86. Rise

A/N: Hey everyone! I'm back. Got a question for all of you. I've been thinking for a while that it might be fun/a good idea to write up my personal philosophies and advice regarding writing. I know that I've had several writers reach out to me with questions, and I know several of my readers are writers themselves or aspiring writers. I feel like there's a lot I can say on the subject, given that it has been basically my entire life for the past five years, so... is that something you all would be interested in? I don't know if I can make any promises on how regularly I'll be able to write that kind of thing, but if you want to read it, please let me know in the comments. Anyway, content warnings for Fulgora doing Fulgora things, and I hope you enjoy the chapter!

"Antiphera?" Melpomene asks. "Are you alright?"

"Huh?" I manage, Melpomene's voice pulling me away from my sudden terror. 

"…Are you alright, darling?" Melpomene repeats.

"Yeah," I lie. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just a little overwhelmed, I think. A lot has happened lately, haha!"

"That's certainly true," Melpomene agrees. "It has been… a harrowing few days. You've really shaken things up around here."

"Oh, haha! Sorry!" I apologize. "I know it's kind of my fault that Anath left. Please forgive her, she's just trying to help me."

"That's not what I meant…" Melpomene says halfheartedly, trailing off into silence. 

The more I think about it, though, the more guilty I feel. I mean, I practically begged Anath for help and ran her off, but what is she even going to do? Go to the Earth Guardians? Help them drag me back to Earth? That wouldn't help with Fulgora in the first place, and besides, I don't want to go back to Earth. I belong here, in the Dark World. I belong among the monsters. I just want to be safe from Fulgora, but now that I have a clearer head, I don't actually know how anyone is supposed to protect me from someone I share a body and brain with.

I wince, expecting Fulgora to chime in with some horrible admonishment for my thoughts, but she doesn't. I can still feel her presence, but she's… sulking. Or I guess she's just far enough in the back of my mind that she's not thinking of much at all.

I don't know what to do to make her not hate me. She hates both of us, really. She probably hates herself more than she hates me, for letting Minerva die. I get it, I really do. Minerva achieved something we had been striving toward for so long, and right when we finally get to appreciate that… it's taken from us. All that progress, all that pride, just… carved out of our soul. I'm not Minerva, I'm just the scar that grew in her place. Without her, we've regressed. Weaker, dumber, more desperate… I get why Fulgora hates us, the way we are now. I really do get it.

But at the same time… isn't wallowing in that the exact opposite of the lesson Minerva learned? Isn't self-hate the exact opposite of her strength? She grew, and she changed, and even if she's gone now… surely that proves we could do it again, right? Surely that proves we could be good again, instead of worthless? I want that. I want that so badly.

It's that feeling, along with many desires like it, that powers my incarnate form. Desire. It's the same color as Amaterasu's, and funnily enough it's the cardinal opposite of Fulgora's current color, same as how Minerva's fear was opposite to Fulgora's previous emotion, anger. 

The relationship between fear and anger has always been interesting to me… well, that is to say, it has been interesting to Eliza, to the combined memories I hold from my other selves despite only really being Antiphera for like… I don't know, a week or something. Anyway, cardinal opposites are, generally, reversals of each other: joy and sadness, pride and disgust, and of course desire and hopelessness. But that's not entirely clear-cut, and it's especially obvious with fear and anger. The two often go hand in hand, after all, both being common responses to stress and rather frequently appearing alongside each other. A person can be happy and sad at the same time, and a person can be prideful and disgusted at the same time, but fear and anger just fit. They belong in the same roles. Each can lead to the other. There's an intrinsic harmony to them that doesn't feel the same as with the other emotional pairs.

…Of course, all of those opinions might just be us. Fear and anger drove us for most of our life. Maybe Castalia has just as strong of an opinion on the harmonious relationship between joy and sadness.

I bet she totally does. That sounds exactly like her.

…Oh. Um. Hey, Fulgora.

