“In your restless dreams, you hear my voice.”

The cosmos was noisy. A static, a whine, a shrill shriek, all between each and every star. It echoed within Six’s head, like it always did from his waking moments and well into his dreams. Never ending. It didn’t used to be like this. Buried deep in his memories—memories belonging to oracles long before him, woven into the fabric of his being when he was forced into existence—were snapshots of the cosmos in silence. Blessed silence filling Six from the inside out. What he wished he could dream of again. The cradle of silence that had once held him.

But those days had come and gone with the birth of his existence.

It was tiring.

The space strider he sat in was a small two-seater, locking Six off from the abyss of space he’d much prefer. The inner workings blinked like they were stars too, lights and readings he didn’t bother deciphering. The core systems in the center console between his legs was underneath a glass dome and reacted to simple touches, creating ghostly lights as it tracked hand movements to perform the actions he needed. To either side of it was the fleshy membrane for Six to slot in his hands if he were controlling the craft. He knew nothing about how it worked, but it was the most advanced system the Empire had to offer. All in the pursuit of power.

Power only Six could find as an oracle.

Its whisper floated through his restless dreams. The touch of it encompassed him in the shared memories underneath his own until he awoke to find himself cut off still. All oracles felt it that way, at least until their years were up. Most oracles didn’t live past ten years in the Emperor’s service. Forced from the dark as something close to human, but not quite, and then reclaimed a decade later. In that time, they didn’t age; they simply existed in stasis. Six would die, in a way. While his body would linger like rot, seemingly alive, he would not. The mind would let go. The blessed dark would take over once again. A mercy.

He’d seen the grotesque attempts to keep the bodies of older oracles alive. The skin withered and blackened, suspended in tubes. They always stared, eyes empty, at the dark like something stared back. Needles scored their skin. IVs left inside veins to rot. All in the pursuit of learning what they really were. But answers were never found.

Eventually, a new oracle would be ripped from their silent dream. Again, and again it happened and it would continue until an oracle found the hidden power the Emperor sought. As for why? Why would the Illustrious Emperor of the Cosmos need power when he’d already conquered the known universe and had it and its people beneath his thumb? Six didn’t know. He didn’t care. All he wanted was an end.

And Six was close. So, so close. He felt the thrum of ancient power in his bones. The way its presence vibrated through him as an echo.

He touched the strider’s core system and loaded the orbital radio scanner controls with a motion of his fingers. It bubbled out of the dark within and met his fingertips with a soft golden glow. Slowly, he searched through the omnipresent radio waves for the voice in his dreams. This was the only way he could find it awake.

Six had heard it that way in the heart of the Empire and had followed it until the trail became too hard to grasp. Unfortunately, the Emperor’s people had come with him. The floating station of pristine white with blinking lights glittered in the dark not too far away. It was pure noise. Bright, stunning, and grating. Chatter at all times. Drowning out everything. Six couldn’t think in there.

Out here, trapped in a strider with only metal and glass between him and the dark, however? He could find the voice. Fragments of it singing the promise of the golden trail leading him home. He just had to catch it long enough to connect. Across each turn of the radio tuner, he heard a word. A phrase. A soft sigh teasing him. He had to string them together until⁠—

“Are you messing with the instruments again?” the commander barked at him across the comms. The man’s name was William Harris and Six only knew that because it was preferable to the pain of willfully forgetting it and being reminded. He was piloting the strider from the enclosed seat in front of Six’s. He was here on orders straight from the Emperor himself.

It was a high honor to be trusted so, but almost akin to punishment. He was stranded out here. Alone. Exiled from the heart of the Empire where life thrived so brightly, you could forget the whole universe was dark. He had so many medals from a life in service to the Empire and had once polished them daily as a point of pride. Six had watched them dull the longer they were out here. They were the only thing Six could focus on when forced into Harris’ room, but seeing how dull they’d become gave Six so much pleasure every time.

“It’s calibrated correctly,” Harris replied to Six’s silence like it was an answer. “Stop changing it or we might lose contact with base.”

Would that have been so bad? Six withdrew his hand from the mechanism and watched the inner workings grow dormant. Chatter resumed. From the other ships around them and from the station clearly in view. Inane and distracting. Six thumped his head back against his seat and sighed.

“Come again, Commander?” came another pilot’s voice. “You were breaking up.”

“Just fixing the channels,” Harris explained. “Resume your search.”

“Oracle giving you trouble?” another voice chimed in. This one Six had never heard before, which made sense. Every cycle brought new people and sent the old home. All because no one should be out in the dark this long.

Well, except for Six and Harris.

