Replaying Leo's and my interaction, I open my door, the motion-sensor lights flickering to life.
“Dammit, Orion!” I gasp, jumping backwards.
Orion sits on the island and puts his hands up to show he means no harm. “I didn’t mean to scare you!”
“Then why are you sitting here in the dark?” I close the door, kicking off my runners.
“I was waiting for you! I haven’t moved; the lights went off on their own.”
“And is there a reason you’re sitting in my apartment, cloaked in darkness?”
“I wanted to check in and see where your head was at. See if you need anything. I’m still here, you know.”
Orion’s eyes are the picture of sadness: wide-eyed and downturned. “It's hard to forget you exist when I’m stuck with you.”
“I’m sorry, Zellie. I thought I was doing the right thing, but I was wrong.”
“I’m not an Astral like you. I will never be like you.”
Orion flinches. “You could be.”
“I am enough just as I am.”
“I didn’t mean it like that… I know you are. Stars, Zellie, I’m trying. I’m sorry. Everything we have prepared in our training sessions has been for a reason. Keep that in mind, okay? I’m not the enemy. I’m here for you now, and I will be here for you tomorrow and every day following.”
I nod. “Okay. I’m going to get some rest. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He stands and walks to the door. “Goodnight, Zi.”
“Goodnight, Orion.”
As I prepare for bed, I fend off the negative feelings. There’s no denying it; I’m terrified. I crawl into bed, pulling the sheets up to my chin. There would be something very wrong if I weren’t, though, and that thought alone gives me pause. How many circumstances have I faced already while being afraid?When you’re able to move beyond the fear, true bravery occurs. It’s okay that I’m scared—it’s good, even. This simply proves that I’ve been brave all along.
Twenty-four
Tug, tug. Leo sneaks up from behind, pulling each of my braids as he walks behind me. His hands on me, in my hair, have an unnecessary surge of need rushing through me. I swat the distraction away, albeit it is a welcome one amid this chaos. I maintained my training style—the form-fitting camisole and tights feel like a second skin, making movement fluid and effortless. I’ve deemed my bandana an emotional support item at this point. Even now, I mindlessly pull on the accessory. We’ve filed into the arena, awaiting the Kosmos and their grand entrance. There’s not an empty seat encircling me. Celestials and Astrals alike watch and wait with bated breath for their live human entertainment. It’s sickening.
I look over my shoulder in time to catch Leo throwing me a wink as he moves to an open spot in the semicircle that the rest of us and our sponsors have been forming. The arena looks the same as it did the first time we were here—a sandy, circular pit surrounded by towering seating arrangements. Whispers and louder cheers echo throughout the vast space. Are the magical beings trying to determine who will succeed and who will fail? Are they wondering what the specifics of our game are? I am. There’s nothing to be seen in this torture chamber except for sand, and I highly doubt the challenge is who can build the best sand sculpture.
Suddenly, a low, melodious tune weaves through the coliseum, ebbing and flowing until the entire arena is entranced. Here we go. Orion shifts his weight next to me as I make eye contact with each of my friends. With a subtle nod, we silently promise to survive, whatever it takes. A bright lighterupts, bursting through the stadium and causing everyone to shield their vision. When the light subsides, there they stand—the Kosmos.
“Welcome, welcome one and all!” One of the twelve who has not spoken at an event steps forward from the line, her voice projecting to every ear. Her amethyst hair is pulled back at the top, allowing her mulberry spirals to cascade down to her waist. She appears younger than the others, but I’m not sure how the Kosmos’ magic works and if it affects their aging.
“We are delighted to welcome you to this year’s Gemini Games. Each game has been carefully crafted, designed to test the will, grit, and resilience of each participant. Only the most deserving will obtain the moonstone necessary to restore our beloved constellation.” My teeth grind involuntarily. I have spent a month with nine other verydeservingparticipants. Our ability to win a game does not determine our worthiness.
“But first, let us meet our competitors. Our dear audience, please use your tech pads to view statistics on each of our potential champions. Challengers, when I call your name, please step forward. Solene Lox.” The volume declines as the crowd analyzes us. What do they have included in our ‘statistics’? This is just bizarre. “Merri Trask.” I watch as Merri, then Graham, Celeste, and Atlas step forward.
I observe as the crowd scrutinizes us. This is amusing to them, us risking our lives. Leo and Lenny are called. The Kosmos doesn’t carehowthey get their precious moonstone pieces, only that they receive them. They should figure out a way to get the fucking pieces themselves. I can’t believe I’m about to go through with this.
Everyone is looking in my direction; I must have missed my name being called. Someone clears their throat, someone who sounds an awful lot like Leo. “Zellie Toro.” The woman calls my name again. I stand my ground. Lifting my chin, I stay rooted to the ground.
“Zellie.” Orion’s voice is a buzz in my ear.
My blood pumps loudly, my ears ringing. Bravery or stupidity, I’m not sure, but Leo is watching me with a look of awe and pride. I allow my eyes to scan over the Kosmos. Some look appalled, others irritated, while Pluto seems downright angry. Fuck you, too.
“The rules of the Games are simple: persevere or perish. Collect the most moonstone pieces—ten over the next five games—and you will be our Celestial champion. Are there any questions?” The ten of us stare in silence. “Very well. You are allotted five minutes with your sponsor to strategize. At the end of the five minutes, they will star-shoot from the arena floor; the horn will sound, and the game will begin. You have two hours to complete the course. A warning horn will sound when fifteen minutes remain. May the stars guide you. The constellations are the only constant. Your time starts now.”
Nausea churns in my stomach. “Deep breaths, Zi. In for five with me. Yes, like that. Good, exhale. Good, again.” I follow Orion’s instructions precisely, instantly feeling myself becoming more centered. “Good job. One more.”