Hey.

"Antiphera," Melpomene says, repeating my name. Hehe! That's me! I'm thankfully shocked out of my terror by the reminder, and Fulgora's retaliation doesn't come.

"Hi!" I wave at Melpomene, since she said my name.

"You… you said, a while back, that you forgive me for what I did because it's the only reason you exist now," she says. "I don't… understand how that works."

"How what works?" I ask.

"Um… you?" Melpomene says hesitantly. 

"Oh, like why I started existing?" I clarify. "Yeah, we don't know either. I wouldn't worry about it too much."

"I am finding that somewhat difficult," Melpomene admits, "given that you claim I am responsible for it."

"I mostly meant that in like, a cosmic sense," I assure her. "Your actions were all part of the series of events that led to me being me. I'm not gonna say it's a good thing that you killed Minerva, I'd rather she was still alive, but… it's a good thing that I'm alive."

Minerva being around would definitely have helped Fulgora not freak out about me, that's for sure. I didn't ask to exist! I just want to be able to enjoy existing! Is that really so much to ask?

I've never really been a proponent of enjoying things for the sake of it. We had a duty. A purpose greater than ourselves. We didn't have time to waste on frivolities.

But we don't have that purpose anymore, Fulgora.

…Yeah. You're right.

Huh…? Why is she… Fulgora, you're being way less scary than normal. It's scary.

"Antiphera," Melpomene presses, breaking me from my thoughts again. "My apologies, but I'm somewhat stuck on this point. Did I or did I not create you, somehow?"

"Oh, um… I guess I don't really know," I admit. "Obviously you didn't create all of me, I'm still Eliza on the inside, but… it's just as obvious that you played a part. I mean, you're the reason I'm a fish!"

A tiny burst of amusement manages to escape Melpomene's aura of disgust, though it quickly vanishes.

"…I'd describe you as more of a mermaid, personally, though I'll admit your deep-sea aesthetic makes you rather distinct from the traditional portrayals of such creatures," Melpomene says. "God. How did everything turn out like this…?"

"I figure you'd know better than I would," I admit. "I mean, this was what you wanted, right? For us to join you. That's why you locked us up and made us learn how amazing the Dark World is!"

That's… certainly one way to interpret those memories.

You can't tell me the Dark World isn't cool, Fulgora!

I could, but… never mind.

"No," Melpomene admits, a hollow look to her face. "God, no. Antiphera, the only thing I wanted at that time was to hurt you. I wanted you to suffer and die for hurting a girl that doesn't even want to be around me anymore! I thought you would starve to death or be turned into a monster. I expected you to die in the most agonizing way possible. When the Dark World embraced you instead, I… I didn't really know what to do. I left you there for months before I had the courage to face you again."

The 'courage to face me?' She spent the whole time mocking me. What's this all about?

"The plan to recruit you was so haphazard I'm still shocked it worked, let alone spawned… someone like you," Melpomene continues. "I've done nothing to be worthy of your forgiveness."

"You aren't the one who gets to decide that," I say. "Forgiving you is my choice, not yours. Fulgora still hates you, but I don't want to carry that hate myself. I want to just… let go and start over. Okay?"

"But why?" Melpomene asks. Pleads, almost.

I hesitate, not sure if talking about it will get Fulgora to take over or not.

Say what you want. I don't care anymore.

Well… okay, then.

"When… when Fulgora and Minerva found out that they weren't entirely the same, I remember us really freaking out about it," I say. "We thought that we were weird and broken and wrong. We thought that we were weak in battle because we were so weak in the head that we let ourselves crack in half. But ultimately, what made us strong was when Minerva let all of that go. Minerva chose to love herself, and that made her strong."

"So… when I killed Minerva…" Melpomene says slowly.

"Haha! I wouldn't worry about that," I insist, forcing a smile. "We loved ourselves once. I'm sure we can figure out how to do it again! I think forgiving you is part of that. I'm gonna look forward, not back!"

