the Lokren to the shore? Already?"

    Pierce lifted his brows and glanced at my belt. I hear that obakee again. Ceto’s words were unintelligible to Pierce, who heard an archaic language punctuated with growls. While I was pretty sure Ceto had the ability to speak Llyrian, the effort took a tremendous amount of magic for her, so much that I’d never heard her use Llyrian words, though she could translate them quickly enough. When she stopped making noise, Pierce poked at the fabric of my supply pouch, which made Ceto puddle an atrocious amount. What are you doing in there? he asked her. Don’t you have better places to be?

    Ceto hissed.

    She’s all right, I said. The net scared her, is all. She needed to hide.

    Everything scares that foolish sprite, Pierce said. She ought to go hide in a cave somewhere, and leave you alone.

    Ceto snapped her teeth, hissing again, while I shrugged. She likes feeling important. And you’re discussing the Qarin, and the future of Llyr. Nothing more important than that.

    My heart twisted with sadness and pride when I mentioned my father.

    Sometimes, right after a mission, I was sure the Qarin noticed me, and recognized that I was his son.

    But outside of those moments, I didn’t exist. My father was busy and distant, and didn’t have time for anything else but his duties.

    As to the news the Qarin had already left, I said, Aiden told me about the trip to the shore. I’d seen my brother about an hour ago, passing through the hall inside headquarters, and he’d shared that update already. Aiden was the Qarin’s favorite officer, and every major decision the War Leader made took place with my brother.

    As a Captain, Pierce attended officer meetings, enjoyed access to privileged information, and vied for position as my brother’s closest confidant.

    But Aiden and I were bound together now like the animals killed in this ghost net, so close in our work with each other that officer protocol no longer applied to us. Maybe nothing applied to us anymore. Not our holiest vows, not even morals or love. With each ship I boarded, I became more certain that everything became luxury in a war. Disposable for the purpose of winning.

    Or maybe that was only my fear talking. My terror in the face of my death.

    The people of Llyr called me a war hero. Invincible. Honorable. Sanctioned to kill.

    Aiden assured me I’d broken no vows. He believed my actions were noble and just. In my brother’s eyes, I was fearless and brave, worthy of celebration and awe.

    But inside myself, hidden from everyone else in my tribe, I worried my fear held the truth: that I was destined to die for the things I had done, no matter how loudly the people of Llyr cheered my name.

    I wanted to be the hero though. So I kept my fear out of sight.

    When I admitted to Pierce that I already knew the Qarin’s war party had left, his hands stiffened a moment, the only sign I could detect of his jealousy. As the ship-boarder, the jusbel, I held an important position, and made sinking ships possible. But my physical strength and my magic gave me only a title, not a rank.

    Pierce held his irritation in check, resumed his easy behavior, and remained affectionate toward me as he brought up Aiden again. Did he mention you’re to stay in the city when we head for shore?

    Ages ago. And that had always been my choice, not Aiden’s. Aiden and I first devised this plan right after I’d become the jusbel, and I’d never been part of the mission to shore. Maybe my brother understood why I’d made that decision. Or maybe he never suffered the fears that I had, and never doubted his certainty that what we were doing was right. I was just glad he hadn’t urged me to change my mind.

    I grinned at Pierce with a cocky assurance, as if this weren’t my life on the line. Sure, I’ll hang back and wait here. Why would that bother me? I’ll be lounging around, stuffing my face with biscuits and stew, thinking fondly of the search team sweating it out on the hunt.

    My gaze swept over the jagged scar on Pierce’s left shoulder and arm, the result of a mine explosion he’d survived as a child. A whorled swath of tissue that darkened whenever he felt genuine glee. Not every Sërenmare lost control of their skin cells after suffering damage like that, but Pierce had. His scar deepened from coral to ruby as he laughed and elbowed me, though his touch wasn’t cruel, and his voice warmed with enthusiasm.

    What about that sweetheart of yours? Think she’ll come to see you at the sendoff?

    Sweetheart? Ceto screeched. "You kissed her one time, Rowan. She’s hardly your girlfriend!"

    I blushed in surprise, and to hide my shock at his question, I bowed my head, pretending to concentrate on cutting out the spine of the turtle.

    Not only was Ceto correct to point out that one kiss hardly turned anyone into my girlfriend, Pierce assumed far too much about the execution of strategy. We still had a carrier to sink, and after the Qarin’s search team located what we needed on shore, Brevyn had to complete an ancient summoning spell, a task as dangerous as my work as jusbel. Pierce downplayed the risks the same way Aiden did, but I knew Brevyn could kill himself with that magic, and hurt other people as well, the level of power involved in a summoning was so high.

