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It was amazing to me how much I’d grown in truly appreciating the night. Up on Elysian’s back, I could see past the whole distance of Apollo City, all the twinkling yellow lights of office buildings and the scattered skyscrapers, the red and white traffic lanes, the shadowed fields of playgrounds and small forests, and the dark but distinct edge of Lake Erie and its waters. The city was dressed in a low cloud cover, and rising mist from the marina area.
Even though I’d become more of a night person since middle school (largely thanks to online chatting and texting and gaming), I wasn’t actually outside a lot. So clinging to Elysian’s back while the night winds breathed through my wings was a surprising, deep source of the rarest, truest form of magic.
For me, I knew it also held the unique sense of home that could only be groomed or unexpectedly gifted.
“It’s almost eleven,” I called up, barely catching sight of the clock tower in the distance through the rolling fog.
“We’ll get there, don’t worry.” I could see the smile on his face as he said it.
Elysian descended and slowed when we reached Dock 42, and I jumped down. The instant my feet touched the wooden landing, I knew we were not alone.
Glancing around, I did not see anyone right away. I could see up the hill to Lakeview Observatory, down to the woods, and up to the other hill where my housing development was located. I could see the shipping districts and the smaller container boats. Even in the well-lit areas, the fog was creating a barrier around us, so it was hard to make out details.
“I’m glad to see you’ve made it,” Aleia called out to me.
I smiled to see her form walk out of the cloudy shadows. “I told you I wouldn’t miss this.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” Aleia smiled. She was back in her warrior gear, with her daggers tucked away on one side. She wore a small pouch on the other side (I respected her too much to make a fanny pack joke), out of which she drew her orb.
“I’m going to place a stasis on our time here,” she explained as the orb glowed a dark reddish color, lighting up with her power. “This means when we get back, you will be able to come and resume the timeline of your life, beginning at midnight tonight.”
“Okay, great.” I was glad; I wouldn’t have to skip out on sleep to get some experience in. I even had an extra hour to get home before I usually went to bed. Perfect.
“He’s here.”
I glanced around, looking for another person to come up behind us, maybe walking out of one of the warehouses.
It was only when I heard the booming splash behind me and felt the remaining moonlight flee that I turned around.
My mouth dropped open of its own accord. A ship’s anchor was sinking into the bay area. It was similar to the traditional ones from the history books, tethered to the biggest vessel I had ever seen. I whistled in soft shock. “That’s one big boat!”
It was huge, in the form of a nineteenth century clipper ship, though there were some distinct differences. Instead of sails, there were giant wings. Up on the main mast was a lookout’s post, encircled by halo lights. The body of the ship itself was dressed in cosmic shades, blending in with the sky even as it stood out. Lightning crashed against the bottom of the boat harmlessly, creating a bobbling effect.
“Yes, that’s the Meallán, and it’s captain, St. Brendan the Navigator.” Aleia grinned, no doubt pleased at my reaction. “He’s come to give us a lift.”
“Where are we going?” I was having trouble concentrating as I saw the grand sight before me.
“To see the Star of Time, my sister, at her home between the roof of the world and the edge of the Celestial Kingdom.”
“Ahoy there!” I glanced up to see a man, complete with coal black hair and piercing bright blue eyes, standing on the top deck of the Meallán as he heralded us.
“Ready to go, are you? The tide’s coming in rough, I’m sure, so we best be setting off soon.” The man’s voice, complete with an Irish brogue, sang out to us invitingly.
Elysian, taking the initiative, hoisted Aleia and me up onto his back and took off, threading his way through the mist and lightning, and finally landing safely on the deck of the Meallán.
I looked around, suddenly feeling very conscious of how stupid I no doubt looked. My eyes were wide as I looked around, watching the ship’s crew make their way along the deck, climbing the masts and adjusting the wings of the sails.
Everything was pristine and pure, glowing yet not glowing, as though it were completely one and the same, and it was completely normal that there were no shadows or darkness on this floating miracle.
“Whoa,” I finally managed. I turned to face the captain, who was still looking down at the marina docks.
I came up behind him just as he called out once more. “My lady! Joining us, are you?”
I ran to the side, only to see Starry Knight’s unmistakable form by the shoreline.
She waved back. “Not tonight, St. Brendan.”
“You’ve a way of teasing me, lady.”
Starry Knight laughed and blew him a kiss, which shocked me. “Never,” she promised.
I decided I should not like St. Brendan too much.
“It’s good seeing you.” St. Brendan waved back. “You know how to reach me if you need me.”
