"Night comes too quickly," Ti'uro said to herself. Her tiny ship slipped through dimensions, falling into normal space near a planet. She had lost track of how many planets, how many stops for fuel for the ship. She didn't know. She trusted the disks left by the Elders that set her course, planet by planet. She only knew she was headed in the right direction.
The tiny ship drifted down to land on a wide field. She slid open the hatch, her hand moving wearily over the controls. She barely noticed how thin she had become. The veins showed clearly in her hand, blue snaking over bone. Her skin, once pale, had grown white. Her eyes were shadowed with bleak visions. She was running out of time.
She felt the pull, the tug at her heart and her mind. She could feel the balance slipping ever closer to eternal darkness. She would be too late. She closed her eyes, gathering her will and her power.
"What is your purpose here?" Ground control, port authority, whatever they chose to call themselves it did not matter.
"I wish fuel for my ship," Ti'uro answered. She put the slightest pressure on the man's mind.
He marked several slips on his clipboard. He handed the papers to her. "Refueling, basic maintenance, should be done by morning." He walked away without asking for payment.
She regretted stealing, but she had no choice. She had no money, nothing that would be of value to him. It was only a small amount, she told herself. And no one would remember her or her ship when she lifted again.
She crossed the landing field, every step weary. She had to have food, fuel for her body. Her hair, once a soft silver cloud, was clipped close to her skull. She no longer wore the robes of an initiate, she wore a shapeless gray shipsuit, rolled up to keep from dragging on the ground. She trudged, her steps dragging. She could feel darkness building, reaching out to swallow everything, every planet, every good and happy thing it could touch. It was a sickness spreading through the galaxy.
She arrived at the supply office. She took only a small amount, only what was necessary. She left no memories, no payment, only the slight touch of her mind. She had tried to ease worries, to heal pain, before. She had no strength left. The darkness drank it in, sucking her dry. She saved her strength now, using only what she must.
She would need every ounce of her power, when she reached her destination.
A woman stood outside her ship when she returned, carrying a carton of food supplies.
Ti'uro stopped in surprise. "Peace to you, stranger." She reached with her mind to erase memory and soothe what she could in exchange for the gift.
And met a soft barrier that sent her power back to her own mind. She blinked in surprise. The woman smiled, sadness touched her eyes. She was dark to Ti'uro's silver.
"It won't work on me," the woman said.
Ti'uro bent her head in acknowledgment. "What do you wish of me?"
"You called me," the woman said. "I answered. Though Jerimon is angry about it. He didn't understand."
"Few do," Ti'uro said. She felt the weariness creeping into her soul. She had chosen to carry this burden. She must carry it alone.
"Not alone," the woman said. She held out her hand. A tiny crystal carved into a heart sparkled on her palm.
Ti'uro looked up, her silver eyes meeting the woman's dark eyes. She felt the power in the stone. She frowned. A stone could not hold power. How could this be? She touched the stone, her finger light as a feather across its surface. The woman smiled. The power was hers, focused through the crystal.
"Gypsy trick," the woman said. She reached quickly and caught Ti'uro's hand in her own, the crystal pressed between their palms.
Ti'uro gasped. Power flowed between them, opening minds and hearts. The woman, Larella, gave willingly. Ti'uro felt tears escaping. She had been alone for so long.
The woman's memories flowed through her mind followed by more, many more, linked through the crystal heart. She felt them, felt their souls reaching out to her. Her eyes flew open.
"Jericho? You carry those of Jericho?" Ti'uro searched Larella's face.
"I laid their ghosts," Larella said. "I gave them peace. They gave me this and told me to keep it until you came for it. You are going to need their strength." She pressed the crystal into Ti'uro's hand.
"You are linked, to her," Ti'uro tilted her head, watching Larella.
Larella smiled. She had dimples and looked much younger. Her eyes were full of light. Ti'uro saw it now, as it banished darkness.
"Take care of Dace, when you find her," Larella said. She turned and walked away.
Ti'uro watched her go, wondering at the strange way of life. The Gypsies called it fate. Perhaps they were more right than the Hrissia'noru. She cradled the tiny crystal heart, feeling it beat with life, with light, with the gift of those who had died in Jericho.
She straightened, her step lighter as she entered her ship. She was not alone. The darkness retreated a tiny step. It wasn't much, but it was a small victory. It was enough. She would be in time. The darkness would not win.