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“Good luck!” Leaf whispers from behind us.

The line goes fast. Artemis Black, then Cassiopeia Cantori right before Sabra Clyopsko. Leo Hevel crosses the stage to receive his second channeling sun stone, quiet and reserved since his twin’s death last year. Even his sunfyre seems to have changed, darker somehow. Multiple cadets, both women and men alike, fawn when it’s Prince Ladon of the River Tribe’s turn.

Then, it’s Ramona’s turn. She walks with a sudden, fierce grace, the “legacy” pressure she carries visible in the set of her shoulders.

“Ramona Mitchell,” the Elder Superior says. “May your light shine as bright as the sun.”

She takes the stone, her eyes flashing with a feral grin as she passes me on her way back.

And then, there is me.

The theater falls into a deeper silence, observing the first Starwatcher the Watch has seen in decades. As I step onto the stage, the light from the chandeliers fractures. Blue and gold gems refract across the hall in pinpoints of light. The audience gasps—a sound that used to happen to Marrow in front of particularly large crowds. I always thought that would happen for me eventually. But not like this.

I look out into the sea of faces, searching. And there they are.

In the middle row, Rosie is dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief. Bane has his arm crossed, a rare, gruff smile on his face, and Row is practically jumping out of his seat. My family. The people of Goldenpine who took me in when I had nothing. I pat the side of my pants where a small green patch of Teller cloak is hidden. Pressure builds behind my eyes.

I reach the podium. Markus looks down at me, full of the same judgment he had when I first arrived. He holds a stone with a set of metal prongs, as he does with all stones outside his assigned faction. It doesn’t glow with the warm gold of the sun or the cool silver of the moon. It’s a deep, translucent violet, filled with the swirling light of distant constellations.

He places it in my palm. The connection is instantaneous. A cold, sharp clarity washes over me, the power of the stars singing through my blood.

“Akemi Nox,” Markus says, his voice echoing with a weight he doesn’t use for the others. “May the wisdom of the stars illuminate the way.”

I bow my head, the weight of the stone—and the visions it will surely bring—settling into my soul as I walk back to my seat. Elder Markus drones on in the background while I’m somewhere far above, lost in this new feeling.

“Selene Sarin. May the moon guide your way, even on the darkest night.”

“Prince Leaf of the Elven Tribe. May your light shine as bright as the sun.”

“Gryphon Xanders. May the moon guide your way, even on the darkest night.”

All year, I had gotten used to channeling by myself, using my own innate powers to connect with the stars, but now with the star stone next to the sun stone on my wrist, I feel incredible. No.

Powerful.

The air in Olwythion is crisp, smelling of pine and woodsmoke as we push through the doors of Anita’s Tavern. It’s a complete shift from the ceremony: the floors are well worn, the hearth blazes, orb lights flicker above every table, and the atmosphere is thick with the celebration of newly graduated Watchers.

Though some corners of patrons are notably unhappy. Clusters of people are hunched together in heated discussions now that information about the moon has reached beyond the walls of the Watch. While regular non-magical civilians can’t feel the fading of the moon’s Source magic—they are experiencing the effects nonetheless. Water shortages from failing lunaflow cooling tanks and fewer imports from the Moon’cher-led hunting units with their weakening night vision. Seems as though the people in the village still believe it’s happening despite Elder Superior Markus saying it was a falsified report.

“To the stones!” Leaf bellows, hoisting a frothing mug of ale. “And to not being expelled!”

“Speak for yourself, Leaf,” Ramona snorts, sliding into our usual corner table. She looks more relaxed now that her second stone is tucked safely into the choker around her neck.

Esther sits beside me, eyes wide as she stares at her new sun stone.

I squeeze her hand under the table.

We settle into the planning. Our mission to the Cave of Silence is dangerous, and we need more than just our feet to get there.

“I’ll call Heru,” I say, my voice lowering as the tavern noise swells around us. “She’s already agreed to help. She’s wise, and she knows the mountainous terrain better than anyone.”

“And Taman,” Leaf adds, his tone unusually serious.

Ramona nods.

“Who’s Taman?” I look between them.

“My roc,” Leaf says as Ramona answers, “His roc,” at the same time.