Starry Knight said nothing, but waved back. In the last moment, her gaze turned to me. I felt the sails pulse, as the power of the celestial tide took over, and the power of her gaze slowly receded, along with my reality.
“So, you’re the one they call Wingdinger? Strange name, if you don’t mind my saying so.”
I turned and reached out a hand. Pending judgment, no need to be rude, no need to be friendly, I thought. “And you are St. Brendan.”
“Nice to be making your acquaintance,” he said as he smiled back.
“How do you know her?” I asked, nodding down to the far-off shore of the world.
“Lady Justice? Oh, we’ve been friends since we met,” he said. “Shame she’s fallen to Earth. It’s not often I get to go past.” He looked past me at Aleia. “Fortunately, I’ve a good way of keeping tabs on everyone, don’t I, Aletheia?”
Aleia laughed. “You’re such a dashing rogue, St. Brendan.”
“Alas, only the sea is meant for me,” he said with a wink. He turned back to me. “And the Prince, being kind, has given her to me to tend. So, Wingdinger. Let’s get you up to Lady Time, then, shall we?”
“How’s the sailing look?” Aleia asked.
“We might have some bumps along the way, but what’s a bit of fun without a bit of a risk?”
Elysian frowned as Aleia and St. Brendan chatted like long-lost friends. Which, I reminded myself, they probably were.
Meanwhile, Elysian and I managed to look like the awkward wallflowers I usually made fun of at parties.
Elysian spoke first. “He seems nice.”
“I don’t like him.”
“Of course you wouldn’t.” Elysian rolled his eyes. “I’m, uh, going to take a look around. Just try and stay out of trouble.”
St. Brendan and Aleia continued talking as I watched the endless sea of starlight and space dance by.
The night never seemed so bright, I thought, as we flew by suns and stars, some shining hot, some burning cold. All were different, unique, and seemingly with their own temperaments. I looked past the jib to see we were heading toward a pure white star in the distance.
The closer we got to it, the slower we seemed to go, and the more the stars didn’t seem like stars, but people and planets for angelic purposes. Here, home was not just a feeling, it was alive.
There were blackened stars, silent and dead, too. The remnants of fallen Stars, I realized. Suddenly I could see them everywhere, like scars on a body’s skin.
I wondered where mine had been as a lingering sense of despair clutched at my heart. If I was a fallen Star, as Elysian had said, and had more or less been proven to me in several ways before, what could have made me leave such a place?
The whispers of music began to creep out from the horizon, and a pervasive sunlight, though it was brighter, became not only perfectly bearable, but preferred. I could see other stars change from the burning gas balls of my science class to home to humanlike creatures, where their forms were all different shades of beauty rather than distinctive colors.
I watched as the ship soared through a playful pond of comets, running through them like a pile of glitter. I saw the Milky Way as it transformed from a clouded rainbow across the night skies into a river of life, not running from the heart of the galaxy, but light clouded with darkness falling in on itself.
It was a slow death of something ... something that should have been eternal.
“This is what death looks like?” I asked, more to myself than anyone.
“If you want to save something that can choose to be saved or choose not to be saved, you give it time.” St. Brendan came up beside me.
“What? What do you mean?” I asked.
“Stars are not unlike the angels, you know. Stars live between Time and Eternity. But it is only within Time that the Angel of Death resides.” He smiled wistfully. “But it is because of Time that change is possible.”
I didn’t have anything profound to say; I knew most people feared death. Before the change in my own life happened, that was part of the reason I thought life didn’t have to matter; but I was beginning to see that was precisely why life did matter. And I could understand what St. Brendan was saying. Death was definitely a change, and not one that would be ignored.
St. Brendan spoke again, his voice a spoken sort of music with its rhythmic lilt. “Humans have the power of choice on Earth while they live. Yes, Death is, but it is only a way to pull what has lasted into what will always last, and a way for what cannot last to be carried off.”
“Uh-huh. I see.” I turned back to look at the scenery before us, where black chunks of rock and hardness drifted silently. I was again reminded of what the demon inside of Logan had said: To be a fallen Star was a punishment.
With the eerie scars of fallen Stars around me, I decided I didn’t really want to talk about this stuff anymore.
“So, what Star are you?” I asked, trying to be polite.
“I’m not a Star,” St. Brendan said with a laugh. “I’m a Reborn.”
“A Reborn?” I asked.
“I was a human on Earth,” he explained. “And when my body died, my spirit was called, and my soul came home. So here I am now.”
