Ch. 1.25: Unstable Element

 Where is he? Last he remembered, he was--wait, where had he been? The memory is slipping away. He tries to seize it, but it wiggles away, evading his grasp. All he knows is what’s in front of him.
 
He shivers—he’s cold, frozen straight through to his bones. His marrow has turned to ice. The room is too bright, the florescent lights intensified by the white walls and the metal chambers that are surrounding him. He rubs his face as he steps forward, frosty air billowing around him. He’s not quite sure where he’s going, but he feels like he must walk. The shadowy figure of a man stands in front of him, hazy, impossible to distinguish. The man speaks.

“Mercury,” he says, but everything after that is incomprehensible.

Ch. 1.24: Your Leash is Too Long

So far in his short life, Zenith has failed at pretty much everything he’s tried. He wasn’t very good at ballet—inevitably quitting despite Nova’s protests—and he is always chosen last for any team in P.E. class. He’s failing math, despite Solaris providing weekly tutoring sessions, and Polaris has given up teaching him to drive after weeks of nightly lessons.

But Zenith is really, really talented when it comes to music He excels at every instrument, though he prefers guitar. It gives him a certain ethos among his peers. He may be the dolt who gets F’s on almost every exam, but he's can play more than just "Smoke on the Water."

Ch. 1.23: Happily Ever After

Hooves pound against the ground, reverberating through the valley. Despite the sunny day—beautifully punctuated by a light breeze—there are no birds singing, no animals frolicking. All is silent, save the wind and the beating of the hooves.

A striking young knight rides the white steed, his dark locks falling across his face. His armor is in desperate need of a good shine, and his horse is near exhaustion, but he is determined.

Ch. 1.22: Smile

“We meet again,” Nova drawls, “Knew this day would come sooner or later. Ya done wrong, and as sheriff 'round these parts, I’m gonna be remedyin’ that.”

Silence.

“Don’t try to plead for your life, pilgrim! It ain’t gonna help ya now.”

Nothing.

“Don’t care ‘bout your wife ‘n kids! You’ll pay for you done to me and the other nice folks of this county!”

Ch. 1.21: Aftershocks

 “Oh thank the maker you’re here, Polly. I’m about ready to light myself on fire,” Lyra looks suitably suicidal, “If I have to listen to another goddamn whiny hipster song I am going to lose my fucking shit.”

The coffeehouse is somewhat hipster-esque—gigantic posters are plastered on the walls, beat poetry books line the community library shelves (“Take a book, leave a book!” a nearby sign declares), and the barista is sporting some pretty rancid dreads. Pretty typical coffeehouse stuff, really.