The lights changed, and her patterns emerged, grew, moved. She told a story, from the first mother all the way to the first woman in space, which was me, constellations glowing on my body. Yet she was the sun, around which we all revolved, reflecting her brilliance.

After Violet’s death, part of my despair came from thinking she was lost to the world, that I wouldn’t see an artist like her again in my lifetime.

Now I understood that Violet had been a shining link in a chain of exceptional, admirable women. And there would be more, with Strena in the lead. Violet wasn’t gone. Her spirit was in the room with me.

I blinked hard, trying not to cry, and realized some people in the room were sobbing.

The ninety-minute performance passed too fast and too slow, outside time, like a dream.

The music reached a crescendo, high notes flying to the ceiling, a flock of rising birds. The clapping of wings came from the thunderous applause from the audience.

For a moment, it all held, the planets stopping their rotations. Then the music died, and darkness fell again.

I kept my balance as the stage rolled out and the doors closed behind us. The lights came on in the prep room. I felt emotionally drained, but at the same time, my body buzzed with a wild energy, recreated.

I searched for Strena, but she was still out there. More applause. People called her name.

When her assistants materialized with trays to peel off the sugarworks, I was still flying near the ceiling.

“Want to see what you look like before I help you clean up?” Tiana asked.

“Yes, please.”

She pulled a tablet from her bag and clicked on the camera.

I stared at the screen. “Wow.”

What I’d thought was a shooting comet running down the middle of my body, from the hollow of my throat to below my belly button, looked very much like a sword. “Excalibur.”

And if that wasn’t enough… I touched a finger to the elaborate V over my heart. Violet.

While I fought tears, Tiana put the tablet away and began peeling planets off my stomach, careful not to break them. “Was it as scary as you thought it would be?”

“It was transformative. Are these saved?”

“They’re eaten.” Tiana laughed. “For as much as these patrons paid, they’re served a gourmet meal. They’re moving over to the dining room as we speak. Dessert is organic coconut ice cream with crumbled sugarworks from the performance.”

“Whose idea was that?” The extravagant touch wouldn’t have occurred to me in a million years.

Tiana flashed me a Who do you think? look. “It symbolizes humankind’s unchecked consumption of our resources until nothing remains.” She looked toward the double doors. “Here she is.”