Angie shuddered. “That’s seriously creepy.”
“I imagine it may seem so, to you.”
“What if you get lost?” Bashrik wondered. “Can you find your way back, or do you end up having to live wherever you end up in this place?”
“We may exit the library at our leisure, in the same manner that I brought you here.”
Bashrik sighed wistfully. “That must be nice, just clicking your fingers and ending up somewhere else.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Angie teased.
“You know I’d always take you with me… Angela.” He flashed her a grin, nudging her in the arm.
Ronad was the only one who seemed deep in thought, his gaze barely taking in the vast library. “So, you can’t change anything that happened in the past?”
The Stargazer smiled sympathetically. “We cannot alter the history that stole Naya from you, Ronad. It is a fixed point in time; it cannot be moved or changed, no matter how your heart might wish for it. They are ripples in a pool. If we remove the dropping of the initial stone, the ensuing eventualities also do not occur, which can result in disastrous consequences.”
“Can you travel back to these moments in time?” he pressed, his voice tinged with bitter sadness.
“As a gift and a curse of our creation, we are able to see much of the past, the future, and the present, but we cannot pass such sight to you.”
Ronad nodded, falling silent. My heart broke for him. It had to sting, to have such a skill dangled in front of his face, only to find that it could do nothing to help him.
“Might I ask where the other Stargazers are?” Xiphio asked, distracting Orfaio’s attention. “I find it rather peculiar that we have yet to see another of your kind, especially in such a place as this.” He was right. Considering the sheer size of the library, it was weird that the entire place was empty of activity.
“They are here, Xiphio,” Orfaio replied. “Our people are always present, though we only make ourselves visible when we wish to do so.”
“What, they’re watching us?” Bashrik swatted the air anxiously.
“In a manner of speaking. They exist alongside you, but they may choose not to trouble themselves with you. A few may find you curious, but not nearly intriguing enough to present themselves to you.”
“Wait… does that mean you’re like angels?” Angie’s mouth fell open. “Like, when you feel something brush past you at a funeral, or you sense something you can’t explain—is that you all messing around, watching us?”
“I should never suggest that our species indulge in ‘messing around,’ but we make ourselves present wherever we are called for,” Orfaio explained. “Often, those who call for us do not realize it is us they are calling for, but we remain close to them regardless. On occasion, other curious forces may be at work, but for what you are referring to… I suppose we are one and the same.”
“Oh… my… God.” Angie looked like she needed to sit down. “I really wish you had wings. It’d be so much more realistic.”
“My apologies for the disappointment, Angela.”
“No worries, just offering a suggestion. You’d look so much cooler.”
I gazed down at Nova, who was cradled in my arms. She seemed especially calm in the presence of the Stargazer, her slate eyes fixated on the being, mesmerized by the pulse of lights beneath their skin. Her fist was in her mouth, but she hadn’t fussed or made a sound since we arrived here, the whole place shrouding her in a sense of tranquility. I figured it was probably the first truly serene place she’d experienced since being brought into the universe.
“What’s in all of these books?” Lauren asked, her eyes as wide as saucers.
“Ah, yes, Lauren the bookworm.” The Stargazer seemed amused and delighted in equal measure, to have a fellow bibliophile in the room—a person who could truly appreciate the library in all its glory. “This library contains the history of every race in the universe, either written by their hand or copied down by our own, viewed and recorded by the Observers. Knowledge, as you can see, is our source of power. We are not almighty, as some would believe, but we have the insight to advise on most matters. Indeed, we have seen enough of history repeated to make educated guesses into the future, even before certain events come to pass.”
“Does that mean you’ve seen what we’ve come to tell you before?” Navan wondered.
“The Vysantheans were not the instigators, but your race is not the first to seek universal domination. Nor do I believe they will be the last,” Orfaio replied.
“Unless they succeed—in which case, they’ll signal the end of the universe as we know it.”
“In some ways, you are correct. However, the universe shall continue to be, until the given moment when it is to end, regardless of Vysanthean intervention. It shall endure long after they are gone.”
Stone frowned. “Hang fire, does that mean ye’ve seen the future, and they’ve not got away with it?”
“It simply means that even immortality cannot outlive the lifespan of the universe. You underestimate the ingenuity of other species. Eventually, as always, another individual shall create something to combat the immortality of the coldbloods. It may not be for thousands of years, but it shall occur, as it inevitably does.” There was a curious hint of boredom in the Stargazer’s voice, as though this was nothing new—it was merely an inconvenience to the lifespan of the universe. I supposed, here on their astral plane, they didn’t have to worry about the details below; they just had to watch and record and bring comfort where they could.
“Aye, well, sorry, pal, but we can’t wait thousands o’ years,” Stone countered. “Those coldblood sons o’ bitches are causin’ havoc now, and we ain’t willin’ to let a load o’ folks die ‘til someone can come up with a way o’ snuffin’ ‘em out.”
Orfaio dipped its head. “I sense that.”
