He stared, his thought swirls shaken with those words.
"To create," he whispered.
Now her voice lifted, firm with conviction. "I see it all now, Devil Star. You wish to die, and in dying to create. All energy creatures, even green lights after their fourth giving-of-birth, must do that, or they will be very unhappy. It is very clear. But also you want to find that impossible band of decision you talk about."
His thoughts were tortured. Yet he knew that from her deeply buried instincts, the true answer to his longing had come.
"Then I must create," he said hollowly. "And you must take me there—to the forty-eighth band!"
"No." The word shattered against him. "For when we got there, it might be the same as with—Dark Fire."
There was a humming within him, a growing madness. "We must go!" he said violently.
Sparkles of flame shot from the core of her.
"No," she repeated stubbornly. "I do not want to, and there is nothing to do about it. Somehow you must have changed, Devil Star."
She laughed suddenly, peering at him.