He was by the lake. His toes sank into the warm sand; the water nipped at his skin. He leaned back on his elbows. The stars twinkled above him. He wasn’t afraid. Ren inhaled the scent of the water and of the fresh green trees behind him.
“I’m not here, you know.”
Ren sat up and craned his neck to look over his shoulder at his younger brother. Liam stood behind him with his hands in his pockets, dressed the same as the day Ren was taken from their home.
“Liam?”
Liam stepped forward, moving like a ghost with his feet barely skimming the ground. His skin and hair were paler than Ren remembered, his freckles were barely discernible in the light, and the red of his hair not as bright: It seemed washed out.
Liam peered out over the water.
“Why always here?”
“What?”
“You always dream you are at this dumb lake. You’ve been all over now—drifts and ships—and you come to this place. Why?”
Ren followed Liam’s gaze and watched the lake. In the dark, it was endlessly black; the rhythm of the waves was a living, shifting thing, terrifying and comforting at once.
“Because it’s home, I guess.”
Liam shook his head. “Then dream about the house. Or the village.”
“Because it’s the last place I saw you.”
Liam stared at Ren, and his gaze seemed to pierce Ren to the marrow. Ren hunched in, pulled his knees to his chest, and protected his core.
“I’m not here.”
“I know, Liam,” Ren snapped. “I don’t expect you to be hanging out on the beach when we land on Erden. It doesn’t mean I’m not going to look. I’m going to look for you and find you.”
Liam frowned. He shoved his hands into his pockets and shook his head.
The water inched closer as the waves, increasing in intensity, slapped against the shore.
“You need to leave before she pulls you in.”
Liam nodded toward the lake to point out how the icy water spilled over Ren’s ankles and climbed up his skin to his knees.
Ren jumped to his feet, but the lake was sentient, and the water became fingers, gripping his legs, yanking him down. He fell to his knees, and the water surged to his waist, then his shoulders.
“Liam,” Ren gasped. “Help.”
“I’m not here.” Liam said. He stepped away. His figure shimmered, and then he faded.
Ren struggled against the water, but it was viscous and stifling, squeezing around his chest, leeching up his neck, to his chin, to his mouth—
“Wake up!”
Ren sat up gasping. Jakob sat on the edge of his bunk. His hands were heavy on Ren’s shoulders; his hair was mussed, and his eyes were wide.
“Did I… have I…?”
“No,” Jakob shook his head. “No. You’re okay.” Jakob’s reassurances and smile were brittle. His face was pale; his expression was a thin veneer of calm over panic.
“I was on Erden, and Liam was there at the lake and he kept saying he wasn’t there. But he was and…” Ren pushed a hand into his hair and gripped it and breathed.
“It was a dream. Only a dream, Ren.”
“I… I’m not sure. Jakob, I don’t know what’s happening to me.” Ren grabbed Jakob’s sleep shirt and twined his fingers in the fabric.
Jakob’s cheeks were sleep-pink, and he had a crease across his face from the pillow. He sighed and patted Ren’s hand. His touch eased the tension in Ren’s grip.
“We’ll get you home, Ren. And you’ll be better. It’s not much farther.”
Ren nodded. He eased his fingers open, releasing Jakob. “Okay.”
“We’re going home, Ren. Aren’t you happy?”
Ren didn’t know what he was, but he wouldn’t describe it as happy. He shrugged. “I don’t know what we’ll find.”
Jakob nodded; the corners of his mouth were turned down. “I don’t either. But we’ll look for our families. We’ll look for Sorcha. And we won’t have to be on this ship any longer.” Jakob offered a hesitant smile. Ren didn’t speak as the feelings from the dream were clinging to his waking thoughts.
“Are you going back to sleep?” Jakob asked.
“No. No, I’ll stay up for a while.”
“Is it okay if I sleep in your bed? The hammock is uncomfortable.” Jakob made a face.
Ren supposed it was meant to lighten the mood. It didn’t, but Ren appreciated the effort. “Sure.” He stood, his legs wobbly, and crossed the room. He hoisted himself into the hammock while Jakob scrambled into Ren’s bunk and flopped across the mattress with a groan. It was only a few minutes until Jakob’s breaths evened out in sleep.
Ren stayed in the hammock with his feet dangling over the side. They would land on Erden in a few hours.
