The Fire and the Sky (Book 3 of the... - Chapter 67: Chapter 67

May didn't even stop to see what the Star cannon's blast did to Wyndam from such close range. She hit her knees at Jeremy's side and rolled him onto his back with a sob.
"No, no, no," she cried, clutching his blood-splattered cheek and turning him so she could see his face. His eyes, though open, were unfocused and dimming with each heartbeat. The wound in his chest was gaping, devastating, but she pressed her hands against it anyway. A gurgling gasp of a breath escaped between his bloodied lips as she applied pressure. "We're so close, Jeremy. You can't die. Not now, not like this."
It seemed to take an enormous amount of effort for him to raise his eyes to hers. He swallowed like he wanted to say something, but she shook her head to stop him.
No, this couldn't be it. This couldn't be how it was supposed to end for him — for any of them. This whole thing was stupid and pointless. There would never be any winners in a war like this one. But May didn't need a doctor to tell her that Jeremy's injury was grave, assuming there was any way they could reach one in time.
Then, there in the blood and the mess, the answer to saving Jeremy's life caught on the tower of light reaching skyward, and it sparkled. May could do this — the power was literally in her hands.
Something about her expression must have given away her plan, because Jeremy shook his head weakly and tried to grip her wrists with what little strength he had left.
"Don't," he whispered.
May huffed a quiet laugh and leaned in close. "You don't get to tell me what to do, remember?"
And with that, May closed her eyes, and made a wish.
The result was instantaneous.
The pillar of light emanating from the cottage pulsed like a heartbeat. May's hands were bathed in pure, blinding light so bright she had to squint and turn her head. She could feel Jeremy's skin knit back together under her touch. The flagging, sunken shape of his body expanded as he took in a deep, life giving breath.
When the light of the wish winked out, Jeremy shot up with a spluttering cough. It took him a moment of spitting blood into the grass before he was able to breathe again. He pawed at the hole in his shirt, but the only thing under its tattered fabric and all that blood was his skin, unmarred.
His head raised slowly until he met May's eyes with his own, wide with wonder.
"You used your wish," he said. "You used it on me."
"Of course I did, you asshole," May said, laughing through her tears. She flung her arms around his shoulders and squeezed him tightly.
"But the Stars," he babbled, still unable to comprehend what was happening. He wrapped an arm around her and held on for dear life. "Welkin said it would piss them off."
May pushed out of their embrace. "Fuck the Stars. They can't possibly be as pissed off as I am."
As if on cue, the sky exploded with light. Creatures on either side of the fight scattered to the periphery, shouting and clamoring over one another to get out of the way as six streaking trails of starlight raced toward the earth and touched down with a blinding flash. A great gust of wind sent dust and debris skittering in every direction, and extinguished the fireball wreckage of Wyndam's car into nothing more than a mangled, smouldering heap.
From the dust and smoke emerged five elegant figures, each towering and beautiful as every Star May had ever known. Five of them wore crowns atop their hair, each with a different number of obsidian rods protruding from the circlet. The Star with five points was somehow more exquisite than any of their peers, four was gruff and powerful. Three had a quiet cunning about them, and two wore a fiery expression. And the Star with a single point stood taller than the rest; burned brighter too. Their golden eyes swept the carnage, giving the impression that there was nothing about the scene that escaped their notice. Every Loyal agent left standing sank into deep, revenant bows.
This, May could only assume, was the Star Council.
And then there was the sixth Star, who stood off on their own, apart from the rest. May recognized them at once, and the sight of them was like a kick to the stomach. It was Sita, the Star who had snuffed out Welkin's light. They looked uneasy, like they would have rather been anywhere else in that moment.
The sound of the cottage door banged open, startling everyone but the Stars. May hadn't realized how perfectly quiet the world had fallen until that moment.
Rue staggered out into the open. She was breathless, her face glistening with sweat. With only a quick glance at the battlefield, she dashed to the Star Council and threw herself down at their feet.
The single-pointed Star—the One—spoke, but instead of words, their voice sounded more like music without a melody. It wavered in May's ears and sent gooseflesh racing up her arms. She looked to Jeremy, who shrugged. Whatever the Star was saying, they couldn't understand their words.
But it seemed Rue could. She lifted her upper body so she could look up at the Council. The golden details of her eyes glowed and shifted like molten metal. The tattoos that inked her face shimmered. She was mesmerizing.
"Trust," she said. Every soul in the clearing froze. "I would never call for you if it wasn't a matter of the utmost importance."
The Star spoke again. As they did, Sita looked around, taking in the mess from beneath a furrowed brow. They seemed troubled by what they saw, which made May wonder what they were expecting — for all the time the Stars spent planning the lives of every living thing on the planet, did any of them really know what those plans looked like in practice? Then, Sita's eyes locked on hers. For a split-second, they looked surprised to see her there, crouched in the dirt and smeared with blood. What did they see when they looked at her, she wondered. Sita's surprise melted into a lovely sort of melancholy. May wondered if they were feeling remorseful.
She wondered if that was even possible.
Jeremy tugged on her arm, and she blinked back to the present. He jerked his head toward Rue and the Star Council. May glanced up, and realized everyone was watching her.
"May?" Rue said. She was back on her feet, and she gestured for May to join her.
This was it.
Though her knees felt soft as clay, May jumped to her feet. There was no doubt some kind of decorum expected of someone addressing the Star Council, but May didn't know it.
She also didn't care.
She could see the way Rue stood back, holding out her hand like a summons to join at her side.
May ignored her.
Instead, she marched right up to the One and planted herself firmly in front of them. Her hands, still covered in Jeremy's blood, were balled into fists at her sides. She took a deep breath and willed her trembling body to still.
