Stars puncture the blackness.
Hovering in the center of the room, countless winking pinpricks of light form a dozen distinct constellations—the Houses of the Zodiac. Larger balls of colored light swirl among the stars: our planets and moons. In the midst of it all burns a ball of blazing fire: Helios.
I slide a stick from my pocket and twirl it. Amid all the sparkles in the glittering universe, I find the churning mass of blue, the brightest point in the Crab-shaped constellation . . . and I miss home.
The Blue Planet.
Cancer.
I reach out, but my hand goes right through the hologram. Four lesser gray orbs hover in a row beside my planet; if connected, they look like they would form a straight line. That’s because the Lunar Quadract is the only time this millennium our four moons will align.
Our school sits on Cancer’s closest and largest moon, Elara. We share this gray rock with the prestigious Zodai University, which has training campuses on every House in our galaxy.
I’m forbidden from activating the school’s Ephemeris without an instructor present. I steal a last look at my home planet, a whirling ball of blending blues, and I picture Dad at our airy bungalow home, tending to his nar-clams on the banks of the Cancer Sea. The smell of the salty water engulfs me, and the heat of Helios warms my skin, almost like I’m really there. . . .
The Ephemeris flickers, and our smallest and farthest moon disappears.
I fix on the black spot where the gray light of Thebe was just extinguished—and one by one, the other moons go dark.
I turn to inspect the rest of the constellations, just as the whole galaxy explodes in a blinding blast of light.
The room is plunged into total darkness, until images begin to appear all around me. On the walls, the ceiling, desks—every surface is covered in multicolored holograms. Some I can identify from my classes, but there are so many—words, images, equations, diagrams, charts—that I can’t possibly take them all in—
“Acolyte Rho!”
The room is flooded with light. The holograms disappear, and the place is back to being a plain classroom. The Ephemeris sits innocently on the teacher’s desk.
Instructor Tidus towers over it. Her old, plump face is so perpetually pleasant that it’s hard to tell when I’ve upset her. “You were told to wait outside. You have been reminded of this before: Acolytes are forbidden from using the school Ephemeris without an instructor, and I can’t imagine what you’ll need a drumstick for during your testing.”
“Sorry, ma’am.” The stick goes still in my hand and joins its twin in my pocket.
Hanging behind her is the only disruption to the room’s white walls, white ceiling, and white floor. Large letters in blue ink, bearing the Zodai’s favorite precaution: Trust Only What You Can Touch.
Dean Lyll barges in. I square my shoulders, surprised to see the head of the Academy present at my exam. It’s bad enough being the only student forced to take this test twice. Doing it under his curt supervision will be unbearable.
“Acolyte, take a seat until we are ready to proceed.” The dean is tall and thin, and unlike Instructor Tidus, there isn’t a pleasant thing about him. So much for Nishi’s theory that they want to hear more about my vision.
I slide into a chair, wishing the room had a window. Mother Origene, the Guardian of our House, landed less than an hour ago with her Council of Advisors and the Zodai Royal Guard. I’d love to catch even a passing glimpse of them.
My friends and I are graduating this year, so the Academy has already submitted our transcripts for consideration at Zodai University. Only the top Acolytes in our class will be accepted.
The university’s best-ranked graduates get invited to join the Order of the Zodai, our galaxy’s peacekeepers. The best of the best are recruited into the Guardian’s Royal Guard, the Zodai’s highest honor.
When I was younger, I used to dream about being in the Royal Guard one day. Until I realized it wasn’t my dream.
“Given that our moon is hosting tonight’s celebration,” says the dean, “we’ll need to make this quick.”
“Yes, sir.” My hands itch for my sticks again. I step into the middle of the room as the dean activates the Ephemeris.
“Please give a general read on the Lunar Quadract.”
The room plunges into darkness once more, and the twelve constellations come alight. I wait until the whole Zodiac has filled out, and then I try accessing my Center—the first step to reading the stars.
The Ephemeris is a device that reflects Space in real time, but when we’re Centered, it can be used to tap into the Psy Network, or Collective Conscious—where we’re not limited to the physical realm. Where we can read what’s written in the stars.