Ever since the incident with the Hatfields, there was always a member of the crew with him, especially when he slept. The presence of another person made it difficult for Ren to sleep, to think, to do anything knowing someone was watching him. The room was cramped. Jakob talked in his sleep, and Ollie snored, but as much as Ren hated being treated as if he couldn’t take care of himself, he knew it was necessary.
Ren’s sleep schedule had been erratic at best the last few days. He lost track of ship’s time, and if it wasn’t for his shadows, usually in the form of Jakob and Ollie, Ren would’ve wandered the ship at all hours.
As it was now, he couldn’t sleep. He gave up lying in the hammock and went into the en-suite bathroom. The bruise on his jaw from Ollie’s punch was deep blue, and, at times, he could see Ollie stare at it. Ren needed to talk to him, to thank Ollie for pulling him from the ships.
Ren stumbled to the cargo bay to find him before he remembered Ollie probably wouldn’t be there, but would be tucked safe in his own room.
Finding Millicent’s rug, Ren folded down onto it and sat cross-legged.
Despite being ordered not to access his power, Ren pressed his fingertips to the hull, took a breath, and closed his eyes. The ship hummed around him, and he meandered through the systems. He peered through the sensors at the vastness of space. He sensed the signatures of a few other vessels along the route, and Ren catalogued their specs, their names, their registries. Once he had finished, he left the sensors, sat in the comms, and listened in on the other occupants of the ship.
Millicent was asleep, if the sound of her soft even breaths was any indication. Ollie snored in his room. Jakob muttered as he tossed and turned. Lucas and Pen shuffled a few times in their shared bed, whispered to each other, then went quiet.
Rowan was awake in her quarters muttering to herself over what must be financial reports.
Asher was also awake. On the bridge, he was flicking through news reports, reading, and studying. Ren focused on him through the video feeds.
Asher wore his sleep clothes, but he was wide awake, sipping coffee as he tapped away on his tablet. He wore a sling on his arm, and Ren sighed. He needed to fix that, too, both the shoulder and the relationship. Asher’s brow furrowed, and Ren saw the tight lines around Asher’s mouth, as if he were worried or in pain.
A lifetime ago Ren would have gone to Asher and sat with him. They would have joked, played a silly game, talked until the clock ticked into the morning hours and the rest of the crew woke.
Ren’s chest ached. His interactions with Asher since the incident had been exercises in avoidance on both their parts. At some future time, they would need to talk, but Ren didn’t know if he could handle what Asher had to say. Maybe it would be better once they arrived on Erden, and Ren was clear-headed. Until then, Ren would continue to make his presence scarce.
It was better that way.
* * *
A few hours later, Rowan announced over the shipwide comm that the Star Stream was approaching the planet and would begin the descent into atmo. Ren went to the bridge and stood in the corner, watching as the green and blue sphere became bigger on the screen. Jakob stood next to him and elbowed Ren in the side.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?”
“Yeah.”
Jakob eyed him. “Perk up, Ren. We’re going home. We’re going to see our families and Sorcha, and everything will be okay. Aren’t you excited?”
It was the same speech Jakob had given only a few hours before, but this time, it wasn’t tempered by exhaustion. Jakob’s excitement was effusive. Ren was surprised that his own grin didn’t need too much forcing. “Yeah.”
Lucas didn’t have much experience with planet gravity, and the descent was less smooth than when he docked at a drift. But the ship survived, and soon they were resting in a space dock slip on the planet.
The group gathered at the aft door. Jakob vibrated with happiness and nerves; his smile broke over his face as the group gathered supplies. He stopped every few moments and tucked his face toward his arm. His excitement was palpable. Ren couldn’t begrudge him his happiness, but unease slipped between Ren’s ribs, prodded his insides.
“Everyone ready?” Rowan asked, standing near the door. She checked with Asher. He nodded, jaw clenched; his bag was looped over his uninjured shoulder.
Penelope clapped. “I can’t believe I’m going to be on a planet—unrecycled air and dirt. I’m going to touch dirt!”
Jakob looked at Penelope as though she was insane. He turned to Ren. “Listen to her. She thinks this is a vacation.”
“I’m only excited. I know this is serious.”
Ren remembered the first time he’d been on a ship and later on a drift. How excited he’d been despite the circumstances. He nudged Jakob’s shoulder. “Let her have her fun. No harm done.”
Jakob frowned, but nodded.
“What’s the plan, Cap?” Ollie asked. He wasn’t as excited as Penelope or, if he was, he hid it better. Calm and composed, he stood next to his sister.
