Galaverse hall in the war palace on Freedomland was the most impressive place Cherise had ever been. Thousands of semi-transparent battles played between enormous pillars. They filled the air from the floor all the way up to the distant ceiling. That ceiling was webbed with arches, cradling even more holographic visions of alien battles.

If one wanted to gain an inkling of the scope of the inhabited galaxy, this gigantic hall was where to look. It was a chaotic feast for one’s eyes.

There was beauty even in so much violence.

Messengers rushed beneath the holographs. Thomas stood on a central dais with the other heroes waiting on marble benches off to the sides.

“Three minutes.” Thomas indicated the statistics display, which included a timer that was ticking down second by second. “Get ready.”

Evenjos looked uncertain.

Vy sat next to Cherise on a bench apart from the others. How could she look so calm with the prophecy of the Lone Survivor hanging over her head?

Prophecies. Ugh.

Cherise had used a prophetic lie to deceive Flen, to make him hesitate to shoot her. She had claimed that a dream showed her that her supposed baby would be the one and only true messiah. Even though that lie had saved her life—and Thomas’s life—she still felt guilty about it.

Because prophecies were all too real.

There was no way to escape or defy prophecy. The most powerful people in existence seemed unable to change the past or the future.

“If anything happens to me,” Vy had said, “please make sure my mom is safe. Tell her I wanted to spend a lot more time with her. And I love her.”

Cherise had hugged Vy. But in truth, she didn’t know how she would cope if she lost her only sister.

“Thomas,” Evenjos said. “Can I ask you to leave us for a minute? I wish to say something to the others.”

Thomas gave a respectful nod and stepped away.

“Why ask him to leave?” Garrett said dryly. “He’ll just absorb our conversation the instant he comes back.”

“Pretty much,” Thomas admitted, walking away.

“I know,” Evenjos said. “I just want a minute without him listening.”

Thomas left without protest. He faded from sight behind veils of holographic cities on alien worlds.

Cherise could not help but contrast his behavior to that of other Yeresunsa she knew. Flen would have said something bitter and resentful before exiting. He would have taken exclusion as a personal insult.

Thomas rarely seemed offended. He bottled up his emotions, good or bad.

Then again, it was probably easy to be benevolent and easygoing when you were the most powerful authority in the galaxy.

One of the holographs near the ceiling showed an urban moonscape that might be Permafrost City, where Flen and his undergrounders were exiled. Grim-faced albinos hurled lightning at an invading force of Torth. Was Flen among them? Like all of the livestreams, this one was too small and too far away for Cherise to make out individual facial features.

Evenjos leaned toward the other two heroes and spoke in a low voice. “We are about to give that boy enough power to take over the galaxy. Are you both sure this is the wisest course of action?”

“It’s not that much power,” Ariock said.

Evenjos gave him a look that begged to know what universe he was in.

“I mean,” Ariock said, “my sphere of influence encompasses a solar system, so together, we aren’t giving him much more than that.”

“He could use billions of brainwashed Torth to usurp our military,” Evenjos said gravely.

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Cherise supposed that was a legitimate concern.

Still, Evenjos’s skepticism about Thomas reminded her of Mrs. Hollander, as well as scientists and other adults from their life on Earth. She exchanged glances with Vy. She smiled when her foster sister rolled her eyes. They were both tired of wrong doubts about Thomas.

“And us,” Evenjos went on. “Once we are linked with him, we will have no defense against his power. Do you realize that? He can twist our minds faster than we can possibly react.”

“You’re being unfair,” Ariock rumbled. “Do you honestly think—”

“I like him, too,” Evenjos cut in with fierce defensiveness. “I trust him. I consider him my friend.”

Ariock closed his mouth. He looked confused.

“But…” Evenjos bit at her lip, as if ashamed. “I also liked and trusted Elome.”

Cherise had been prepared to defend Thomas. Instead, she felt herself sympathizing with the former goddess-empress.

Trust could be broken. Friendships could curdle. Those who ought to be the best people sometimes turned out to be the worst. That was a truth. Not everyone knew it, not everyone learned it, but those who did never forgot.

Cherise had done her best to put aside her bitter memory of yellow-eyed Thomas tormenting her. She understood, now, that he had done it in order to save her life. His reasons were good. But that act had levered a rift between them, and other friendships had grown in that rift. Cherise still felt Flen’s caresses. She still saw his caring smile, in her mind.

