I could hear every dying thing in the universe.
Right now, there's a scream of a beloved person ringing in my ears like a funeral bell announcing the death of me.
Two spirals of light raked across each other in my mind's eye, each clawing for dominance, until whole worlds shattered, digested, reborn. The universe thrives on cruelty: the strongest devour, the weakest dissolve. That was the law. That was the rhythm.
Tripolis followed the same rhythm.
Every decade, storms roll in from the outer skies, churning the atmosphere into poison, a mix of hydrogen, methane, and helium thick as tar. The ice buckles, five moons scream as they are stripped to their bones. For months, no one survives aboveground. Citizens crawl under, wait, and pray to Sibelle, our star, to thaw the surface again.
And when she does? The planet sparkles with new life. Diamonds bursting from cooled rivers. Fields of crystal sprouting overnight. Merchants swarm back in, eager to kill for a glimpse of wealth. They always call it a blessing. They never admit it is the jewel itself that kills them.
I am the one who anchors them. Their protector. Their warden. Their witness. I am bound to Tripolis and to its endless loop of ruin and rebirth, no matter how the galaxies call me elsewhere.
I closed my eyes. The wind clawed at Trudge Valley's ridges, rattling the snow dunes beneath my feet. The planet's core groaned, hot hydrogen condensing, methane leaking upward. The storm was close. I let the marl ground me, my breath sinking into the soil until I could feel the moons themselves tilt in rhythm with me.
Survive. Stay.
But the storm did not want to listen. It pressed against me, furious, trying to unravel me the way it unraveled everything else. The planet cried; I soothed it. The storm burned; I swallowed the fire.
"Don't think too hard. You'll hurt yourself."
Cleo's voice cut through the wind. She wore boots, hunting leathers, her ash-grey hair pinned back with the sharp things she called hairpins and everyone else called weapons.
"How was your hunt?" I asked, pivoting away from her. If the storm was dangerous, arguing with Cleo before it broke was worse.
"Well, my collection grows." She pulled a glowing cube from her satchel—an emerald block of preserved life, pulsing with its own breath. Its scent hit me sharp and furious.
"Put that away."
"You were the one who asked."
"I was being polite."
Cleo smiled . Her garments glittered with other treasures she'd claimed—fragments of fauna, flora, crystallized essences. She loved her treasures more than us. More than herself, maybe.
"We weren't bullied into this, Mila," she said. "We were entrusted."
"We were assigned," I corrected. "There's a difference."
Her eyes narrowed, but a smile cracked through anyway, the kind that almost—almost—made me forgive her. Almost made me forget the whispers that came during storms, urging me to rebel against the Assigner, to rally my siblings, to demand our own freedom. If mortals had free will, why didn't we?
Stop. He can hear you. He can retaliate.
"Whining again, are you?"
I turned. A smirk, radiant as sunrise, melted my annoyance.
My brother opened his arms and I stepped into them, buried in a warmth that felt like mine alone. Too much warmth, maybe. His curls tickled my cheek as I murmured, "Ari."
He pulled back, studying me with quick blinks, measuring mood and storm alike. His power always grew when we were apart, spilling from him in ways that frightened him more than he'd ever admit.
"Hey, sis."
And suddenly the storm seemed survivable.
Cleo groaned, flopping onto the snow with her satchel like a child denied her toy.
"You shouldn't be here. It's dangerous."
"My presence was requested."
"By whom?" I demanded. Ari never came during Diamond Storms. He weakened when the air turned to poison.
"Who do you think?" he laughed a little, one corner of his mouth lifting. Parrying danger with jokes was one of his few unlikeable traits.
"Well," I said, masking fear with platitude, "your presence is welcome."
Ari kissed my forehead. "I know."
Cleo gagged theatrically. "If you two keep this up, I'll throw myself under the first diamond."
"Too bad you can't die," Ari teased. "Mila would love to grant your wish."
I grinned despite myself. Cleo muttered curses as she dissolved into light, her
Cleo muttered curses as she dissolved into light, her essence flaring emerald and sepia across the valley. At last, her barbed thoughts faded into background noise.
"Finally, some peace," I whispered.
"She loves you," Ari said.
"No. You love me. She's a lunatic kleptomaniac."
His laughter was balm against the storm. But above us, clouds already boiled with pressure. The diamonds would fall soon. Too soon. The planet shivered; I shivered with it.
"It's faster this time," I admitted.
Ari's face had gone pale. "Then I'll stay. You won't face it alone."
But I knew better. I always faced it alone.
The skies cracked. The storm was here. I had to save the world entirely on my own.