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The Slumber Party Summoning

Ariel Lawrence

Okay, I’ll admit slamming the door in their faces was a bit of an overreaction.

“Lulu.” I make the words come out calm and easy, but I can feel my palms go sweaty in the oven mitts I’m still wearing. Can’t forget about dinner. I keep my white-knuckle grip on the front door handle. Lulu stops her absent-minded twirl in the hallway, coming up to stand next to me. I take one more breath in and out before turning towards her. “Do you know why Ahri’s teammates are standing on the porch?”

“Yep,” she says, nodding her head. She draws herself up a little taller, “You said, ‘This is a man-da-tory Star Guardian council meeting.’”

Just my luck. I instinctively release the door handle, as I hear Lulu do an extra bubbly—but very stern—Lux impression enunciating each of those syllables.

I definitely said that.

To Jinx.

Who still isn’t here yet.

Lulu makes for the handle, the smile on her face positively beaming. “They’re Star Guardians, right?”

I nod dumbly.

“Super,” she says as she opens the door wide.

The three of them are still standing on the porch where I left them, although in decidedly different positions. Ez looks like he was mid-sentence trying to calm down a much more annoyed Sarah Fortune.

No, not ‘Sarah’, I remind myself. Sarah’s for friends. I learned that all too well from last summer’s outdoor adventure.

Miss Fortune’s usual smirk is now an angry grimace as she furiously texts something on her phone. Behind her, the quiet girl with mint green hair—Soraka—is carrying a bakery box from Pantheon’s Pastries. They look at me intently, probably wondering if I’m going to slam the door again. I can actually hear crickets in the bushes.

Lulu reaches out into the uncomfortable silence and takes Ezreal and Fortune by the wrists, pulling them inside. Fortune’s so surprised, she goes along with it, nearly dropping her phone. I can feel the pink climb up my cheeks as Ezreal flashes his trademark grin in my direction as he passes by. I wave meekly with one oven mitt.

Soraka leans in close and whispers “Cinnamon rolls” in my ear, like a spy password. She smiles, hands the heavy bakery box to me, and walks quickly to catch up with the others.

“Welcome,” I hear Lulu announce from the living room, “to our Star Guardian sleepover party!”




This is awkward.

I can hear the second hand of the clock in the kitchen tick off another minute that we’ve been uncomfortably quiet. Ezreal is wedged on the small couch between Fortune—still texting on her phone—and Soraka, who’s quietly watching Lulu while nibbling on a cinnamon roll. Janna and Poppy are sitting on the stiff dining chairs Lulu dragged in from the other room. Lulu is bent over the coffee table, folding a piece of paper into some complicated shape. I have no idea what she’s making, but her soft humming is the only other sound besides the clock.

And me, well, I’m pacing a well-worn path in the carpet.

The first to break the silence is Fortune. She stops texting, lets out a disgusted sigh, and finally puts her phone face down on her lap, the small pistol charms on the end jingling loudly. She looks around, taking in everything in the room from the faded pattern on the curtains to the beige-colored couch for the first time. Her disappointment is evident. As she sinks back into the cushion behind her, Ez leans forward.

“You all do this regularly?” he says. “Get together like this?”

Poppy and Janna stare at him. Poppy still doesn’t understand why Ez was chosen as a Guardian. I keep telling her the First Star chooses each of us for a reason. She crosses her arms and watches him, clearly still not convinced.

“Yes, doesn’t your team?” Janna asks. She’s calm, at least on the outside, but there’s a slight breeze circling the room even though the ceiling fan isn’t on. I can tell she’s just as on edge about them being here as I am.

“Ahri…” Ez starts and then looks at Fortune. Fortune rolls her eyes, her perfectly feathered bangs rippling as she shakes her head. “Well,” Ez continues. “Ahri prefers to be out and about where there are people. She’s not much of a homebody herself, and she figures most trouble wouldn’t be either.”

Great. They think we’re homebodies. Could this get any worse?