“We’ll first travel to Ren and Jakob’s village and see what’s there and if there is anything we can do to help.” Addressing Jakob and Ren, she said, “I can’t promise anything. What we find will determine what happens next. My crew comes first and foremost. Understand?”
“We understand,” Ren spoke. He squeezed Jakob’s arm. “We won’t hold you to anything, Rowan. We appreciate everything you’ve done for us already.”
She smiled. “I know.”
“Lucas, I think you should stay behind. Millicent, you, too. Pen, we’ll need you if we find anyone in need of medical assistance. Ollie, your presence is always welcome.”
Millicent nodded. “I don’t want to go on the planet anyway. It’s not my home.”
Jakob bristled, and Ren shook his head.
“Um… I really don’t either. The thought of all that fresh air is terrifying. I’ll gladly stay on the ship.” Lucas wrapped an arm around Penelope’s waist and reeled her in for a quick kiss. “Be careful.”
“I will.”
“Asher should stay behind too,” Ren blurted.
Asher stiffened. “What?”
“You heard me,” Ren said. “You’re injured and…” He trailed off and gestured uselessly.
“And who is responsible for that?” Asher shot back.
Guilt flooded Ren. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I can fix it.”
“If I wanted you to fix it, I would’ve asked.”
Ren clenched his jaw. He narrowed his eyes as guilt gave way to anger. “Well, I do seem to remember you saying my home planet was a backwater dirt hole. I doubt you want to experience it again.”
Asher tilted his head and swept his hot gaze over Ren. “Maybe you’re right.” He took a step forward. “I should stay where I’m actually wanted.”
“Good choice.”
They faced each other and stood chest to chest. Ren didn’t know how they’d moved so close, but they stared levelly, unflinching.
Rowan shouldered between them.
“Enough. Asher is coming. He’s the only one of us who has true military experience, and his knowledge of the planet may be useful.”
“Jakob and I know the planet, and Ollie should be force enough.”
“Are you questioning my orders, little one?”
Ren broke the staring contest and dropped his gaze. “No, Captain.”
“Good. I don’t care what’s going on between you two, but let me make myself clear. If either of you does something stupid because of a spat, I will not hesitate to drag your asses back to this ship and lock you in your rooms. Now, Ren, hurt or not, Asher is an asset, so he’s coming.” She turned to her brother; her finger pointed hard in his chest. “No Corps uniform. Go change. We’ll wait. And keep your disparaging comments about the planet to yourself. Clear?”
Asher glared at Ren. “Crystal,” he said. He turned and left.
Jakob gripped Ren’s shoulder; his fingers dug into the blade. He said into Ren’s ear, “You’re my friend, Ren. And I stand with you, no matter what. If we need to ditch this lot to do what we came here to do, we will.”
Ren patted Jakob’s hand. “Okay.”
“Are you ready for what we might find?”
Ren took a shuddering breath. “I have to be.”
“Yeah, I’m not either.”
Jakob dropped his hand when Asher returned. He had changed into civilian clothes but there was no hiding the bearing of a soldier. Beneath the nondescript jacket and shirt and trousers, Asher’s shoulders were broad, and his posture was straight. The air of confidence Ren had admired so many months ago emanated from him. He had a pulse gun strapped to his waist, a large knife attached to his outer thigh, and a bulging pack on his back.
“Ready?” Rowan asked.
Asher nodded.
She tugged her braid. “Good. Let’s go.”
She hit the switch, and the bay doors slowly opened to reveal the space dock. Ren could’ve cut the tension with a knife. When the doors stopped moving, the group stared out at an underwhelming scene.
“Oh,” Pen said, stepping out. “It’s not much different than a small drift. I was expecting it… to be more alien, honestly.”
Jakob rolled his eyes. “Idiots,” he said, brushing past the group with his boots thumping against the metal. “Follow me.”
It wasn’t the same dock Asher and Ren had departed from what seemed like centuries ago. This one, closer to the village, was where Ren had wished his mother would’ve allowed him to visit and find work. When Ren had lain on the beach at the lake and watched the ships fly through the sky, they had originated from this port. To the boy who dreamed of leaving Erden, this place would’ve been amazing. To Ren now, it was small, dingy, and poorly maintained. It confirmed every duster cliché he’d heard on the drifts.
Ashamed, Ren kept his head down as the crew, his friends, experienced such a lackluster introduction to his home planet.