“It’s creepy, isn’t it?” the new voice continued. “You can say so. I won’t tell anyone.”

“No kidding,” came the first again. “Just the way it stares off into the stars with those black eyes? Do you think something’s looking back at it?”

Harris sighed loudly. “He can hear you.”

They went silent. Six was glad for the reprieve. He drew his gaze across the darkness. If only something was staring back at him. All he saw now were the few other space striders with them. Blinking dots in the dark, flying in formation, as they searched for what they would never find on their own. They weren’t used to the dark like him. It wouldn’t sing for them.

Out here was such a stark change from the heart of the Empire. There, everything was bright and glittering. An eyesore. The cities and satellites never slept. They’d been built upon tech found from a civilization long since gone before them and through that tech, they flourished. Except they always wanted more. All to satiate their lust for complete power over the cosmos. Power granted by something only an oracle could find.

“So,” the second voice crackled through the comms again, “how do you stand it, Harris? I been out here for a day and already, I hate it.”

“I heard he gets perks,” the first replied. “If you get my meaning.”

Perks. Six blinked and tilted his head. Perhaps it could be considered that for one of them. Harris treated him like the Emperor did when no one was watching. Intimate bruises were easily hidden underneath thermal body suits, after all, and who would Six even complain to?

“Focus on the mission,” Harris ordered, his voice tight. He never did like it when others knew what he did to Six when the dark got to him.

“I mean, I would, but nothing’s here. You sure we aren’t on a wild goose chase?”

“Dollet, I will send your ass back with a dishonorable discharge if you keep fucking talking.”

Chatter died. Harris was in a bad mood now and Six would get the brunt of it later. If they went back. If he didn’t find what he searched for. It was another hour before he’d have to return to the station. An hour before he was trapped there, staring out into the dark expanse, wishing to be there.

Not again. Not this time. He could find it. He just had to block them all out.

Scrunching tight, he bent low, and pressed his palms hard into his eyes until he saw nothing at all. He sought out the silence between his breaths and their words and held onto it. Searched through it for the voice he’d once heard there. Here. The voice that had led him out this far. It wouldn’t have done so and disappeared. It had to be here.

He touched the glass mechanism with one hand. It was cold. The tech inside of it reached out and was even colder. Tech built from a past once dead and buried. With a steadying breath, Six placed his other hand on the glass.

A deep memory drifted across his.

Soft static from the radio sung as the memory guided his fingers. Complete words and verses from a language forgotten emerged with each twist. Harris snapped at him again, but Six closed the channel between cockpits. Not now. There was a fervent demand rising in his chest. Hands ghosted into his bones. Filled out his muscles. Sang through his blood. He’d tripped into the answer he’d been waiting for and he scrambled to hold onto it. To seize it so tightly between his fingers so it showed him what to do.

The voice from his restless dreams finally echoed through his waking thoughts. It pressed against his cheeks with warm lips. Fingers danced across his skin beneath his suit. He wanted them to draw deeper. Let it touch him like it had in his cradle of silence. Yes, this was it. The soft embrace of the words tingled into Six’s thoughts, blooming into the path he had to take.

He opened his eyes wide, a soft gasp from his lips. In the dark, straight ahead, lights danced and turned into streaks. They drew him in. Tempted him with the trail of power he sought. This was it.

His hands entered the override commands on their own. Harris forced open the comms, shouting, but Six ignored him. His hands plunged into the membrane controls and connected electrodes to his suit. With a twitch of his fingers, he ignited the thrusters and pushed them to full capacity. The hands guiding him became him. A soul rejoining with his because it had finally found its home.

“I’ve found it,” Six whispered against the shouts erupting across the comms. “It’s here. I know where it is.”

A sliver in the dark. The faintest line no one else could see but him. The ship forced it open upon impact, making everyone silent in shock. The darkness tore, like a festering wound from an old scar, and Six flew them through, knowing an end was nigh. Space distorted and stretched around the strider, pulling distant stars apart until they were long streaks against the darkness.

After so many years and lifetimes, he’d find his Lord before the dark stole him home.

“The cloying sound softening your insides, guides you to my sepulcher left undisturbed for a millennium.”

The strider landed inside the wound, disturbing a place that was meant to sleep for all time. Never supposed to be seen by those beholding it now. Landmasses circled a fixed point, slowly orbiting what observed everything. Ruins dotted them, the only landmarks one could see in the hazy dark. Large statues lay in pieces, their skeletal visages staring at nothing while fog curled around them like fingers. Their time as sentries had long since ceased when no one living remembered what came before.

Remembered what had been entombed here. The Lord of the Black Star. His Lord.

