Supernova (Renegades, #3)

by Marissa Meyer

“No,” she said. “I had no idea it was going to…” She peered at the star, not sure how to explain what had happened. “I went back into the room to see it, after you fell asleep. I just wanted to touch it, to see if it would do anything. And it … flashed, sort of? And the next thing I knew, it was there, in my bracelet.” She grimaced apologetically. “I probably should have told you, it’s just … it was in your house.

“As far as I’m concerned, that room was made for you,” said Adrian. “You’re welcome to anything in it. The parrots, the wildflowers, the noise-canceling headphones…” She flushed, remembering all too well the muted sound of their heartbeats falling into sync as she drifted off to sleep for the first time in ten years. It was quite possibly the most magical moment of her life. There were still times when she wondered if she’d imagined it all, sure that it had been too fantastical, too surreal, to have actually happened.

She opened her eyes and gasped, stumbling back against the wall. The helmet lurched on her head, but she quickly reached up to right it. The room beyond the helmet was shimmering. Waves of coppery light danced before her, like a golden aurora borealis filling up the dingy living room. It felt as though they were swirling outward—from the helmet, from her.

Stomach roiling, she dropped the creature to the floor. It was set upon instantly by the waiting bees. There would be nothing left of it. She dusted the powder from her hands. Her body was trembling. This butterfly was dead, and while Danna wouldn’t retain the memories of what it had seen, there were hundreds of other butterflies that would be able to re-form now, to tell what they might have uncovered.

But the truth is, I don’t have any idea where the charm is or the helmet or any of the Anarchists. I’m sorry, but I don’t know.” His expression fell and, after a long silence, Adrian gave a solemn nod. He started to turn away. “Adrian?” He paused, his gaze meeting hers after a short hesitation. Nova swallowed. “It was real,” she whispered. “I hope you know that.” He watched her, unflinching, expressionless. Finally, he said, “I wish I could believe that, Nova. But we both know it’s just one more lie.”

Nightmare was … she was the mirror walker? Nova’s jaw dropped. “You can’t be serious.” “I know, it was hard for me to wrap my mind around it at first, too. But the more I’ve thought about it, the more it makes sense. Of course she would want to frame you, of all people, after what happened between the Detonator and the Librarian. And why she would choose the fun house at the carnival for her hideout spot—it had that hall of mirrors, remember? And also how she got into our house to steal the Vitality Charm without being caught on our surveillance systems, and how she got all that stuff from the artifacts department. Every bathroom has a mirror in it, and every building has bathrooms. That’s how she gets around so easily. Plus, she’s had access to all those black-market weapons, and a connection to the Anarchists, through her grandfather’s business. It all fits together.”

“Makes us suspect, and makes us a target,” said the man with the fungi. “Did you know only fifteen percent of the crimes in this city are committed by prodigies? But the Renegades put eighty percent of their task force on hunting down prodigy offenders, and all but ignore the rest. If they really cared about justice and protecting the weak, you’d think they’d give a bit more effort to the actual problem.”

Yes, friends. The word was foreign and almost unbelievable, but she had faced the truth in that prison cell. The realization was too stark and painful to ignore. She had fallen in love with these people, who had taken her in and trusted her. And yet she betrayed them. To know that they would go on despising her for the rest of their lives left her feeling almost as hollowed out as the knowledge that Ace would never again look at her with beaming pride. “Yeah, I am afraid that I’m going to fail again,” she said, still peering into the nothingness of Phobia’s face. “But one cannot be brave who has no fear.”

do, given the circumstances.” The circumstances, she thought. Those circumstances being that they had been prepared to execute her, without so much as a proper trial. Because they were the Council, and their word was law. Because they were Renegades, and the Renegades could be judge, jury, and executioner, if that’s what they felt was required for the protection of the people. The normal people. Not villains. Not prodigies who could be dangerous. Protection of their rights didn’t matter.

