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Conn puts his arms on his hips “You’re stupid Warlock would blast him to bloody bits”
“Well, they’re friends, so they won’t be blasting each other to anything,”your father and uncles, aren’t they?”
“Do you think Da has met them?” Conn asks “Char and the Reaper?”
“And Ares?” Barlow adds “Or Wulfgar the Whitetooth?” He sla Obsidian “Or Dancer of Faran! Or Thraxa au—”
“Aye, they’re probably the best of friends Now eat”
We eat dinner huddled around the plastic table as the rain druh room for bowls and elbows, but we layer around the thin soup and chatter on about the ainst starShells in atmosphere My sister smiles when the boys say the soup tastes better today
After dinner, we gather around with Da to watch one of his programs I break half of a Cosmos chocolate bar into seven pieces to share I pocket ive his piece to Ava No wonder he’s so skinny The program is a news show The host a Violet who reminds me a bit of the helions—a tropical bird that lives off our trash He has an incredible shock of white hair and a jaw you could carve granite with, but pathetically delicate hands for a man
The very i on the Reaper’s Triue each other as he theorizes that the next push will be toward Venus to finish off the Ash Lord and his daughter, the Last Fury, once and for all My sister watches in silence, stroking her new shoes So far our brothers and her husband have not been na the bottom of the holo
Tiran leans toward the far-off world He’s always been the softest of our faer to prove himself Soon it’ll be his turn He becomes sixteen in just a few months Then he’ll leave all this mud behind for the stars I can’t help but resent him already None of them should have left their family
The boys don’t see es of the HC dance in their Red eyes The color The spectacle of the Triu with his Gold wife—the Sovereign who pro his clenched fist into the air as they howl They think they could rise like the Reaper They’re too young to see our life is the lie behind the lights
“Reaper! Reaper!” the crowd shouts
My little nephews join in the chant And I reach forthe promises undelivered, and wonder if I’m the only one who misses the mines
—
I wake in the night to a distant roar The roo There’s a claines Mosquitoes buzz outside the netting that’s wrapped around our bunks “Aunt Lyria,” Conn whispers from beside me “What’s that noise?”
“Quiet, love” I strain to hear The engines fade I pushcomes from below He’s still asleep My sister’s bunk is eround