Harris sputtered a gasp seeing it. The Black Star. Forever staring. Forever watching. Forever absorbing all that ever was and could be inside its void. A blackened gaze limned in a bright white, rotating, as it took all. One day, everything would be gone because of the Black Star, but that would be long after today. For now, it watched. Waited.

Six had never seen it himself, but old memories of it bubbled to the surface. The Black Star had once been worshiped and it had given them power. Power that had once walked among them as their Lord. The power given form. The power the Emperor now sought.

The radio sang with the others and their activity as they attempted to force the wound wider to allow the station passage. Six didn’t care. What he searched for was here. He’d found it after so many years, so many memories buried on top of each other, he’d wait no longer. He released the control mechanisms and unsealed the top of the strider.

“Stop!” Harris barked, panicked, but he needn’t have worried as the ship depressurized. All was safe here. Breathable. Because it had to be, given the body Six had now. If it’d been years from now, when a species arose that needed no air and he’d found himself here with them, then Harris would have had means to worry. But for now, he was as safe as Six.

Six disembarked and softly landed on the ground. Would his Lord recognize him in such a frail body, he wondered as his legs trembled after such a long time in the strider. With black eyes, wispy black hair, a face the Emperor had called soft and beautiful, and skin becoming blackened and brittle as he neared his end? Six couldn’t even remember what he’d looked like when a previous life of his was here last. Perhaps his Lord wouldn’t either.

Standing here was familiar, at least, in some buried memory. As he gazed across the landmasses, ignoring the rising chatter from the strider radio, he tried piecing together where he was supposed to go. It was then the wind touched him. It curled and ghosted across his form, leaving goosebumps beneath his suit, as it searched for the vestments he’d once worn. They’d been ceremonial robes here of snow white. A veil covered his face because he—in the memory—was holy. Not anymore. Holiness was dead and buried. The wind didn’t mind. It was eager all the same for one as familiar as him.

And besides, it brought with it a voice.

His voice. Power thrummed behind distant words. He called for Six. Calling for his release after countless millennia. And Six would listen.

“I said: HALT.” Harris’ voice broke the words in two.

Six seethed, gritting his teeth. He’d ceased caring about the man and his wants weeks ago. Soon, he’d be dealt with. He didn’t matter. He never did. Such a minuscule man thinking himself important, stranded in the dead of space for the supposed good of an empire that would one day die. Six ignored him and searched for traces of the voice again, so he could piece it back together.

There. Into the fog. He stepped toward it and that was when metal prongs touched the back of his neck.

The voltage was great. It always was when coming from Harris. A way of control. Bright and brilliant, it crashed through Six’s body, searching for an escape. It lit up Six’s thoughts in white pain. Then blessed darkness approached, stealing away all feeling, and Six collapsed. Unfeeling, unhearing, dead to all the world for a brief reprieve.

In the dark, his own voice carried from a recent memory. “I’ve heard it.” His lips made the motions, pushing against a black veil.

He opened his eyes and saw the Emperor’s naked back. Skin a shimmer in the dark. Hair a frosted white as it fell past his shoulders. He faced the window, high above the city he called home at the heart of his empire. All glitter in the dark with bright, neon lights.

Six quickly cast his eyes downward before his Emperor turned. No one looked directly at the Emperor. Even when he himself was looking at you, lips on yours.

You simply didn’t look.

“You cannot lie to me,” the Emperor said, his voice timeless. Perfect. A soft hum, manufactured so. He tilted his head, glancing at Six over his shoulder. The gleam of his eyes reflected the city. A million colors in one.

“I’m not lying. It’s there. His coffin,” Six replied. “He spoke to me.”

The memory melted, stuttered. Laid Six on his back as the Emperor rose from his lips. Hardly seen features made fuzzy by the veil ran like water off his skin until he morphed into something else. Bright molten eyes of the Lord of the Black Star now blinked at Six. Fingers coated in stardust pushed the veil aside to hold Six’s face.

The Black Star had gifted him a body. A presence. One that had to be punished because of what they did. Entombed where they thought no one would ever find him to stop from repeating mistakes long since forgotten.

Except they loved him so and left the key to his tomb sealed in the dark. A dark pulled apart by the Emperor’s hands. A key that was now Six.

His Lord smiled, the motion a flicker on his lips, and drew himself closer.

The darkness of his body swallowed Six inside of it. Six didn’t fight it, wanting to feel their hearts beside one another after so long apart.

“You know where I am.” His Lord’s voice was a sensation, reverberating along Six’s insides, filling him up. “Come and find me.”

