Leo Moon's Arc

Chapter 5 of 5

Leo spends the day preparing. He clears space in the lot where the crystallized formation still glows, now drawing visitors even without his presence. He marks out boundaries with stones and sets up makeshift seating from workshop scraps. People stop to watch him work, but no one interrupts. By evening, he's sweating and his hands ache, but the space looks real. Like somewhere people might actually gather on purpose. But when he turns to head back inside, Cancer Mercury is standing at the edge of the lot with a ship. Not a normal ship—this one sits on the ground like it beached itself on dry land, painted deep blue and black with sails that shift between pink and purple in the fading light. The hull is cracked and patched in places, listing slightly to one side. Mercury waves, then gestures to the cargo scattered across the deck. Skulls converted into display cases. Preserved creatures in glass. Strange instruments Leo doesn't recognize. "Salvage," Mercury says. "From the wreck. Couldn't deliver it, so I'm offering it to you." She pulls a small weathered stone from her pocket, carved with a sun crossed out and a moon circled. "For your space. Fill it with things that mean something. Give people more to see than just you." Leo stares at the stone, then at the ship full of curiosities. His first instinct is relief—a way to deflect attention, to make tomorrow night about objects instead of himself. But the weight of the stone in Mercury's hand reminds him of the Fool cards, the fragments, the crowd that came to hear his voice, not admire props. He thinks about the young person who asked if he was performing again. They didn't ask what he'd be showing. They wanted him. "I can't," Leo says, and Mercury's face falls. "Not yet. Tomorrow night needs to be me, or I'll just be hiding again." He takes the stone anyway, closes Mercury's fingers back around it. "But after—if people actually show up, if this works—then yes. I want your salvage. I want to fill the space with work that isn't mine. Just not first." Mercury nods slowly, pockets the stone, then smiles. "I'll keep it all safe until you're ready." She climbs back onto the ship, settles among her cargo like she's been living there. Leo watches the vessel glow faintly in the dark, a promise of what could come next. For the first time, he's chosen himself without closing the door on community. Tomorrow he performs alone. But the ship will still be there when he's done, waiting to fill his theatre with voices that aren't his own.