Maneuvering through this space dock was about the same as it had been the last time Ren had been in one, but without the soldiers trying to capture him. Then, he’d been so exhausted his power had seeped out at every turn. This time, he wasn’t as tired, but his power, though not sparking randomly, did wash out of his fingers and the soles of his feet.
He could feel everything. He could see it all, and his consciousness spread out into the flooring, then crawled up the wall and into the systems. He could hear the chatter between the dock and the ships descending into atmo. He could feel the environmental controls, the lighting, the vid feeds, and the force fields in different sections. Everything whispered to him, invaded him, and he welcomed it as he strode through the dock with his consciousness filling up with the tech until it was all that remained inside of him. He slowed his pace, lingering, and his star flickered as the crew disappeared around the corner and out to the planet surface.
Ren ignored the calls of the tech, ignored the errors and breaks, and followed. Once he stepped through the double doors into the open air of Erden, the connection to the systems faded with each step he took. It stretched until it snapped, and Ren was wholly corporeal. The static cleared, the voices dimmed, and Ren saw the planet clearly. Sunlight broke through the heavy layer of clouds and illuminated the bleak landscape. Trees stood spindly and barren against the gray sky. When Ren breathed, he smelled the crisp, fresh snow, which fell in large flakes. His ears burned from the cold, and the tip of his nose went numb.
He saw the group and joined them. With his consciousness uncluttered, Ren could think freely for the first time in ages. His thoughts centered on the journey ahead.
“What is this stuff?” Pen said, stepping carefully through the white powder that covered the landscape. It gathered wetly on the toes of her boots. “And why is it so cold?” She crossed her arms over her chest and shivered.
Ren scuffed his heel, revealing dirt under the thin white layer: snow. It had snowed. He’d been away so long he’d forgotten about the weather, the seasons. It had been early spring when he’d been captured, and, in his mind, the planet hadn’t changed. To him it had always been early spring on Erden. But the fresh layer of ice and slush told him otherwise.
It was a shock to realize his home had continued on without him. The planet had moved; the seasons had changed. His family would have changed, too, just as he had.
His breath hung in puffs of condensation, and the tips of his fingers started to freeze. He was glad he wore a jacket, and he tucked his hands under his arms, which were crossed over his skinny chest.
“It’s snow. And this isn’t so bad,” Jakob said. He tilted his face to the sky and took a deep breath. “It’ll get much colder once the sun sets.”
“We should get going,” Ren mumbled. The clouds were pregnant with the promise of more snow, and half their group wasn’t dressed for the cold—Ren included.
“Do you know the way?” Rowan asked, brushing flakes from her shoulders and hair. “And will we get there before this becomes any deeper?”
Jakob hefted the pack on his shoulders. “I know the way. It’s only about an hour on foot. We’ll be fine.”
“Ren?”
Ren held out his palm, and snow landed on his skin, then melted. How could he have forgotten it would be winter?
“Ren?”
He turned his hand over, staring at it. The tips of his fingers were pink; his fingernails were white. The nail on his ring finger was torn and jagged, and a bead of dried blood sat at the corner. When had that happened?
“Ren!” Rowan snapped.
He jerked, dropped his hand, and lifted his head. “Yes?”
The group stared at him. They all looked ridiculous in their drifter clothes with snow gathering in their hair and around their collars. Rowan’s nose was red already. Penelope’s brow furrowed as she kicked at the ground. Ollie shivered. And Asher…
Asher’s expression was haunted.
“Is Jakob right? We can walk there?”
“Oh,” Ren said. He nodded. “Yes. It’s not far.”
“Then lead the way, you two. Or do you want to stand here and freeze to death?”
Jakob brushed past Ren and took the front position. “It’s not that cold,” he muttered.
Ren fell in behind him, and the group trudged forward. Ren kept his focus on putting one foot in front of the other, trying to find the familiar rhythm of walking on the planet’s surface, but he couldn’t shake the look on Asher’s face.
* * *
“I feel like I’ve gained a million pounds,” Penelope said as they walked. “I didn’t realize the gravity would be this different.”
“I’m cold,” Ollie responded. “How come no one mentioned it would be your cold season? And there might be… whatever this stuff is?”
“I’d forgotten,” Ren said.
It was the first thing he’d said in almost an hour. No one had spoken much, though Ollie and Penelope had a hero’s go at keeping up a conversation.
