Page 60 of She Who Devours the Stars
From the next hammock over, Dax snorted, “You say that like we haven’t tried.”
I smiled, but the mood was tight. Mom and Dad weren’t wrong. If these two were released on the planet, they might never recover. This wasn’t Pelago-9. There were dangerous people on the planet: politicians, Accord, people with hazardous astral resonances, and even myths. I couldn’t let them run free untilI at least felt like they’d be safe. Then everything shifted as a single, unified DING echoed through the lounge. Every person, every terminal, even the wall panels, lit up with a personalized notification.
Dax’s display went first: UNLOCKED: LIOREN TRIVANE’S PRIVATE RECORDINGS.
His hand shook, just a little. “No way,” he said. “They said those were lost in the mythwar.”
Velline’s popped next: CLAIMED: NOBLE TIER COSMETIC ARCHIVE + 52 OUTFIT COUPONS.
She went still, lips parted. “That’s—” She reached for her wrist display, already half-dreaming through the possibilities. “This is a dream that is the only reason I survived puberty.”
Perc, who’d been silent until now, spoke with a reverence I’d never heard before: “EN ROUTE TO: Bean Vault. Security Override Accepted.” He pulsed twice, then shut down all secondary lights, the coffeepot equivalent of a religious trance.
For a few seconds, no one moved. Then they all turned to look at me, like maybe I had a better idea of what was happening, like maybe I could explain why the mythship had suddenly decided to bribe us all with our most unhinged, embarrassing cravings.
I stared at my own notification: ENJOY: UNLIMITED REPLICA CARNITAS TACOS (AUTHENTIC) & PEACE OF MIND. Did Vireleth just bribe my family with presents that would distract them from even thinking about the world we orbited? Was my shipthatin tune with me?
I laughed, hollow and shocked, and showed them my screen. “It’s got us pegged.”
Velline’s eyes sparkled, a fresh, rare joy in her face. “It’s perfect,” she whispered, then immediately vanished down the corridor to go try on every outfit in history.
Dax lingered, conflicted, but after a second, the draw of Lioren’s forbidden diary was too much. He nodded at me once and disappeared, already queuing up the first transmission.
Perc, in his way, seemed to levitate, zooming toward the maintenance deck with a speed that felt almost obscene.
It took less than a minute for the lounge to clear out.
I sat there, alone with my fizz, the taste of it lingering. It was a perfect bribe, and I didn’t even resent it. It was just… efficient.
The loneliness hit a second later, sharp and familiar. Not sad, just real. The world had a way of reminding you that even family had a price, and sometimes the price was the promise of “just five minutes to myself.”
I raised my glass. The garnish had dissolved, the smiley faces melting to bright pulp.
“Bitches,” I said, but I meant it with love.
Then I laughed, drained the glass, and waited for the next disaster to call me home.
Thread Modulation: Fern Meldin
Axis Alignment: Aboard Vireleth the Closure
It started as a tickle on the back of my neck. The kind you get when you’re one step ahead of a static shock, or when you sense someone watching from a window you forgot was open.
I ignored it at first. The mythship’s air system ran on a cycle, and with half the crew ghosting around their bribes, the ducts ran cold. But as I walked from the lounge to the observationcorridor, the sensation sharpened. Not pain—more like a phantom hand, tracing the edge of my pulse just behind the left ear.
I rubbed it, fingers searching for a patch of sore muscle or maybe an early warning sign that my resonance was about to spike. Nothing. Just skin, soft and warm, humming with a slightly higher voltage than usual.
I kept walking. The corridor lights strobed from blue to gold, reacting to my approach, but I barely registered them. My focus narrowed to the feeling—a pressure, a low-grade magnetic drag, like I was caught in the tractor beam of someone’s memory.
I ducked into an alcove, pressing my back to the wall, and exhaled. The ship was silent. I checked the nearest panel—nothing but a scrolling feed of Eventide’s surface news, now obsessed with “Nullarch Arrival Party” coverage and rumors of my preferred taco condiment.
“You okay?” came a voice, close and sudden.
I jumped. Velline’s face peeked around the corner, eyes framed in a new violet shade I hadn’t seen before.
“Fine,” I said, “just… thought I felt something.”
She grinned, but softer than usual. “Maybe the mythship is flirting with you.”
