Page 3 of Stars in Umbra
Muscles burning and heart pounding.
His soul roaring from the victory, even as his thin limbs shook with the intoxicating surges of adrenaline coursing through him.
He slipped through the warped front door like a shadow, crept past the worn living space, his hand brushing against the threadbare curtains of his room.
‘Mo.’
He froze.
She sat at the tiny kitchen table.
The flickering light of a cracked holo-lamp haloed her silhouette.
Around her waist was a ragged apron, wrapped crookedly, over a faded tunic that had formerly been ivory but was now streaked with bleached spots and burns.
He stared at her in the radiance of a weak moon that hovered above the wild-hued andesite rock and rhyolite basalt hills outside.
Her golden hair grew duller every day, tangled at the ends and twisted into a loose knot that had likely been redone more than once by tired hands.
It was not the gleaming mane of her glorious past, but a threadbare crown of survival.
Her face had changed too; over the years, lines had carved deeper around her eyes.
Her cheeks were more sunken than full, but they still carried that stubborn trace of beauty, bruised now by time and sadness.
From time to time, under the skin of her arms and throat, he caught a flicker of peculiar, elusive glyphs.
They shimmered like submerged starlight, and though not as bold as the ones etched into his own body, they were kindred.
He still had no clue what they signified.
Now, he stood still in the doorway, his frame casting a shadow across the chipped floor.
A part of him longed to speak, but the other, scarred, jaded, and raw, only studied her in silence.
What words might he offer to a ghost who lived somewhere between the living and the dead?
She glanced up at him with a wry smile and eyes that held a flickering warmth for him.
‘Rough night?’ she murmured.
He shrugged, tossing his bag onto the corner of the sofa. ‘Nothing I couldn’t handle.’
She smiled, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. ‘I keep telling you, better days lie ahead, baby. Wonderful things are waiting for you; a life that’s more magnificent than all this grime.’
He leaned against the door frame, arms crossed. ‘Yeah? Like what?’
Her gaze drifted, as it always did, toward the cracked window, as if she might see through it to the amethyst haze and stars beyond.
‘A throne. A destiny. You weren’t meant to rot in these streets. You were born for more. One day, your real power will rise, and when it does, this galaxy won’t be able to hold you.’
He gave a quiet laugh. ‘You been dreaming up those old stories again, Ma?’
She didn’t answer right away, just smiled that sad little smile he recognized all too well. ‘They’re not fables. They’re your birthright. If only-.’
Her voice softened, faltered, guilt swimming behind her words. ‘If only I hadn’t -.’
She cut herself off, her utterance hardening, the lines in her face deepening. ‘Get some sleep. You’ve got school tomorrow.’
