Lucian remained by the viewport long after Vera had left. This corner of the ship was empty, and that was good enough for him. He stood for a long time, waiting for the inevitable passing and trying not to let his thoughts weigh him down.

  With the approach of light footsteps, Lucian turned to see Emma walking toward him.

  “There you are,” she said.

  She surprised him with a hug, and the warmth of human contact was a shock after his isolation.

  She drew back. “Have you just been standing here the whole time?”

  “Yeah. Just . . . can’t be around people right now, I guess.”

  “Oh,” she said, her face falling. “If you need some space . . .”

  Lucian shook his head. “Not from you. Just . . . others. I don’t want to show my face.” He cleared his throat. “Anyway, Captain Miller said you turned a lot of people to my side.”

  “I couldn’t let people think it was your fault.”

  “Thanks. You didn’t have to do that.” He watched her closely, feeling the need to reach out to her, but staying his hand. He wasn’t sure how to act with her now. “How are you holding up? Everything okay up here?”

  She gave a small smile. “Well, I’m making it day to day. What about you? You look kind of . . . rough.”

  “I feel kind of rough.”

  “Well, the passage will be soon. The halfway point of our journey. That’s something to be grateful for. The sooner we’re off this damn ship, the better.”

  She was standing close enough by his side for him to feel her warmth. After so long in that cold cell, any feeling was welcome. He let go of his inhibition and let his hand take hers. To his relief, she didn’t let go.

  “You’ve lost weight,” she said. “Did they not feed you or something?”

  At the mention of food, Lucian’s stomach rumbled. He chose not to tell her it was his choice. “Not much.”

  “After the passing, we can head to the galley. Lunch is on me.”

  Despite his hunger, food was far from his thoughts. In the viewport, he could see his reflection staring back. His form was thin and haggard. Dark circles underlined his eyes, the light in them having departed. His complexion was pale as a ghost. It was as if he hadn’t seen the sun in months, though it had only been eleven or so days since his departure from sun-drenched Miami.

  “Do you know how you’re getting to the Academy?” Lucian asked.

  “There’s a shuttle from Volsung Orbital that goes down to Karendas, a city on the equator. It’s the closest spaceport to the Academy. One of their Talents is supposed to meet me there. I can tell them you’re coming, too. You said your doctor sent a message ahead, right?”

  “Supposedly.”

  “Well, as long as that message made it, it should be fine. Even if not, any mage is free to seek admission.”

  “There’s no guarantee the Transcends will accept me, though.”

  “I don’t know if they’ll accept me, either. We have to try, right?”

  Well, there was Vera, who had offered training. He wasn’t ready to tell Emma about that yet. He wasn’t sure why, exactly, but it felt like something better kept to himself, at least for now. The idea that he might be trained to stand on his own as a mage was tantalizing, and it was an attitude Vera seemed to encourage.

  “Once we’re accepted, what then?” Lucian asked.

  She shrugged. “I guess we learn to be mages.” She offered him a smile. “I’m glad we’re going together. I . . . don’t think I can do this alone.”

  Lucian felt guilty hearing her say that, and he didn’t have the heart to tell her that it might not be his choice, in the end.

  “What did it feel like?” she asked. “Streaming.”

  Lucian thought about it. “It felt as if every part of me was infused with fire. It . . . hurt, almost, but not quite. It felt good, too, in a strange way. And it made me feel powerful. Like . . . nothing could stop me.”

  Emma nodded as if she recognized the feeling. “Sometimes, I feel that same fire, too, but the effects are very different. I guess you could say it’s the first warning I get.”

  Lucian frowned. “Warning?”

  She hesitated a moment before continuing. “That built-up energy has to go somewhere. So, it directs itself inward, and usually, it causes me to have a seizure. The pain can be . . . unbearable. It’s like a dam bursting, and the pain doesn’t go away until the stream is over. It can take anywhere from a few seconds to a few minutes. It’ll kill me. Eventually.”

  This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  Now, she was the one hiding her face. He wanted to hold her, to comfort her. As useless as that might be. He remembered what Vera had told him, how the collection of ether’s toxin could result in Emma’s symptoms. The only solution was learning how to stream.

  “I’m sorry, Emma. I didn’t know.”

  “It’s not your fault. Failure isn’t an option for me. My parents have tried everything, whether it’s medication or physical therapy. The longer I go between seizures, the worse it gets. It’s been two weeks since my last one, so the next one should be pretty bad.”

  “That’s horrible.”

  “I wasn’t detected early enough. Eventually, it happens to every mage if they don’t learn to stream in time.”

  “I don’t know how I did it, or I’d show you. It was just an overwhelming, emotional outburst. Like . . . losing control.” He looked at Emma, who was staring out the viewport. “Maybe you can try that.”

  “Maybe,” Emma said. “The idea of losing control scares me, though.”

  There was a silence after that, the two of them just staring at the stars.

  “What’s the word with Dirk?”

  “He’s wearing a bandage across his eyes now. The med pod couldn’t completely fix him. He’s been brought low, that’s for sure. Barely even talks now. And his two friends . . . Paul and Kasim, was it? They keep to themselves, too.”

