The little boy Prism watched quietly as Lunar slept. Once again, Nightlight had worked his magic, and peace was the expression on the little princeling's face. There was a soft noise, and Prism turned to see the Tsarina, her soft, beautiful face just as bright as the rest of the ship. He was no longer bothered by the bright lights. They were not quite natural yet, but they comforted him. He liked the light now. He never wanted to live in the dark again.
"Yes, ma'am?" he asked, his young voice deeper than most and solemn.
"You should be sleeping, Prism," she said, her mellifluous voice washing over the young boy's mind in a swirl of comfort. She was like a mother to him, a real mother that cared for him and fed him and helped him when he was hurt. It was only natural for her to be concerned that he wasn't asleep.
"I don't want to sleep," Prism murmured, his crystalline features thoughtful.
"Why not?" she asked. Her skirts rustled as she went to sit on his bed beside him.
"Something bad is going to happen tonight," he said, turning back to Lunar. "And if I'm not awake, Lunar will be hurt."
The Tsarina considered this for a moment. "Have you had another premonition?"
"I think so," Prism admitted. "But I do not know what will happen this time. I woke up crying after the dream. I know it was bad. I know it is tonight. I do not know what will happen."
"Things will be alright, no matter what happens," she said. She stood and pulled Prism to his feet. "Might as well come and spend time with us on the bridge. Nightlight is uneasy, too. He cannot sleep either."
Prism's jaw clenched as he followed her obediently to the bridge. If both he and Nightlight were uneasy, something really bad was going to happen. Both of them had known darkness, and they knew the signs. They could sense disasters like the Tsar, Tsarina, and little prince couldn't. Prism had often had premonitions about terrible things, and he could often prevent them from being so awful. But this one was different. He couldn't change this one. He knew that much. And a part of him was terrified.
They got to the bridge and the Tsar and Nightlight turned to look at them. His brows furrowed.
"You, too, Prism?" he asked.
His handsome face pinched as Prism reluctantly nodded. "Yes, sir."
"This isn't good," Nightlight said simply, capturing all of their moods in one short sentence.
Tsarina pulled Prism to a small sofa, sitting right beside him as he looked around, waiting for something bad to happen. Nightlight and the Tsar were doing a full scan of the darkness around their ship. It was only when the Tsarina brushed his hair from his face that Prism looked into her kind face. With startling force, he knew this would be the last peaceful moment the four of them would have together, and tears filled his young eyes and poured down his thin, white cheeks. The Tsarina said nothing. She only pulled him close, a sad resignation in the air around her. She could sense something, too, but she didn't know what it was.
The ship was suddenly rocked by a vicious explosion. The Tsarina stood immediately, unwavering as her husband, who narrowed his eyes at the screen. He pressed several keys, and there was a hiss and a sucking sound.
"I must go to the little Lunanoff," Nightlight said, standing from where he had been thrown down.
"I sealed him in. He will not be harmed," the Tsar said tightly. "We need you right here."
"Why?"
The ship suddenly lurched again, harder than before. Nightlight clutched his spear as the warning lights blared, announcing a break in the outer hull. Somebody, or several somebodies, has broken in. The Tsar typed in a code that Prism didn't recognize. A pair of swords were revealed; unbeknownst to those standing there, the swords would later be passed down to a young Earthling whom the Tsar's son would choose to become the Spirit of Wonder for children many thousands of years later.
"Prism, Nightlight," The Tsar said grimly. "I need you to stay back."
Prism didn't respond, sensing something coming toward them. It was sticky and dark, reminding him of his home planet. He was rooted to the spot, terror washing over him like a parody of a sun rising, leaving him paralyzed. This was the sensation from the dream, and it grew bigger and bigger. Shadows pooled in the door, and Prism's mouth went dry as his skin began to crawl. This was terrifying, yet his young, darkness-inclined mind found something enticing about the shadows, like they were beckoning for him to join them.