Reality returned in pieces. The bristly grass beneath him. The acrid taste of the Black Star against his lips as he breathed in. The dark expanse of the star’s body above him when he opened his eyes. An electric hum lingering in his ears. Pain sunk deep in his bones.

His vision was quickly blocked by a human. He startled. They startled. They retreated, a hand on their chest.

“Sorry,” they said. “Didn’t mean to jump.” Gently, they helped Six sit up and peered at his neck. Their suit was white with red armbands. A medic. Coloration intentional. Everyone else wore some variation of black. Their brown skin was ashen from the scant light the Black Star gave off and their dark hair was half-hidden beneath their white cowl.

“We’ve not met yet,” the medic continued. “I am Dr. Farrah.” They waited, expectant, but Six didn’t know what they wanted from him. They chuckled. “And you?”

“Six,” he said.

“Six?” they repeated it, confused. “Oh, I see. Because you’re the sixth oracle.”

The sixth oracle the Emperor pulled out of the dark. That was it. There was no reason to become attached to it. Six ignored Farrah’s contemplative stare and peered around them.

Someone had put up a tent and lugged communications gear underneath it. The station floated against the horizon now, easing a dark shadow over them as it passed in front of the Black Star. Suited up humans watched the area, rifles in hand. Harris was talking to a small crew assembled before him. Blond, pale, with a persistent scowl on his lips. The others were two taller humans, dark cropped hair with a spiral design buzzed into the sides, and as pale as Harris. Then there was a shorter human with bright purple hair and tan skin. A radio mechanism was affixed to the back of their suit.

Farrah followed Six’s gaze and nodded. “Our sorry crew,” they said. “You already know Harris…” They pressed a med patch to the back of Six’s neck, making him shiver. The lingering ache from the shock dulled and a cooling sensation pushed through his spine to heal any damage left behind. “The two lugs are brothers. Wedge and Biggs Dollet. They’re here to protect us. The girl is Nancy Lowe. Communications specialist to keep us from getting lost.”

Too many people. Six shook his head. “I can go alone.”

“Not today,” Farrah said simply.

Unfortunate.

Harris barked orders again—what the crew could and couldn’t do—and Six pushed himself to stand. His legs were weak from the electrical burst and Farrah put a hand at his back to catch him. The motion made everyone stare and he set himself straight. Most were curious. Harris was glaring, because that was all he did.

“Your instruments won’t work here,” Six said. “If you follow me, you won’t get lost.”

One of the brothers cringed. “Fucking serious?”

“We need him still?” The other cast a glance at Harris.

Their reaction was natural. Oracles weren’t something they understood. He was similar to them, but off enough to be unnerving. As much as Six wanted to say he certainly didn’t need them, however, he kept his mouth shut.

Harris’ eyes narrowed as he studied Six. “We do,” he said. He approached and while Farrah stepped back, meek, Six had no such reaction. He stared blankly forward, even as Harris towered over Six. Never as tall as the Emperor or his Lord. Harris’ hand jutted out, gripping Six’s face, and he forced Six to look up at him.

“If you do anything I deem harmful to my crew, I have clearance to kill you straight from the Emperor himself. Do you understand? You are to listen to my orders and right now, that is to lead us to this supposed coffin of power.”

Threats meant nothing. If Six died, they’d be stranded. Lost in a world very eager to swallow them whole and only held back because of him. So, he stayed silent, aware of how everyone expected a meek response.

It was a moment, two moments, before Harris eased out a sigh through gritted teeth and backhanded him. Six had been expecting it and didn’t stumble. The usual reaction. Six stayed silent, knowing how much the lack of a meaningful reaction bothered Harris. Before the hand came again, a show that Harris was in control, Farrah stepped in.

“Commander,” they said and Harris glared at them. This time, they weren’t deterred. “I do not recommend this as it could impair his abilities. I think he understands.”

The brothers and Lowe exchanged worried glances.

“We should go,” Six said, interrupting them. “The wind calls me.”

He didn’t care if they followed or not, he was going. He’d already wasted enough time flat on his back. Thankfully, a jolt did not meet his neck this time. Harris barked quick orders and fell into step behind Six with the chosen expedition crew.

The land they walked was broken into fragments, many of which spiraled toward the Black Star’s orbit. The star continued gazing down at them, revolving slowly in its timeless rift. The wind blew, comforting Six with its touch, and shivers of pleasure danced across him as he followed it. He was the only one that enjoyed its touch. The crew behind him trembled as it cut through their suits like paper. A warning that they did not belong here. Not that they’d ever heed it.

