Chapter Text
“What is that one’s name?” Lance asked, pointing to one of the brightest stars in the sky through the starglass. He laid on his mother’s chest, her arms wrapped around him, breathing in the last remnants of today’s perfume—sweet and earthy with a bite that fit her well—while he still could. It had been a while since she had the time for them to just sit still like this, and the time now was born only from grief. Lance knew that once his mother had recovered and moved on, these moments would come to an end, so he’d enjoy it while it lasted.
It had been a month since Lance’s father died.
“Ivani.”
Lance smiled, mouthing the name to himself. Ivani, Ivani. It was so soft for a ruler of The Bonedepths. “That’s the one you’re named after.”
“Well… it’s more like I’m named after a kind of kelp called Ivani, and so is the star.”
“Kelp?!” Lance asked incredulously, whipping his head up at an awkward angle to look at her. “You are no kelp .” He had never heard something so ridiculous, and Lance liked to consider himself quite silly. “I think being named after the star fits you far more.”
“You think so?”
Lance made a face. “Uh, yeah. My mamá is way more powerful than that.” Even now, when she sounded so weak and vulnerable in the quiet of the kingdom’s slumber, Lance thought this to be true.
His mother laughed at that. It didn’t have much momentum. It felt like a dismissive pat on the head, like Lance was being the silly one again. “I try to be,” she said.
“And that one all the way on the edge?”
“Bullgarr.” It rolled off her tongue in a way that sounded like a growl. “That’s the lure of the anglerfish constellation.”
“What’s the anglerfish doing?” He asked, hoping it was about to be eaten by the nearby goblin shark constellation.
“Just… swimming in the stars.”
Lance twisted his face imagining it swimming above him. “Ew, anglerfish creep me out.”
This time, his mother laughed properly, pulling him close. “Now don’t let Lord Wervite hear that…” she whispered in his ear, low and secretive, “or he might just eat you up!!” she said, and Lance tried to push her away, but it was too late; her polished fingers were wiggling at his sides, and a squeal much too loud for this time of Slumber was pulled from Lance’s lips.
She made a gobbling sound at his cheek, and Lance thrashed his tail against hers, giggling and trying to get back at her. His mother wasn’t ticklish though, nor would she pretend to be, so it was in vain.
He finally pushed her away, giggles still bubbling out of him. “Mamá!”
“I only tease you,” she said, pulling him back into her side with a smile. “You’re much too large of a snack for him now.”
Lance preened at that, flexing his tail, which had grown three whole inches since the start of the year.
“Anyway, it’s a stupid constellation,” Lance said, nuzzling back into place with an eye still on their tails—his blue like a moon jellyfish and hers like a pearl underwater. His mother’s was still so much larger than his. “Not enough drama. No story. No pizzazz .”
His mother chuckled. “‘ Pizzazz ’ is in your criteria for judging constellations?”
“Of course, it’s the most important thing! You can’t have a boring constellation. Who wants that?”
“Of course, I forgot. Please forgive me.”
“I suppose, mother,” Lance said, in his snooty prince voice, but a smile was tugging at his lips.
“What about that one?” Lance asked, determined to maintain this bubble of warmth before it was popped like everything else. He wasn’t looking where he pointed; he was looking at his mother’s stony face, at the crevices that have gotten deeper in the span of a few weeks, at the white framing her sharp edges like slithering eels. A sea star, made from starlight that had fallen into the ocean centuries ago, hung above them, casting her in silver and shadow. He thought she was probably the most beautiful person in the depths. Every inch of her was a memory lived and a battleground fought; she carried herself like the queen of sharks, like the most graceful of deadly giant squids.
The star he was apparently pointing to through the starglass was fainter than the others.
“I’m not quite sure,” his mother said.
His father would’ve known. He knew every visible star by name, would list dozens under his breath in a prayer each morning and thank them for lighting up the depths with their fallen starlight each night. He would tell himself jokes and stories out loud, but with his eyes to the sky like they were his audience. He told them to rest, to sleep. When Lance asked, he would make up stories on the spot about the boring ones, sometimes multiple stories from different “ancient texts” that never actually existed. And every night, when he had finished his stories, he would kiss Lance’s head and tell him this:
‘And one day, my little star, you will have the greatest story of them all.’
His mother was trying to fill up the hole he left, to be playful, to be sweet, to be creative. But his mother was not his father, and she never would be. She was far too busy with their people to spend time gazing at the sky above or dreaming up plots. Lance’s father was his, but his mother was everyone's.