Before he knew what he was doing, he took two steps forward, curious and fearful, drawn to the shadows like a moth to flame. With shocking suddenness, a large, strong hand gripped his shoulder and jerked him back with such force that he cried out. The Tsar stood before him, swords drawn, eyes containing a fire that Prism had never seen before. The Tsarina caught him and pulled him behind her. Her own soft face was full of the same fire as her husband's.
"It's him," she hissed.
"Of course it is," the Tsar muttered. "You don't think he would just give up, do you?"
"Who?" Nightlight asked, pointing his spear at the shadows.
Prism tried to go past the Tsarina, but she grabbed his arm in a vice-like grip.
"Stay, Prism!" she commanded.
"But he's calling for me," Prism murmured. And he could hear an enticing whisper that he wanted to heed. It called him by his new name, not his old one. It promised that he wouldn't have to worry about anything anymore. "Please, ma'am, let me go."
"No," she said sternly. Then she looked at her husband. "We must do something. He won't leave him alone."
"We will end this tonight. If he is so desperate for Prism, we'll give him a reason to stay away."
"Who is after Prism?" Nightlight demanded. He was frightened of the shadows, and he didn't understand why Prism was so eager to go toward them.
"Nightlight," the Tsar said firmly. "Keep Prism back. Do not let him get involved. Those are orders."
Without another word, Nightlight strode right over to Prism and grasped his arm tightly. He was still taller than Prism, and stronger, too. And if the Tsar ordered it, Nightlight would obey to the death if he had to. Then a soft laugh filled the room that made Prism's hair stand on end. He no longer wanted to be with the shadows, and he pressed back into the thin frame of Nightlight.
"Making things difficult, Tsar Lunar?" a low, sinister voice murmured. "Fine. I will have the boy either way."
And then a dark, shadowy form came through. It was a figure that Prism thought should never have been revealed by light. He was tall, thin, and resembled the Darklings that he'd known all his life. His sharp features held something hungry that made Prism's insides quake with terror. He swallowed convulsively, and the man turned to him, his red eyes tracing the boy's frame. The Tsar stepped in front of Prism, holding out his swords.
"Get out, Obscurus," he said icily. "You will not have him."
"Who's going to stop me?" Obscurus asked, his lips parting to reveal perfect teeth.
"Us," the Tsarina said.
Obscurus snorted. "He's not even yours. Just give him up."
"You'll have to get through us first," the Tsar snarled.
And he lunged forward, light flashing on the blades as he swung them. Obscurus countered by materializing a blade and holding it up to block the strike. They began to dance a dangerous waltz, dodging and twisting with grace as they fought. The Tsarina snagged the boys' arms and turned to sprint down the halls. Nightlight and Prism followed, their hearts pounding. Terror, unnatural terror, washed over them. If it hadn't been for the Tsarina's presence, they would have curled up and cowered behind anything nearby.
A scream sounded behind them, a hoarse cry of pain. The Tsarina winced, recognizing the voice of her husband, but she urged them on. She gasped as she saw slithering creatures down the tunnel to safety and she turned to see that they were surrounded. A snakelike creature lunged, and quick as a flash of starlight, the Tsarina jerked a knife from the folds of her gown and stabbed at the creature's eyes. It shrieked in pain, and the others stayed back for a moment. Nightlight looked around then jumped up and tore open a hatch.
"Up, Prism!" he barked.
Prism jumped and slid into an air vent. Nightlight followed immediately. The hatch slammed closed behind them. The vent passage would have been black as a black hole but for Nightlight's natural, dim glow. Nightlight moved first, nudging Prism forward.
"Go," he murmured.
"Where?" Prism hissed.
"Forward," Nightlight said. "The only way we can go."
That was true, so Prism began to crawl. If he had been much bigger, he would have been stuck. It was only Nightlight's naturally thin form that allowed him to fit so nicely. For half an hour, they made their way through the air ducts. Just when Prism thought he could go no further, his keen eyes saw a hatch. He stopped.