“Look, we’ve got a planet at war, with two queens fighting a rebel army who’ve made a working immortality elixir. They can’t be killed, and although the queens seem to have used some kind of sleeping mist on them, to hold them back, it’s only a matter of time before the fighting continues,” Navan explained. “The coldbloods attacked Earth and threatened it, and the fact that the immortality elixir requires human blood as a baseline means that the human race is still at risk. If my uncle’s replicator fails for any reason, then they’ll be in danger, and my daughter will be in danger.”
“Yeah, although, it is a much bigger issue than that,” Ronad interjected, evidently remembering the need to emphasize the grand scheme of things, rather than the personal details. “If the replicator fails, they’ll wipe out all of Earth if they have to, to get enough blood for their baseline. Or, they might start to enslave the humans and force them to have hybrid children, so they can churn out more of their immortality elixir.”
Lauren nodded. “And even if the replicator continues to function as it’s supposed to, the coldbloods will infect the rest of the universe, planet by planet, dominating every species until there’s nothing left but decimation and coldblood rule. They’ll change everything, upsetting the balance of nature in the most irreparable way. And once they run out of space… well, it doesn’t bear thinking about.”
“I’ve seen it for myself,” I admitted quietly. The Stargazer’s head whipped around, their black eyes peering at me with intent curiosity.
“What?” They sounded stunned.
“I’ve seen one possible future for myself,” I repeated.
“How is that possible?”
“I don’t know. Every so often, when I’ve been given a serum or something, I get these visions that I can’t explain.”
“Show me.” The creature moved toward me and placed their strange hands on my head, a bright light pulsing across my field of vision until all I could see were those black eyes, pulling me into a dark oblivion.
I felt the creature searching through my mind. Before they could delve too far, I brought up the image of Nova
and Ezra, standing in the center of a burning universe, with a sea of planets exploding and crumbling around them. I showed the creature the importance of the immortality elixir in all of this, while urging them to understand Nova’s innocence. The perpetrator was Ezra and his rebels, nobody else—my daughter had nothing to do with it.
Orfaio removed their hands from the side of my head, and I returned to the library with a rush of dizziness. “As tyrannous as these coldbloods have become, their advancements stretch far beyond the bounds of nature,” they began. “We cannot intervene by reversing the immortality they have acquired. We are forbidden from altering the lines of what has happened in the past and what may be, though we can make suggestions that can change the direction the future may go in.”
“Orfaio, I’m a simple fella. Put it in simple terms fer us,” Stone pleaded.
“Essentially, dear Stone, we have no way of reversing what has already happened—in this case, the presence of the coldblood immortality—but we may guide you in some way,” they replied. “If you are to alter the course of this trajectory, you must seek a way to reverse the immortality by yourselves.”
I had feared the Stargazers would say that.
Chapter Sixteen
“So, what you’re saying is, you won’t intervene in this, even though it affects the entire universe?” My anger bubbled to the surface.
“Incorrect, Riley. It may affect the entire universe. That shall depend upon your ensuing actions,” Orfaio replied calmly.
“We come all this way, and there’s nothing you can do to help us?” Navan sounded equally furious at the vague answer the Stargazer had given us. The book of fables had made me nervous about what they might actually be able to do for us, but now the truth of it had been revealed, and it was exactly what I’d feared. They weren’t almighty at all, and they weren’t willing to get involved in the business of lesser beings.
Orfaio’s violet lips spread into a sympathetic smile. “I am sorry that you are disappointed, Navan, but we did not invite you here. You came of your own accord—we did not promise a resolution to these conflicts.”
“Aye, but ye helped me out when ye didn’t need to,” Stone piped up. “I were the last o’ me kind and ye came to me aid, stoppin’ me from doin’ meself in. If ye don’t step in to help us here, yer sayin’ ye don’t mind if a load o’ folks end up extinct.”
“That is not what we are saying, Stone. We are saying that we cannot, and will not, intervene to change the course of the future,” Orfaio insisted. “That task falls to you, as it should. An all-powerful force is as harmful and defiant toward the laws of nature as the abomination that these coldbloods have created. Such intervention is forbidden for us.”
“So, we’re royally screwed, is what you’re saying?” Angie snapped. “You act the part, but you’ve got nothing to back it up?”
Orfaio sighed. “Knowledge is the true power of the universe, Angela. You shall see that, I am certain of it. Indeed, I should like to speak with you all individually, so that I may offer guidance in this time of need.” The Stargazer paused. “Once our encounters have come to a close, I know you shall feel better about the situation in which you have found yourselves. Somebody must lead the proverbial charge, and who better than you—you merry band of comrades?”
“Don’t count on it,” Bashrik muttered.
Angie snorted in outrage. “I guess you wouldn’t want to get your magical hands all dirty now, would you?”
“I am certain your moods shall improve, once we have spoken.” Orfaio’s voice remained calm, their tone perpetually soothing. “I wish to impart to each of you a piece of knowledge that shall help you in the pursuit of your heart’s desires. I ask only one thing in return.”
“Oh yeah, what’s that?” Navan murmured.