It was silent for a while.
Lance knew his mother was thinking of him too.
“What about that one?” Lance asked, desperate for this moment to not be ruined.
His mother did not respond. She had stopped rubbing Lance’s shoulder.
“Mamá?”
“Hmm?” She asked from somewhere far from there.
“That one,” Lance said, pointing again. “Which one is that?”
“Oh, yes. Uh, Filiri. A lot of people wish on it,” his mother said, rubbing his back once more. She pointed with her other hand. “You see that string of stars behind it?”
“Mmhmm.”
“They’re in a race.”
“Filiri’s in the lead!” Lance said, rooting for it only because he knew its name, and it was fun to say. It reminded him of his father’s name. Lirio. Iri, iri, pronounced like eerie . It was the same sweet sound.
“But the stars move in the other direction, which means Filiri is last…” She said, tracing her finger on the glass down to the other end of the line “...and Tepitan is first.”
Lance frowned.
His mother noticed this, quickly adding: “Um, well, story is that…” She paused, not a quick thinker. Her fingers tapped a rhythm against his spine. “After being tired of Filiri winning… Tepitan lied to Filiri and told them that they were racing to the Moon Jelly when they’re actually racing to… the Vampire Squid.” She nodded, seemingly satisfied. “Now Filiri is trying to catch up, but each season, he never does, always the same distance behind Tepitan.”
“Now that’s drama.” Lance hummed in approval at this, biting down the disappointment at Filiri’s loss. He squinted at one of the ones that appeared to be a part of the race, wanting to add to her clearly made up story.
“That one close up to the front doesn’t look like it belongs there.” The way it flickered was different, or maybe its color. Lance couldn’t have been certain. It was the kind of odd sight that his father would make a plot out of, so Lance tried to do the same, though he couldn’t come up with anything as interesting. “Maybe… it is Filiri’s witch friend, and it’s cheating with a spell to try to take the evil Tepitan down and get revenge!”
His mother smiled. “Oh, yes, that’s a very special one.”
Lance smiled at that, face warm. He felt like a special one, like he had discovered something secret and clever. He had made his mother smile, and everything would be alright once again. For inside of him, was a little bit of his father.
Maybe that little bit would be enough for them. For her.
“Am I right?” Lance asked.
“No,” his mother said. “No, that one is all alone. It’s not a part of the race, it has no constellation that it’s a part of.” She brushed some of his hair out of his face; an underwater current had stirred it. “For that, that is the Forever Star.”
“Forever Star?” Lance asked, curious.
“Forever Star. Unlike the other stars, it never leaves with the seasons. It’s always there, in the exact same place, watching over Lunae.”
“Forever…” Lance whispered, in awe. He was only six. Forever was some large, beautiful, inconceivable thing. It was powerful. It was something that he had recently learned wasn’t guaranteed.
Except now, somewhere, maybe it could be.
“It is always guiding us in the right direction, marking the direction of the shallows.”
“East.”
“East.”
Lance felt certain that that was the direction of the future.
“It must have granted so many wishes in its life.”
“Or maybe it grants none,” his mother said. “And that’s why it doesn’t leave when its brothers and sisters get tired of our constant demands.”
Lance frowned. No, the Forever Star was kind and generous, he was certain of it. “One day, when I wish on a star, that’s the one I’ll pray to.”
“Prepare to be disappointed then, my cuddlefish,” his mother said. Lance was used to his mother’s bluntness by now. “I tried communicating with it once, too. Many people have.”
“Maybe it’s shy.” Maybe it was lonely, without a constellation. “Like Pidge was, when I first met them.”
His mother took a sharp breath in, her voice becoming stern. “The shallows are a dangerous place, love. You don’t partake in the race, you do not want to mess with any stars that mark the land. Those who chase the Forever Star never come back. When you see it, you turn your tail , you hear me?”
Lance nodded, but he couldn’t turn his wide eyes away from the direction of the star, even when his mother began to go through the remaining constellations, ones his father had already taught him, even when his mother slipped the starglass back into her satchel with a sigh an hour or two later.
In a world where everything changes, where nothing is certain or guaranteed, there was a light in the sky that did not set over the horizon. He wanted to curl up in that safety, that certainty.
It didn’t matter if it was a ball of gas lightyears away, if it wasn’t visible in the deep sea without a magical glass, if it could burn away his whole being, Lance knew there was nothing that he wanted more than that light.
That night was the first night that Lance Rivera fell in love with the Forever Star. It would not be the last.