Six followed the fragments down into the thick, shimmering fog. One of the brothers insisted on scanning it first, but Six merely stepped inside, unafraid. When he reached the bottom of the stone steps just beyond it, the land was more whole and alive. Golden grass grew, unkempt, with sprouts and flowers hidden within. White monolith stood tall out of the ruins, a testament to some forgotten history. The Black Star wouldn’t absorb this place for some time yet and Six was glad to see it, a strange happiness lighting within his memories.

“It’s still there,” one of the brothers said, distracting Six. He was gazing skyward.

Six looked. The Black Star peered through the fog, like an eye, ever watchful.

“What even is it?” the other brother asked.

“Looks like a black hole,” Lowe replied, unnerved. The tech in her eyes lit up white, likely trying to scan it. Wouldn’t work. It was too incomprehensible for humans to truly grasp. “But it can’t be. We’d have been swallowed up by now.”

“This doesn’t make any fucking sense,” the first brother grumbled and his other half nodded in agreement.

Six continued. Lack of sense didn’t matter. Tempting words floated from somewhere nearby, coaxing him to attention. They were soft enough to slide right through his skin, settling inside him to bring forth another buried memory. A procession glittered across his vision. One of the final pilgrimages with himself—some version of himself—in the center. A sealing. A promise of return one day.

Six retraced the steps he’d once made, heading toward the stone archway where his Lord’s voice echoed.

It was as pearlescent as the monoliths and resembled roots and cables twisting together into the shape of an arch. The inside rippled, distorting, as Six drew close. As he touched it with his fingertips, a hallway of multiple archways appeared, lined up in the dark. Unseen hands came through, touching the skin beneath his suit. Brushed through his hair in greeting. Caressed him like an old lover.

“Through here,” the echoing voice whispered. Its low hum vibrated through Six’s bones.

He led the humans through. Stone tiles appeared beneath his feet upon entry, each one immaculate. The archways continued onward and onward, and after each threshold, there was a domed ceiling of stars. They floated downward, glittering like embers until they dissipated. Outside the archways on either side were the picturesque landscape of golden grass they’d left behind. The Black Star loomed on the horizon, watching them. Ruins had been replaced by tall effigies of robed skeletons. No longer the broken husks they’d been before, but whole. They stared down at everyone from where they dotted the landscape on both sides. Witnesses to the once procession. Their eyes had glowed then, Six was sure. They were dull, now. He tore his gaze away.

Everyone hesitated after they’d crossed the threshold. Lowe glanced around, wide-eyed, and her lips began moving in whispered prayers as soon as she noticed the skeletal effigies. The brothers were shaking their heads. Farrah was tense as they stared out at the statues. Harris was the only one unaffected and stopped Six with a heavy hand on his shoulder.

“Stop. I’ve lost communication with basecamp,” he said.

Now that he mentioned it, the incessant chirping of everyone’s comms had silenced. Lowe stopped praying and pulled out her radio. It lit up and static spewed out of everyone’s comms at once. Grating and overpowering. Its noise fought with the voice for notice and Six switched his off.

Blessed silence.

“It’s not pairing,” Lowe said as Farrah glanced over her shoulder to check the readings. They were flat. Like nothing was out there. “It’s… it’s like we’re not even near it.”

The brothers exchanged worried looks, holding their blaster rifle straps tighter. Harris clenched his jaw, eyes darting around in search of an answer. Protocol probably insisted they return until the problem could be fixed. Yet, doing so would mean admitting failure and failure meant death. Six tilted his head, amused.

“The Illustrious Emperor wishes for his power,” Six said quietly. Harris glared at him, fury in his eyes. “Will you deny him?”

It was bold asking so aloud. Their suits recorded everything. If anyone said they wished to return, it would be construed as failure to act in accordance to the orders the Emperor gave them, regardless if it was the safer option. The station would upload the recordings as soon as they were in range again, laying bare any potential failure.

The crew glanced at one another, then at Harris.

“No,” he said, a growl. “We go on.”

The corridor was long and on and on they went, their footsteps echoing. They crossed under the same starlit ceiling, under the same arches, passed the same skeletons again and again. It must have been maddening. The brothers were twitchy, flinching every time they passed through an arch. Lowe stuck near Farrah, apparently trusting them the most out of their sorry crew. Harris kept his glare on Six’s back.

After a few passes under arches, new voices filtered inside. Soft ones, like echoes down from their camp. Everyone stilled to listen and Six supposed he should too before Harris forced him to stop.

The voices started small, but quickly grew into arguments. Nothing substantial, but tense. It wasn’t real. A mockery of what could be. What might have been. A reflection, at most, from the Black Star. What it had heard in the cosmos and played back for those that once lived here.

