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It was in her grandmother's arms that Vanessa learned her first lesson about heaven in the stars. She was only eight, and so sick over the way everybody had left mommy in the big dark hole that she hadn't been able to finish one of Auntie Vi's special chocolate chip cookies. She even said that she'd used extra[chips because she knew that they were Vanessa's favourite. But they weren't as soft as mommy's, and the sugar hurt her teeth-- everybody was too busy with the new baby to make sure that Vanessa brushed in the front and the back of her mouth. And daddy hadn't thought to bring her special Princess toothpaste.

Nobody did things as good as mommy, who was probably very cold and lonely because Grandpa wouldn't let Vanessa climb in with her. She'd bitten him and kicked him and pulled her own hair, but they'd only carried her away.

And then, hours later, Grandma Hattie caught Vanessa trying to sneak out the doggy door with a flashlight and a ham sandwich tucked under both arms.

"Where do you think you're going?" Grandma Hattie's voice was so stern that for a moment Vanessa hated her. And then she remembered that Grandma Hattie was the only person who'd cried harder than daddy, and softened. She crawled back inside, curls wild, and turned her bright eyes upwards.

Grandma Hattie was a tall, robust woman with dark everything and a smile that Grandpa always compared to the sunrise.

"It's dark out there," Vanessa said, showing Grandma Hattie the flashlight. She chewed her lip, and then glanced towards the kitchen window. Beyond the glass, stars twinkled in the night's sky, but mommy couldn't see them in the dirt. Inside Vanessa there was an ache, eating her from the inside out. She took a deep breath and then started to cry, "I think mommy's scared."

"Oh, my sweet baby girl," something in Grandma's voice broke. She knelt, and scooped Vanessa into strong, dark arms.

"I'm too big to be carried," Vanessa protested on a sob, but still pressed her little face into a bathrobe that smelled faintly of peppermint, still clung to her soft weight with scrawny arms and legs. The ham sandwich fell to the kitchen floor with a soft splat. The flashlight remained clutched tight in her hands. "Mommy said."

"You're not too big for Grandma Hattie," Grandma Hattie murmured into the dark red tangle that was Vanessa's hair. She moved to stand in front of the window, and rubbed Vanessa's back through her teddy bear pyjamas. "You just cry now. Just cry."

"My belly hurts."

"I know, baby, I know."

Vanessa sniffled into her grandmother's shoulder, and took some comfort from the warmth of her embrace. When she spoke, her voice was little more than a whisper. "I want see her."

It was several heartbeats before Grandma Hattie answered. She tugged on one of Vanessa's curls and, pointing at the night sky, asked if anybody had ever told her about heaven. Vanessa said yes, in Sunday school, and then turned to gaze out the window when Grandma Hattie explained that if she wanted to see her mother again all she had to do was look up-- at the biggest, brightest star.

"That's where she is. Smiling down on you and your daddy and baby John."



Nothing about planet Vulcan lined up with the ideas of heaven that Vanessa had entertained as a little girl. There were no angels. No rivers of whipped cream or trampoline clouds.

Instead there was sand, and stone, and heat. Only a little remained of the people who'd once lived and made love there. Vulcan walked amongst the bones of their city with mixed feelings. She had avoided visiting for years, frightened of what she would find-- unwilling to let go of the heaven described to her by Grandma Hattie, where Nina Rae stood gaurdian over the little family she'd left on earth.

But the little trip she'd made with Penthesilea to Planet War had sparked Vanessa's curiosity, and she'd found herself suddenly wanting to know more. And it was Penthesilea whom she'd asked to accompany her on this journey. Because friends did things together, and Vulcan secretly prayed that her own planet would be as awesome as the one that belonged to the senshi of War.

Ahead of them loomed the skull of an animal with a mouth open wide enough for Vulcan to step inside of.

"Look, Penthe," Vulcan smiled, holding her arm up to compare it with one of the beast's incisors, "It could have swallowed me whole."

She paused to consider, hand on her hip. "Maybe that's how I died!"

The idea did not seem to displease her.

In the distance there was a volcano, sitting pretty next to a river of lava that bubbled and curved like a great red snake into the horizon. The ground underneath them shook, but only a little.

As if Vulcan could get anywhere near a volcano without practically crawling inside of it. She grinned at Penthesilea's suggestion, teeth glinting in the light of planet Vulcan's dying suns. Her heart thrummed with anticipation over the prospect -no, the reality- of this new adventure and the companionship of a friend who thought that they should move closer to a mountain of fire and heat.