“Yes,” she said slowly, “it worked out for me, thankfully. But I have to admit that I’d always wanted to believe the Renegades were, well, above capital punishment. To end someone’s life, giving them no possible chance for restitution, and to do it without even offering a fair trial, it seems—how do I say this?—a little villainous.” To her surprise, the Captain chuckled, as if the idea of the Council doing something even remotely villainous was too absurd to consider. “To be fair, we did believe you were Nightmare, and Nightmare did try to kill me.”

It was a puzzle that had quickly resolved itself once Adrian told her about the card found on his mother’s body. One cannot be brave who has no fear. Phobia’s power was to prey on his enemy’s deepest fears, and Adrian himself had told Nova that the greatest fear of his childhood had been that someday his mother would leave and never come back. She’d hoped she was wrong. But now … “He created Phobia,” she whispered, taking the child’s drawing from Narcissa and inspecting it with mounting dread. She was startled to find her vision misting as she tried to imagine what Adrian would feel if he knew the truth. “He created the monster that killed his mother.”

Nova’s skepticism grew. “Let me think. Is that the one that says all prodigies are descendants of ancient gods? Or that we came here aboard alien spaceships? Or, no, no, that’s the one that has something to do with radioactive sludge, right?” “Actually, Dr. Stephan Monteith was an astrophysicist who speculated that all prodigy abilities are the result of our physical systems reacting to a cocktail of biological chemicals and the stardust that lies dormant in our physical makeup.”

“Don’t be so quick to judge. I have traced the history of several prodigy artifacts back to the very star from which their mystical abilities seem to have originated.” Millie leaned forward. “Consider that every chemical in our world is formed from stars that long ago exploded. From the salt in our oceans to the cobalt in that teacup’s paint.” “You can’t be named Nova and not know about supernovas,” Nova said, growing weary of this conversation. “Are you going to tell me about the bracelet or—”

“According to Monteith,” Millie continued, pausing to take another sip before going on, “the particles from one particularly powerful supernova reached our solar system many centuries ago. They came to our planet—an invisible invasion—settled upon our dirt and in our oceans, and took up space in the very air we breathe. These particles, this energy, would become the substance that your father could detect in our world. This raw energy is everywhere, but only visible to a lucky few.”

“Now, consider,” said Millie, “that this energy isn’t simply in the air. It is inside us. Every human being on this planet has trace amounts from this supernova inside of them, and that raw energy contains the potential for great power, but only if it’s awakened by a chemical reaction. That was Monteith’s theory. Everyone has the potential to become a prodigy, but for those who are not born with this inherent power already awakened, their powers will only reveal themselves in the face of great trauma. Monteith believed the chemicals released into the bloodstream during extreme duress create the conditions necessary to awaken our latent abilities.”

blade, sending blood splattering across the stands. He took hold of the helmet with one skeletal hand and lifted it off the boy’s head. Callum Treadwell. Wonder. “One cannot be awed who has no soul,” Phobia said, and it seemed almost as though there were humor in his brittle voice. “Just as one cannot be brave who has no fear.” Adrian blinked. He was still in shock at the senselessness of it. Dazed not only by the sight of Callum’s lifeless body slumped over a seat, but by the jumble of worldviews crashing through his thoughts.

Adrian thrust out his left hand. Something erupted from his palm, expanding outward, encapsulating him and Simon before Nova’s scream had broken. The spears, the daggers, the broken pieces of concrete, all struck it with deadly force and ricocheted harmlessly away. Nova’s scream stammered and fell silent. In shock. In utter disbelief. What was it? A wall of sorts. A protective barrier made of invisible bricks, each held together with glowing copper-colored mortar. It stood like a circular tower around Adrian and his father. A medieval turret, imbued with some sort of force field …

Adrian recognized it as the crane that had flown directly to Captain Chromium, before everything had dissolved into chaos. He picked it up and flipped over the paper, reading the message printed there. Everyone has a nightmare. Welcome to yours.

