“It’s almost time,” Kai said, pointing toward the west.
He was right. This was the perfect place to view Ascension.
The sun had disappeared beyond the ocean’s eastern horizon, but its fading embers – violet, red, orange – formed a lively backdrop against a cloudless sky.
To the west, the Kye-Do rings ascended forty degrees high. On their own, they inspired endless wonder. More than thirteen hundred rings carried quadrillions of tiny chunks of ice and rock borne from a cataclysm dating back to long before humans became thinking creatures. At night, their brilliance called to mind a celestial racetrack, casting a silver sheen greater than Hokkaido’s lone moon.
That moon – Huryo – was itself almost in position to complete the three-pronged reunion necessary for Ascension’s full effect. Tonight, its light was full, the tiny continents and vast oceans on its sunward side visible in great detail. Huryo crossed Hokkaido’s skies thirty percent faster than the rings. In minutes, it would align perfectly behind the center bands. Ryllen wondered whether Huryo’s million residents – protectors of the moon’s natural wonders – cared how much excitement their tiny world brought to Hokkaido.
Ryllen and Kai found a spot at roof’s edge, away from the other patriots of Green Sun. Kai draped an arm over Ryllen’s shoulder.
“We’re luckier than most,” Kai said. “The other colonies … do we even call ourselves colonies anymore? … they have nothing like this. I’ve heard Brahma’s rings are interesting, but they’re equatorial. Boring. Just always there.”
Kai handed Ryllen a pipe. After he took a long pull, Ryllen asked:
“Do you think there’s more to it than luck? Some people say it’s a message from the Divine.”
Kai’s tone darkened noticeably. “Not a chance. If it’s the Divine, they’re sending us the wrong message.”
“What do you mean?”
“Not now, RJ. Here it comes. Here it comes.”
Ascension’s first halo was not to be missed. Ryllen was told this from an early age, not long after he arrived on Hokkaido from parts unknown. Miss the first halo, they said, and your heart will not sing its highest note.
On cue, precisely seven hundred thirty-three days, twenty-seven hours, fourteen minutes, and nine seconds after its last dying miracle, Ascension lit up the Kye-Do rings and the moon Huryo in a concert of color. Waves of rose, orange, and violet swooshes consumed the rings, spreading out until painted from north to south. The dying rays of the sun narrowed into beams, as if millions of lasers rose from the east and draped the rings in natural graffiti.
Simultaneously, Huryo grew a massive halo, more than twice its visible size, as if it were projecting downward to Hokkaido. The halo appeared to drill a hole through the rings, as if the moon was clawing its way out.
Ryllen’s tears fell without hesitation. Though he was witnessing the miracle for a fourth time, each Ascension meant more than the previous. He couldn’t explain why, but his heart told him this was the truth of life. Many scientists wrote at great length to explain how this convergence of light and shadow was possible, but Ryllen never read their doctrine. If he knew the scientific secrets, he would only be disappointed. Kai was right: No planet in the former empire known as the Collectorate had anything like this.
They watched, like most others, in awed silence. All the cacophony Ryllen heard at the nearby port and in the narrow streets of Umkau disappeared. The city was quiet.
Only about ten minutes later, as the celestial convergence began to wane, did voices rise, laughter return, and cheers punctuate the night. The sounds grew into a roar as the sun’s final light fell away, the rings returned to their artful silver beauty, and the moon rose toward the highest bands, soon to overtake them and continue its lonely journey.
The party began. Clinking glasses, fish rolls, poltash for all, and trivial banter dominated the rooftop. Yet Ryllen and Kai stayed close.
After many introductions – Ryllen wasn’t about to remember all these names – he and Kai found a quiet spot.
“What you said earlier, Kai, about the Divine sending us the wrong message. What did you mean?”
Kai threw back a blue liquor and grinned.
“You’re in now. It’s good a time as any.” He pointed to the rings. “Beautiful, right?”
“You know they are.”
“My mother once told me, ‘Evil hides inside beauty.’” He leaned in close, his voice dampened to a whisper. “Most people here already know, but most Hokkis would close their ears before they’d listen to the truth.”
“What truth?”
“Those rings will be the death of us. You’ve heard about the growing issues with agriculture on the continent?”
“Sure. Everyone has. Poisoned soil, a drop in arable land. Why?”
“Nobody knows when it started, and it’s never been made public. But the rings are losing their orbital integrity. Most of the time, when chunks break off and fall into the atmosphere, they burn up. Not all. Just enough.”
“What’s falling through is poisoning the land?”
“Minus a science lecture … yes. Don’t ask me about the timetable. Some think it’s a temporary cycle. Others say the end is inevitable. Here’s the good news: The oceans aren’t impacted. At least, not yet. Saltwater dilutes the poison.”
“Kai, why am I just hearing about this? Shouldn’t everyone be warned? And how does Green Sun know so much?”
“Many people know. Most don’t talk, for their own good. It’s not like we can remove the rings. And where else do we have to go? Huryo? To live in the swamps? No, our best hope is Green Sun. We’re patriots and soldiers, and we’re going to protect our own.”
“Against what?”
“Not what. Who. Or maybe it’s whom. I forget. Listen, Kai, do you