Judging by Thomas’s occasional melancholy, he also yearned for someone else. The Pink Screwdriver? Or the Upward Governess?

Thomas mourned the former galactic leader almost as if she was a dead lover.

Cherise didn’t begrudge him for that. There was an undeniable chemistry that existed among telepathic super-geniuses. Who else was like them?

Not Cherise.

She still loved Thomas, yet she wasn’t sure she could embrace the power differential between herself and him, the way Vy did with Ariock. There was no inhibitor for mental gigantism. Drugs would never give Thomas the equivalent of a human mind. Even if a magical surgery could transform his brain to a “normal” level of intelligence, Cherise didn’t actually want that. She would never excoriate the brilliance that made him who he was.

“It is possible he could brainwash us by accident,” Evenjos was saying. “We are going to loan him more power than any mind controller has ever wielded before. We don’t know what that will do.”

Vy looked uneasy, overhearing that. Everyone knew that Thomas’s power was no laughing matter.

“I don’t see what choice we have,” Garrett said. “It’s not like we have better ideas.”

“That’s exactly it,” Evenjos said. “We are backed into a corner. We are under time pressure.” She indicated the countdown timer as it ticked down past 00:01:25. “I am not saying that Thomas engineered these circumstances. Or rather, he did, but I hope not with nefarious intentions. I believe he is our friend.” She shivered. “I only wish we had more time to weigh the implications.”

Garrett hugged her.

Evenjos leaned into his embrace, clutching him. “I’m scared.”

It was a compelling image. Despite their godlike powers, despite their invincibility, they would not have eternity together. Garrett was doomed. Evenjos was a mind reader, so she must know that.

Cherise held an open sketchpad on her lap. She began to draw.

She was no oracle, but she understood the importance of art as a way of capturing momentous events. She had brought her illustration implements with that in mind. When Thomas destroyed the final vestiges of the Torth Empire, she wanted to render that moment onto paper, with more emotional impact than a photograph could provide.

Evenjos and Garrett were not the only ones with reasons to fear the future. Vy looked regal, but her fate was a question mark. She must be dreading the possibility that Ariock’s nightmare would come true.

Even Thomas was probably feeling some trepidation. Would the Lone Survivor turn out to be someone else? Was Thomas unwittingly on a path to his own doom?

Cherise layered details onto her drawing, wondering.

“It’s time.” Thomas reemerged from a cascade of holographs.

“We trust you,” Ariock said in a tone of reassurance.

Thomas smiled in his young-but-ancient way. He must have absorbed the fact that Evenjos feared that he would turn into a galactic megalomaniac, but he didn’t look offended as he went to stand between his friends. He was the same boy Cherise had met in the Hollander Home years ago.

The digital clock display clicked to 00:00:00.

All the hectic messengers in the hall skidded to a halt so they could watch the holographs. The same must be happening in council rooms throughout the galaxy. Planetary consuls and military mayors had been briefed on what to expect.

How many really believed that Thomas could do what he promised?

A lot of them, Cherise guessed. She talked with former slaves every day. Nothing surprised them. They lived in an age of miracles. So what if a Torth girl could magically explode the galaxy? A liberated gladiator with infinite strength was sure to triumph, because a long-dead god said so. Why worry?

Alashani warriors had been tapped to help keep the peace and spread the power. They had probably even enlisted Flen and his undergrounder cohorts.

Garrett, Evenjos, and Ariock went to stand behind Thomas. They took hold of him. They gently clasped his hands, his outstretched arms, his shoulders.

Cherise touched her pen to a fresh sheet of paper and began a preliminary sketch of the heroes in their moment of victory.

She was ready to watch the total extinguishment of the Torth as if they were nothing but an ant infestation. Who would have guessed that she would bear witness to the end of one galactic empire and the birth of a new one? Soon there would be only a few stunned Torth. The dregs would be beaten back, and if they resurged, they would be easily defeated again.

Soon they would all be collared and kneeling in submission.

The air began to sparkle with dust caught in eddies of excess power. Loose parts of Cherise’s clothing billowed, levitated by the power radiating from her friends.

Judging by Thomas’s faraway gaze, he had ascended into the Necrocosm.