Rowan was tense. Her body was taut as a bowstring, and her hand was never too far from her pulse gun. Asher was alert too, but in a different way, as if one wrong move would catch him up in his memories of the planet and his own capture. Ren had forgotten that as well. Asher carried as much emotional baggage about being back here as Ren and Jakob did. He, too, was a victim of circumstance, of wrong-place, wrong-time.
Jakob’s long strides and fast pace were too much for those not dirt-born, and several times he had to slow down, stop, and wait as the drifters’ bodies adjusted. He wore his frustration like battle armor; his expression dared anyone to remark on the speed. No one did.
They weren’t far from the village now. The snow had tapered off as they walked and the sun sank lazily into the horizon.
Ren recognized the landscape: the forest on either side, the trees with names carved in the bark—a ritual for betrothed couples. A boundary rock marked the entrance to the village lands. Ren brushed away the snow to reveal the language of his ancestors.
“What does it say?” Rowan asked, studying the symbols.
“It’s a warning to anyone who wants to do harm to the village. And it is a spell for protection.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “Really? Those squiggly lines are all superstition?”
Ren stood and his shoulder knocked into hers. “Doesn’t matter. It doesn’t work anyway.” Leaving Rowan and her drifter arrogance behind, he caught up to the group,
Ren’s apprehension and excitement grew as they drew closer to the village. The snow had begun to blow again, harder than before. Everyone huddled in their coats except Jakob, who pushed the ankle-high snow out of the way with his determined stride. In front of them stood a small rise, and right over it would be the bowl that held the village.
Jakob plowed on, but Ren stopped at the bottom of the rise.
Asher ran into his back. “Ren?”
Ren swallowed hard. “It’s over the crest of the hill.”
“You okay?”
“I’m fine. I… don’t know what we’ll find.”
“Hopefully shelter,” Ollie said, rubbing his arms.
Ren ignored him.
Rowan’s cold fingers encircled Ren’s wrist. “We’re with you.”
“I know.”
Jakob stopped at the top of the hill. His silhouette, backlit by the setting sun, was bathed in reds and golds. His shoulders slumped, and he dropped to his knees. The anguished cry he let out ripped through Ren. He ran forward, pushing Ollie and Rowan out of his way. He tripped once, slipping on the ice, so his hands skidded. The fall didn’t stop him. He scrambled, boots kicking up snow, until he could sink next to Jakob’s side.
Rubble spread out as far as he could see. A few buildings stood, but they listed under the weight of the snow. Ren wrapped his arms around Jakob’s shoulders, and Jakob clutched at him, burying his face in Ren’s neck. His body shook, and his hands clenched the fabric of Ren’s jacket.
Jakob howled. Ren didn’t know what to say. He didn’t think there was anything he could say. He had no comfort to offer. Grief and pain surged in his middle, and his star sparked, but there was nowhere for it to go. There was no tech to draw from, no machine to flee into, to hide from the emotions raging inside him.
He didn’t know the others stood beside them until Pen knelt behind him and wrapped her arms tight around them.
“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice watery. “I’m so sorry.”
“We need to move,” Rowan said. “Let’s go down there and see what we can find. I know it’s tough, boys, but we’re not safe standing in the open on this hill.”
“On your feet,” Ollie said, gripping Ren’s upper arm and hauling him up. Asher and Penelope pulled Jakob to standing, but Ren gripped Jakob’s hand tight. Jakob rubbed at his cheeks. His face was flushed, and his eyes were bright with tears.
Ren didn’t cry. Tears had been wrung out of him months ago. But his body trembled, and his knees were weak as they walked down the other side of the hill and into the village. Ren and Jakob had grown up here. They knew every inch of road and path and maneuvered them easily despite the broken bricks and the detritus in their way.
“We should split up,” Ren said, his voice thick and scratchy. “Cover more ground.”
Ren didn’t mention that Jakob had grown up on the other side of the village from him. They could take stock separately, instead of slowing one another down. They had led such different lives in the same place. Because of their class differences, Ren wasn’t prepared to share his sorrow with the only person who could come close to understanding.
“Pen and Ollie go with Jakob. Asher and I will go with Ren. Meet in an hour by the big pile over there.” Rowan jerked her chin to what was once the town square and the mound of rubble which had been the council meeting place.
Jakob moved like a ghost; his once-brisk steps were slow and reluctant. His face had gone pale. The flush of anger and pain had been replaced with a sickly look. He seemed hollowed out, as if what had made him Jakob had been scooped away. Ren squeezed his hand in a gesture of companionship and then let go.