Unfortunately, none of my words seem to be making Melpomene feel any better, but I guess that's okay! I know I'm… sort of weird and concerning. It'll take a lot of work to make anyone comfortable around me. I'm kind of horrifying! It's not her fault.

"The two of you—you and Fulgora I mean—aren't entirely separate from each other, yes?" Melpomene asks.

"Well, uh, I like to try and be separate from her as much as possible, but… no, not technically," I admit. "I mean, we both share the same brain. We have the same memories, we both know what the other is thinking… it's kind of hard to describe, but you can tell, right? You can tell the difference between us."

"I can," Melpomene says. "And I can feel the both of you as well. It's subtle, but I know what to look for now."

"Oh! That's awesome!" I beam.

"Antiphera," Melpomene presses. "What is Fulgora planning, exactly?"

I freeze. I feel my eyes widen, though of course they can do little else. Deep from within, hopelessness seizes me.

It's nothing she needs to worry about.

"It's… nothing you have to worry about, Melpomene," I assure her.

If anything, it will benefit her.

"We're not going to do anything that won't help you out, promise!" I continue.

She'll find out soon enough anyway, and we can all be satisfied.

"It's a surprise!" I say. "You'll see soon, okay?"

It will be for the best.

"It'll be great," I insist. "Just… great."

I won't have to be afraid anymore.

"So you say," Melpomene says suspiciously, "but I can't help but feel things aren't quite as simple as that. Are you really okay, Antiphera?"

Three loud thumps on the door to Melpomene's room act as a timely interruption to my answer. I can feel Nanaya's presence on the other side, waiting for us to allow entry. Melpomene clearly does, too, because she sighs and removes the magic lock on the door without so much as calling out a 'who is it?' Nanaya enters immediately afterward, a manic glint in her eyes.

"…It's time," she says. "I've decided on our plan."

"Plan for what, exactly?" Melpomene asks. "You've been awfully secretive lately."

"Oh, you'll love it, I promise," Nanaya says. "It's simple, really. We're going to get Thea back."

Melpomene reacts not with excitement, but shock. Her emotions feel conflicted, at least at first, but she swallows them down and flashes a confident smile.

"Oh, you know just what to get me, dear," she says. "Do give me all the gory details, hmm?"

So Nanaya lays out the plan. Personally, I don't think it's a very good plan at all. I see a hundred different ways it could go wrong, but… I don't say anything.

Fulgora doesn't let me. She likes the plan far, far too much.

- - -

I'm going on a date, a date, a date! I'm going on a date date date date date! I'm going on a date, a date, a date! I'm going on a lovely Castalia date! Doot dee doot dee doo doo dabadee do… 

Heh. It's been a while since I've done any composing! This particular song is obviously a little silly, and I will under no circumstances ever share it with anyone, but I'm having fun making it! 

Composing a song is a little bit like solving a puzzle, honestly. Like a crossword, sudoku, or picross. One of those puzzles where every section has to line up with every other section, so if you add a part that's good, and it makes sense, but it clashes with another part, it's still wrong. It's only when everything is complete that you can see the complete product, but you can start anywhere to reach that point! You can build around a melody, a harmony, or even just a set of chords you like. Every piece that gets added then becomes a hint toward what you might need next. But when you're writing something with lyrics, well… I usually start there.

I'm going on a daaaaaate!

"It would seem you are in high spirits," Castalia says, startling me out of my musings. "Is your training going well, then?"

"Castalia! Hey!" I greet her. Wasn't she going to go take a nap…? Woah, when did it get this late!?

"Hello, Luna," Castalia nods, after which she proceeds to just stare at me expectantly. What is she… oh, right! She asked me a question!

"My training! Yes. I am back up to a bit over fifty percent of my power reserves, which I think is pretty good," I report.

"And how did you accomplish that?"

"I tried composing some music," I admit. "I really enjoy it, so… yeah."

