The Last Days of Lorien Read Free

in every color of the rainbow. “Such a naughty little Cêpan.”
    For the second time in just a few seconds, she’d caught me by surprise. “How do you know I’m a Cêpan?” I asked.
    Like the majority of public figures on Lorien—athletes, performers, soldiers—Devektra was a Garde. I was a Cêpan. An elect group of Cêpans were mentor Cêpans, educators of the Garde, but most of us were bureaucrats, teachers, businesspeople, shopkeepers, farmers. I wasn’t sure which kind I’d turn out to be after school was finished, but I didn’t think any of my choices seemed too great. Why couldn’t I have been born a Garde and get to do something actually fun with my time?
    Devektra smirked. “My third Legacy. The dull one I don’t like to mention. I can always tell the difference between Garde and Cêpan.”
    Like all Garde, Devektra had the power of telekinesis. She also had the ability to bend and manipulate light and sound waves, skills she used in her performances and which had made her the rising star she was. That was a pretty rare power already, but the third Legacy that she’d just mentioned, to be able to sense the difference between Garde and Cêpans, was one I’d never heard of at all.
    For some reason, I felt self-conscious. I don’t really know why—there’s nothing wrong with being a Cêpan, and although I’d often thought it seemed like a lot more fun to be a Garde, I’d never felt insecure about who I was before.
    For one thing, I’m not usually a very insecure person. For another thing, that’s just not how it works around here. Though Garde are revered as a collective—a “treasured gift” to our planet—there was a widespread conviction, shared by Garde and Cêpan alike, that the Garde’s amazing abilities belonged not to them alone, but to all of us.
    But standing there, faced with the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen, a girl who was about to go onstage and demonstrate her amazing talents for everyone at the Chimæra, I suddenly felt so ordinary. And she could see it. She was Devektra, the Devektra, and I was just some stupid, underage Cêpan with nothing going for him. I didn’t even know why she was bothering with me.
    I turned to go. This was pointless. But Devektra caught me by the elbow.
    “Oh, cheer up,” she said. “I don’t care if you’re a Cêpan. Anyway, I’m just kidding, thank the Elders. What a boring third Legacy that would be. My real third Legacy is much more exciting.”
    “What is it?” I asked suspiciously. I was starting to feel like Devektra was messing with my head.
    Her eyes glittered. “Isn’t it obvious? I make men fall in love with me.”
    This time, I knew she was pulling my leg. I blushed, suddenly realizing the truth. “You read minds,” I said.
    Devektra smiled, impressed, as she leaned back against Mirkl, who looked less than amused. “Mirkl,” she said. “I think he’s starting to get it.”
    A half hour later, I stood on the second-floor balcony overlooking the club, watching Devektra perform. She was better than I could have imagined. It took my breath away.
    She sang passionately, and melodically, but even though Devektra was known for her lyrics, I barely even heard the words she was singing. She was dancing, too, and dancing well, but that wasn’t the main attraction either. And even though she was pretty much the most amazing-looking girl I’d ever laid eyes on, that wasn’t it either.
    All that paled in comparison to what she was doing with her Legacies.
    She would wave her hands, modulating the texture of her voice, pitch-shifting it eerily. She could flick her wrist and boost her voice’s volume dramatically; she could even target and shape the volume such that listeners in the back of the club would get walloped with sound while the front of the crowd was merely tickled. With her other hand, she manipulated the club’s already sophisticated lighting system, bending its multicolored beams in skillful, dazzling counterpoint