As Six went to move on, one of the brothers stepped toward the open arch at the side to investigate. Six slowed to watch, curious. The warning died on his lips, if only to see what would happen.

The brother crossed the threshold and that’s when it started, small and slow. A severing cut sliced across the top of his head. Then below, and again below that. Straight cuts measured the same distance apart with exact precision. Cutting through him because he did not belong in that world. There was no blood. The severed pieces of his body struggled to hold form, some sloping this way and that. But he screamed. Collapsed to his knees screaming as his body struggled to stay in the form it knew. Not pulled open and extracted to feed the Black Star.

A soft ripple of laughter ghosted through the air.

“What the fuck?!” the other brother cried, reaching out. Lowe snatched his hand back, panicked, but he tried again until Harris dragged him away from the screaming human mass. The sound echoed up and down the infinite corridor.

And it wasn’t until the humans looked at Six did he realize the source of the quiet laughter. Himself.

The living brother’s face scrunched into a dark scowl. He shoved Harris off and advanced on Six, fists clenched, but Harris stepped between them. Six didn’t bother moving. His laughter had subsided, and so did its echo, leaving the anguished screaming alone in the air.

“You are guests,” Six said. “And guests follow me.”

It was what he’d been told lifetimes ago. Follow the path. Follow your guide.

“Then do something!” the living brother shouted, panicked.

Real fear laced his voice. His expression turned into a plea, but Six shook his head. “I can’t. The Black Star listens to no one.”

Besides, the other brother was likely already dead. The screams were just a formality. What he’d felt in the split second the Black Star claimed him. Resounding forever until the body realized it was already dead in a way it understood.

Farrah attempted to reach out slowly, like they could help, but Lowe sensibly yanked their hand back. “I don’t feel right leaving him like that,” they argued.

“No! We can’t leave him!” the living brother roared. He whipped around to face Harris, tears in his eyes. “Harris, please, we can’t leave him. We gotta⁠—”

The rifle shot silenced everything; the argument; the screaming. It rang out, making all but Six flinch—he’d seen Harris’ hands moving to unsling it. The dead brother lay silent now. Blood pooled across the corridor floor. The grass beyond was splattered in red. Silence reigned until Six could hardly bite back his bubbling laughter. It wasn’t funny, even he wasn’t that callous, but it came out regardless.

He swallowed it when Harris leveled a withering look on him. The living brother stammered, eyes wide and empty. Lowe rubbed his arm slowly. Farrah stood motionless, blood splatted across their white suit from standing so close. Harris approached Six, hand quick in his hair to hold him still. Another usual tactic and Six’s scalp hurt every time.

“No more of this,” Harris growled. As though this had been Six’s intent. He bit back from huffing a sigh of annoyance. “Lead us where we have to go or I will throw you out there and shoot you too.”

Six merely smiled. The motion unnerved Farrah, Lowe, and the living brother. Harris wasn’t affected, but he still believed he held the power. He didn’t. He’d learn.

The voice trickled down Six’s neck, soft like intimate kisses, to remind him of his goal. He was close. Harris let him go with a shove and Six continued on. The others finished their scant prayers over the bloodied mess and followed him through the archways once more.

In the newfound silence, Six heard a heartbeat. It echoed up and down the corridor from all directions, as if it existed everywhere. Six recognized it. He’d once laid his head upon it to listen. Then it had been a heart going into slumber. This, however, was the beat of something slowly growing alive. It beat in time with his. An echo against his own.

He stepped through another threshold and a memory took hold. The end of the procession. The bodies around him were veiled in black, he was in white. The hazy gleam of a memory softened through time, but in his bones, he knew his Lord had been laid here as penance. A stake had been driven through his chest until blood flowed forth no more. It sealed him here, in a rift no one could find but the key. The Black Star they coveted ever watchful.

Six had been entombed in the same coffin. Sealed inside until he could no longer breathe. Until the world grew dark and blurry as the rest of the procession sacrificed themselves to the dark, their own penance for what they’d unleashed. Yet while his Lord’s body remained, dead and silent, Six had bled through the skin. The tissue. The bones. Until he’d become the dark. Drifting endlessly until he was ripped out of its silent embrace.

Six blinked back to reality.

Before him lay his Lord’s sepulcher. Surrounded by golden grass and a dark sky ready to envelope it were archways holding up another domed roof. From it came a soft, gauzy light, as if from a wholly different world. Inside lay a coffin spun from bone and glass. Petrified roots snared it in place so it could never be carried. Because even then they’d realized what great power their Lord had.