"Hmm," Castalia frowns. "Is that something you would be capable of doing in a fight?"

"Well… probably not very efficiently, no," I admit.

"Then it's not training," Castalia points out. "It is cheating. Performing actions that bring you joy is good, but it does not by itself cultivate the habit of happiness."

"'Cultivate the habit of happiness?'" I repeat. "I see. I think I understand. You want me to reach a point where my baseline state of being is happy enough to power an incarnate transformation for extended periods."

"Yes," Castalia confirms. "I want you to be very happy all the time."

Ack! Phrasing it that way should be illegal! I'd be blushing if I could. 

"Well! On that note!" I squeak. "It's about time for our date, right?"

"Yes," Castalia confirms. "I have come to pick you up."

Hehe. Given that it's Castalia, she might mean that in the usual sense for a date, but she probably means it entirely literally. Or maybe both! Either way, I'm ready for my stratospheric uppies.

"So what's our itinerary, exactly?" I ask. "Are we just popping up there for a look around, or do we have errands to run on the moon?"

"I considered it, but it turns out that the moon is actually very far away," Castalia says. "It is also best that, at least for the first trip, we keep the Earth between us and the sun. Radiation shielding is not my specialty; I simply rely on the fact that there is relatively little damage that cosmic radiation can do to an incarnate form. Extended exposure to sunlight without atmospheric protection, however, can get hot enough to force a minor but significant magical expenditure."

"I can probably handle radiation shielding if needed," I offer. "Shielding is what I'm best at in general."

"That makes sense," Castalia nods. "You value protecting others from the consequences of a fight first and foremost, with victory as a secondary goal. You are very kind that way."

"Well… thank you, but it's actually because of my ability to interpret spell circles and create specially-calculated counters to individual attacks," I say.

"No, you're wrong," Castalia says. "It is because you are kind. But if that is how you interpret things, that is fine too."

I… don't really know how to answer that, so I suppose I'll table the magical theory for later. This is the kind of situation where I'm completely certain that Castalia is wrong, but also she is Castalia, so I can't really dismiss her expertise that easily. I feel like someone who memorized a textbook about something that she's just been doing for a decade and a half without training, so even though I'm constantly seeing her break the best practices as I understand them, her methods are still better thanks to the sandblasted sharpness of practical trial and error. It's very disorienting.

"Anyway, to continue answering your question, I have some plans, yes," Castalia confirms. "But we will not be getting very far away from Earth, in the event of an emergency. I've never tried to reach any other celestial body, but… I hope that it will be possible someday. It will mainly be a matter of being capable of an extended trip, and also bypassing most of the physical laws related to special relativity."

"Well… best of luck with that," I say honestly. "I'd love to come with you someday when things have calmed down, if you figure it out. If we're staying close to Earth, though, does that mean we'll have satellites to contest with? We've gotta make sure we don't mess any of those up."

"Yes, they travel quite fast," Castalia nods. "But I do not think the two of us will have any trouble dodging them. Ready?"

Well! Sure! I guess we'll just dodge them. They're only going like, seventeen thousand miles an hour. Easy peasy. Guess that's solved.

"Yeah," I agree, because sarcasm aside she's kind of right. "I'm ready. Let's go."

"Yay," Castalia says, and I'm then wrapped up in enough joy to lift me into the air. Together, we fly to the base teleporter and out onto the surface.

"Oh, hold on a second," I say. "We should probably be nice to the FAA."

"What's that?" Castalia asks.

"The people that might call the Air Force on us if they detect something unexpected traveling at cruise missile speed."

"I don't think that will happen," Castalia says. "I haven't had to deal with the Air Force in years."

"…Look, I'm gonna call them up anyway, okay?" I sigh. "Just because they're used to you taking off at random doesn't mean they wouldn't appreciate a heads-up."

"Oh. That makes sense."

I give her a thankful nod and flip to the right radio channel.