Where had War been all her life? Vulcan wondered as she turned away from the gaping jaws of the beast that might have killed her, once upon a time. It's spine wound into the distance, massive structures of bone and stone, about the length of a football field, that curled into a tail at the tip.

"Come," she said to Penthesilea, reaching for the other senshi's hand without preamble. Vulcan laced their fingers together. Her tanned skin looked darker next to the shine of Penthesilea's. She tugged gently in the direction of the volcano, sandaled feet firm upon the same earth where another woman had walked, centuries ago. "You look like a glowstick, you know."

It was not in Vulcan's nature to tease Penthesilea. She was speaking honestly, pleased by War's new aesthetic. The vibrancy of Penthesilea's skin only seemed to intensify as Vulcan's suns dipped across the horizon, and the world around them faded into a shade of light that Vulcan could only think to describe as halved. The suns, both of them as red as the hair on Vulcan's head in a sky splashed with all the colours of dusk, were carving a path towards the lip of the volcano. They reminded Vulcan of something, though she could not say what.

"What happened to you?"

The details of Penthesilea's transcendence were not familiar to Vulcan. She looked sideways at War, cocked her head to the side, and almost stumbled down a pair of carved stone steps. Vulcan shouted in alarm, gripping Penthesilea's hand a little bit tighter in order to catch her balance, and then exhaled.

There must have been a thousand steps. They cut into the side of a cliff, leading the way deeper into a city as dead as the rock under their feet. Something flashed in front of Vulcan -a vision of a child, dark-haired and bright-eyed, rushing up to meet her with a smile that was like rain after a decade of drought- and then vanished.

"Did you see that?" She sounded out of breath, even a little bit frightened, not understanding why her heart had relocated to her throat.

Vulcan could feel it there.

Pulsing, like a drum.

It was a moment before Vulcan realized that Penthesilea's voice was not the only sound she heard, and that the sound of the drum she thought was an echo of her heartbeat actually came from the volcano. It was more of a feeling than a sound, at first, but growing louder with every step that they took together.

'I didn't see anything -- but, I ain't gonna. This is your place, an' your memories.'

Vulcan stared hard at Penthesilea, wondering if, like the vision of the child with eyes like stars, the steady rhythm of the drum was a thing meant only for her. She pursed her lips. It was not fair that Penthesilea could not truly share in this experience with her. Destiny had gifted sailor scouts with magic. Vanessa had more power as Vulcan than Super Van could ever have dreamed of. They were heroes, blessed with the strength to save innocent lives and to cast darkness out of the world. Vanessa knew that the thread of her life pulled tighter everyday. She had never been the sort of girl who dreamed of tucking her children into bed at night, and becoming Sailor Vulcan had only separated her further from idle thoughts about what could be. There was so little time for family and friends when you were busy saving the world that Penthesilea should have been able to hear and see everything that Vulcan was experiencing too.

The cliff steps were wide enough for five adults to stand side by side. At their feet the stairs seemed to have been made out of the same kind of hard red clay as the rock that they were cut out of. Higher up, Vulcan noticed that there was a second set of stairs leading away from the first. These turned away from the remnants of the dead city. Towards the volcano.

In the distance, on the second set of stairs, there appeared a train of villagers, dressed in white robes, carrying baskets. About fifteen paces after them followed a naked woman with hair the colour of dark fire, head held high and proud. Behind her a little girl cried and tried to escape from the elderly hands that held her back-- her grandmother?

The little girl cried and kicked. The elderly woman clutched her tight.

And then they were gone.

The drumbeats in Vulcan's heart quickened.

"This way," she said, guiding Penthesilea along the path that she knew the naked woman must have taken. However many years ago. There was a lump in Vanessa's throat that she did not understand. She pretended that it was not there, and was comforted by the feel of War's hand in hers. She squeezed back.

"Do you have any special powers now? Besides glowing."

Yes, they were headed for the volcano.

There was so much planet to explore. So many things to look at, and to learn about the place her people had once lived, and loved, and laughed. Curiosity would have driven Vulcan into the depths of the broken city whose name she couldn't recall, if it were not for the looming structure of the volcano in the distance. It stood as tall as the highest skyscraper in Destiny City, and was so large around that, the closer she and Penthesilea stepped on the path of red clay, it blocked the view of the horizon.

There was a pounding in Vulcan's heart, echoed by the pulse of the volcano before them. It felt to her as though the whole earth was trembling, and marveled that Penthesilea could walk at her side without registering so much as a temor. Again, Vulcan thought that it was unfair. She and Penthesilea shared in a magic that was centuries old. They were bound to it, and yet it kept them separate from one another.