Ren had always been a dreamer, but since he’d been captured, been chased across the cluster, and merged with machines, he’d become pragmatic. Jakob had always held on to hope that the soldiers had been lying when he was told the village had been destroyed. After all, they had lied about blowing Ren out of the sky.
But Ren had known there was little hope. He hadn’t known what he would find when he walked over the hill, but it wouldn’t be good. He’d held no illusions about what he would find, but he wouldn’t have been able to live with himself if he hadn’t confirmed what he’d been told.
Ren was reluctant to lead Rowan and Asher to his home on the outskirts of the village, where it was tucked away in a crescent-shaped copse. His determination to find out what happened to his family whipped away with the snow on the brisk wind.
He stopped in front of what was left and put his hands in his pockets, desperate for something to hold on to. The door of the house stood, and the frame was held up by the crumbling sides. That was all, though. The roof was mostly gone; the sides had caved in. Its contents had been tossed into the street and the small yard, where they peeked through the snow.
Ren tried the doorknob, and it was locked. He laughed, loud and half-hysterical, and Rowan and Asher pressed close to his sides.
“This was where I grew up.” His voice sounded shredded, foreign to his own ears.
Asher and Rowan exchanged a glance but said nothing. Ren didn’t blame them. He’d had no idea how to comfort Jakob, and they had no idea how to comfort him. Maybe there was no comfort to be had.
He walked around the doorframe and stepped through a hole in the standing wall. With every step he took, his feet crunched on rubble mixed with mud and ice. A tinkle of glass made Ren bend down and dig with frozen fingers until he found a vid-still of him and Liam—too young and too happy—in front of the lake. Slowly, Ren stood and shook the picture free of the wood frame and broken glass.
“Is that your brother?” Rowan asked.
Ren nodded. His throat went tight and, suddenly, Ren realized his tears hadn’t dried up. He folded the picture and put it in his pocket. “I’d like to be alone for a bit,” he said. “To look around.” To mourn.
“Are you sure you’ll be safe?” Asher asked. His voice was gentle, and Ren resisted recoiling from it.
He peered at the destruction. He questioned the structural integrity of the building, but it had held on thus far. Ren was fairly certain he’d be okay, for a little while at least.
“I’ll be fine.”
“We’ll be right outside,” Rowan said and winced. “I mean, around the corner. Over there,” she amended, waving her hand. “Take your time.”
Ren nodded, unmoved by her uncharacteristic awkwardness. He stood still as they ducked through an opening in the wall and disappeared. Turning his head to stare at the scorch marks on the wall, Ren ignored the last glance Asher cast his way. Once the sound of their footsteps faded, Ren walked through the remnants of his home.
The last time he’d been here, he and Liam were racing through their chores, hoping to get out to the lake before the sun sank too low. An age had passed since then.
He went into the room he and Liam had shared. He stared at the chest of clothes at the end of his bed and thought about stuffing his favorites into his pack. But he remembered Asher’s mother had bought him new clothes, clothes made of finer material that fit better, and he had no use for homespun rags.
The bed that had been his was hidden beneath a fallen wall. Liam’s bed was cluttered with a few cheap books he had bought from another village kid. Ren fingered the pages. The sheets had shriveled, and the ink had run. The words were barely discernible. Liam would be furious they were ruined. He should put them in a drawer away from the elements. He should find the scrap of blanket Liam treasured and slept with constantly. He’d want that back. He should find the rock Liam had claimed was a meteorite and gave to him one birthday because it was a piece of a star. He should clean everything up for when they returned. He should… he should…
Ren shook his head. He wasn’t staying here.
He couldn’t stay here.
He snatched a comic from the bed and stuffed it into his pocket with the picture. He backed out into the hallway. The clench on his heart was painful. He swallowed the sorrow and moved to the room his mother and stepfather had shared. It was mostly intact, but the roof threatened to bow under the gathering snow.
Ren fell to his knees, shoved his arm under the bed, and felt for the keepsake box his mother kept there. It would have things his mother held dear, and though he might not have any emotion tied to them, his mother did. That would be enough.
But he found nothing. Frowning, Ren ducked to look into the sliver of dark space, but didn’t see the small tin box. That was odd. It wasn’t worth anything. It wasn’t worth taking by anyone other than his mother.