"ATC, this is Earth Guardian Luna. I'm calling in to report an intended flight plan."

"Holy shit, you're real."

Huh. That's not entirely what I expected, but maybe it should have been.

"I am indeed real! How are things going?" I ask. If they're keeping it casual, I guess I will too.

"You're the one that looks like a robot, right? They told us you took off from our airspace, and I know we have a robot in town from the news, so…"

"Yeah, that's me," I confirm. "You taking bets on it or something?"

"Nono, I just figured… you know, tech magic or whatever."

"Are we interviewing the Earth Guardian on this line now?" a new voice chimes in. Probably a random pilot in the area. This is obviously all a giant breach of protocol, but it doesn't sound like anybody much cares.

"I'm not supposed to take interviews," I respond, because unfortunately I am an official Earth Guardian, and I currently have no reason to believe it would benefit Thea to break the rules. "I just wanted to let you know that Castalia and I are gonna go on a date in space, and there's no need to freak out about the two vaguely missile-sized blips that are about to hit escape velocity. Also for anybody worried about anything in space, Castalia has assured me that we will simply dodge all the satellites. I imagine any planes in the air will have even less to worry about regarding a collision. We'll avoid you; no need to change any headings."

"Terrifying, but thanks for the heads-up," the pilot responds.

"Uh, yeah, the courtesy is appreciated," the ATC guy agrees.

"No problem," I say. "I imagine our entire existence has caused you several headaches in the past, and it's not difficult for me to ease that somewhat."

"We're… used to it," the ATC guy assures me. "We figured out how to tell the difference between an Earth Guardian and a missile forever ago."

"That… makes sense, actually," I say. "Ah, well. I can still call to check in if it helps."

"It does, thank you," the ATC guy says. "So… a date with Castalia, huh?"

"Yeah," I confirm. "I'm very excited."

"Are you the same robot that attacked a school and got blown up by Castalia? Because people are saying you look exactly the same."

"Yeah, the whole robot thing is because I got my soul trapped in an Antipathy artifact that made me evil for a while. The Earth Guardians saved me, and I work for them now. Never play with artifacts, kiddos. Not even once."

"For someone who said she wasn't going to give interviews, you sure are admitting to a lot of felonies," the pilot chimes in dryly.

"I wasn't physically in control of myself!" I insist. "I don't know if 'the evil artifact made me do it' is an actual legal defense, but it is true. Also I'm pretty sure I wasn't personally responsible for any of the deaths, and thank god for that."

"Not sure that'll cut it," the pilot says.

"I'm going to be traumatized for the rest of my life. I don't really give a rat's ass about 'cutting it.' There's no way to 'cut it' regarding a situation that overwhelmingly horrible. Leave me alone about it."

"I'm not judging you. I'm just pointing out that this is a recorded line."

"Oh. Shit," I mutter out loud.

"Luna…?" Castalia asks, tilting her head. "You feel upset."

"I did something stupid and started yapping about what happened before you saved me with some random guy over the radio," I admit.

"Oh," Castalia says. "Don't do that."

"Yeah, I… definitely should not have," I admit. "I probably said way too much."

"How did this happen?"

"I just got upset and started yapping," I admit.

"Because you have bad emotional control," Castalia says.

Hurk…! She got me!

"…Yes, because I have bad emotional control," I admit, synthesizing a sigh. "Look, I promise I'm working on it! I haven't been an Earth Guardian for very long, okay?"

"But you were an evil combat robot running on emotions for a long time," Castalia points out.

"Yeah, but I didn't want to be good at it!" I huff. "My emotions are the one thing the Cage can't just force into compliance! But if I know how to control my emotions well, then it could force me into using those techniques to manage it. And fuck now I'm going to have to try to do that! Damn it! I shouldn't have thought of that! I should call Thea and ask her to order me to forget that or something. No, wait, now I can't. Shit!" 

"Oh," Castalia says. "Hmm. I am sorry, Luna. Perhaps we should distract you by commencing the date?"

