“Yeah, the Auralite Library is a testament to time—a relic from the past that commands respect and admiration,” Ry yells. “It took two decades to construct, even with the aid of magic, and once reigned as the tallest structure in Aurora.”
Gianna shades her eyes to get a better look. At dusk, the setting sun reflects off the building’s mosaic glass, creating a kaleidoscope of colors in the square. It’s where the city holds the Harvest Festival each year. I went while living here, forced out of my cocoon by Brigid, the Erinye sisters, and Ry. We had danced and partied under the stars, but the atmosphere was less hostile than today.
Someone screams, and my hands itch for my weapon.
“Easy,” Ry mutters to me as Stellan steps out from the library doors, his arm raised above the cheering crowd. People scream for Stellan like he’s a celebrity. He settles behind a Lucite podium at the center of the stairs leading from the library down to the square, dressed in a cream-colored linen suit that enhances his olive skin. Nearby, a Nebula witch wipes away tears as she jumps up and down, waving at him.
“Ladies and gentlemen, friends and comrades,” Stellan begins, magically amplifying his voice to be carried with the wind. “For too long, we, the people of the Nebula, have suffered under the oppression of Epsilon witches. Our powers, our heritage, and our very existence have been scorned and persecuted by those who claim superiority over us. But no more!”
I cross my arms as I listen, bracing myself for the dread, but Stellan’s words strike a chord. It’s as if he’s speaking directly to me, his message resonating with a clarity that cuts through the crowd’s noise. Each word he utters has me holding my breath.
Stellan continues, “Today marks the dawn of a new era, a turning point in our history. We stand united, not as victims but as warriors, rebels, and champions of our destiny. We will no longer cower in the shadows, bow to the Council’s whims, or be second-class citizens in our land.”
The crowd swells, and so does my chest. Stellan’s words are everything I’ve wanted to hear my entire life. He makes it sound so easy to seize the day and demand control over our destinies. As much as I want to believe it, I know it’s not so simple. Seizing power doesn’t mean taking it from someone else by force. We can’t go from being oppressed to becoming the oppressors ourselves.
A smile spreads across Gianna’s face. “The crowd loves him.”
“Together, we will carve out a new destiny for ourselves and ensure that never again will our people be subjected to the horrors of persecution,” Stellan announces.
I arch an eyebrow beneath my sports cap, skepticism creeping into my thoughts. How does Stellan plan to accomplish that? If overthrowing the Epsilon were that simple, Nebula would have done it years ago. His words, while inspiring, seem to gloss over the harsh realities we face.
“But let us not forget the role of our young queen in this struggle,” he continues. “She may have shed light on the Nebula’s innocence in igniting the First War and the terrible oppression that was enacted upon us because of this lie. Yet, this action alone is not enough. The queen has yet to fully embrace the cause of justice and hold the Epsilon accountable for their crimes against us.”
My frown deepens. While containing a kernel of truth, Stellan’s words paint an incomplete picture. Leigh is trying to make amends for the mistakes of her ancestors, but she doesn’t have sole control over the country. Her hands are often tied, constrained by the system she’s attempting to change. Stellan’s oversimplification of the situation leaves me questioning his understanding of our complex political landscape.
Then, Stellan’s piercing umber stare locks with mine across the square. I freeze.
“But there are those who aim to stand in our way,” he says, pointing directly at me. The weight of the crowd’s collective gaze settles upon Ry, Gianna, and me. We’ve become the focal point of his speech. How does he know who I am unless someone like Dimitri told him? “Among us are those who, despite being Nebula, would rather maintain the status quo. And to that, I say, hell no. We will not let anyone stand in our way. Will we?”
The crowd jeers.
My heart splinters as Stellan’s words wash over the crowd, each syllable a carefully crafted weapon aimed at our very existence.
Ry tenses behind Gianna. “This took a turn,” she mutters.
I nod. Yeah, it did.
I place a reassuring hand on her shoulder. She leans into my touch.
The weight of countless hostile stares settles upon us, and I meet each one with a defiant gaze, refusing to be cowed. But even as I stand my ground, the same sense of unease I felt the other night slithers up my spine.
From the nearby alleys, figures emerge like spiders, their movements fluid and purposeful. I squint against the sun’s glare, my blood running cold. A group of men who seem born and bred in violence flank Michael Bersa, their scarred faces atapestry of brutality. They wet their lips, a predatory gleam in their eyes, as if the thought of a fight ignites their nerves.
I whip my head in the opposite direction, my breath catching at the unmistakable glint of gold. More Epsilon men. Their tattoos are proudly displayed as they encircle the crowd like a pack of wolves closing in on unsuspecting prey. The air grows heavy, and I can almost taste the suspense on my tongue.
But something doesn’t add up. The Epsilon haven’t made a move or unleashed the violence I expected. Instead, they stand motionless, listening to Stellan. A flicker of doubt bubbles to the surface. Did I misjudge the situation? Could they also be here to seek enlightenment?
Stellan’s voice rises and falls, each word a masterful stroke on the canvas of the crowd’s emotions. I was bracing for trouble, prepared for the worst. But maybe I overreacted.
I refocus on Stellan’s speech, keeping my peripheral vision trained on the nearest Epsilon, never losing sight of their position.
“To ensure peace and prosperity for all Nebula witches, I propose a future where we no longer answer to the Epsilon. We will create an enclave ruled by the Nebula, making Aurora and her surrounding towns sovereign! I have the backing to make this a reality. All you must do is vote for me, and Aurora will be its own country!” Stellan says.
A numbness overtakes me.
Stellan wants to rule Aurora, not just as mayor but as president, maybe even as a king. If Aurora becomes an enclave with its own rules and government, the Nebula will be free to do whatever they please. They’ll no longer answer to Leigh or the Council.
I sense the hostility radiating off the Epsilon in droves. If Stellan’s promises become a reality, they will pay taxes for their business and homes to Stellan and his Nebula government. TheNebula will be in charge, and the Epsilon will be forced to accept that or leave.