Unless… unless.
Hope was a dangerous thing, frightening, yet thrilling. Ren shot to his feet and tore open the closet door. A smattering of clothes hung there, but more were missing. He pushed the remnants to the side. The large pack his stepfather used on hunting trips was gone.
Ren ran to the kitchen. He righted a chair, climbed onto the counter, and reached to the top of the shelves. He pulled down the glass jar his mother used for her special sweet juice, and it shattered on the floor. He pushed aside the serving platter they used for birthday cakes and the pottery bowl his stepfather had bought his mother from the next town over. He stepped along the counter, perched dangerously, and swiped down everything from the cabinets; around him crockery rained, shattering and splintering along the floor.
Asher came running in and skidded to a stop as Ren flung open another door and pawed through the remnants.
“Ren? What are you doing? I thought the house was coming down.”
“It’s gone,” Ren said. His tone didn’t match the thrumming of his veins or the pounding of his heart. “It’s gone. They escaped. They had to have escaped.”
Asher frowned. “Ren, come down.”
Ren hopped to the floor. His boots crushed the memories to dust. “Don’t you understand? The keepsake box is gone and the emergency credits.”
“So? The soldiers took them? Ren, they’ve ransacked the place.”
“No.” Ren shook his head. He resisted the urge to shake Asher. “They were hidden. And the box has no value to anyone other than my mother. There would be no point for a soldier to take it.”
Placating, insufferable, Asher’s raised his hands. “I know you want to believe they got away.”
“They did!” Ren said, kicking over the nearest chair. It slid across the floor. “Don’t act like you understand. You don’t!”
“I know I don’t, but I’m trying here. Okay? I am not going to support you in a delusion.”
“Why? Why do you care?”
“Because I do!” Asher stepped around the table and gripped Ren’s shoulder with his good arm. “I do because I care about you. I still care about you and I’m not going to stop just because you hate me.”
“You only care if I’m a threat.”
“That is not true, and you know it.”
Ren clenched his jaw. He ignored that statement; he had to, or he might break in pieces. “And what makes you so sure it’s a delusion? The keepsake box is gone. The emergency credits. My stepfather’s travel bag. It all points to—”
“Rowan and I found a mass grave.”
Ren wrenched out of Asher’s grasp. Breathing heavily, he pushed his way past Asher and into the main room. With shaking hands, he unlocked the door and stepped out into the darkening day and the falling snow.
Rowan approached him. “Did Asher tell you?”
“Yes.”
Gently, her voice low, she nudged him with her shoulder. “I’m sorry. I can’t imagine what you’re going through right now. Is there anything I can do? Are you going to be okay?”
No. No, he was not. “I’m fine.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Ren, it’s okay if you’re not—”
“I need a minute.”
Ren walked briskly to the path he knew so well. His body was flushed. Sweat gathered at his temples and the base of his hairline. It dried on his skin, and he shivered. Snow fell into his eyes and his hair. It gathered around the collar of his jacket and chilled him, but it didn’t hinder his progress. His steps didn’t falter.
He pushed through the low-hanging, snow-laded branches of the evergreens along the trail and ignored the bare, spindly twigs of the deciduous trees as they caught on the fabric of his clothes. The farther he went, the more anxious he became; emotions and memories overwhelmed him. Suddenly walking wasn’t quick enough. His body hummed with energy, so he broke into a jog, which turned into a full-out run. He sprinted, his legs and arms pumped, and his breath came in fraught gasps, until he stumbled wildly onto the beach.
Kicking up sand and snow, Ren fell to his knees at the edge of the water. Chest heaving, Ren stared out over the lake, flat as glass with the shore of the other side barely visible in the gathering darkness. A thin layer of ice glinted in the fading light. Underneath, the water moved, swirled inky-black like in his dreams.
His dreams, where Liam was alive and real and talked with him. I’m not here.
Sitting there with the cold leeching into his legs through the thin fabrics of his trousers, Ren knew. Liam wasn’t here. He wasn’t at the lake. He wasn’t in the village. He wasn’t in the ground.
Hope was dangerous.
“This must be the lake you talked so much about,” Asher said, coming to stand next to Ren at the water’s edge.
Ren hadn’t heard his footsteps and he jumped at his voice. He craned his neck and looked up. Asher stared at the lake.
“It’s not quite like you described.”
Ren frowned. “That’s because it was barely spring when I left.”