Here he was, the end of the promised pilgrimage.

“And thus, upon my coffin do you appear, the key locked within your steady pulse.”

The power was palpable. A shiver parting the air like curtains. Even the crew felt it. The way it shuddered around them. The way it pressed them to bow before the might that had blazed through the cosmos long before their species had emerged. Six could do nothing but stare. This was what had called to him for ten years. Across space. Fought through the noise and glimmer to be heard.

Lowe set down her gear. “I guess this is it,” she said. “I’m going to see if I can get us connected to camp. Maybe we can find another way here for extraction? I’m not keen on retreading that path.”

“What are we extracting?” the living brother asked, incredulous. “That?”

Harris’ gaze locked onto the coffin and Six’s pulse thundered in his ears. He’d led them all the way here and didn’t even have a plan. He had to approach it, somehow open it, but as he made the softest of steps, Harris looked at him with renewed suspicion. Farrah was helping Lowe with the antenna for the radio. Soon, the place would be filled with noise. Unbearable. Six had to get there before he lost all sense to static. Before Harris kept him from it.

A hand pounded glass.

“Release me.”

Sudden fear gripped Six. Memories dredged up from below his obsession. The silence. The blessed silence turning into a curse. A scream into the void they’d once silenced. The pilgrimage thereafter. Those like him praying to the Black Star for absolution. It watched. Silent. Its heavy gaze boring into Six.

A hand pounded glass again.

“RELEASE ME.”

Without this, the cycle of his rebirth would continue. Never ending. Maybe the Empire would fall one day, but another one would replace it. Then another, and another, each built upon the backs of the tech left behind of civilizations destroyed. Six would be back, sooner or later, and this pilgrimage would happen another time.

No. It ended here. The silence would reign. Six steeled himself and strode down the path.

“Stop,” Harris ordered.

Six did not. Even when he heard the click of a rifle behind him and the others ceased moving. Six didn’t need to look to know they watched Harris, too stunned to do anything.

No shots came as Six approached the coffin.

The glass was frosted over, webbed from roots growing across it, and he barely saw the body within. But it was there. His Lord of the Black Star. Once as strong as the Emperor himself.

Stronger, Six corrected himself.

White veins crossed the decayed flesh within. Burrowed into his bones. Through his heart where the branches of the stake had become petrified. It protected him and damned him until the cosmos decided he’d paid penance enough. Six wanted to caress his face. Touch it like his memories had. Feel the burn of his skin once more.

Six lifted his hand.

“I said: STOP,” Harris’ voice ripped through Six’s thoughts.

Six inhaled and glanced over his shoulder. The rifle was raised. The living brother had taken a protective stance in front of Farrah and Lowe, indecision tugging his face. Raise his own rifle against his commander or let the scene play out? Farrah looked ready to act, their face pinched, and Lowe stayed behind everyone, likely regretting coming at all.

“Our Illustrious Emperor wants this power,” Six said.

“Stand down,” Harris ordered. “Step away. You will not touch it until I say so.”

“I’m merely releasing it.” Six faced his Lord. The one who would silence everything. The one who would bring back the blessed darkness. Six pressed his hands to the glass. A jolt connected to his fingers, like a hand pressed against his. The head within turned.

A shot echoed. Six jerked forward, gasping, as the pain slammed into his back and out through his chest. Bright red blood splattered across the glass. Six collapsed on top of it, barely hearing the shocked gasps behind him. Pain etched itself through every piece of him and the taste of iron bubbled up his throat. Tears glistened at the edge of his eyes.

So, it ended here after all.

“The fuck,” Lowe breathed.

Hands pressed against Six’s shoulders. Soft ones. Not the heavy weight of Harris. Six was in too much pain to look. “Shit, shit,” Farrah whispered so close to him.

“Leave him,” Harris ordered. “We don’t need him.”

The bloodied glass glimmered beneath Six. It was warm. Farrah gasped, withdrawing.

It was dissolving. Opening beneath Six’s bleeding heart.

“As your blood runs red down the face of my imprisonment, the locks fall open.”

A warm hand touched Six’s face. Held it softly. The body below was renewed as Six’s blood seeped into it. The skin was a translucent darkness beneath the white veins. Stars had grown inside as he’d slumbered. It was beautiful. Staring into a new universe. Another hand took Six’s face, cradling it. Bright eyes opened within the dark. Molten white. Stars all their own.

Growing panic resounded behind Six, but the sound softened behind a whine growing between Six’s ears. The universe grew still in witness of its own end. The Lord of the Black Star was alive. Power sparked through the air, leaving embers floating in place. They twinkled, casting an ethereal glow and made the stars within his Lord shimmer.