  “You think I should feel bad about that?”

  “No. People do it to themselves, you know? It’s not your problem.”

  “It feels bad to say, but at the time, just putting him in his place . . . it felt good.”

  “You should be careful about that feeling. That’s why they say magic is addicting. Some say it’s the power that makes you go mad as much as the toxin. You open yourself up to it, wanting to feel more and more. But that power has a price.”

  “So, the more you use magic, the worse it becomes?”

  Emma nodded. “That’s the gist of it. The fraying happens when a mage finally gives in. They live only for the feeling, no matter how much it rots them from the inside out. Some can deny the temptation long enough, but in the end, it becomes overwhelming. Like . . . a siren calling you to your death.”

  Her chilling words were interrupted by the chime of the ship’s intercom. Captain Miller’s falsely cheery voice emanated through the speakers in stark contrast to their conversation. The attitude seemed strange to Lucian, after being on the receiving end of his sterner side.

  “Greetings, passengers of the Burung. We’re five minutes away from the Volsung Gate. If you haven’t already, there’s still time to get to the nearest viewport to watch the passage. No need to go to the bow; all the viewports will give the vantage of the bridge. Don’t blink, or you might miss it.”

  The comm clicked off.

  “What did he mean by don’t blink?” Lucian asked.

  “We’re going .02C,” Emma explained. “Every second, six thousand kilometers go by. The passing will happen in less than a second. The moment the Gate becomes visible, we’ll be through it.”

  “Sounds dangerous. What would happen if we crashed into it?”

  “That’s a little morbid.”

  “Those Gates are supposed to be indestructible, right?”

  “So they say. It would be a quick death, at least.”

  The math of computing a safe course through a Gate was routine for navigation computers. The central plane of every Gate was more than a kilometer wide, more than enough space for any ship to pass through, even the largest supercarrier in the League’s fleet, Volga. The only thing that had to be arranged was passage order. It wouldn’t do for two ships from opposite ends of the Gate to collide into each other. That had only happened once, as far as he knew. And when the force of the collision cleared, the Gate remained behind without so much as a scratch.

  Lucian wasn’t nervous about the passing. He was thinking about what Vera had said. Were those Gates powered by the Manifold, or by the theoretical vacuum energy proposed by physicists? Supposedly, the Gates had to be located far from any major gravitational well, as gravity would somehow interfere with the mechanics of the passage. After his conversation with Vera, though, he wasn’t so sure. It could be some form of magic, for all he knew.

  The image on the viewport shifted, revealing a new vista of stars, this one pointed toward the darker, less dense outer band of the Milky Way. It was only moments now. Lucian held his breath, focusing intensely on the viewport.

  A new star appeared. It grew brighter and brighter, a purplish aura of light blue-shifting as the ship hurtled forward.

  As Emma’s grip tightened on Lucian’s, the burst of light dissipated. There was no jolting and no thunderclap. A momentary flash of brilliance, then nothing more. The stars had shifted once again, but this time, it was from a new star system, not the display itself.

  “That’s it?” Lucian asked.

  “That’s it,” Emma said.

  It felt so . . . anticlimactic. And all Lucian could think about was how far he was from everyone and everything he ever knew. He thought of his mother, then. Now in a new system, their messages would take much longer to reach each other. They had to pass through the mail relays set up outside the Gate.

  Just thinking of her made him realize that she’d probably sent a million messages by now.

  “I have to go,” he said. “I have to find my slate.”

  “Yeah, you better check on that. Lunch later? A premium meal, on me.”

  Lucian nodded, then ran back to his cabin.

  When Lucian returned to his cabin, Believer Horatia was sitting on her bunk with the pod door open. As soon as her eyes met Lucian’s, she glared with cold hostility.

  He felt her gaze as he climbed into his pod, closing the door before she had the chance to say anything. A holo he’d been watching from before his incarceration started to play, the film seeming to be from another life.

  His slate was waiting for him in the pod’s compartment. He unlocked it and saw thirty-six missed messages from his mother.

  They started off concerned. Then angry. And finally, panicking.

  And none of them mentioned Lucian being locked up. Apparently, Captain Miller hadn’t shared that minor detail with her, but perhaps that was for the best. She had enough to worry about.

  Her messages had stopped two days ago. That likely coincided with her passing into Alpha Centauri.

  Lucian swiped out a response, knowing it would not be adequate in explaining things.

  Sorry for not responding, Mom. I lost my slate. I know, I’m an idiot. Luckily, someone returned it. That’s why I haven’t texted back.

  Lucian doubted she would buy that, but it was better than telling the truth. That would only worry her.

  We’re two weeks out from Volsung. We passed through the Gate. I’m fine. I’m just ready to get there. Love, Lucian.

  He felt he should write something more, but didn’t know what. So, Lucian pressed send, only for the server to give him the following message: Not enough credit.

  Lucian blinked. He looked up his virtual wallet and found his balance from Earth hadn’t synced with the new star system yet, nor had the money his mother synced him been verified by the network. She probably had set the fee too low, giving her transaction low priority.

  Whatever the case, if Lucian didn’t get some money before they docked, he was as good as stranded.