“Is that why she and Syndra didn’t come? They have something better to do?” Poppy asks, her foot tapping out an impatient rhythm against the foot of her chair. Janna stiffens at the mention of Syndra.

Soraka jumps in and tries to change the subject. “Your friend, the one with the long red pigtails—”

“The loud one,” Fortune interrupts. “The one with a rocket launcher.”

“Yes, the one with the glitter bombs,” Soraka finishes. “Is she coming tonight?”

“Jinx? She’s always fashionably late.” I look at my watch. ”She just loves to make an entrance.” The words are barely out of my mouth when the front door opens and slams loudly. I hear the familiar sound of a tote bag full of Shiro, Kuro, and a handful of fireworks hitting the ground in the hallway.

“Luxy-Poo! Windchimes! Shortstop!” Jinx calls out in a sing-song voice. “I’m home!”

Jinx saunters into the living room just as Lulu triumphantly finishes the last fold in her project. Jinx lowers her sunglasses to the end of her nose. It’s dark outside. It has been dark outside for more than an hour. “Looks like you got the party started without me.” Jinx smiles, obviously enjoying all eyes on her, until her gaze finds Ez stuffed in the middle of the couch.

“Oh, he’s here too,” she says, the enthusiasm sucked out of her like a fast-leaking balloon. She tugs on the bow in Lulu’s hair and focuses on what looks like an oversized paper pincher in the young Guardian’s hands. “Whatcha got there, Loops?”

Lulu takes her hands out of the folds of paper and hugs Jinx around the waist. “I need another number.”

I stop my pacing to take a better look at the star-shaped object Lulu’s made. It’s a paper fortune teller. I haven’t seen one since primary school. The numbers on the flap show how many times the fortune teller should open and close it, with the last number chosen revealing some kind of mysterious destiny. My fortunes always ended in doom. Maybe because I always played with Jinx.

“Four,” I say. Maybe Lulu’s paper project can be over quickly.

“Twelve,” Jinx says.

“Two hundred forty-six,” Fortune says. Her satisfied smirk is back.

“Two hundred and forty-six it is.” Lulu smiles at Fortune and grabs a pen off the coffee table, scribbling the number onto one of the flaps. Lulu sits down at Soraka’s feet, offering up the paper oracle, encouraging her to pick a number to start the game.

“Do you braid each other’s hair too?” Fortune asks watching Lulu and Soraka, her words dripping with sarcasm.

“No—” I begin.

“Sometimes,” Poppy says at the same time, rushing to defend the unaware Lulu. Janna nods enthusiastically.

Ugh. Can neither of them play it cool?

“What I mean is, no, not all the time. We don’t braid each other’s hair all the time,” I stammer. “I mean, we discuss team stuff. Important Star Guardian matters.” I cough. “You know, saving the universe.”

“And braid each other’s hair,” Poppy adds truthfully.

Fortune rolls her eyes and goes back to her phone.

“How about we skip the usual slumber party stuff and talk serious Star Guardian matters?” I offer.

“Bor-ing,” Jinx says. She eyes Lulu as she slowly opens and closes the paper fortune teller for Soraka. “How about we play a faster game with more consequences?” I hear the trigger click of Shiro and Kuro waking up.

Ezreal claps his hands and rubs them together excitedly. “Sounds dangerous, I’m in.”

“Great. Let’s start.” Jinx smiles, but then quickly turns on Ez. “Truth. Or. Dare. Is it true that you have romantic intentions towards our Luxanna?”

“Jinx!” I shout.

Ez opens his mouth like a beached fish, definitely not having prepared for this particular game.

“Truth,” Janna says loudly, diffusing the rising energy in the room as if blowing out a candle. All heads snap towards her.

“Ez has to answer,” Jinx says watching the color rise in Ez’s face.

“First person to volunteer goes first,” Poppy says. “That’s the rule.”

“Fine,” Jinx says, obviously dissatisfied. “Is it true that you are older than Poppy’s hammer?”

