Page 163 of From Beneath the Moon

Then ready yourselves, fledglings.

“This is going to hurt, isn’t it?” Esther asks. Her entire body trembles like sound waves.

“Do you want me to lie?”

“You are good at telling stories.”

“Well, this story starts with a jump.”

Esther groans. “I hate stories that start like this.”

I’ll try to drop you as close as I can. Heru crests the top of a plateau, wings beating up and down impressively. If she’s tired after flying all day then fighting, she doesn’t show it.

“Wrap your legs around me,” I plead. There is only a short moment of hesitation, then she does as I say, surrendering to trust me. We both ignore her wince as she hooks her feet behind my back. “Hold on!”

Heru’s massive claws open, and we drop to the ground. My knees buckle, and we tip to the side. Esther cries out, but I twist my body, shielding her from impact. We hit the ground with a soft thud. My shoulder strains at the odd position, and my staff is pinned behind my back, pushing into my spine.

“You okay?”

“Mmm,” Esther grunts.

I slowly roll her off of my body, setting her carefully on the ground. She curls up, hugging her ribs. My entire body aches like one of Rosie’s bruised apples at the bottom of the basket, but I push myself to stand regardless. I can rest after I get the star stone.

I will return to the battle. You have been very brave, friend of my rider, Heru says, already pulling up into the sky. I watch as her silhouette shrinks. I will return at your call, Starheart.

The wind carries her piercing cry as she turns back to the direction of camp. Above her, the stars fade into the sky, the darkness of night beginning to relent to the incoming day in shades of grey and navy. One glimmering star catches my attention.

I gasp and fall to my knees as my Starwatcher powers surge to the surface. The web of memories entangles me into a vision almost instantly.

The mountain wears the night like a burial shroud. Wind scrapes over broken stone, carrying the distant shrieks of Underlings somewhere below the ridges. Beyond the narrow crest, the mouth of the Cave of Silence has already sealed itself once more.

Bennidix stumbles through the darkness, his shoulder-length strawberry blond hair tangled with blood and ash. Every breath burns. His sword hangs loosely in one hand, its edge nicked. He calls Lark’s name again, louder this time, panic sharpening every syllable. No answer. Then he sees a shape crumpled against the stone.

“Lark!” He drops to his knees. His best friend is barely recognizable. His dark brown hair is plastered across his face, his clothes torn beyond repair. Crimson spreads steadily beneath him. His golden brown eyes flutter open only after Bennidix grips his shoulders.

“No… no, no.” Bennidix’s voice breaks. “Stay with me.” His trembling hands search for something—anything—to stop the bleeding. He tears strips from his own cloak and presses them against the worst wound. Blood soaks through immediately.

“It won’t stop,” Bennidix whispers.