“I ask that you do not share what you learn from me with anyone. For the knowledge to have value in the pursuit of your collective success, each of you must keep the secret of what I tell you, so only you understand the reasoning behind your future actions,” Orfaio explained cryptically. “If you do not obey, and you share the content of what I discuss with you, then you put that collective success at dire risk of failure. If the knowledge of future actions is shared, then extraneous variables are given the opportunity to influence those behaviors, disrupting the causal chain of events. Ripples in a pool, remember… if the initial stone does not drop, the ensuing ripples do not occur, and the future I may envision will no longer have the means to happen.”
Stone sighed. “Orfi, ye’ve gotta throw me a bone.”
“Essentially, if you share collectively what I tell you, individually, then it may produce a domino effect that prevents your success from happening.”
“Right, got ye.”
Maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t going to be a total waste of time. There was a hopefulness in Orfaio’s mystical voice that gave me courage, making me wonder if knowledge might actually be the most powerful force in the universe. After all, it had never let us down before, though weapons and brute strength had.
“I would request a moment with Riley to begin with,” Orfaio said, turning their dark eyes toward me. “Without the child, if you would be so kind?”
Taking a deep breath, I handed Nova to Navan, planting a delicate kiss on both their cheeks before turning to follow the Stargazer away from the library. The Stargazer snapped their fingers, the world disappearing with a rush of bright light, before we rematerialized in a room overlooking the library below. I wasn’t sure where this structure was built, considering there was nothing but sky above the rows upon rows of stacks and books, but I was quickly learning not to dwell too deeply on the physics of this place. It defied everything.
“What are you?” I asked, gazing out of a curved window at the infinite stacks. The sky still swirled above us, but several walls drifted in and out, giving the impression of a musty old study. I wondered if the Stargazer had reached into my head and plucked this image out, recreating it around me.
“We are what we are,” Orfaio replied.
“Yeah, but what exactly are you?” I pressed. “I’ve heard stories that you guys are older than the universe itself, and have been here since the dawn of everything. Is that true?”
Orfaio joined me by the window. “We are not older than the universe. We were born of the universe.”
“What does that mean?”
“We are what is forged when stars die and worlds collide,” Orfaio went on. “At the dawn of the universe, we were the first things formed, crafted by energy and built from stardust. When stars die, more of us are created. We do not reproduce in the organic way that most species do. In that way, life is born from death.”
“You’re made from stardust?”
“We are, though everyone has a speck of stardust within them. It is that which gives us the ability to see all. It is also why we cannot intervene in a physical way—we are not divine. We simply have the power of knowledge and sight, and enjoy the gift of long life. We are not as strong or almighty as we may appear.”
“I’m starting to get that impression,” I said wryly.
Orfaio turned their black eyes on me. “You are unusual, however. There is more stardust in you than most, though it is hard to say why that may be,” they mused. “You share a similarity with us that your friends do not.”
“I do?”
“Those visions you mentioned and the one I witnessed inside your mind,” they explained. “It is not an ordinary sort of image, born of simple imagination or memory. It shares the same quality of realism that we see in our observations. You are by no means clairvoyant, but what you have seen may suggest a possible outcome—it is a branch of what may be, and what may come to pass. The future is rarely set in stone, but there are, surprisingly, not an infinite number of outcomes.”
I grimaced. “What I saw was one of those outcomes?”
“Indeed. Something appears to have altered the chemistry of your mind, triggering the release of what we refer to as
‘stardust,’ which is allowing you access to the same plane of reality that we use in our surveillance of the universe.” Orfaio gazed down at the library. “Judging from what I have seen of your past, the botanicals given to you by Kaido Idrax are responsible for your mental awakening.”
“Kaido called it imocea,” I said, remembering. “He told me that imocea was responsible for the things I was seeing, and the way I felt after being injected with the neuro-botanical serums.”
“It has many names throughout the universe.”
I smiled at the memory of the coldblood oddball. “I wish I could understand my visions better, though I’m not too sure how my body would respond to any more serums. Was that what you wanted to talk to me about? Did you want to help me understand my visions better?”
“Alas, no. As you say, your body is currently undergoing a state of temperamental shift after the unfortunate events regarding your child,” Orfaio replied. “For that reason, I cannot assist with your visions today, though what I wish to impart may help you in days to come.”
“Go on…”
“I am going to offer you a gift, rather than knowledge. It is somewhat unorthodox, but I would ask that you not be disappointed or alarmed.”
“Should I be?”
“Not if you utilize it correctly.” From within their glowing figure, the Stargazer produced a shimmering vial.
I peered at it uncertainly. “What is it?”
“Stardust.”
“What am I supposed to do with it?”
The Stargazer chuckled softly. “You must visit the one who created your visions. That shall put you on a destined path, which may lead toward a resolution against this coldblood immortality. The easiest road would be to forge an antidote to the elixir, but such a thing will not be enough in its lack of permanence. There will be nothing to stop these coldbloods from creating a new elixir, as your friends suggested, and taking the human race as slaves to do so.”