She found them at the edge of the forest, far from the ruined headquarters and the spot where her life had already come to an end.
Ganymede struggled not to think of Valhalla, though silent tears continued to streak her face. His end had been painless, she assured herself, and too quick for him to feel regret. He had died merciful and pure—exactly as he'd lived. Soon she would be with him again. Not in the afterlife, of course, for his soul was gone with the dust that had once been his starseed.
But surely in oblivion they would find one another, in the darkness and shadows at the edge of the universe, beyond the realm of life.
The corrupted Senshi who was not Rhiannon but wore her face smiled and snickered merrily from her perch a few yards from the ground, sitting daintily along a low tree branch and playing with her long braid. At her feet stood the man from Elysion, leaning against another tree with a lazy grace, his arms crossed over his chest expectantly, his face adorned with the same leer that had accompanied his hand in Valhalla's chest. There was not a single sign of his weapon.
“I knew you would come,” the corrupted Senshi sang.
“Of course,” Ganymede said.
Her fuku was intact now, magically repaired in the time between transformations—the bustier a pristine white, her bustle and train both full and long. Her top-hat sat upon her head at an angle, her fingerless gloves opened at the palm to expose skin that glowed with faint lines and a golden, phantom scar.
In her hands Ganymede held a round stone. Vaporous memories swirled inside, a deep pink fog that rose and fell with a lifetime's worth of experiences, and more.
“Have you any fight left in you?” the girl who was not Rhiannon wondered.
“No,” Ganymede said simply.
“You've lost everything,” Rhiannon said. Her lips twisted into a nauseatingly sweet smile. “But you've not lost me.”
“I lost you a long time ago.”
Rhiannon jumped down from her perch, all swirling dark fabric and long hair and two dark, gaping holes to show how mindless and heartless she'd become. She stood beside the man from Elysion like an obedient puppet and turned to him expectantly.
“It's time,” she said.
The man never spoke. He simply looked at Ganymede as if he'd always known this day would come. But Ganymede did not need to hear him speak to remember the sound of his voice. It haunted her dreams as surely as his face did, and the lingering touch of that hand after Elysion.
He slunk away from the tree, uncrossed his arms, loped toward her with a casualness that seemed out of place. Ganymede stood her ground and stared into his eyes. In the moments since she'd arrived, her tears had ceased falling. She had none left to shed. Her heart had already stilled in her chest, her blood long gone cold. Her breaths were calm and even. She felt not a trace of fear.
The night with Laurelite five years ago had helped her to look passed her fear.
With this night Ganymede succeeded in conquering it.
A hand rose and settled upon the center of her chest, over the golden eagle brooch that always seemed protective. Ganymede stared into the man's eyes, took note of the satisfaction in his gaze, in the smirk on his lips. Beyond him Rhiannon shifted on her feet in anticipation. She watched avidly, eyes opened wide as if she meant not to blink until it was done.
“It'll be over soon,” her cousin said.
Ganymede smiled in response.
“Yes, it will.”
She eyed the man from Elysion, saw the pleasure on his face, and felt satisfied.
“I'd rather die a thousand times in a thousand different ways than ever become one of you,” she said.
The hand sunk into her chest. Fingers curled around her starseed, not to pull, but to feed Chaos straight into her soul.
The explosion that followed was blinding.
Two lifetimes flashed before Ganymede's eyes—one present, one past, but both her own.
Liesel in the gardens, by the fountain with Serge. Liesel sharing afternoon tea with Palatine. Liesel wilting under the too stern gaze of the Lord Chancellor. Liesel dancing with Europa. Running through wide open fields of wildflowers. Passing his long, elegant fingers over the keys of a piano. Sneaking down secret passages to find his way to the kitchens.
Liesel kneeling in the throne room while a priest in white robes drew oil upon his forehead. Liesel drifting in the calm waters of a lake, staring into a starry night sky and the wide face of Jupiter, while Serge's rough hands slipped over his damp skin.
Liesel's hand dripping blood, held flush against Serge's. Serge's face pressed close to Liesel's as their lips met.
She saw herself as a child. Dancing around the living-room with her parents watching from the doorway. Sneaking into the bathroom at school to trade uniform pieces with Rhiannon. Crying as her mother walked through the door and never turned back for her.
She saw herself as an adolescent. Drinking when she was too young. Giving of herself things she wasn't quite ready to give. Fumbling through the years in confusion and despair. She saw her friends; Ladon, Tallulah, Penelope, Christa. She saw her family; Mom and Dad, Lilah and Cal, Momma Gallo and Beau, Michael, Peter, and Rhiannon.
And Chris. Always Chris. With a warm, loving smile—and eyes like sunshine.
She saw herself as an adult. Standing in the gazebo at the courthouse in springtime, with her hands in Chris's hands as they said their vows. Waking at home, in bed, with warmth at her back and an arm slung around her. Dancing under the stage-lights to music that sent her spirits soaring.
She saw blues skies and golden light, and heard the voices from the past drift forward until she could no longer tell past from present.
“Ganymede... Ganymede...”
When the light cleared, Ganymede was gone. The man from Elysion and the girl who was not Rhiannon laid crumpled and lifeless upon the ground.
Crystalline dust drifted through the air, carried along a warm breeze, through the grass and tress before settling into the Earth, where it twinkled like stars.
The skies would never be blue on Ganymede again.
Guine's characters were used with permission.
