Destiny's Blood Marie Bilodeau (best self help books to read .txt) 📖

“Solarian government, apparently. Some assassins. And probably others.”

“Nothing new and interesting? Why all the fuss, then?” Josmere quipped. She kept close to Layela.

“You know the legend of the First Star?” Zortan said, ignoring her tone. Layela saw Cailan tense in his chair. Josmere nodded.

“The First Star’s name is Mirial,” Zortan continued, “and it is from there that the Destiny originates.”

Josmere’s eyes flashed with victory. “And Layela and Yoma.”

“What do you mean?” Layela’s mind struggled to catch up. Granted, she had never known her parents or where she and her sister were from, but if they were from somewhere as mystical as the First Star — as Mirial — wouldn’t they somehow know it? It struck her like a blow and left her feeling dizzy. The ether. She had never met any other human with a connection to ether.

“There’s more,” Zortan continued, staring at Layela. His black eyes held hers prisoner. “Mirial is dying, and only you and your sister can save her.”

She saw in Zortan’s eyes the same fate she had seen countless times, and the same darkness lashing out. If he expected surprise, he did not get it.

“Darkness,” Layela whispered. Her words echoed through the silent bridge. “The darkness will spread and many will die.”

“All will die, Layela,” the man said gently. “And too few understand that. But we need your sister, too.”

Layela nodded, looking away for a moment to gather her thoughts. Then she saw it. Above the large viewing window at the front of the bridge was a tiny symbol, etched in the metal but clear enough for Layela to recognize. It was the same symbol that had graced the front of the temple, past the darkness that would engulf this world. The darkness that she and Yoma had to walk together, to end.

Together, Yoma. You can’t do everything alone. Even if you had to for a while.

Jaru mumbled as he searched for Yoma through ship rosters, expanding his search to include all of Solari. He chugged another swig from his cup and returned his attention to the data, analyzing it at an alarming rate. “No Delamores on that ship, or that planet, and…Did you know there are actually no other Delamores currently alive in Solari space?”

“Feathers,” Layela said to Jaru, invoking her sister’s childhood name. Yoma had always dreamed of growing wings and being able to fly away at any time, while Layela favoured flowers and the roots they could give her. How could she have really believed Yoma could be content in one place for the rest of her life? “Try a search under the last name of Feathers.”

The network expert typed it in, exclaiming a moment later as a single hit came up. “I have her! She’s on a transport freighter, passenger class, the Meltor, heading out of Solarian space, towards Lockor! Captain, the ship left port only ten minutes ago!” Jaru exclaimed. “If we pursue now, we might be able catch them before they enter the tunnel.”

“How much caffeine do you think he drinks in a day?” Josmere whispered in Layela’s ear. She stared at Jaru, whose quick work at his monitor only paused so that he could chug from his cup.

Layela smiled at Josmere. When she looked up again, Zortan was leaving the bridge.

“Friendly, that one,” Avienne grumbled as she sat at a nearby station.

Layela watched Zortan vanish behind closing doors, hesitating for a moment before deciding that pursuing him would be useless. She had what she truly needed for now.

A way to reach her sister.

And she had also been given something unexpected, something that her childhood fantasies and teenage longings had long sought but never found.

A place to call home.

i

Gobran Kipso took a deep, long puff of his bitter unmarked cigar, reflecting on all the many wonders he had seen in his days. He had witnessed a star supernova, two planets colliding, and a tachyonic tunnel collapse that had released particles wildly into the vastness of space. But he had never expected to witness what he had seen earlier today in his map shop. Twins. Two living, breathing, young reflections of Queen Kilasha herself.

He shook his head, wishing he had not lived to see these times.

“Twins. Twice the trouble.” He threw the rest of his cigar on the ground, squashing it carefully under his foot.

“We’re ready to head off, sir,” Loran Natwar, his untested second-in-command, saluted him. She was fair like her parents and pretty in a practical manner: small nose, large eyes, pale skin, but nothing to inspire great poets. Still, she was loyal, unhesitant and full-blooded, unlike most of the half-bloods they had to bring onboard to fill the rest of the fleet.

Glory days gone, Gobran thought, nodding to Loran and walking by her side to the main ship, the Victory. What an ironic name, he still thought after almost twenty years of useless, self-imposed exile. Until today. Today, everything had changed.

“Captain on the bridge,” Loran called out as they stepped onto the Victory’s comfortable command centre. The others saluted, all full-bloods in his immediate surroundings. No point in taking a chance on the weaker.

“I have a report here, sir,” Loran said as Gobran stared at the captain’s chair, the armrests not nearly as far apart as he remembered. How he wished he had kept in some semblance of shape — aside from spherical. He took a deep breath and sat. Blood rushed to his face as he landed directly on the armrests. He squirmed until his flab shifted and he managed to squeeze into the chair. Gobran battled a mournful groan. He wasn’t sure he could get up again.

“Go ahead, Lieutenant,” he said formally, trying to look as authoritative as possible.

“It says a ship was identified by one of the Victory’s original crew as the Destiny, and it is heading out of port as we speak.”

Gobran allowed himself a quick smile. The Destiny. Captain Radin Malavant’s ship, flagship of the once-great fleet of Mirial, and the bloody best combat vessel they had.

He suddenly felt better. Allies would ease his burden, especially since the duty