“Ah,” Asher said. He toed at the ground. “It’s nice.”
“It’s not.”
Asher raised an eyebrow.
Ren continued. “It’s almost always cold except in the heat of summer. The sand gets stuck everywhere. Things live in it, and they bump into your legs when you swim. And if you splash too much, the water gets too murky to see. It’s gross and it’s nothing like the clear fountains and warm pools on the drifts where you can swim and not be afraid of being pinched by a creature or getting tangled in lake grass.” Ren pulled his knees close to his chest and wrapped his arms around his legs.
Asher sighed. “I wasn’t comparing it to the water on the drifts.”
Ren didn’t say anything. The sun was gone, and the sky edged from twilight to full dark. The broken moon was visible through the breaks in the clouds, as were a few pinpricks of stars.
“Was this the spot where…” Asher trailed off. He swallowed; his expression was pained, as though he realized his question bordered on cruel.
“Where I last saw my brother? Not the exact spot, but…” Ren waved his hand dismissively. “But nearby.”
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“I don’t know. For everything. For all that’s happened. For pushing you away. For the people of your village. For your home.”
Ren stood. “My family is alive. They escaped. I know they did.”
Placating, Asher raised his hand and took a step back. “Okay,” he said. “Okay, Ren. Whatever you need to believe.”
Ren didn’t register the doubt behind Asher’s words. Instead, he zeroed in on Asher’s limp arm. He wasn’t wearing a sling, maybe to hide the fact he had limited use in case they wound up in a fight. Asher’s fingers twitched.
Again, shame overwhelmed Ren, but not for his humble planet, or his gross lake. This was deeper.
“Last time you were here,” he said, clearing his throat, “you were attacked, injured, and captured. I’ve been selfish. I never thought about your feelings about coming back here, what that might trigger for you. I’m sorry.”
“You’ve not been yourself.”
“No, I haven’t.”
“And how do you feel now?” Asher’s voice was hesitant; the question was weighted with meaning.
Ren tilted his head and watched the clouds drift. He blinked against a few wandering snowflakes.
“Ashamed. Guilty. Heartbroken. Hopeful.” He met Asher’s gaze. “Uncluttered.”
“Is that good?”
“Yeah.” Ren’s voice came out in a whisper; his breath made a puff of cloud. He stood and brushed off the back of his trousers.
“We should get back,” Asher said. “It’s getting too dark to see.”
“I know the way.” Ren stepped into Asher’s space. His pulse raced, and in the low light he saw Asher’s bemused expression. Carefully, slowly, Ren ghosted his fingers over Asher’s hand. “Let me fix it.”
The space between them charged with electricity, and the spark raised the fine hairs on Ren’s arms. He shivered, and it wasn’t only from the cold.
Asher licked his lips. His green eyes were wide in the dying light, reflecting the broken moon and the ice on the water. “I don’t…” He took a breath. “I don’t know if it’s a good idea.”
“You don’t trust me.”
“Honestly? No, and you don’t trust me either. But I trust my own judgment. You may not be the Ren I became friends when we were on this planet together, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care for you.” Asher closed his eyes, as if in surrender. “Do it.”
Ren threaded his fingers with Asher’s lax hand, their skin frigid. He closed his eyes, and pushed out with his power. Asher’s shoulder lit up in Ren’s mind. He saw a blueprint of machine and bone, of tech surrounded by flesh and sinew. In the hold of his star, Ren had rendered the mechanism inert, crippling Asher, his friend, the person for whom he held the most affection. Remorse threatened to drown him. Ren pressed closer, needing to convey his contrition. His lips rasped over the stubbled skin of Asher’s cheek in a whisper of a kiss. Asher’s body was a wall of heat and comfort, and when Ren pressed his cold lips to Asher’s jaw, he released his star.
Asher’s gasp puffed against Ren’s cheek. He shook his hand free of Ren’s grip and reached up to splay against the back of Ren’s neck, holding him still.
Other than that small gesture, Asher didn’t move, merely held Ren as they breathed, as they shared a moment by Ren’s childhood lake under the stars Ren used to dream about, with the gentle whispered hush of falling snow the only sound.
“Thank you,” Asher said, quietly, after an eternity.
At the words, Ren’s eyes filled. A lump lodged in his throat, and everything he had held back broke over him in a wave. He dropped his forehead to Asher’s shoulder and sobbed.
Asher’s grip tightened while Ren shuddered apart.
He didn’t let go.