“Oh. So, when did you live?”
“Oh, I’d lived many years before you,” he said. “I made my life and living with the sea, in search of meaning and lasting treasure. I did not find it on Earth, but I found someone who knew the way.”
“To Eternity. Then to here.”
“Aye,” he agreed. “Once I arrived, I was given my job. I map out the worlds all through Eternity and Time, and to the higher realms as well. I record all I find in my log, and I keep it updated.”
“Were you here before I fell?” I asked.
“I was, yes.” He turned away from me, looking out at something beyond the endless horizon. “You were the Star of Fire, you know.”
“I was?” I asked, suddenly awed. I’d forgotten I didn’t like him as I leaned in to hear more of the story.
“Yes. It’s what you were named for.”
“Wingdinger?”
St. Brendan laughed, slapping me on the back in a congenial manner. “I’d forgotten how forgetful the Milky Way’s Veil can make you. Sit for a spell, lad, and enjoy the view. I’ve got to make my rounds. My crew has their jobs as well as I’ve got mine.” He gave me a kind of salute and walked away.
It was as if he’d known I wanted to hear more, I thought bitterly.
“We should be coming up on Lady Time soon.”
I looked over to see Elysian had quietly returned. “Oh, you’re back now,” I said. “Did you enjoy the sights?”
“There’s no need to be short with me, kid,” Elysian muttered back. His own sharp tone made me look twice at him.
“Are you okay?” I asked, noticing he had gone quiet and contemplative, something I knew Elysian was not, unless he was thinking of something important.
“If you must know,” he bit back, “I was looking for my brother.”
“Oh.” I briefly recalled that Elysian had mentioned his brother, and even other changeling dragons, before. “Did you find him?”
“No.”
There was a large amount of feeling behind the answer; I knew there would be an even larger story. I wisely said nothing.
We stared out into everything for some time before Aleia came up to us. “I haven’t been sailing with St. Brendan in a long time,” she said. “I’ve forgotten how fun it can be.”
“Uh-huh.”
“What’s wrong?” Aleia asked. “Are you still wondering about Starry Knight?” When I didn’t say anything, Aleia sighed. “You know, you really shouldn’t worry about her. She didn’t come tonight, even though I know she wanted to.”
“Why not?” I asked. “She and St. Brendan seem to get along well enough.” There was a bitterness to my tone I didn’t really want to explain to Aleia, but there was nothing I could do about it.
“She has her reasons for staying away, even as much as she wanted to come,” Aleia explained gently. “She and St. Brendan go a long way back. They’ve always been friends.”
Friends with a charming space captain, but not her co-defender.
I didn’t say anything. I just huffed and shrugged my shoulder, trying to look indifferent.
Aleia changed the subject. “We’ll be passing through the Field of Lights soon,” she said. “It’s one of the most beautiful sights in all the realms.”
Inside, I debated with myself about commenting. Finally, I decided it was no time to alienate Aleia, who was charged with teaching me. So I figured I would suck up my bad mood and play along with her for now. “What’s in the Field of Lights?” I asked.
“It’s where human souls are allowed to reside before they are called down to Earth.” She tugged on my arm. “Come and see with me.”
I followed her to the edge of the deck and leaned over, following her lead. We were sailing into a large, nebulous web of light and power.
“Look at them. They’re so beautiful.” Aleia pointed to a baby-like figure as it slept inside one of the seemingly infinite gelatinous bubbles blossoming up from the heart of the light. I watched as the baby tucked itself into a ball with a fist in its mouth.
“Reminds me of Adam, when Cheryl was pregnant,” I said. “Or pictures of tadpole eggs.”
“They begin to take form down in here, in the time pods, as their physical bodies are being created. But look over there. You see those figures moving?”
I saw the enlightened flashes of childish figures. Some had long hair, some had short hair, and some were taller or shorter. Some were pudgy, and others were lanky. They were just beings of light, but even from where I was, I could see their smiles, hear their laughter, and see their joy.
“Look at that one. It’s about to go into its time pod.” Seeing my confused look, she further explained, “The egg-like bubble housing the babies.”
The child of light she’d pointed out edged close to a bubble. I could see it was a boy, with a love of climbing and curiosity set deeply inside of him. As I watched, his light slipped inside of the pod, and took the shape of a human baby. At first I didn’t see how the light was going to survive inside of it, but then it not only settled in, but I saw it grow brighter. His face turned toward me, and I saw he’d begun to smile and squirm like a human baby, too excited to stay still.
