Sunblind Serpent: The Zodiac Without A House

More civilians had begun coming out of the shelter by then, filling the parking area and spilling into the damaged intersection. Nobody seemed willing to stray far, but nearly everyone was watching the sky. Some were recording the sky, while others kept trying to call relatives despite the weak signal that had plagued Linden since Day 367.

One of those phones suddenly connected.

The screen in the woman’s hand brightened, and before she could react, several other devices around the street came alive with it. Old vehicle radios picked up a clean tone instead of static. Condensation gathered across windows, railings, and car roofs, but rather than running downward, the droplets slipped sideways through the air until they formed thin suspended chains between separate pieces of metal. Blue-white sparks ran through the suspended droplets, jumping the gaps between each strand as several phones in the crowd recovered their signal.

Rhovan watched the suspended droplets carry the charge across the intersection. ”Aquarius.”

Marek glanced at the phone in a woman’s hand as the call finally began to connect. ”The road can reach that far?”

”It can reach what’s already here,” Rhovan said. ”If your towers are dead, it isn’t going to build you new ones.”

The final crest took on a pale, pearlescent glow, and a thin mist began gathering across the street. It did not behave like ordinary fog. Rather than hiding the buildings, it settled close to the ground and left everything above it clear, while the dry pavement beneath Marek’s feet developed a glassy sheen like shallow water.

Images moved across that surface.

A woman near the shelter stopped when the pavement in front of her showed a small kitchen instead of the ruined street. Someone else saw a bedroom, complete with an unmade bed and sunlight falling across the floor. Farther down the intersection, a man crouched beside the reflection of a person Marek could not see anywhere around them and reached toward the image before his hand met solid concrete.

Nobody seemed to be seeing the same thing. Some people backed away from what appeared beneath them, while others stood perfectly still, staring at scenes that clearly meant something to them. The mist carried a faint silver radiance through the crowd, soft enough that Marek could not tell whether the light came from the vapor itself or from the impossible reflections underneath it.

Rhovan watched a woman whisper a name to someone who was not there. ”Pisces.”

The mist gradually thinned, and the impossible scenes beneath it faded until broken pavement showed through again.

All twelve had answered, and the House roads remained overhead while the last traces of their introductions faded from Linden. Their crests continued moving through the distance as Marek looked higher.

The constellations appeared beyond them.

Thirteen Signs formed in the same impossible arrangement Earth had seen after Day 367, bright enough to remain visible through the deep dark. Marek recognized them now without needing anyone to name them: Capricorn, Aquarius, Pisces, Aries, Taurus, Gemini, Cancer, Leo, Virgo, Libra, Scorpius, Ophiuchus, and Sagittarius.

Thirteen Signs shone overhead. Beneath them, only twelve roads reached Earth.

Warmth gathered beneath Marek’s shirt where the Vacant Coil rested against his right shoulder and upper chest. The thirteen broken Scales responded faintly, including the ones already holding Cases, but nothing opened. No additional road appeared among the others.

Rhovan’s attention remained on Ophiuchus after Marek had already counted the twelve roads.

”Still no road,” he murmured.

Marek glanced at him. ”You expected one?”

Rhovan kept his eyes on Ophiuchus.

Something he had said at the sports complex returned to Marek.

”Can something still exist even after the relationship that once gave it a place is gone?”1

Static cracked through the shelter speakers and spilled into the street from the radios inside abandoned vehicles. Portable sets answered a moment later, followed by phones that had only just managed to reconnect, until the same signal seemed to occupy the entire intersection. Conversations gradually thinned as people realized every working receiver around them was carrying the same transmission, and by the time the interference cleared, even those still gathered near the shelter entrance had gone quiet.

Twelve voices came through together, distinct enough that Marek could separate the older speakers from the younger ones and hear the differences in their accents, yet none of them overlapped badly enough to become difficult to follow. What surprised him more was the language itself.

They were speaking Global Common, the Earth language most often used when people from different countries needed a shared means of communication, and although several of the voices carried pronunciations he had never heard before, every sentence was clear enough that Marek understood them without effort.

He glanced at Rhovan and found no confusion on his face. That was not unusual anymore. Rhovan had already learned enough of Global Common during his time studying Earth that Marek had stopped being surprised whenever he understood conversations that should have been unfamiliar to him, but hearing twelve representatives of the Houses use the same language was different.

”They learned it too,” Marek said.

Rhovan kept his attention on the nearest radio. ”Of course they did. They would not speak to an entire world in a language most of it cannot understand.”

Marek looked back toward the twelve roads above Linden. The choice of language told him almost as much as the announcement itself.

The Houses had not arrived first and worried about communication afterward. They had already studied enough of Earth to know which language could carry an international message across the largest number of governments, institutions, and civilians before the first formal transmission was ever sent.

The voices continued without interruption.

”To the governments, people, and newly Awakened Astrants of the world designated as Earth: remain with your local authorities where doing so is safe.”

Several people nearby glanced toward the shelter entrance as if trying to decide whether the instruction applied to those already gathered there, but the transmission moved on before anyone could ask.

”Do not approach an active House road without authorization, obstruct its operation, or accept transfer, oath, contract, citizenship, custodial designation, or House protection whose terms you do not understand.”

Marek looked at Rhovan. ”They’re warning people about contracts before anyone has even arrived.”

”Because once the Houses begin dealing directly with governments and Astrants, people will agree to things they do not understand.”

The certainty in his answer made Marek study him for a moment. ”You’ve seen that happen.”

”More than once.”

The twelve voices continued before the people around them could begin asking what a custodial designation even was.

”Possession of an Astral Mark does not constitute consent to House jurisdiction. Existing civil authorities remain recognized pending formal contact and lawful review.”

That part unsettled the crowd more than the earlier warnings had. Questions immediately rose from different parts of the intersection, some people repeating the statement to those farther back while others argued over what House jurisdiction was supposed to mean on Earth. Eren had gone unusually quiet when the transmission reached the parts about jurisdiction and lawful review. Marek noticed, though there was too much happening around them to ask why.

The announcement soon drew everyone’s attention back to the radios.

”Formal representatives of the Twelve recognized Zodiac Houses have been dispatched to your world. Authorized arrival sites are now being established.”

A woman near the shelter pressed both hands together and began praying under her breath. Kellan muttered something Marek failed to catch, while Nadia kept staring upward without the amusement that usually found its way onto her face.

Marek understood their reactions better than he wanted to. Knowing that the Prime Continuum existed was one thing. Watching twelve civilizations reach across whatever distance separated their worlds from Earth was another, and a brief chill passed through him despite everything he had already seen since Day 367.

’I knew it was bigger than Earth,’ he thought. ’I just didn’t think it would feel this big.’

Rhovan straightened as twelve points began brightening along the House roads.

None of them were close to Linden. Marek could not have explained how he knew that when the roads themselves ignored ordinary distance, but the points seemed to settle far beyond the city, scattered across different parts of Earth rather than gathering around a single destination.

As their brightness deepened, something in the connection between the roads and the world below seemed to become more definite, not a pressure exactly, but the sense that the far ends of those paths had finally found somewhere to attach.

Marek followed one of the crests passing overhead before looking back toward the distant points. ”Those are the representatives?”

Rhovan shook his head. ”No.”

Marek waited, and several seconds later the reason became visible. Shapes were forming inside the light, though they were too far away to resemble people. Their edges widened gradually until each bright point began taking the form of an opening where a House road met Earth.

Rhovan watched them settle into place. ”Those are the doors.”

Far beyond Linden City, the first one began to open.

*Chapter 64: The Ophiuchus Paradox