[SS]: We took a break, and we’re back again. While we worked through all the emotion, Korac asked if there’s anything I was curious about their time on Earth before the 2006 invasion. And that’s where we’re picking up.

Life in the Cult of Night.

That’s a fair question because there were one hundred thousand Icari living solely in the Little Rock compound. But I’m afraid the answer will bore you.

Eventually, we disseminated our forces to compounds around the world. We stayed indoors during the day and trained all night. Colita secluded herself away with her harem. Nox and I slipped away from our duties to spend time with our girls in your dreams. The only thing of note was the Justice.

I don’t think he was much right in the head.

[SS]: “It’s so odd how it feels like a lifetime ago.”

Even to someone with a lifespan as long as mine, it was. I’ve lived hundreds of thousands of years at a time that proved far less eventful than the last three in your presence.

[SS]: I stare at him a while before asking, “When did I become more than an assignment to you?”

I can recall the exact moment without even considering it. The night I first realized I was losing this game to you. More importantly, that I wanted to.

{Earth | 2004}

Something loomed outside our initiatives. Something more than the Cult of Night losing track of the Renee’s. More than The Brethren organizing with Xelan against us. Outside our carefully laid invasion plans, a dissidence lurked.

Nox sensed it. He sent me from the compound to watch the Progeny. Not to assess your progress, but to watch over you and those targets on your unassuming backs. I asked him, “Do you not wish to go yourself, your majesty?”

His eyes flashed on the verge of Atramentous. “It’s not time.”

It was an inkling then. A thought. That he feared his own loss of self-control. After reading his Verse, I know I was right. Nox didn’t trust himself.

Well, that was fine. I possessed enough restraint for the entire Icarean army. Certain nothing could move me, I arrived at your track meet that evening. Walking my jean-clad ass to the stands, I observed the crowd. Close to three hundred humans came to cheer for their offspring.

March nights in Little Rock were crisp. On the chilled air, rode the smell of hot dogs and popcorn. I bought a bag of hot peanuts before traveling to the underside of the bleachers. The support column took my back as I leaned there and watched for signs of any encroaching disturbance.

It was all an excuse to see what you were like outside of our dreams, Sagan. How you spent your time. What you valued. What I could take away from you.

Your hair was brown then. You kept it longer but always tied back in a ponytail like the length only got in your way. I remember when you walked onto the track, only a dozen yards from me. I’ve never seen so much concentration and determination. Not even on a soldier before battle.

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You were there to set records. Your run times were magnificent, but it was your focus that I admired.

As the meet finished and the crowd cleared up, I kept to the bleachers and considered my report. How to explain to Nox that despite our instincts, I found no signs of outward interference—

“Wear a dress Friday night. I’ll pick you up in my truck.”

What in the name of pubescent bullshit was this?

A young man—blond, pasty, football player, judging by his letterman—followed you around to the athletics building as you climbed into a sweatshirt and windbreaker pants. I remember I thought the gray brought out your eyes.

I was ready to get in his face, but you beat me to it.

“What part of ‘hell no’ don’t you understand, Justin?! Even if I wanted to go on a date with you—which I don’t—I spend every Friday at the skating rink with—”

“With Rayne?”

I didn’t like the way he said it. Smug. Like Abresson. Keeping to the shadows, I moved through the underside of the stands to observe your reactions.

You tensed.

I hated it.

I never once in my life wanted to beat the shit out of someone so badly on behalf of another. Especially as the smarmy P.O.S. got in your personal space.

With an overly satisfied grin, he shared, “I know your secret.”

You kept your defenses on high, but a slight shift overtook that boldness from earlier. That confidence that I liked. Cautiously, you asked him, “Which secret specifically? I’m a teenage girl, it’s hard to keep track of them all.”

“Rayne.”

You took him saying her name like a train wreck. Recoiled as if slapped with one hand cupped over your mouth.

“That’s right.” He went on to gloat. “I saw you two making out—”

“Shh! Shh. Are you crazy?! My parents are around.” You searched about looking to see if they spied you even then. At first, the distress in the lines of your face puzzled me. “Why would you threaten me with this? Do you have any idea what might happen to us?”

Right. Humans are stupid and repressed. And you lived in one of the most repressed areas for two young women to carry on a relationship without risking a visit to a conversion camp.

The gross pus pocket mansplained how high school worked to you. “Because you’re the track and field star. And I’m the football star. You shouldn’t be hanging out with those goth freaks. You should be doing my homework, waxing my truck in a bikini, and practicing with me on that bare-foot and pregnant trophy wife future of yours.”

Dead human boy in

Three

Two—

“No.”

Your confidence prevented my next homicide. You took care of it without needing my help. You did it admirably.

In his face, you confessed bravely, “I love her. Tell my parents. See if I care. They love me, and they love her. I know they’ll accept it. Even if they didn’t, not you or anyone else will tell me who I can and can’t love.”

Beguiling and courageous. I was left with a touch of envy for Rayne. No one in my long history of relationships was ever willing to share me so publicly. Proudly, even.

It moved me.

So I was more stunned than surprised by how his blackmail unfolded. Sneering, Justin stepped closer so that he loomed over you. He put his face in yours and jeered, “Sure, you can say that about your own parents, but are you willing to put Rayne through that with hers? Can you guarantee they’ll be as accepting? After all, maybe they saw themselves with a dozen grandchildren in their future, and you’ll be robbing them of that.”

I almost interrupted that Rayne’s brother could supply those hypothetical grandchildren happily. But you turned and looked under the bleachers. Into the shadows.

At me.

[SS]: I thought I hallucinated him, but yes. I did see Korac that night.

The resolve on your face stopped me. You wanted me there. To see you set records. To see you. But you also knew you shouldn’t want me. At all.

Justin wasn’t a beard.

He was a wall meant to keep me out, and eventually he kept Rayne out. Xelan. The other Progeny. Your entire world shrank into the Wrong Side of Eternity. And I couldn’t—

[SS]: We took a break there. Everything is fine, Rayne. You know the rest of this story. You were there for it, and I can’t be happier with how it’s turning out. Especially once we get you home.

That was the first time I viewed you, amos, as more than an assignment. The canvas I found in you collected a few shades of brown and purple, but now, nothing outshines the light in your eyes. You’re a masterpiece, and I am so fortunate to stand in your glow.

Proudly and out in the open together.