And then, all of a sudden, the noise stops. The bones in my face, my teeth – everything hurts. But
I’ve beaten them, and the silence in that tiny, uncomfortable room is the best I’ve ever experienced.
My reward is a couple of hours of alone time. Not that I can even really tell how much time is
passing. I sit on the edge of the uncomfortable chair, rest my head on the desk and try to nap. My
thoughts sound louder in my head than they should, and the ringing in my ears won’t let me sleep.
That, and the feeling that I’m being watched. When I open my eyes, it feels like the room has actually gotten smaller. I know it’s just my imagination, but I’m starting to freak out a little.
My ankle is itching like crazy. I pull up the hem of my dark Mogadorian gown – a fresh one, not the
one Setrákus Ra burned – and stare at the raw flesh on my leg. I’m failing at my goal of giving nothing away, but I can’t help myself. I reach down and massage my ankle, letting out a deep sigh as I do. I
press my palm against the brand and wish that the scar will be gone when I lift my hand. Of course
it’s still there, but at least the clammy sweat on my palm actually feels sort of good against the seared flesh.
Something occurs to me then. What if I use my Aeternus to return to a younger age? Would the skin
on my ankle heal?
I decide to try it. I close my eyes and picture myself as I was two years ago. The feeling of getting
smaller is like letting out a held breath. At least this time when I open my eyes the room seems to
have gotten bigger.
I look down at myself. I’ve shrunk down a few inches, made myself skinnier, the muscles I’d
started developing over the last few months smoothed away. And yet, the jagged Mogadorian symbol
on my leg remains, pink and achy as ever.
‘Aeternus. We have that in common.’
It’s Setrákus Ra. He stands in the now open doorway of my little study room. Still in that
infuriatingly plastic human form. He observes me with a casual smile, leaning against the door, his
arms folded across his chest. ‘It’s useless,’ I reply bitterly, covering up my ankle. I close my eyes and ease back into my true age. ‘What I get for being related to you. The dumbest Legacy of all.’
‘You won’t feel that way when you’re my age,’ Setrákus says, ignoring my insult. ‘You will be
young and beautiful forever, if you wish. It will be an inspiration to your subjects to see their leader radiant and ageless.’
‘I don’t have any subjects.’
‘Not yet. But soon.’
I know exactly who Setrákus Ra means for me to lord over, but I refuse to acknowledge it. I regret
using my Aeternus. Now he knows something else about me, another way for him to try finding
common ground with me, like we’re the same.
‘Is the charm bothering you?’ he asks gently.
‘It’s fine,’ I reply quickly. ‘It’s like it’s not even there.’
‘Hmm. The irritation should pass in a day or so.’ He pauses, his hand on his chin in reflection. ‘I
know it hurts now, Ella. But in time you will come to appreciate the lessons you are learning. You
will thank me for my benevolence.’
I frown at him, sure that he’s going to ramble no matter what I say. So I don’t say anything at all.
I glare up at him. ‘So what? You’re, like, protecting me with this thing? Is that the point?’
‘I would see no harm come to you, child,’ Setrákus Ra replies.
‘Does this charm work like the one the Garde had?’ I take a step towards him and the doorway. ‘If
I run out of here and one of your minions tries to stop me, will anything he does to hurt me be
reflected back at him?’
‘No. Our charm does not work like that,’ Setrákus Ra answers patiently. ‘And I would stop you, granddaughter. Not one of my minions.’
I take another step towards him, wondering if he’ll back away. He doesn’t. ‘If I get too close, will
the charm break?’
Setrákus Ra doesn’t move. ‘Just as each charm works differently, so does each one have a unique
weakness. If only I’d discovered that bringing the Garde together would have broken the Elders’
craven charm sooner, I would have already obliterated the Garde.’ He touches the three glowing
Loric pendants dangling from around his neck. ‘Although, I must admit, I have enjoyed the hunt.’
I try my best to sound casual and sincere. ‘Shouldn’t I know what that weakness is? I don’t want to
accidentally go breaking our connection, Grandfather.’
Setrákus Ra actually grins at me. I’m beginning to realize that he appreciates it when I’m
duplicitous. Then, his eyes drift towards the shredded pages of his book and his grin falters.
‘Perhaps soon, when you are ready, when you trust the purity of my motives,’ he replies, then
abruptly changes the subject. ‘Tell me, granddaughter, besides the Aeternus, what other Legacies have
you developed?’
‘Only whatever I used to hurt you at Dulce Base,’ I lie, figuring it’s a good idea to keep my
telepathy a secret. I’ve tried using it to reach out to the Garde, but the distance from the Anubis to Earth must be too great. Once we land, I’ll try again. Until then, the less Setrákus Ra knows about me, the better. ‘And I can’t control that one. I don’t even know what it is.’
‘I was hardly hurt,’ Setrákus Ra scoffs. ‘Your other Legacies will develop soon, dear. In the
meantime, would you like me to show you the extent of your power?’
‘Yes,’ I reply, almost surprised at my own eagerness. I tell myself that it’s smart to learn how to
use my Legacies, even if my teacher is the biggest monster in the universe.
In response, Setrákus Ra smiles. Almost like he thinks he’s gotten through to me. He hasn’t, but let
him go on thinking that I’m becoming an eager pupil. He waves his hand at the mess I’ve made of his
book.
‘First, clean this up,’ he commands. ‘I will see you have a chance to practise your Legacies once
your betrothed arrives.’
My what?
11
Sunset in the everglades would be pretty if not for the massive Mogadorian warship blotting out the
horizon. Whatever alien metal the warship is made from, it reflects nothing, the pink and orange light of the dying day simply absorbed into the hull. The behemoth doesn’t land – there’s not enough
cleared space in the swampland for it to set down, unless it wants to crush the smaller Mogadorian
ships parked on the narrow runway below. Instead, the warship hovers, metal gangways unfurling
from the ship’s underside and connecting to the ground. Mogadorians scurry up and down the ramps,
loading equipment into the ship.
‘We should wipe them out,’ Marina says matter-of-factly.
Nine blinks at her. ‘Are you serious? I count at least a hundred Mogs and the biggest goddamn ship
I’ve ever seen.’
‘So what?’ Marina counters. ‘Don’t you love to fight?’
‘Fights I can win, yeah,’ Nine replies.
‘And if you can’t win, you just run your mouth, right?’
‘Enough,’ I hiss before Nine can say anything more. I don’t know how long Marina’s going to hold
this grudge against Nine or what it’ll take to ease the tension, but now is definitely not the time to deal with it. ‘Bickering isn’t getting us anywhere.’
We’re on our stomachs in the mud, shielded from the busy Mogadorians by overgrown tallgrass,
right at the edge of where the swamp begins to encroach on the manmade clearing. There are two
buildings in front of us; one is a glass-and-steel one-storey that looks almost like a greenhouse, and the other is an aircraft hangar with a narrow landing strip, perfect for small propeller planes or the saucer-shaped Mogadorian crafts, nowhere near large enough for the warship floating above us. Just