He paused and cleared his throat. “Right. Yeah. Sorry. Just saying.” He hesitated, his focus landing on their entwined hands. He gulped. “Just … one more thing?” Ruby faked an exasperated eye roll. “Oh, if you insist.” Oscar lifted his head. “You’re the girl of my dreams.” Ruby’s head swiveled toward him, the nonchalant smile evaporating. “With or without superpowers,” Oscar added, holding her gaze. Color bloomed in Ruby’s cheeks. Fresh tears started to gather in her eyes until, without much warning, she grabbed the front of Oscar’s uniform and kissed him. Adrian’s eyebrows shot upward and he spun away, meeting Danna’s amused gaze for half a second before they both spent some time inspecting the damaged roof overhead.

But it was his imagination, because a second later her expression had hardened into something cold and impenetrable. “Everyone has a nightmare,” she said. “I guess I’m yours.” That was the last he remembered before darkness claimed him.

She couldn’t keep the overwhelming emotion from her voice when they separated, the disbelief and hope that coursed through her. “I was sure you would hate me when you found out the truth.” Adrian grimaced. “I tried to, at first. But it’s like you said. Everyone has a nightmare.” He pressed his forehead against hers. “Maybe I want you to be mine.” Her heart swelled, but she still couldn’t help a teasing smile as she leaned back. “You’ve been holding on to that one for a while, haven’t you?” “Just a few hours.” He beamed. “But I sure am glad I got a chance to use it.”

“Danna, Oscar, get out of here!” Nova shouted. She raced past the altar and gathered up the discarded throwing stars. “You’re not superheroes anymore, and he’s just going to keep using you against Adrian if you don’t leave!” Oscar sent her a frazzled look, then turned to Adrian. “I’m sorry, is this a thing we’re doing again?” “What?” said Adrian. “Trusting her!” Oscar yelled. Before Adrian could respond, Phobia re-formed, towering behind Oscar. He raised the scythe, and Adrian gasped, already envisioning the swing of the blade coming down on Oscar’s throat. But then a war cry erupted through the chamber, and Danna came charging down the aisle. She launched herself into a series of forward flips that took her beneath Phobia’s outstretched arm. It happened so fast it wasn’t until Danna had lobbed herself onto a shrine, scattering unlit votive candles, that Adrian realized she had stolen the scythe. “We may not be prodigies anymore,” Danna said, casting a glare toward Nova, “but we’re still superheroes.”

“Adrian,” Nova croaked. “Is that a firebrand?” Adrian ignored her, facing off against the shadows. “One cannot be afraid,” he said, “when they have nothing left to lose.” His gut lurched, even as he angled the brand toward himself. “Adrian!” Nova yelled, her voice hitched with panic. “Adrian!”

But only the sound of their own uneven breaths persisted and, after a moment, Oscar’s voice cutting through the gloom. “That was simultaneously the bravest and stupidest thing I’ve ever seen.” Adrian tried to smile, though he knew it was weak. “I created Phobia. It had to be me.”

“You’re lying!” Captain Chromium screamed. Nova looked at him, and though she wished she could convey that yes, she was lying, she couldn’t risk it in front of Ace. Instead, she raised her voice. Made it colder. Harsher. “When he died, all the things he’d sketched before died with him.” Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out her bracelet, its clasp broken but the star glowing bright as ever. “He fixed the clasp on my bracelet once.” She shrugged. “I guess this time I’ll have to take it to a jeweler.” The Captain dropped to the rooftop, raging, and grabbed the chromium chain. Nova barely had time to blink before the end was flying toward her with enough force that it probably could have taken off her head.

