Agnes knew that somewhere inside, she was happy about this development too, but she couldn’t seem to settle on any one emotion right now.
“And this city . . . it’s in the sky?”
“Above the sky,” Sera clarified. “In space.”
“And this tether, what does it look like?”
“Like a finely wrought chain of magic,” she said, as if that should explain it. “In links of blue and silver and gold.”
“And it’s attached to our planet? This planet? To Kaolin?”
Sera sighed. “I do not know where the tether has buried itself. It could be in Kaolin, but it could be in Pelago. Or it could be in the middle of the ocean. That’s why I need to see.” She looked at the windowless walls around them.
“Well, I can certainly help you look for it,” Agnes said.
“No, you can’t. It is invisible to human eyes. Only a Cerulean will be able to see it.”
Agnes supposed that the papers would have already reported if a chain of magic shooting down from space had been discovered.
“I wish I could see it,” she said. “Your city. I want to understand . . . where you come from, who you are. This is all pretty overwhelming.”
Sera went silent and stared at her hands. Agnes realized this was pretty overwhelming for her, too.
“Maybe I can show you.”
“That glowing thing again?” Agnes asked with trepidation.
“Yes.” Sera’s fingertip lit up. “I think . . . if I focus on what I want . . .”
She did not sound nearly sure enough of herself for Agnes’s liking, and she had no desire to have her memories probed again.
Describe in detail the bravest thing you have ever done in the name of science.
The essay subject popped into her head, and she saw it in a new light. Was she really going to run from this new, albeit frightening, discovery? This was more important than an essay or an interview or even studying at the University of Ithilia at all. This was her chance to help someone, a person who had no one else on the entire planet but her. Was she a mouse, like Vada had said? Was the fear of someone uncovering a few embarrassing moments or the secret of her sexuality going to keep her from exploring an entirely new world?
“I can do it, Agnes,” Sera said, her face set. “I can feel it. I . . . I’m stronger on this planet in some ways. I understand myself now, I think, or a little better at least. I can show you. I will show you.”
It seemed they were both entering uncharted territory. With grim determination, Agnes pressed her finger once more against Sera’s.
The heat was bearable this time, maybe because she was better prepared for it. It raced up her arm, dancing in her veins and closing around her heart. The sense of being an empty vessel was not as unpleasant now that she had some small concept of what was happening, and when her body jerked and her mind was transported to another place, she stared around in wonder and did not question what she was seeing.
She was standing beside Sera on a small island in front of a tall building, shaped like an upside-down cone and made of thick glass with golden doors. It reached up high into the sky, but this sky wasn’t blue and dotted with clouds, it was just . . . space. Stars and darkness. A luminescent butterfly flitted past, its wings flashing blues and yellows. There was a hedge surrounding part of the structure in a semicircle. Agnes could see at least two arching white bridges connecting the island to the land across the river, where other structures sat, little domes that must be houses—they were made of glass too. Many had gardens surrounding them.
The temperature was mild, the air fresh and crisp like newly washed sheets. The grass was a vibrant green and it looked so springy Agnes felt she would bounce if she stepped on it.
There were no people.
“This is the City Above the Sky,” Sera said, and her connection to the place was palpable.
“Where is everyone?”
“I don’t know.” She looked at her palms. “I am still figuring out how my magic works, its capabilities. Cerulean do not go down onto planets any longer. I am discovering things that my green mother could not have prepared me for.”
“Why don’t you go down onto planets? How many planets have you been to?” Agnes found the questions piling up in her mind, and she had to bite her lip to keep from asking them all at once.
“I have only ever known this planet,” Sera explained. “We have been tethered here for over nine hundred years.”
“You’re nine hundred years old?”
She laughed. “No! I am not yet eighteen. But the High Priestess has been alive since the planet before this. She is ancient.”
Agnes decided to let that one go for now.
“What is that?” she asked, pointing to the cone. It sharpened into a golden point at the very top.
“That’s the temple of Mother Sun. It lies in the center of the City.”
“Who’s Mother Sun?”
Sera took a moment before responding. “She is everything,” she said.
Agnes was not as interested in gods as she was in the logistics of this place. “What is this temple made of?”
“Sunglass,” Sera said, as if it were obvious.
Observe, Agnes thought. Don’t disturb.
The steps of the temple were smooth, the doors engraved in markings, geometric shapes, spirals and slashes and squiggled lines. Some seemed to glow when she looked at them, others to fade. They looked sort of like the symbols Sera had scratched in the dirt of the truck bed.
“I used to climb up there all the time,” Sera said, gazing up at the golden spire twinkling overhead. “It made my orange mother furious, but I couldn’t help myself. It was the best place to see the stars.”
Agnes felt that any spot in this city would be an excellent vantage point for stargazing. The stars around them were big and bright, not like the tiny pinpricks visible from Old Port at night.
“Do you think you could show me what happened to you?” she asked.
Sera closed her eyes and a tear fell onto her cheek.
Agnes suddenly found herself kneeling inside the circular room she’d seen in Sera’s memory earlier, with the painted ceiling. Every inch of space was filled with silver-skinned, blue-haired women. There were no men.
Sera was kneeling beside her, surrounded by three women, each with a different color ribbon around their necks. Agnes recognized the purple and orange women. The green one was new. These must be Sera’s mothers.
Another woman stood at a podium, leaning over an ancient, crumbling bowl filled with light. There was something regal about her, something that declared power and demanded reverence—Agnes wondered if this was the High Priestess Sera had mentioned, except that she did not look nine hundred years old. The light in the bowl went out. The woman called Sera’s name.
The room dissolved, and Agnes found herself in one of the glass houses, standing in front of a mirror beside Sera. The three mothers were there too. Sera wore the very same robe she was wearing in Kaolin except it was fresh and clean. The clumsy embroidery matched the bracelets on her wrist: purple, green, and orange. The bracelets were gone now, Agnes realized, as was the necklace; her father’s men must have taken them. There was so much love in this room, it hurt her chest to contain it.
“You have been our sun, Sera Lighthaven,” the woman with the orange ribbon said. She was older than the other two and her eyes glittered with tears. “You have been the light in our world.” She looked like she wanted to say something else, then stopped herself. “Are you ready to go to the Night Gardens?”