"What?" Nightlight asked.
"A hatch."
"Up or down?"
"Up."
Nightlight hummed. "We can get out and go in another way closer to the safe room."
Prism nodded, maneuvered his way toward the hatch, and shoved as hard as he could. After a few moments, the hatch hissed as it opened, and they crawled out onto the surface of the ship. The stars were bright as they stood up and stretched their cramped bodies. Nightlight planted his spear and looked around, judging their position.
"We need to go that way," he said, pointing behind Prism.
Prism didn't even look, gaping at something behind Nightlight. The boy of light spun around, his spear ready. A dark ship hovered there next to the breach in the hull. They stood unmoving until a dark figure came out of the hole to stare at the two boys. Nightlight, obeying the Tsar's orders, stood defensively in front of Prism. They both noticed the blade in his hand, dripping a dark substance onto the surface of the Moon Clipper.
"Your protectors have fallen, Prism-boy," Obscurus said idly. "Come here or the light boy is next."
Prism gritted his teeth, staring at the face of the man who had disturbed everything. He didn't want to believe that the two wonderful people had fallen, but he knew what was dripping steadily into the dark grey sand at his feet. Nightlight held out a hand to keep him back.
"Stay away," Nightlight growled, his luminescent eyes narrowed.
Prism swallowed. He couldn't let Nightlight fall, too. If he did, Lunar would have nobody left. "I'm sorry, Nightlight," he murmured.
Before the boy of light could turn to give him an order, Prism touched a series of nerves that made him collapse. His big eyes held betrayal and shock as he stared up at Prism, unable to move. Prism stepped over him and walked forward.
"If I come with you, you'll let them go?"
"Yes," Obscurus said, his grin widening.
Without another word, Prism went to board the ship. As Obscurus's thin hand clutched his shoulder, a feeling darker than the blackest pits fell over him, and he knew that he would die. Why Obscurus wanted him dead, he wasn't sure, but at least Lunar and Nightlight would be safe.
Then a blindingly bright light hit his eyes. He spun around to see the Tsar shining like a great star, his wife beside him with her own light gleaming from her core. Nightlight cried out and was on his feet in a moment, his spear held out protectively. The Tsar and Tsarina were bloody, but they were standing. Obscurus cringed away, his fingers clutching at Prism's clothes as he tried to drag the boy back into his ship. That displeased the royals.
In a flash of light, the Tsarina yanked both Prism and Nightlight toward them. She held their shoulders and knelt down. Her face was pale with pain, her hands trembling from weakness. Prism knew then what was going to happen.
"No!" he cried. "Don't leave us!"
"You are to go and hit the hyperspeed," the Tsar said tersely. "I've set the coordinates."
Nightlight blinked, uncomprehending. They had never been allowed to fly the Moon Clipper before. Why now? And why was Prism so upset?
"Papa!" he burst out. "Papa, Mama, please! We can't do this alone!"
"We will always be with you," the Tsarina said. "Look to the skies, and we will be there."
The light became unbearably bright, and Prism screamed again. "No! Mama! Papa! No!"
The last word echoed as a blinding flash of light engulfed them and they slammed down on the bridge. Nightlight hit hard and lay very still, too dazed to move. But Prism screamed in pain as the alarms blared, forcing himself up and toward the controls. If the Tsar and Tsarina did this for him, he would obey their wishes. Maybe if he did it fast enough, everything would be fine. Heaving himself up into the pilot's chair, he reached out his trembling hand and punched the hyperspeed button with all the force he had.
Instantly he was thrown back. His head slammed into the wall and he knew no more.
When Prism woke up, he was so sore and his head ached. He groaned as he sat up. Where were they? What had happened? After a moment, his own voice echoed in his head.
"Mama! Papa! No!"
Prism jumped up, looking around in bewilderment. The Tsar and Tsarina! Where were they? A soft noise brought his attention to the doorway. Lunar stood there, rubbing his eyes. His young, round face was curious.