"Why have you called upon us, daughter?" the One asked in a language May could understand.
She bristled. "I am not your daughter."
From over her shoulder, May heard Rue gasp.
"You are all our children," the One said, their voice a deep but gentle hum that reverberated through May's chest. They didn't seem perturbed by her defiance. "Especially a Wish-gotten, like yourself."
"If that's the case, then you're terrible parents."
A chorus of murmurs and sharp inhales sounded from all around. The remaining Loyal agents were scandalized — May could see they way they readied themselves, fully prepared to launch at her if the Stars willed it so. Still, May stood her ground.
The One lifted their chin, though their expression didn't change. "Is that so?"
"Yes!" May exploded, throwing her arms out wide. "Look around you — look at what is happening to your 'children'. We're literally killing each other, and it's all your fault."
Rue gripped May by the shoulder and tried to pull her back. "May, stop it. What are you—"
But the One waved her off.
"We did not Will this," the Star said as impassively as one might comment on the weather.
"Oh, yeah? Then you might want to tell them that." May thrust a finger toward the closest cluster of Loyal agents. "They have been hunting and oppressing and slaughtering Wishes like me ever since you lost the wishing star, and none of you have done a single thing about it."
This, at last, got their attention. A musical trill raced between the Council, while Sita stood back and stared at May, their expression stony.
"We do not control the Wills of the Races," snapped the two-pronged Star. "And we do not meddle in your lives. We plan, but we do not interject."
"Bullshit!" May cried. She was so infuriated that she couldn't help but stomp her foot into the dirt like a tantruming child. "The wishing star fell and you told your most loyal followers to find it for you, at any cost. How is that not meddling?"
Another trill of magical chatter raced through the Council. The One looked down at May, their golden gaze drilling into her with such intensity that she could have swore she actually felt it. But she didn't back down. Instead, she put her hands to her hips and lifted her head higher.
"The wishing star is important," One said. "Important enough to justify a rare exception to the rules. It was never a decision we made lightly."
May couldn't help it.
She smiled.
"Then I suppose you won't mind blurring the lines in the name of the greater good one more time." She shrugged. "You said it yourself: the wishing star is worth it."
The four-pointed Star lurched forward. "What are you saying, daughter?"
"I'm saying I have it. I have the wishing star."
"Lies!" Two shouted.
"If that is true, then give it back to us," Five said.
One silenced their cohort with a wave of their hands. They took a step closer to May and leaned down until their faces were only inches apart.
"Show me," they said.
May blinked. "How am I supposed—"
One pressed their forehead to hers and, in an instant, May's vision was swallowed up in white light. Then, as if compelled by some other force, her mind raced through memories at an impossible pace. She saw her sixteenth birthday, when her mother gave her the ring her birth parents had left for her. She saw the light reflecting off the gem's facets and dancing across Em's awe-struck face on the night they met. She saw the constellations cast across the forest floor at Jeremy's feet. Jeremy's joy upon realizing his wish came true, his gasp of breath when hers did too.
And then she was back in the present, lightheaded from the rapid reliving of her memories. One straightened themself and turned to address the rest of the Council.
"She speaks the truth," they announced.
"Then let us have it, daughter," Three demanded.
"I will," May replied, stepping back and out of their immediate reach. "But you have to do something for me first."
Shouts of disbelief vibrated through the crowd of magicals and mortals alike.
"Who do you think you are?" cried one Loyal agent.
"No one makes demands of the Stars!" shouted another.
Even the Star Council looked agitated, whispering to one another in their own secret language while casting wary glares down at May.
Two lifted their chin and glowered darkly. "Perhaps we should simply take back what is ours and be done with you."
May tipped her head to the side. "Let's not play that game, okay? You and I both know if you could take it from me, you would have by now. If you could do that, you would have searched for it yourselves back when it first fell all those years ago. But you're right: you can influence and manipulate us all you want, but cannot meddle. That's why you needed the Loyals then, and it's why you need to listen to me now."
"Let us hear what she wants, family." Sita's voice caught them all by surprise. The Council turned to them in tandem and pinned them under a collective gaze. May regarded the Star and couldn't help but notice how deeply tired they looked. "What harm can come of listening?"
One looked back to May and considered her for a moment.
"Speak, daughter," they said. "Tell us what you desire."
For a fleeting moment, May thought she might pass out. She felt weightless with surprise — they were actually going to hear her out. Her mouth was dry, and for a second, she faltered. But then she felt a hand on her shoulder. Jeremy stepped to her side and gave her an encouraging nod.
She cleared her throat.
"What I want—what all of us Wishes want—is freedom," she said, speaking loud enough that everyone would hear. "Call off the Loyals, tell them it's time to let us live our lives in peace. No more controlling us or weaponizing your intentions for power. Do the right thing and put an end to this once and for all."
The silence that followed her speech was so absolute, it was as if every living being present was holding a single, shared breath. Given the circumstances, that may well have been the case.
The Council chittered and sang to one another. Trembling, May took Jeremy's hand and held it tight. The Loyal agents watched their deities without blinking, waiting for the verdict.
At last, One turned to Sita. "And what say you, sibling?"
"I think this conflict has taken much from us." Sita looked down at their hand, the same one they'd used to strike Welkin down. They balled it into a tight fist, then pressed it to their chest with a sigh. "Perhaps more than we're willing to admit. It would be a relief to have this all behind us, would it not?"
One regarded the rest of the Council. A silent conversation spoken only through golden glances took place between them, and then they turned back to face May like a wall of light.
This was it.
May took a breath, squeezed her nemesis-turned-friend's hand, and braced herself for the words that would determine the rest of her life.