"We know our home's first name. How could we not? 'Daughter of the Generations' is engraved on our hull in a dead language. We wake at First Bell each morn to the Voice saying her name in ancient Injlis and repeating it in our modern Irtunj. We used to have our own names for our home, most recently 'Dajtir uv-tu Jeniresuns.' But now she is the 'Daughter of the Generations' once more. How could she not be? Journey's End is but a year away, and so we strive to recall our origins. If we will not take the time to remember, who will?"

-- Erujuns Mitsul, Legacist, 4280 CE

*~*~*~*

Domi woke with a gasp to a foot in his kidneys.

"Wha--" Heart racing at the rude awakening, he blinked up at the strange dark sky above, where purple clouds blocked the sun, then sat up and rubbed his eyes. He glanced at the bedroll stretched in the snow next to his own and winced. "Dae..."

His twin slept on, oblivious but not peaceful. Face screwed into a rictus of fear, he breathed in harsh pants and thrashed under his clivia-weave blankets.

Domi bit his lip and glanced around the camp. The spore tower where the four clivias had slept the night before, draped between labyrinthine branches like living hammocks, now lay empty. Aix and Sidus snored on the other side of the smoldering fire and didn't stir. But they would soon if Domi didn't do something before the screaming started.

"Daedalus," he said, keeping his voice soft. Touching his twin during the combative part of these nightmares was always a risk, but he leaned in with care and shook his shoulder. "Daed--"

His brother shot upright. Wide blue-flecked eyes darted around the quiet campsite as he sat gasping.

"Daedalus," Domi said, breathing a sigh of relief. The last thing his twin needed was the humiliation of everyone hearing a shrieking fit as his dreams dragged him through his execution once more. "You're alright. You're safe. It's just a nightmare."

His brother's wild gaze found him, and then Daedalus stiffened and looked away, fists clenched in his lap.

Domi's worry shifted to irritation. "Really, Dae? Still giving me the silent treatment?"

His twin shoved the matte-gray blanket that She Loves the Sun had spun for him aside and jerked to his feet. His knees trembled, and the idiot could barely breathe, yet he stalked off toward the river.

Domi watched him go, gritting his teeth. Between the nightmares, the panic attacks, and the stress of the upcoming election that threatened to overturn everything they'd worked for, he wasn't surprised Dae was struggling. Still, did his brother have to be an arse about it just because Domi had told Aix, and Aix had decided it was best to go home?

"Give him time."

The quiet voice drew his gaze across the campfire coals to Sidus, who sat, touseled and drowsy. The seventeen-year-old offered a lopsided smile. "He always holds a grudge for a few days and then gets over it," he said in a low voice with a glance at the still-sleeping Aix.

Domi sighed. Sometimes he forgot that the starholder had known Daedalus far longer than Domi had known his twin. Would Sidus find it weird to be intimate with someone who looked exactly like his foster brother? Kissing was one thing, but there were some places the other boy's lips hadn't wandered yet. Too young, Sidus had said.

Domi wasn't too young anymore, though. Not today.

The direction of his thoughts left him blushing, a fact that his blue skin hid with ease... but not to another Blended's heat-vision.

Sidus's gentle smile sharpened, and his blue-flecked dark eyes gleamed. "What are you thinking about over there?" By his tone, Sidus knew exactly what kind of thoughts flitted through Domi's mind. Every one of them probably rippled over his skin like flames.

"Today's my nameday," he reminded the older boy, holding Sidus's gaze as his heart began to race. They'd expected to be back at the palace for their own little celebration, but then Daedalus had insisted on spending a few more days in Sal Fatilegus. But it was still Domi's nameday. "I'm sixteen now."

Sidus's gaze burned. "I know you are." His voice dropped to a low caress as Aix turned over in his sleep. "Someone wants the present I promised, I see."

Domi swallowed, his mouth drying. "Yes."

Nodding, Sidus leaned sideways and reached for his travel bag. His eyes never left the younger boy's as he rummaged through his belongings.

Something sailed over the campfire, gleaming amber in the stormy crimson light. Domi caught it and glanced down at his hands. He wet his lips as he peered down at the corked glass bottle. "Oh," he said in a small voice. "Is this...?"

Sidus winked and rose from his bedroll, the pale gold tunica he'd slept in falling to his feet. "Sure is. Smell it."