Right! The date!

"Yes, that's a great idea! Let's do that!" I agree.

"Then let's ascend," Castalia nods. 

We rise, accelerating faster and faster straight up into the sky. Generally speaking, while this is a passable way to get into space, it isn't usually the ideal way to stay in space. Most rocket launches are ultimately trying to achieve orbit, which involves going sideways really really fast. Fortunately for us, matters of gravity don't become any more of a problem for Castalia out of the atmosphere than in it, so we get to skip that entire problem.

Magic seems pretty good at skipping over mundane problems in general, though I suppose any problem you have on the way to space doesn't count as 'mundane' by most people's standards. Maybe a better word would be… 'material?' For example, I can form an optimally aerodynamic force field ahead of us to minimize drag and absorb the heat buildup from all the air friction. That's a pretty big deal when you're trying to achieve escape velocity, and I'm just kinda deciding to do it. Easy peasy, right?

Technically, we don't even need to get anywhere close to escape velocity in the first place, since we're using magic levitation to defy gravity instead of rocket fuel. But still, Castalia takes hardly any time at all to punch us through the clouds, a cold spray of mist pushed to the side for a few seconds before we emerge above. I've been in airplanes before, and I recall many times where we flew above a veritable ocean of fluffy white. Nothing but clouds, as far as the eye could see. Now, though, as we climb ever higher, those oceans start to seem more like lakes, then ponds, and eventually nothing more than raindrops of white. The air thins at a rapid pace as the horizon becomes a curve of hazy blue, and above it… a vast, infinite black.

It's already beautiful beyond my wildest imagination, but we keep going higher. The planet below us shifts more and more into view, and it's… it's just indescribable. I've seen pictures before. I know what to expect. But it's like… it's like the difference between seeing the picture of a mountain and actually climbing one. Images and videos don't carry the sense of scope and scale that comes from being physically present for a wonder like this.

Being an astronaut must be terrifying. I mean, I'm a little scared just looking down at all of this, and if something bad happens, I'll probably be just fine. 

Castalia taps me on the shoulder with her stub, reminding me all of a sudden that I totally forgot to bring a bubble of air with us so she could talk. She doesn't seem to mind, though, almost managing a smile as she points up and away from the Earth. I turn around, and…

Oh.

Wow.

That's… a lot of stars.

Again, I knew there would be. Obviously there would be. With the Earth blocking the sun for us—and nothing else out here to create light pollution, not to mention atmospheric interference—I was aware we'd have the full majesty of the galaxy on display. But still… I just… wow. 

Castalia floats closer, bumping up against me and resting her head on mine. I guess she's never been much for words, but I've always been a blabbermouth, so I go ahead and sign some to her.

"This is incredible," I tell her.

She nods, her almost-smile twitching a little more into being.

"What are your favorite constellations?" I ask.

She points with her stub again, and as I watch, a thin golden thread seems to draw itself between many of the brighter stars, with small, written labels appearing beneath. For a second I wonder how this must look to everyone on Earth… and then I come back to my senses and notice that the lines are just as tiny as they appear, floating perfectly in front of my cone of vision and not lighting up the entire sky.

In my defense, it's Castalia! She could probably do that if she wanted to!

I recognize most of the constellations she's pointing out (and isn't it cute that when I ask for her favorites, she's listing basically all of them), but I don't recognize all of them. In fact, even searching through all the information I've downloaded off the internet, there's no mention of them at all.

"Castalia," I sign, "did you make some of these up?"

She nods, and more words appear in front of me.

We did. Thalia and I.

…And Melpomene, I assume. Castalia gives me a tiny nod of confirmation, but it seems she's wisely deciding not to bring Mel up directly for now.

"With names like 'Athena,' I figured they might just be Greek constellations I didn't know about," I admit. "But the gods were the ones who lifted people up to become constellations, right? They weren't the constellations themselves."