The Lord of the Black Star pushed their lips together. His were warm. Blissful. Pleasure rushed past the pain of being bled dry. His Lord’s tongue ghosted across Six’s, wiping the blood away. It drew itself deeper, in search of everything Six was eager to give. When he and his Lord parted, a soft sigh from Six’s throat dragged itself after him. His Lord kissed his cheek. His jaw. His neck. Six’s skin buzzed every time.

Then his Lord’s teeth pierced through Six’s neck.

“They sealed me here and you there, but we are now together. Through your blood, I am revived. Our hearts beat as one.”

Reality rushed over Six with heavenly pain. He bit back a pleasured cry, tears running down his cheeks, and the Lord of the Black Star drank deep. Harris’ guttural scream cut through the whine. A hail of gunfire came, but Six’s Lord needed only to raise his hand, and the bullets died in the air, shriveling into ash. Farrah had screamed too, but it was cut short. They’d been too close when the shield was raised. Burned. Dead. Any pang of guilt Six had for them in the moment melted away against his Lord’s teeth. The pleasure lighting up behind Six’s dying breaths. Pleasure he’d forgotten. Pleasure he wanted to feel for all time.

The Lord of the Black Star finished. Blood soaked itself through his veins, making them glimmer, and he pulled his body from his imprisonment. Bones and roots snapped free from his risen form. Another hail of gunfire attempted an assault, but the shield persisted, a dome protecting them. Protecting Six.

The unending gunfire, the panicked shouts, the orders no one listened to—all of it became a distant echo. Because it never mattered and never would again.

Within a blink, his Lord had drawn himself to his full height. Immeasurable. A shadow pressed against the stars themselves. Smoke lingered after the gunfire, twisting around him. The embers glittered through. Everyone hushed on the other side, waiting. The Lord of the Black Star gently lifted Six and placed him within his opened coffin. A kiss warmed Six’s brow.

“Stay here,” his Lord’s voice reverberated through his head. “I will return.”

His Lord flitted away and blood curdling screams filled the void. Bones crunched. Blood spewed over the dome. One death was quick. Her tech pulled apart with a mere thought. The living brother couldn’t withstand the Lord’s power and died just as quickly. Harris defied him the longest, but his screams were so, so sweet. Purposefully drawn out. Six’s laughter bubbled out of his torn throat, blood seeping down his chin. He loved the sound. After enduring the man for so long, it was such a beautiful sound. The way it changed as his Lord pulled Harris apart, piece by piece, was simply music. It ended too soon; he had no more life to give.

Six blinked and turned his head. The station now loomed across the Black Star, searching for them, for the source of power. All they’d done was make it easier to die. His Lord set his molten gaze upon them and disappeared. In seconds, faraway screams echoed, carried across the wind for Six’s pleasure. His Lord had arrived. They couldn’t fight him. No one could withstand the might of the Lord of the Black Star.

Explosions rippled across the station, lighting it up like a supernova. They wanted power, and they would have it. Pieces of the station flaked away in the destruction, becoming fodder for the Black Star.

In the wake of all that destruction, all that death, the rift became silent. Blessed silence. Six almost drifted off, the sudden peace tempting him, but the humming in his blood alerted him to his Lord’s return. Blood coated every beautiful inch of him.

The dome came down—protection no longer needed—and his Lord knelt beside the coffin. With gentle fingers, he smoothed Six’s hair off his forehead. The touch buzzed. Six couldn’t help but lean into it. His Lord cupped his face with one hand and Six sighed happily.

This was home.

“You and I,” his Lord whispered, his voice a delightful cadence through Six’s thoughts, “shall silence the cosmos as we once did.” He drew himself in, pressing another kiss to Six’s lips. It tasted of his own blood. Warmth pushed through Six, surging strength into his body. Six held onto his Lord and deepened the kiss, wanting to draw him in as close as he could to never forget this touch again.

When his Lord withdrew, he eased out a soft sigh. The sound ran a shiver through Six’s bones.

“We will take my throne back and reign over the blessed dark.”

Six swallowed the taste of his blood and smiled. “Yes, my Lord,” he whispered. This was an end. Darkness and silence would reign again until the Black Star overtook all. “Yes, we shall, for you and I are eternal.”

And the Empire was not.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

S. Jean (they/she) is a sci-fi & fantasy author writing whatever genre sparks joy at the moment. Many of their works explore loneliness with heavy existentialist themes. By day, they work at a library, and by night, they try to fit in as much writing, reading, or even drawing as possible. For more information on where to find them online, please visit sjean.carrd.co.