On the eve of the first night, take note of the tail’s tip. The brightest star closest to the tip should be most respected. If the star pulses and shines briefly with color, you’ve been given a gift. Follow that star. It will be your guiding light as you search for the Stone.
I closed the book and glanced at the Wishing Stone’s remaining hazy tail, then at my map. The stars around the Stone’s tail were on the map, and I studied each one, taking note of where the tail was in relation to them.
Eyes narrowing, I focused on the tail’s tip more. My eyes popped. One star, just as the book claimed, was directly around the tip.
I quickly searched for that star on my map.
My jaw dropped.
It wasn’t there.
“But how can that be...” I glanced at the star again, wondering if I was seeing things. Perhaps desperation was making me hallucinate. Maybe what I was witnessing wasn’t even there. Maybe my sensory magic was going haywire.
I squeezed my eyes shut and counted to ten, but when I opened them, the star remained.
My breathing increased, and I again recalled what the chapter had taught me. The legend stated those who sought the Stone for unselfish purposes were more likely to find it.
I focused on the star anew, my stomach twisting into knots.
I was just about to blink when the star twinkled, then turned bright pink. It shone as richly as decadent candy.
Spine snapping upright, I stared at that star, and my breaths became so fast I got lightheaded. Eyes watering, I blinked, and when I focused on that star again, the color was gone.
I willed the pink hue to return. My sensory magic strained, and my pulse leaped, but I didn’t dare shut my eyes again.
“Come on, come on,” I whispered. “Show me again. Show me that I didn’t just imagine you.”
But the star kept twinkling, no different than any of the other millions of stars in our galaxy. But it was still a star that didn’t fall onanyconstellation map.
It was only when my eyes began to burn that I finally allowed them to close and my sensory magic to calm. I huffed a breath.
“Did I really see it?” Despite my worry, a grin spreadacross my face. “Yes, I did. It turned pink. Iknowit did. I wasn’t hallucinating. And it’s not on the map. Therefore, it must be a sign from the gods and goddesses. They’ve deemed me worthy of finding the Stone.”
I gave a silent prayer of thanks to them, curled my map once more, then withdrew the seekerill from my pocket.
I set the device on my carpet and aligned it perfectly with the magical star that had flared pink. It was imperative I got this part right, so I checked its direction, then checked it again.
When I was certain the seekerill was aligned correctly, I pressed the button on its side. The device chimed, then hummed and vibrated slightly. Only a moment passed, and then a clap of magic emitted from it as the device registered the direction the elusive star pointed at.
“Don’t fail me now. I’m counting on you to lead me straight to the Stone,” I whispered to the device.
Turning it every which way, I checked its magic. But no matter which direction I positioned my body, the seekerill’s needle spun to track the star’s direction.
Heart pounding at how lucky I felt to have seen that star and have a unique device like the seekerill, I tucked it carefully back into my pocket. But despite the fortuitous turn of events, I couldn’t stop the slight ache that filled my chest. The seekerill was just one of many inventions my uncle had created over the seasons for the king and queen.
“Thank you, Timith,” I whispered. “Just stay alive. I’ll find the Stone, and then I’ll save you.” Tears moistened my eyes,but I quickly brushed them away. “Now, time to sleep, and then I’ll set out early in the morning.”
I was about to descend back to camp, but a screech rose from the Wood. A horribly ugly sound that twisted my insides.
I paused and looked around.
The night breeze brushed my cheeks, and the top of the Wood’s canopy stretched for hundreds of miles. I activated my sight sensory magic again and scanned the area, but the only thing unusual was smoke from a few small fires curling above the trees’ canopy. Those fires were likely from other fae hunting the Stone, who were also camping in the Wood. Other than that, nothing seemed amiss.
“How odd.” Brushing off that chilling sound, I was about to descend, but the noise came again.
Screeching. No . . .
Screaming.
