Page 6 of Storm of Stars
“We use their code,” she said quietly, and we all turned to look at her. “This entire message board is full of coded messages. Symbols and phrases… So, let’s use it. Let them know we see them. That we’re one of them. We build momentum, build the following. Show them we’re ready.”
“And then,” I added, a grim smile tugging at my lips, “when the time is right…”
“We strike,” Brexlyn finished, her voice sure and steady.
I nodded, the unspoken words heavy between us.
“Ma was a part of this?” Briar’s voice cracked around the question, her eyes flicking over the screen, skimming the messages, the rallying cries in the comments.
“Yeah” I said quietly, reaching for the computer. I scrolled through the thread until I found the post I'd saved. The post I found a few years ago, and haven’t been able to go a few dayswithout looking at since. The post that changed everything for me. “But she didn’t just join it… she started it.”
I turned the screen toward them, and there she was, a woman with features so unmistakably familiar, yet so distant, it punched the air right out of my lungs. The same sharp cheekbones as Briar, the same dark, defiant eyes as me. In a sea of anonymous profiles, there she was, clear as day. In the photo, she stood on a cracked, sun-bleached road, one fist raised high above her head, her face a storm of fury and unwavering resolve.
Beneath the image was a message. A post. The beginning of it all.
Briar’s voice trembled as she read it aloud.
“Today I watched as yet another child was killed in the pursuit of resources that should be basic human needs. Today is also the day I start fighting back. For me. For my children. For the future I believe in. Maybe there’s ten other people who feel the same, or maybe there’s millions. But today I stop letting Praxis get away with it without opposition. I am a Runaway.”
Her voice faltered, catching on the weight of the words.
I picked up where she left off, my voice low but steady, like it was something I’d recited a hundred times in my head. Because it was.
“Join me… and may the stars shine on us again.”
The room was heavy with silence for a long, aching beat. Then Briar let out a shuddering breath, her hand coming up to wipe at the tears streaming down her cheeks.
“She started it,” she whispered, a tremor in her voice. “Ma started the resistance.”
I nodded, my anger softening with a mixture of pride and grief. “She knew what she was risking. Knew Praxis would kill her if they found out. But she did it anyway. Because someone had to.”
Briar let out a quiet, broken laugh, brushing away another tear. “She always did tell us to stop waiting for someone else to fix things.”
“She believed in a better world,” I said, closing the laptop gently. “And so do I.”
Bex reached out and squeezed Briar’s hand and they shared a silent but intimate moment.
“So,” I said, my voice breaking the thick quiet of the room as I glanced at Briar, “can we do this?”
The air felt heavier then, like it pressed in around us, waiting for someone to flinch, to back out. We glanced at each other, each of us weighing what we stood to lose against what we might win.
I looked at Brexlyn.
“It’s a risk,” Briar said. “A huge one.” Her voice dropped to a rough whisper. “One that might keep us from ever making it home to the people waiting for us.” Her meaning was clear as she glanced at Brexlyn.
Jax.
I saw it in the way her brow tightened, the flicker of grief and fire in her eyes as she turned to look at him. The kind of grief that doesn’t fade, only buries itself deep enough you can pretend it isn’t there until a moment like this.
“My brother is dying. He has been for a long time. If I win the medical trials,” Brexlyn said, her voice low but sharp-edged, “Jax will probably survive another year. Maybe two, if we’re lucky. But then Praxis will tear the medicine out of our hands again, drag the doctors away, and make me watch him fall apart all over again… just in time for the next poor bastard to be forced into this archaic ritual.”
She swallowed hard, and there was no fear in her eyes now, only fury. Only certainty.
“Winning the trials won’t save him. It’ll only delay his death. The only way my brother lives… is if Praxis dies.”
The words settled over us like a war drum’s beat.
“Bry, please.” I gripped my sister's hands in mine. “Let’s finish what Ma started.”
