Page 44 of The Stars

She could hear it then, screaming. Not from the people below, but from the world itself. The earth cried out in pain, its death throes echoing in the deepest parts of her soul. And amidst the destruction, she saw herself standing alone. Alone and powerless.

Then she realized that the entire scene had unfolded far below her. Her long soft gown floated around her in the night air. When she looked down, her bare toes curled and flexed in midair. Even her hair swirled around her in the breeze as the pieces of the moon continued to destroy the planet far beneath her.

But the dream twisted further, taking her back—back to places and times she had never consciously remembered but knew all too well.

She saw herself standing on battlefields, dressed in ancient armor, with Dante by her side. They had fought together, side by side against the gods, their love a force that bound them in every lifetime. But in each scene, it ended the same way.

Dante would fall.

In one life, Zeus hurled a bolt of lightning through his chest. In another, Hades plunged a sword into his back. In yet another, Athena struck him down with her spear. Then it was Moros who pummeled him with stones and his fists. Each time, she screamed his name, her heart breaking as she rushed to his side, only to feel him die in her arms over and over. The pain was endless, an eternal loop of sorrow and loss.

Amy had felt the weight of his body in her arms so many times, the warmth leaving him as his life drained away. Every single time, his eyes would meet hers, filled with the same unspoken promise of love, and every time she lost him. The gods were cruel, and no matter how hard they fought, no matter what strategies they employed, they always lost. She always lost him.

The sorrow was unbearable. She couldn’t save him. In every past life, she had failed. And now, the destruction of the world that she had witnessed—the moon shattering—felt inevitable, as though history was repeating itself once more. The fates were laughing at her, reminding her that no matter what she did, the outcome would be the same.

Her heart ached with the weight of it. She didn’t know how much longer she could bear the pain of watching Dante die, of holding his broken body in her arms. She wanted to scream, to rage against the gods, to tear them apart with her bare hands. But she couldn’t.

She was helpless.

And then, in the dream, as the world crumbled around her, she stood alone again, waiting for Dante to fall. But this time, there was no battlefield. She saw him standing before her, his body twisted in agony, reaching out for her as something dark and unseen wrapped around him, dragging him away.

“No,” she whispered, her voice broken. “No, please.”

But just as before, he disappeared. She was left alone in the ruins, her heart shattered like the moon.

Amy woke with a start, her body trembling. Her skin was damp with sweat, and she could still hear the distant echoes of the destruction, still see the way the moon had torn apart the sky. Her breath came in short, uneven gasps, and it took her several long moments to remember where she was.

At that very moment, she realized that she was no longer in the soft bed with Dante’s body pressed up against hers. The cool salt air floated around her, as it had in many of her dreams.

She had to blink a few times before her mind would understand that she was hovering more than two hundred feet above the dark sea. The stars twinkled above her head, far higher than the massive sliver of the moon that sat in the night sky.

“What…” she whispered, afraid that if she made any sudden moves, she’d fall to earth.

“Sister.”

She glanced up and saw two being hovering a few feet away from her. She recognized both of them immediately, somehow.

Venus and Aphrodite. Venus was a pale-skinned woman with long flowing jet-black hair. Her eyes were like diamonds that sparkled in the night. Aphrodite was the most exquisite creature she’d ever seen. Not man nor woman. Long flowing blonde hair the color of gold moved around a flawless face. Eyes the color of the moon and just as bright.

Both were dressed similarly to the long cream-colored night dress she’d been given that first night.

“Sister?” She frowned.

Venus smiled. “Why have you forgotten who you are?”

“I’m told that if I remember, all will be lost,” she pointed out.

“Lies of men can weigh heavy on your soul,” Aphrodite said in a rich, soothing voice.

“Are they lies?” she asked. “Prometheus’s words and the memories of my life, they all haunt my visions.”

“You have been shown what you needed to see to conquer,” Venus answered. “Elpis awaits your orders. Once you awake fully, the truth and the hope will finally be released.”

“Hope,” Amy sighed. “How can there be hope?”

“If not for hope, then all is lost,” Aphrodite said.

Amy tilted her head. “Is this real?”