Domi rose too, his limbs shaky, and uncorked the bottle. The oil's scent, of honeyed figs and clove, wafted up.

"Like the smell? It's based on dulciola cakes." Sidus smirked. "I know I'll like the taste."

Domi just stared at him for a long moment. Eyes devour, how was he supposed to wait almost four days to get back to the palace?

Sidus seemed to follow the direction of his thoughts. Domi wasn't using heat-speech, but infrared vision could sometimes pick up more than just emotions. Or maybe everything was written in his expression. "We could try it now if you want."

"N-now?" Domi said, eyes darting to Aix as he flushed from head to toe.

Chuckling, Sidus shook his head. "Not here." He stepped into his boots and then extended a hand to Domi. "I know a place."

Domi couldn't get free of the bedroll fast enough. Stumbling in his haste, he hurried to Sidus's side, smiling as warm fingers closed around his own.

The other boy tugged on his hand lightly. "Let's go."

Sidus led him up away from the river to a hilly field where white blossoms shimmered in the snow. The medicine flowers' lemony scent rose around them as they lay down.

"Are you alright?" Sidus asked, cupping his cheek with one hand and patting the snowy flowers as Domi nodded. "Not too cold?"

"I'm fine," Domi said. If anything, the chill at his back offered an interesting counterpoint to Sidus's warmth beside him. And soon atop him, as the older boy straddled his hips and bent to kiss him. Then beneath him, waving the bottle of oil with a teasing grin before ducking under Domi's tunica with a chuckle.

A cork popped. Domi settled back against the flowers, breathing hard and blinking up at the stormy sky.

"Have you and Radix tried this yet?" Sidus asked.

"N-no. They're fifteen." He'd kissed them, though. They were sweet where Sidus was intense. And not ready for more. He brushed his knee against the starholder's shoulder. They were really going to do this. Maybe not all the way yet, but he could feel hot breath against his leg, and soon--

Fire ignited along the edge of the cloud above him and gleamed molten red-gold. And a star emerged.

"Sidus?" Domi said, eyes widening as the huge star continued to drift past the thunderhead. Beside it, the cloud boiled, pieces of it falling away. "Sidus!"

Heat puffed against his calf as the older boy chuckled. "I haven't even touched you yet, and you're already calling my--"

Domi squirmed away from him, nudging Sidus back with one foot. "Sidus, look!"

The other boy straightened, patting Domi's knee. His blue-touched eyes were gentle now. "Are you alright?"

Domi pointed at the sky, heart pounding for an entirely new reason now as the star continued to grow and the cloud fell apart, chunks drifting toward the land like giant snowflakes. "What is that?"

Sidus followed Domi's gaze and froze, his jaw dropping.

An overgrown snowflake drifted over the field and resolved into a white clivia. She Loves the Snow landed beside them, pearlescent filaments trembling around her. Go back to the camp. Quickly now.

The boys stumbled to their feet, and Domi hissed as a warm wave of fear sizzled across his back.

Brother!

He opened his hands to catch Ficus as the small pale-blue clivia fled to him. A moment later, Lilio dropped atop his dam, who tangled her filaments protectively around him.

Domi peered down at the shuddering pup in his hands. "What happened? What is that thing?" He and Sidus started walking as She Loves the Sun half nudged, half shoved them back toward camp.

Our Mother pulled us into the sky. Ficus's filaments writhed against his fingers, almost wiry. Domi cupped him, trying to enclose his brother as securely as the pups' dam held Lilio. I thought we were going to die in a flare.

Domi glanced at She Loves the Snow. "I don't understand."

The planet sometimes calls the First People into the atmosphere when there will be a solar flare, the clivia woman said. Her filaments stiffened. The spores we produce help shield our world. Adults can withstand the radiation, but pups rarely survive. Bridger normally doesn't summon them. She must have panicked.

Domi's heart sank, and he stroked Ficus's filaments soothingly. "Is that thing a flare? Are Ficus and Lilio alright?"

They're alright. She Loves the Sun pointed a filament at the star. That light isn't a flare. The planet released us.

"Then what is that thing?" Sidus asked, stumbling as he gawked up at the enormous star shining in the sky.

The clivia woman radiated waves of fuchsia shock and russet fear. I have no idea.