It’s me and my siblings as children on Nibiru. I’m standing on the middle, smiling, one arm around Pol’s shoulders and the other holding Drom far enough away that she couldn’t pinch him, as she loved to do right as someone snapped a photograph. Lyre stands to the left, her round face almost comically serious, while Scorpia displays a huge, crooked grin and two thumbs up to our right. Momma must have taken it, because she’s nowhere to be found in the picture itself.

I put it back. Shut the cabinet. There’s a hollow feeling in my chest that grows and grows as I stare at the sunken eyes in my reflection. I’m not sure what hurts more: the knowledge that Momma, always so opposed to sentimentality, still kept that picture here, or the fact that her face isn’t in it. She kept this for herself but left us nothing.

Anger blooms to fill the emptiness. One of my fists lashes out, and glass cracks beneath my fist. The pain is satisfying, distracting, so I hit it again, shattering the mirror.

The trip to Deva passes in a blur. The ship may be full, but it feels empty, and my siblings and I lurk through the quiet hallways like ghosts. Scorpia spends her time either in her room or the cockpit, with liquor on her breath and little to say to any of us. Lyre has been sleeping down in the engine room, obsessively monitoring the radio for further news. Drom only shows her face during brief visits to the kitchen.

And I am alone with my nightmares. They haunt me every time I fall asleep in my brother’s bed, a thousand accusatory faces floating behind my closed eyes. The grief I’ve been trying to hold at bay rolls over me, as if the ghosts of my past can sense what my family is about to do. Pol, Momma, my team, the general, all the innocent lives wiped out on Titan. Sometimes in sleep I relive old memories. I let Ivennie die, pull the trigger on Hort, feel the impact of my fist hitting Apollo’s jaw a hundred times over.

Other times, a black cloud spreads to envelop Titan. General Altair’s accusatory eyes meet mine as it consumes him. I stand helpless while my team crumples to the floor, Magda using her last breath to call me a traitor before falling facedown in a puddle of black goo.

Others still, my hands are wrapped around Momma’s neck. As she dies, she uses the last of her strength to reach out and touch my face, her eyes smiling as the light fades from them. “I’m so proud of you” echoes in my ears.