“Tell me about your family,” I said, surprising myself. I rarely initiated personal conversations.
Jupiter glanced at me, wariness flickering across her face before something in her seemed to soften. Maybe it was the dreamscape, where everything felt slightly removed from reality, or maybe she was just tired of holding everything in.
“My parents are both professors at a human college in upstate New York. They’re Scorpios. Met at Dominion back in the day.”
“What do they teach?”
A small smile curved her lips. “My dad teaches astronomy. He’s obsessed with the stars—has been since he was a kid. My mom’s in anthropology. She specializes in ancient cultural rituals and beliefs.” She laughed softly. “Pretty fitting for the parents of an Ophis, right? Stars and mysteries.”
“Sounds like they were preparing for you before they even knew what you’d be.”
“Yeah, I guess they were.” Her expression grew wistful. “They’re amazing people. They never once made me feel like a freak when my designation manifested. They just loved me through it all.”
“You miss them.”
“All the time. We talk almost every day, but it’s not the same. Before all this, before everything went to hell and I was in Assembly training, I used to go home at least once a month. My mom would cook my favorite meals, and my dad would drag me out to the backyard to look at constellations, even though I’ve seen them a thousand times.”
The dream-wind stirred her hair, and I found myself mesmerized by how the moonlight played across her features. She was stunning.
“What about friends?” I asked, keeping my voice casual though my heart was anything but. “Did you leave anyone behind besides the shield?”
Jupiter nodded. “Tye and Lydia Harlow. They’re twins. Both Aquarius designations. Their dad works for the Assembly, so we met when I was first brought to headquarters after my manifestation. They were the first people who didn’t treat me like I was either a ticking time bomb or some kind of savior.”
She shifted, tucking her legs beneath her as she sat on the moss.
“Tye’s basically the brother I never had. He’s ridiculous and loud and has terrible taste in music, but he’d die for me or Lydia without hesitation.” Her voice cracked slightly. “And Lydia... she’s just bonded with the Dreadwatch Shield. She’s so happy, and I’m thrilled for her, but...”
“But it reminds you of what you lost.”
Jupiter nodded, looking out over the dream-forest. “I’ve been thinking about trying out my portaling skills to visit them at Dominion. Just a quick trip. I miss them so damn much, and it would be nice to see some friendly faces.”
“Could you do that? Portal that far?”
“In theory. I’ve never tried such a long distance, but the principles are the same. Find the axis points, pull them together, step through.” She shrugged. “Worst case scenario, I end up somewhere in the Atlantic.”
“That’s a pretty bad worst-case scenario.”
“True. Maybe I’ll work up to it with some shorter jumps first.”
I let her talk, content to listen to the soothing cadence of her voice. I wasn’t normally one for conversation—years of people staring at my scars had made me prefer silence—but in dreams, I didn’t feel as closed off. Here, where no one could see my physical form unless I chose to show it, I felt not normal, exactly, but less overtly damaged.
Jupiter continued telling stories about Tye and Lydia, about their adventures before Dominion, before the Nightfall Shield entered the picture. She spoke of midnight raids on the Assembly kitchen, of sneaking onto the roof to watch meteor showers, of the time Lydia accidentally set fire to Assembly Director Calla Orion’s hair with wayward magic.
I let the silence settle between us as her laughter faded into the cool night air of the dreamscape. The sound of it had been like a sudden spark in a dark room, fleeting but so damn brilliant. I filed the memory away, analyzing the subtle shift in her posture, the way the tension had momentarily drained from her shoulders. She was still guarded, wrapped in layers of defensive pragmatism, but the cracks were there. She and I were more alike than she knew.
“Do you know all the things Ophis magic can do yet?”
Jupiter looked down at her arms, tracing the inky scales of the serpent tattoos that wound up them. “No. Not all of it,” she admitted. “I’m still going through the books in the archives. Professor Winters wasn’t lying when she said Imperium had texts Dominion deliberately ignored. But so far, I’ve made a list of things I theoretically should be able to do.”
“Like what?” The thirteenth designation was a myth made flesh. My uncles had passed down their knowledge to me long before I was inducted into the Order. There was still so much we didn’t know.
“Darkrending,” she said, ticking it off on her fingers. “Not just stepping through portals, but actually collapsing the distance between two points so they exist in the same space, using dark matter and shadows to latch on. Astral projection that doesn’t require a physical tether. Axis regulation, meaning I can theoretically stabilize or destabilize other zodiacs’ magic just by being near them. And... There are references to time dilation, but the translations are so archaic I’m not sure if it means literal time travel or just altering the perception of time during combat.” She let out a heavy breath, looking up at the silver moon. “It’s overwhelming. Half the time I feel like a toddler playing with a loaded gun.”
“You handled yourself perfectly in the simulation today,” I pointed out. “Instinct is a powerful teacher.”
She turned and looked right at me. In the waking world, most people couldn’t look at me for long. Their eyes would dart away, uncomfortable with the remnants of violence etched into my skin, or worse, they would stare with that cloying, sickening pity I despised. But Jupiter just looked at me. She saw the scars, acknowledged them, and moved past them as if they were nothing more than the color of my shirt. It was intoxicating.
“What aboutyourmagic? I know Pisces is a water sign, but you don’t fight like Rowan or the other water designations I’ve seen.”