The path of red clay narrowed at the base of the volcano, so that only three adults could have walked side by side instead of five. Because she and Penthesilea were alone, there was more than enough room for them to continue along the path without stepping on each other's toes, or tripping over loose stones. The road under their feet was clear and soft. There were no shrubs to impede their movement- with the exception of herself and Penthesilea, Vulcan had not seen a single shred of life still breathing, green or otherwise, since they had come to the place that must have once been her home.

There was the girl on the stars with eyes like stars. And then procession of villagers dressed in white robes- and the naked woman, everything about her so much like the mother that Vanessa had had to say goodbye to back on Earth. But those had been mirages. Or visions. Memories, maybe? Vulcan didn't know what to call them.

Vulcan didn't know.

The volcano pulsed with an energy that the Senshi of War did not seem to feel. But when Vulcan stepped onto the path that curled up the side of a mountain like a snake, it shook. Slightly. Just enough under their feet that Vulcan clutched Penthesilea's hand a little bit tighter, bright eyes widening.

"Oh s**t," she said, at once breathless and thrilled, "that was cool."

Vulcan pressed on, and the pulse of the volcano quickened.

The ground continued to rumble.

The climb was long and hard- not so arduous that Vulcan needed to stop and catch her breath, but the steady incline and the softness of the dirt path underneath her feet put a burn in her calves. Beside her, Penthesilea was uncomplaining, and Vulcan found herself more grateful than ever for War's presence. It would have felt different, making this journey alone. Tailing the ghost of a naked woman along a road that spiralled around an ancient volcano on a planet countless miles away from earth seemed, somehow, less crazy with a friend at her side.

Even though Penthesilea could not see everything that she saw, or feel everything that she felt.

The higher they climbed, the more the volcano stirred. Clouds, a combination of smoke and steam, issued from the mouth, poured poison into the sky- like a dragon waking up after a spell, huffing fury from its nostrils.

Care for Penthesilea made Vulcan pause, just once. To ask if she thought they should go back. Vulcan was not afraid, but all around them the rock was trembling, and it occurred to her that continuing on this journey was a lot to ask of anyone. War held a special place of esteem in Vulcan's heart, because she was War and she was Jeanne, but it was beyond Vanessa- to lead anyone into what well could have been hell without at least checking in first.

She smiled when Penthesilea said that they should press on.

"Kay," Vulcan said, fingers still wrapped comfortably around Penthesilea's.

The road, and the red clay, came to an end at archway carved out of obsidian. The black stone glittered in the light of the dying suns. High as they were now, the suns seemed larger. The heat of them beat against the back of Vulcan's neck. She was sweating, but happy- bright eyes shining on the floor of a room inside the volcano that spread out before them, as black as the open gate that marked its entrance.

She let go of Penthesilea's hand, at last, and stepped inside.

The room was dark. It took time for Vulcan's eyes to adjust. When they did, she was struck by the shape of the space- it was large, ceiling domed like the Pantheon in Rome, and empty save for one thing.

In the centre there loomed a pedestal of stone, as black as the floor and the walls and the ceiling. On top of the pedestal sat a gold basin. There was no hint of dust anywhere.

"Huh," was all Vulcan could think of to say. She grinned back at Penthesilea, pointed at the fancy bowl. "This looks like some ******** up Indiana Jones s**t. Do you think something will happen if I touch it?"

She touched the basin without waiting for Penthesilea's answer, expression expectant, even hopeful, but nothing happened.

Frowning, Vulcan tried to lift the basin of the pedestal. It came away easily, and was light in her hands. She cradled it carefully, lifted it up to her face on a whim for closer inspection.

"Hey! At first I thought this was a bowl, but the more I look at it, I think it must be some kind of mirror." Vulcan smiled wide, made a show of her teeth. "I can see myself."

The volcano could see her too.

The mirror glinted in the dark. There was a flash of light so bright that Vulcan was blown backwards, off her feet. She landed hard, head cracking against the stone- and all around her the room had returned to darkness. There was a great rumbling, the sound of rock grinding on rock, and a part of the wall became a door. A passage opened, leading onto an outcropping of more black stone that jutted into the air like a peninsula, overlooking the heart of the giant volcano, and a pool of lava.

Vulcan lay unconscious, blood oozing from the crown of her head.

Blood flowed from Vulcan's wound into her dark curls. It covered Penthesilea's hands when the other senshi pressed the sash to her head, and drip drip dripped onto the black stone floor.

Vulcan lay still, chest rising and falling gently- as though she had only fallen asleep.

There was a ringing in her ears.