The Greek constellations often had such stories behind them, yes, though the constellations have many different cultural origins, Castalia explains. Some have very little mythology tied to them at all, or mythology that spans countless different cultures and interpretations. For instance, that is Thea's constellation.

Castalia points again, toward a shape I recognize even without her help.

"Capricorn?" I ask. "I don't think she was born in the winter."

I do not mean in an astrological sense, Castalia writes, wrinkling her nose with distaste. I mean that the Greeks associated Capricornus with Amalthea, the nurse of Zeus. However, the constellation's origins date all the way back to the Babylonian god Ea. It is the nature of constellations to outlive their original stories. However, I will admit that my fascination initially bloomed from the Greek myths.

"I see," I sign. "Is… that because you and your team have Greek names?"

Yes and also no, Castalia hedges. The names chosen for us tend to come from the mythology most prominent in our culture. For Earth Guardians in America, this was commonly Greek. I enjoyed Greek myths before becoming an Earth Guardian, but it's certainly true that my own name encouraged me to study them more closely.

"And that led to making your own?" I prompt.

You mentioned a Greek myth about gods lifting people up into the sky to become the constellations, Castalia writes. Andromeda, for example, was a girl who was chained to a rock and fed to a sea monster, lifted into the sky posthumously by Athena. The Athena constellation itself is one we decided on after the Earth Guardian Athena died in battle.

Oh. I get it now. This isn't her personal mythology. It's her personal memorial. Her way of immortalizing her fallen allies.

"You haven't spoken much about the other Earth Guardians of your generation," I comment.

I find it hard to speak of, Castalia admits. In the beginning, there were only fifty of us in the entire world. Our team covered the entirety of the continental United States, by ourselves, for nearly a year. We were based here in Colorado due to being relatively centralized, but Uma'tama still had to teleport us all around the nation to handle convergences. Even with their frequency being far less than it is now, it was obviously untenable. Many of us died before the second generation was chosen. The number of active Earth Guardians has thankfully been increasing overall ever since, but… it took a long time to stabilize.

"And now, you and Melpomene are the last of the first generation," I conclude. "Holy shit. How did the Preservers ever decide on three people fighting for the entire United States?"

There were fifty original Earth Guardians. The United States is approximately six percent of the Earth's total landmass. Six percent of fifty is three. It is simple math.

"That's absolutely horrifying," I answer bluntly.

It was the life we knew, Castalia says. I should not defend it, but I did not hate it. We didn't meet with the other Earth Guardians of our generation much. Most of them didn't even speak a common language with us. But each of them has a pattern we chose for them in the stars. On long flights home, there was plenty of time for stargazing.

"Where did Earth Guardian Athena protect?" I ask.

Among several other countries, she protected Greece.

Hah. I guess that makes a lot of sense. I guess it's only right that they get the A-tier gods while America's protectors are just muses. Or in Castalia's place, just a spring. 

I glance around, quickly taking in all the labels. Now that I'm looking for them, spotting constellations that don't match any in my records is pretty easy. Castalia holds me in place so the little drawings floating around my head line up properly with the stars themselves, and I find what I'm looking for within seconds.

It's a small cluster of stars, sectioned off in part of the sky that overlaps with several other constellations. But while a wide area is marked, only three stars, forming an uneven triangle, make up the constellation itself. A bright red one, a bright yellow one, and a bright blue one. 

It is, of course, labeled 'Thalia.'

"Just three stars, huh?" I sign. 

Castalia can tell where I'm looking without needing to ask. She nods.

It is enough. Both Canis Minor and Canes Venatici of the eighty-eight constellations are exactly two stars. A single line each. But two isn't quite enough. Thalia, I believe, would have been most happy to be represented as a triangle.

"The triangle is the sturdiest shape," I quote her. "Are the colors important?"

Yes. Red, blue, and yellow. I've seen her angry, sad, and joyful a hundred thousand times each, but Thalia never let anyone see her looking scared. She hid that color, and shone in the rest.