"Hey, Prism," he said. "Mama didn't wake me up." His eyes fell on Nightlight, who was slumped on the floor against the far wall. His face pinched. "Why is Nightlight sleeping on the floor?"
Prism hesitated. "He hit his head."
"Mama will kiss it better," Lunar said confidently.
Prism didn't speak. He needed to get out to see what had happened. Something was wrong with the ship. The emergency lights were lit, and the engine was no longer humming. He looked at Lunar.
"Why don't you try and wake him up? I'll go and find your mother."
Lunar bounced over to Nightlight and began to shake him. Prism didn't stay to watch. He dashed down the hall and up onto the surface of the ship. Immediately he noticed a distinct lack of gravity. With a flex of his power, he gravitized himself and began to hunt for any evidence of life. When he reached the place where the breach had been, he paused and looked around.
The breach was sealed. The glint of metal proved that it had been this spot where Obscurus had broken through. The rest of the ship was covered in moon sand. And then Prism noticed that the ship was no longer a ship. It was in lunar mode. That explained why they weren't moving. But there was no sign of the Tsar and Tsarina. Unsure of what else to do, Prism looked up at the stars. And there they were. Two constellations that shone brightly above him, their arms linked as they smiled down at him.
There was a cry, and Nightlight came running, his eyes wide. He hunted around on the ground, searching desperately for footprints, for any sign of the Tsar and Tsarina. Prism looked down to see Lunar waddling up, watching Nightlight curiously. He got to Prism and blinked.
"I thought you were going to find Mama?"
"I did," Prism said quietly.
"You did?" Nightlight asked, relief on his thin features.
Prism nodded and lifted up a hand to point up at the sky. Both boys looked up and Lunar lit up. He waved.
"Hi, Mama! What are you doing up there?" he called.
Nightlight lowered his eyes to Prism's grim expression. They both knew what it meant that they were constellations. They both knew that they had perished to save them. But little Lunar didn't understand yet. Prism gestured with his eyes to Lunar, and Nightlight's expression hardened. He shook his head then placed a hand on Lunar's shoulder.
"They're going to watch over you from there now," he said quietly. "To keep us safe."
"Will they come to visit?" Lunar asked.
"You can talk to them always," Nightlight said gently.
Prism didn't respond to Nightlight as he wove a web of secrecy around the princeling's parents' deaths. He stared up at the stars, a hole in his heart. They had died for him. He knew that it was his fault they were dead. For some unknown reason, Obscurus had come after him and in the process of saving him, the Tsar and Tsarina had given their lives. He agreed that Lunar didn't need to know yet. It would probably be a few weeks before they would tell the story. But what hurt him the most was that in begging for them to stay, he had called them mama and papa. It was his first acknowledgment that they were like parents to him. And they would never be able to respond in kind.
As Nightlight called for a lunar moth to carry Lunar up closer to his parents, Prism squeezed his eyes shut. He knew he would never forgive himself. He didn't deserve forgiveness. Lunar would hate him when he admitted it. How could he ever live without Lunar and Nightlight? They were the only family he had left. A hand suddenly gripped his. Lunar stared up at him with a bright smile.
"Come on, Prism. Let's go talk to Mama and Papa."
Prism tried to withdraw his hand, ashamed and horrified that Lunar would touch him after what he'd done to his wonderful parents. But Lunar didn't let go. But one day he would, Prism knew. When he found out, Prism wouldn't be welcome anymore. But for now, Prism would go with Lunar and talk to the stars. Until he was rejected, he wouldn't leave this kind boy who saw the beauty in everything, even something as dark and dreary as himself. So he climbed onto the soft, fuzzy back of the moth and it took off toward the heavens. As they flew up, a strange blue and green world floated a long way away and they stared at the pretty jewel-like planet, unaware of just how much this world would come to mean to them in the future.