Underneath them the ground started to warm. It pulsed-- out from the place where Vulcan's blood had fallen, and spread like water droplet ripples in a pond.

The ringing in her ears turned to a great mess of voices. She grimaced in Penthesilea's lap as the heat turned to light, illuminating the chamber around them like a torched dipped in shadow.

When Vulcan's eyes peeled open, all of the whites had been replaced with gold. She gazed up at Penthesilea, forehead slick with sweat and sudden fever. Her lips moved. No sound came. She arched her back, heels rising off the floor, and trembled when the volcano did. Penthesilea's sash had done it's trick. The wound had closed.

Vulcan inhaled sharply, mouth gaping wide. A little bridge of saliva married her lips. She sucked the blood-torch back-- took it inside of herself on a breath that rasped, and was still.

The voices inside had cleared. They spoke all at once, and the sounds that they made came out of Vulcan in a language that she had not heard spoken since before the end of her last life.


Vulcan's hips came to rest on the obsidian floor. She sat up. Moved slow, never blinking.



Vulcan stepped forwards. Through the doorway that had opened in the wall. Out onto the black stone pier that overlooked a steady churn of molten rock.


She stood at the edge of the stone, head turned towards a sky coloured dusk. Above the volcano, Vulcan's twin suns hovered so close she felt as though she could almost touch them. All she had to do was reach--

'Vulcan!'

The sound of Penthesilea's voice married the throb of the volcanoes' pulse. Sailor Vulcan did not hear her friend. She did not need to. She felt her-- felt everything from the threads of heat that licked at her forehead (they were her brothers, the suns) to the tremble of the smalleset rock in the volcanoes' deepest cave to the knocking of Penthesilea's heartbeat.

Her name was all around her.

'Vulcan!'

'Vulcan!'

A mantra that reminded Vanessa of the woman she'd once been. Of the woman who'd given birth to her. Nina, in this life. Vega, in the last. She saw herself as a mother, clutching her daughter to a breast. Isidora was a tiny bundle of sunshine. Mine, and Aegir's too. It hit her with the force of Thor's hammer. Vanessa's heart was swollen, suddenly, with the love for an infant that she hadn't held for a millennium. There were hundreds of faces. They came and went as quickly as ripples in a pond; fading into one another.

She saw the dark visage of a powerful man. Her father- Syrtis. What? Impossible-- no, it was true. A knight from Mars. He'd taught her to throw a spear.

And Penthesilea-- Penthesilea was her sister.

Vulcan stood at the lip of the stone outcropping that stretched over the basin of the volcano. Beneath her, hundreds of feet below, molten rock rolled.

She stepped off the ledge, and fell.

Down.

Hair like dark fire fanning out behind her. Blood drying on the side of her head.

Down.

The wind was exhilirating.

Down.

And then she was swallowed up by the liquid rock.

The volcano stilled. Submerged, heat crawling up inside of her, Vulcan arched like a bow-- arms extended, legs and toes splayed. She was burning. Burning all over, and when she opened her mouth to scream the heat scorched her throat.

Her pulse stopped.

The lava flowed. Licked at the scar on Vulcan's chest left behind by Tanzanite's claws, and then burned it away.

If Penthesilea stood at the edge of the outcropping, she would see the lifeblood of the volcano start to churn. The earth shook underneath her feet. The mountain seemed almost to groan.

The volcano reached inside of Vulcan with fingers of lava; inching down her throat, coating her lungs in liquid heat. It choked, but did not kill her- the volcano took hold of Vanessa's heart, and saw that it was wounded.



A heart in suffering, but not in ruin. The volcano soothed the disfigurement with a caress; flooding veins. Filling Vanessa-- melting from the inside. Molding. Changing.



A mammoth tremor shook the whole of the planet. The volcano throbbed, and Vanessa's heartbeat returned to sound in tandem with pulse of the volcano. They were the same; conjoined at the place of Vanessa's mouth by an umbilical cord of molten rock, though it was impossible to say, precisely, who was the parent and who was the child.

The precipice where Penthesilea stood cracked down the middle. All around her the mountain trembled. Rocks fell. The lava rose. There was a great swelling of power; a sound of sucking, and then the explosion. The cauldron roared. A mass of liquid heat soared up the inside of the volcano's throat. It rushed towards Penthesilea, and then split at the centre.

Below, standing with her wrists crossed above her head, Sailor Vulcan used the magic of her Shield to push the lava out-- away from Penthesilea, who was enveloped in a wall of protective steam just an instant before the volcano could kill her. Sailor Vulcan was exploding too. With joy. Smiling wide. Curls wild where they whipped around her face.