Infinity Son (Infinity Cycle #1)(13)

Sunstar walks to the edge of the stage. “I have felt hopeless—felt that there is no light to be found in the shadows. But even if I can’t see the light, I trust it’s there because of all of you. Look around at your neighbors. You’re not alone in your hope. You’re here because you believe.” She raises her fist. “We won’t let the darkness overtake us. We must keep the stars in the sky!”

Golden light sails from Sunstar’s hand and erupts into fireworks under the Crowned Dreamer.

Everyone applauds as Sunstar is joined by her husband, Ash Hyperion, and their daughter, Proxima. It’s going to take a miracle to get them into the White House. Tons of people crowd the stage, hoping to get a moment, but when Lore poses with Sunstar’s family for a picture, that’s when my jealousy peaks and I have to go.

I’m on a mission tonight to become as great and worthy as Lore. If I’m not going to become a celestial, then everyone will remember me as the greatest mortal.

Emil and Prudencia tag along as I chat up people, picking their brains about Sunstar and the world at large. A group of girls are infectious with their chants of “Keep the stars in the sky!” and I get it all on camera. I get an interview with this blue-haired celestial who tells me about how even with her ability to generate a shield around her entire body, she still doesn’t feel safe around enforcers. We attract more attention from other celestials, like an older woman who feels confident in saying that enforcer violence these days hasn’t felt this regularly heartbreaking since she was a little girl, right when specters first came into existence sixty-something years ago. The most unnerving is from a man with glowing fists that crack with lightning when he knocks them together, and he promises that if an enforcer aims a wand at him, he won’t think twice about striking them down first.

“Burn that footage,” Emil says as the man storms away with lightning jumping between his palms.

“No kidding.”

My videos won’t ever be used to build any cases against celestials, I swear my life on it.

Four young men by the lake catch my attention. Two are circling each other with their fists like they’re about to fight. Another is filming on his phone while the last is laughing and holding a cooler.

“Check it out.”

“I know they’re not about to watch these two guys go in on each other,” Prudencia says. She charges over. “Hey, enough!”

“I’m going to turn you into ashes,” the freckled teen says.

Gleamcrafter . . .

I drag Prudencia back before she gets hurt. The Crowned Dreamer season is truly stirring some trouble if we’re about to witness our second power brawl in one week.

“Not if I blow you away first,” says the boy whose muscles are flexing out his gym wear.

Freckles opens his mouth and squints his eyes, but no fire appears. I wonder if Gym-Rat is maybe burning from the inside out, but he holds his fist up to the sky and spins it around as if expecting a tornado to swing through. The guy with the cooler holds his stomach, laughing, and I think the only thing funny here is his awful man bun. The young men continuing to battle with no powers isn’t hilarious, it’s confusing.

Emil cautiously approaches. “What’s happening?”

I shrug. “Maybe they’re filming some movie and adding effects later?” My favorite indie movies lately have celestial actors using their real powers, but Hollywood largely prefers special effects since it’s safer for sets.

“They don’t seem to care that we’re in their line of vision,” Prudencia says.

Freckles and Gym-Rat sweat as they gesture at each other some more. It’s one of the most bizarre things I’ve ever seen. Reminds me of when Emil and I used to wrestle each other with imaginary powers, but we were kids. These two are too old to be playing pretend. They sway back and forth and rapidly blink before steadying themselves.

“You’re okay!” Freckles fist-bumps Gym-Rat. “That felt so real!”

“I hurled you over the trees,” Gym-Rat says with a laugh.

As they walk away, Man-Bun shouts after them to tell their friends.

“What was that all about?” I ask.

The other guy stops filming and puts away his phone. “Business.”

“What business?” Emil asks.

He turns and does a double take at Emil, then stares in silence.

“It’s called Brew,” Man-Bun says. He reaches into his cooler and pulls out a vial containing a light gold liquid that looks like champagne. I’ve never heard of it. “We use illusionist blood to create hallucinatory potions so the drinker can experience what it’s like to have powers. Not cheap, but it feels extremely real. Helps people blow off steam.”

I’ve done some virtual reality where you can play as a celestial, but I never forget it’s a game. This sounds more convincing. “How much for that bottle?” I don’t have a lot of cash on me or a lot of money in general, but I have to get in on this.

“Three hundred.”

The soaring possibilities in my chest are crashing. I’m still at a loss after not selling my swag at the meet-up, and my videos aren’t getting enough traffic to make solid money off my ads. “I could do two hundred if you let me run to an ATM.”

“Are we doing discounts, James?” Man-Bun asks.