    And even if these missions were all guaranteed not to fail, the question of inviting the surrounding tribes to witness the final ceremony was still under debate. My supposed sweetheart—a soldier named Dahlia—lived with a tribe of the Rishki, far from Llyr, and the Qarin thought only members of our own tribe should be present for the sendoff.

    Plus I hadn’t seen Dahlia in months, and we weren’t promised to each other, had never discussed anything that serious. Pierce knew I’d spent hours dancing with Dahlia at the last big celebration, an experience that was one of the happiest nights of my life.

    But even bringing Dahlia’s name to mind now couldn’t distract me from the putrid scent of the leatherback soaking into my hands, the hot ache in my skin from touching a corpse, or the prospect of boarding another carrier soon.

    So I changed the subject, and tipped my head toward the ghost net beside us. Did this drift into Llyr, or did your recon team find it? There were so many ghost nets rolling loose in the sea, this one could’ve been hauled in from anywhere.

    Pierce took the shift in topic in stride. Both. They were headed east when Luke picked it up, about thirty miles from the canyon.

    I nodded, pleased to hear my friend’s name. For the first three years of my service, I’d been a scout under Pierce, and I’d often been partnered with Luke. Once I became the jusbel, I stopped going on scouting missions. Now I only left the city with Aiden and one of his teams. Pierce always came along on those missions, disposing of hazardous waste with his bone keys.

    But if he’d had his choice, he’d have been the jusbel, doing the primary work of destruction.

    I’d have traded him places in a heartbeat, anything to escape climbing onto another ship. And that certainly would’ve made Ceto happy, to see someone else leave the water on a mission. But Pierce didn’t possess the peculiar combination of talents I had, the specific gifts that allowed me to keep surviving these trips. If Pierce boarded a vessel, he’d be gunned down in minutes, maybe less.

    He wiped the blade of his knife on his breechcloth, and started tossing the parts of the turtle he needed into a basket lined with abalone shell. The leatherback’s severed head landed atop the pile, one vacant eye facing me, staring me down. The scent of rot felt thick in my mouth.

    You worried? Pierce asked. About tonight?

    Ceto snorted, making that sound that seemed more like a sneeze. What kind of question is that? Of course you’re afraid. Who wouldn’t be?

    I gazed at the mess we had made, and pictured myself cut to pieces and strewn over the floor. Victim of one of the bombs I had planted. Perhaps one I’d place on a carrier tonight.

    But I smiled and told Pierce, Of course not. I’ve got this. As a sign of my confidence, I dropped the turtle’s spine in the basket, then stood and lifted the container into my arms.

    I’d have followed Pierce through the doorway that led to his work station, but a woman yelled my name in the hall, her words addressed to one of the guards on patrol.

    "Where is Rowan Zroba? I’ve brought him my child! Tell him I’m here! I’ve come to see the jusbel!" She spoke with a Durrivan accent, one of the tribes to the south, but she formed her words clearly enough.

    Pierce took the basket from my arms with a weary sigh, and placed the container back on the floor. Another refugee in the building, he muttered. Fantastic.

    I stepped toward the rock wall, rinsed my hands in the freshwater pool of a seep spring, and started to walk toward the door I’d come in, but Pierce grasped my arm.

    It’s fine, and I tugged myself free. I’m fine.

    Pierce outranked me though, and his words were sharp. He said you’re not to heal anymore. If we’re leaving on mission tonight, you save your magic for boarding. That’s an order.

    Aiden protecting me from myself.

    I won’t heal anyone. I’ll send them with you.

    Pierce considered a moment, then nodded. You don’t touch anyone. No matter what’s going on.

    Sure, and I strode to the door, left the room with Pierce at my heels.

    The instant I spotted the woman, and saw the tiny child she held in her arms, my heart rate increased, my stomach twisted with nerves, and I drew in a shocked, ragged breath.

    Before I could even guess what had happened to them, a young boy jumped against me. His thin arms locked around my legs, and Pierce immediately reached down to yank him away.

    The boy had no hands, only smooth skin where his wrists should have been, surrounding both stumps, and a thick patch of scar tissue stretched over his left eye socket. Lacerations covered his cheeks and neck, and open red sores ran down his back. I saw the same wounds on the woman and baby. The boy was six, maybe seven, and at the sight of Pierce grabbing for him, he squeezed me even harder, shaking with terror.

    Ceto popped her head from the pouch on my belt, and shrieked, glancing from me to the boy.

    Stop! I told Pierce, catching his forearms to hold him at bay. He’s all right.

    I smelled death again, bodies dying, an odor that didn’t come from the room I’d just left. The scent rolled off the woman, her baby, and this young boy. A level of damage no healer could ever repair.

    I released Pierce before he could conjure a charge and shock me in anger. He wouldn’t purposefully burn me with a volt of electricity—at least, I hoped not—but his skin flared a deep purple and gold with his rage, an unmistakable sign that he could lash out at me.