Even though I was not chummy with children like Gwen was, I grinned. “He’s going to be a handful for his mother.”
Aleia smiled. “They wait in the pod until their bodies are ready. And then, of course, they are inserted completely into time and they are born.”
“So the baby in the womb is not a full person until birth?” I asked.
“They are a full soul, with personality, temperament, even preferences,” Aleia explained, “and their spirits are knitted into their physical bodies, while they are being prepared. Life inside the womb is preparing them for life outside the womb, just as your life on Earth is preparing you for life beyond Earth.”
“What do you mean by that?” I sure was asking that a lot tonight, I mused. I hope I didn’t come across as stupid.
She grinned at me. “Think about it. Eyes that do not need to see, lungs that have no access to air, and arms and feet with nowhere to yet go. Can you imagine what life is like outside of your body now?”
I thought about Elektra’s attempt to take my power, my inner light. My vision had expanded all the way around me, and I was able to see things I never could see with my human eyes. “I guess so. Makes sense,” I agreed.
A pair of what looked like sisters playfully danced past us, and I saw another baby leap headfirst into his own time pod.
“What’s that one over there doing?” I asked, pointing to a baby in a pod who was, in his baby form, starting to crawl out. “Is he being born on Earth?”
Aleia following my direction. We watched as a being, no doubt some kind of Nanny Star, suddenly appeared beside the boy and took him away.
“Looks like the lad will be staying here,” St. Brendan spoke.
I almost jumped at his sudden appearance. “What do you mean?”
“The baby died in the womb, Hamilton,” Aleia whispered.
I glanced back, an irreconcilable sadness suddenly piercing my heart. “What’s going to happen to him? Will he go into some other pod?”
“No,” Aleia said. “Every individual soul is unique. While he did not get a chance to live on Earth, he will still get to reside here. Most of the ones who do not get born remain behind, taking care of the others.”
“Will he be a new Star then?” I asked.
“No, those are human souls that play there; while other Stars are created, they reside elsewhere. Though they will often visit here to play,” St. Brendan explained. “But don’t worry about the babe. He’ll hear from Gabe soon.”
“Who’s Gabe?”
“He delivers messages around here, such as that.”
“He will be given a new assignment and purpose,” Aleia said. “You know how the Prince is fond of second beginnings.”
While I don’t think she meant it as an insult, second chances were still a bit of a sore point with me. I didn’t like to think about my own learning experience in regard to that particular lesson. It was enough to have learned it; I didn’t want to be reminded of it anytime soon. “Does everyone have a purpose?” I asked, a little skeptical at this point.
St. Brendan laughed. “That’s like asking if everyone has love.” His brilliant eyes glittered. “Some are born with it, some find it, some make theirs, and some see it in others. The point is not that we have one, or make one, but that we are all part of a larger movement.”
I watched as some creatures approached the Field of Lights. I was surprised to see a winged horse among them, and a pair of cat-like creatures with heads like eagles. It was more than enough to distract me. “Mythological creatures are here, too?”
Elysian coughed behind me. “Ugh, you already knew that, kid.”
“Oh. Right.” I’d forgotten about Elysian. (Imagine that.)
We passed through the Field of Lights, wandered by heavenly meadows, and sailed through seas bound by no land or gravity. I saw trees with no roots, their circulating branches interlaced with other spirits and creatures; I saw clouds stretching across galaxies, netting together different nebulas as they grasped each other with friendship. I saw wonders too bright and too beautiful; many of them passed through my memory as one sight after another sent a wave of awe and respect through me.
And all of this, I thought, was still within Time’s power.
Which did make me wonder. Would I see Adonaias, the Prince of Stars, on this trip?
I felt the swirl of the ship as it began to slow to a stop—at a huge castle in the sky, no less. I was amazed to see it was not flat, like it was on earth, but spherical, built out of gemlike stone. There was a cloudy mist of a moat surrounding the palace, a slim stream of nebulous flotsam making Time’s residence look more like a strangely-built Saturn than anything else.
“There’s the end of the River Veil,” St. Brendan said.
I turned toward him, watching as the ship pulled up closer to the edge of my universe.
“Along with the River Guardian, the Serpent.” He pointed to the small ring around the castle, the one I’d thought was a small moat. Stepping back, I saw it; rather than being a river or a stream, the white waves were the discarded, scaly skin of a snake-like creature, bound up in a stasis of time, almost as if it had been crushed between moments and seconds.
Before I could ask, Aleia tugged my arm excitedly. “We’re here.”
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