“Lady Indomitable was there the night of the murders.” Her breath snagged. “What?” “She was killed that night, too,” he said. “And though I’ve never known for sure, I always wondered if Ace had orchestrated that death as well. I believe he sent another villain to distract Georgia while the murders took place.” Nova felt suddenly dizzy. A Renegade had been there that night? To protect her family, to protect her … Not just any Renegade. Lady Indomitable. Adrian’s mother. Phobia killed her … that same night …

Ace laughed. “Finally! All these years, being limited to only the control of the inanimate. My brother truly was a genius.” Nova struggled to breathe, but her lungs wouldn’t expand. Nova!

lunged. The needle was inches from Ace’s shoulder when he turned and grabbed her forearm, locking her in a debilitating grip. While his other hand remained outstretched, holding the star toward the city, he forced Nova’s fist to eye level, studying the syringe. The bright yellow liquid sloshed inside. He frowned. “That is not the neutralizing agent,” he said. “No, this is one of Leroy’s,” said Nova. “This one is Agent N.” She drove her other hand forward, jamming the dart into Ace’s side. Ace released her arm and drew back. In the same moment, Nova reached up and snatched the helmet from his head. Ace cried out in surprise but she was already sprinting, both arms crushing the helmet to her chest.

Setting his jaw, he went to pick it up again, but Max stretched out his own hand and the star leaped into his grasp. There was a flash, and Nova saw those flickers of energy again, swirling through the wasteland like a brewing storm. Max’s limbs stopped trembling as the star lent him strength. In every direction, the buildings haltingly, tentatively, began to settle themselves back onto their foundations.

Her jaw fell open. Ace Anarchy stood at the ledge of his cathedral. A god among men. A revolutionary. A visionary. A villain. With a chromium spear impaled through his heart.

He stood as still as the gargoyles that surrounded them, his face shrouded by the helmet, his arms stretched out like offering a gift to the world. The star hovered a few inches above his cupped palms. He looked like the statue. The one she had once conjured in a dream. The one who had held a star in its hands. The star brightened, and for a moment, she saw the flash of energy lines again, the coppery-gold strings her father could manipulate, the remains of a supernova that had brought superpowers to humanity. The lines were still there, but more sparse now than she’d ever seen before and—unnervingly—they were all flowing in one direction. They were all flowing into Max.

In the distance, the final building fit into place. Shattered concrete and snapped rebar melded back together. The skeletons of broken scaffolding and discarded fire escapes climbed back up their facades. Erupted asphalt streets sunk into smooth, level grades. Collapsed walls righted themselves. Bricks and mortar fused like puzzle pieces. Sludge-filled water drained into the sewers. The whole world knit itself back together, as if the wounds caused by Ace Anarchy had been nothing but a long nightmare they could finally awake from.

“Max?” Adrian called uncertainly. He pulled his arm from Nova’s and approached his brother. Nova followed, and as she got closer, she could see Max’s eyes open through the cut in the helmet. She gasped, at the same moment Adrian froze. The irises of Max’s wide brown eyes were gone, replaced with liquid gold. A few droplets had leaked down the corners of his eyes like tears.

knuckles and the spaces between her ribs. Power incarnate. Infinite strength. Boundless wisdom. Clarity cascaded through her mind, and she felt like she could understand every mystery in the universe if she only paused to consider it. But at the same time, she didn’t want to pause for anything. She wanted to run and fly and soar. Tears blurred her vision as the sensation of strength expanded through her limbs and it occurred to her that this must be only a fraction of what Max was feeling. Endless potential. Fathomless power. In the space between their hands, the star had darkened. It was nearly black now, but with a web of hairline fractures burning white.

A flash. An explosion of energy—not just gold, but shades of aqua and amethyst, deep magenta and metallic orange, surging outward in every direction. The shock wave rolled across the wasteland, washed over the city, filled the rivers and the bay and tinted the water coppery gold as far as Nova could see. It was destruction and creation at once. It was a supernova. And then … it was over. In the wake of the cataclysm, the star shrank back into the confines of Nova’s broken bracelet, looking like a chunk of polished lava rock.

In the words of Sandol Stoddard Warburg: I would go on choosing you and you would go on choosing me over and over again.