    3

    Ceto bared her teeth at Pierce, hissing and snapping, though she was powerless to block any spells he might cast. The boy trembled against me, feeling the rush of my magic coursing over his skin, while Pierce called to the guards standing agape in the hall, Get them out of here! They should be at the clinic—these people haven’t even been processed—is there no one watching the doors?

    The guards hurried to explain, but I didn’t listen. I already knew what had happened. I’d read the memory in the boy’s mind.

    His mother had smuggled them into headquarters with a handful of powerful smokeseeds. They’d been spelled to plume with an odorless vapor, hiding their bodies and obscuring their trace, long enough for them to slip through the ward in the mess room, which was the weakest barrier in the building. Then they’d passed through the halls undetected.

    The boy smiled at me with an expression of rapture, like he’d won first prize in a game he’d been waiting his whole life to play, and he brightened his skin to a pale, pinkish-blue. He couldn’t feel my pull in his mind, couldn’t sense how my magic cast for the thoughts I needed to read him, but he certainly felt the rush of power that flowed over his skin. He giggled and thought I was trying to tickle him. I could’ve screened my energy from him, kept the magic from leaving my body, but I wanted to know what was killing him.

    His right eye was a beautiful indigo, the color of water after a perfect sunset. As I continued to follow his thoughts and allowed my healing magic to search him, I realized he’d been gifted with vision—with the power to see all forms of magic, even when the energy had been hidden. The penance mark that covered my chest, deep under my skin, was visible to him, as clear to his sight as if Aiden had flared the lines with a spell.

    With her head still exposed from the pouch on my belt, Ceto calmed as I studied the boy, taking him in along with me. Her dark eyes blinked slowly, assessing his wounds, and even though the boy was surprised to find an obakee here, his attention remained focused on me.

    I tapped my sternum, indicating the emblem of magic invisible to everyone else, and spoke in the boy’s native language of Durrivan. You see that, don’t you?

    He nodded with excitement, proud of himself and his talent. A number of internal lesions coated his throat, cancerous growths that had already devoured his vocal chords, but I felt him try to voice a response. I’m a seer like my dad! The answer that popped into his mind, and made his mouth and lips move. Words he forgot, for an instant, he could no longer use.

    As Pierce and the guards continued to argue, trying to decide who was at fault for letting these people inside, I knelt and placed my palm against the boy’s brow, certain I could do something to help him while Pierce was distracted. The only injuries the boy possessed that I could repair were his lacerations—the deep cuts on his cheeks and his neck—so with a reparative sending, I sealed the wounds shut.

    The spell needed no words, and only took a few seconds, but there’d been a lot of infection under his skin, a significant drain on my magic to heal. As I dropped my hand, I felt lightheaded, almost dizzy.

    I knuckled my brow, inhaled a deep breath, and steadied myself. Did you swim all the way here on your own?

    The boy nodded again, and held up his handless arms to me. I wrapped my fingers around the skin stretched over his missing wrists, a gesture like holding hands. He continued to grin at me, while his indigo eye shone with delight.

    I knew you were the jusbel, he wanted to say. I knew it was you.

    Poison swarmed through his body, concentrated deep in his lungs. I felt the energy shadows of plutonium, cesium, americium… as well as strontium, curium, and uranium. Smaller amounts filled his kidneys, liver, and bones. He’d been exposed to high doses of nuclear waste, encounters he had no memory of, as the radioactive material had been invisible, beyond any sensory detection, and taken in steadily throughout the last year of his life.

    Some healers could strengthen a body enough to perform surgery, and cut out harmful debris with a knife. A dangerous and time-consuming process that required an exceptional amount of focus and skill.

    This boy was already dying though, his internal tissues so irradiated he could never recover. Even if he underwent fifty surgeries, his body would fail now, regardless.

    A pressure rolled through my body, sharp as knives scraping under my skin, as my magic assessed how little time this boy had left to live. Less than three months… maybe only a few weeks.

    I hated that I couldn’t heal him. Hated that he was sick to begin with. That he’d inhaled toxic garbage someone had dumped on his home, someone who didn’t care who died from that trash. A woman, a baby, a small boy.

    I helped make bone keys, and star-guides, and then I boarded the ships we destroyed with our bombs, trying to stop this from happening. To let our enemies know they couldn’t kill with abandon. That someone had the power to fight back.

    But none of my work as a soldier could save this little boy. I fell speechless in the face of his suffering, unable to offer any kind words of comfort. So I chose to lean forward and kiss the boy’s brow, the same way I kissed my little sister when I sang her to bed.

    Ceto made a long stream of saltwater bubbles shoot from her nostrils, crystalline spheres that quadrupled in size before they spiraled around the boy in an invisible current. The bubbles rose to the ceiling, where they popped and rained down

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