"This constellation is pretty hard to see from Earth, isn't it?" I ask.

Yes. But that's okay. Everyone who needs to see it can come see it.

Oh. I understand.

"Do you think Melpomene came up here to look at it?" I ask.

Castalia glances at me, taking a moment to try and assess why I'm asking. But this time, at least, it's a genuine question, so she returns her gaze to the stars.

I don't think I ever told her which one is Thalia's, she admits. We didn't see each other much afterward, so I didn't get the chance.

…That one manages to tug on even my hateful heart. Melpomene would have been here, I suspect, when the other constellations were drawn. Three girls, writing epitaphs to friends and heroes in the stars that no one else would ever know about. Again, I am being casually invited into something so intensely, overwhelmingly personal that it's terrifying. Castalia has been alone for such a long time… have I really earned this level of intimacy, or is she just desperate for it? How long has she been silently screaming with a need to show this to someone else? Could it have been anyone? Or is it truly as meaningful as it feels that the person she chose is me?

I peel my optical sensors away from the tapestry of stars and focus on her, as I have many times before. Her hair floats around it like an ethereal halo, somehow both totally unkempt as a result of the zero gravity and as artistically perfect as a mermaid's portrait, locks flowing to frame her face but never getting in its way. The ear on the scarred side of her face is partly missing, something I'm just now noticing due to how her hair usually covers them. I suppose all of this is one of many advantages of an incarnate form: you never need a hair tie.

Her shirt is floating free a bit, riding up to expose her belly button along with the scar that continues down from her missing shoulder all the way to her hip. All of those scars are part of what makes her so intimidating to most people. Few were brave enough to talk to her in college, and while there were still plenty of people who did want to talk to her, Castalia's own struggles at holding a conversation quickly drained the average person of motivation to befriend her. If you're not talking about magical theory or, as I am learning today, the stars, she'll often not have more than two words to respond with. It's not because she's not interested, though. It just feels that way to most people. I probably wouldn't have taken the time to get to know her either if she wasn't my roommate and also my lifelong crush, which is honestly a little creepy now that I think about it.

A bunch of guys probably have Castalia as a lifelong crush too. Maybe if they had attempted the high-level dating strategy of becoming girl, they might have stood a chance, but I'm afraid that until then, she's mine.

Are you thinking silly things again? Castalia asks.

"Always," I assure her.

You should say the silly things instead, because that way I get to know what they are.

Heh.

"I will consider it," I allow imperiously.

I like that you are silly.

"Well that's good, because I don't know how to stop," I sign. "I like that you're serious enough to balance it out. Plus it also makes it even better when you decide to be silly."

I am still learning how to be silly, but I am learning from the best.

"Maybe don't learn too much from me," I hedge. "I'm starting to worry that not being depressed accelerates me directly into histrionic. I'm still trying to work on a happy middle ground."

I will look that word up when we return to Earth.

Oof. I almost hope that she doesn't. I doubt it's a big deal or anything, I'm probably just acting histrionic for attention.

It is important to seek a middle ground, though, Castalia says. That is a major part of emotional control.

"Are you sure it's a good idea to keep pushing me on that?" I ask.

I think it is, yes, Castalia says. I do not think having more control will be as harmful as you expect. I also think it will be very important for you to gain the ability to maintain your incarnate form even in casual situations.

"Why's that?" I ask.

Because I believe it is customary to initiate the first kiss at the end of the third date, Castalia writes, and I would find it especially enjoyable if you had lips.

Oh! Um! Haha! Okay!

"You had a good time, then!?" I ask. 

I was worried I ended up making the whole thing a downer given how much time we spent talking about dead people, but I guess it seems like things went well!?

I had a very good time, Castalia confirms. You could even say it was cathartic. 

I'm so overwhelmed with joy that, once we start reentering the atmosphere, it takes me an embarrassingly long time to realize she was making a pun.