I watch Janna’s look from Jinx to Poppy. Jinx is thrilled to see Janna momentarily flustered, while Poppy absently touches the handle of the hammer where she’s set it against her chair. Janna’s gaze settles on Soraka for a moment and then moves on. “False.”

Poppy eyes her hammer with a newfound awe and respect.

“Really?” Jinx raises an eyebrow. “But, it’s true that Short Stack’s hammer has more personality, right?”

“You can’t ask her another question, Jinx.” Poppy points out. “It’s Janna’s turn to ask a question. That’s the rule. Janna, go on, who are you going to pick?”

“Soraka,” Janna says gently. “Truth or Dare?”

Soraka is halfway through a cinnamon roll, staring attentively at Lulu opening and closing the paper fortune teller while counting under her breath. Shisa sits on Soraka’s shoulder monitoring the whole operation with a focused frown, at once completely confused at what Lulu is doing, but intent on making sure it happens with the utmost efficiency. Without missing a number—and to Shisa’s satisfied approval—Lulu nudges her elbow into Soraka’s knee, letting her know she’s been tapped into the group game.

“Yes,” Soraka smiles, a bit absent-minded. “That’s me.”

“Truth or dare?” Poppy repeats, taking her self-appointed position of game referee very seriously.

“Uh, truth,” Soraka says.

Janna thinks for a minute. “What do you remember—”

“Well,” Soraka jumps in, excited to be included in the game. “Ezreal and I went to Pantheon’s earlier. I had a cinnamon roll. He had an iced coffee, no milk because his tummy doesn’t like dairy—”

Poppy clucks her tongue. “Janna, it has to be an ‘Is it true’ question.”

Soraka sits up straight on the couch, tucking her legs beneath her, and waits. Zephyr floats in from the dining room and curls up in Janna’s lap. Janna rests a hand on her companion, a slight breeze rustling its fur.

“Soraka.” Janna’s voice is low and calm, barely above a whisper. “Is it true you can remember a time when the First Light was whole?”

“Oh, yes.” Soraka nods with her whole body. “I mean, true.”

The room goes eerily silent. She looks around. All of us are staring at her. Jinx can’t remember what she had for lunch today. Even Poppy and Lulu can only say what it was like when they were called. I’ve asked Janna about the First Light and especially its guidance, but the memories, even for her, are murky and broken.

“Wait, you all can’t remember?” Soraka’s voice wavers a bit. “But—”

“You have to pick one person to ask a question, Soraka,” Poppy says cutting her off with the rules of the game. “And they have to pick truth, and—”

“We get it, Smalls,” Jinx jumps in, changing the subject before Janna or I can ask more questions about Soraka’s memories. I’ll have to find a quiet moment later to talk to her.

“My turn to pick. Okay, mmm…” Soraka bites her bottom lip and then turns in her seat to face Ezreal. “Ez. I pick Ez!”

“No fair. I wanted to pick Ez,” Jinx pouts.

Poppy shakes her head. “You already went.”

“Ladies, please. There’s enough adventure to go around.” Ez tucks both hands behind his head and settles back on the couch. Fortune pulls out one the small throw pillows from behind her, fluffs it, and slams it back into the sofa and Ezreal, conveniently knocking the literal wind out his gallant sails in the process. I stifle a giggle into one of the oven mitts I’m still wearing.

Ez blushes and tries to recover his normal breathing gracefully.

“Dare,” he chokes on the words. “I choose dare.”

“I… dare… you…” Soraka pauses between each word, watching Poppy to make sure she’s getting it right. Poppy nods. Ez waits expectantly. “I dare you to do that thing you do,” she says finally.

Ez shrugs, totally not following whatever Soraka is talking about.

“You know, that thing you do. With Yuuto,” Soraka continues, clapping excitedly for him. “And the portal thing.”

“Oh, yeah. Cool. I can totally do that.” Ez reaches into his backpack and taps on the bright blue of his Guardian emblem. “Hey, bud—wake up. It’s showtime.”

“Portals? Portals sound dangerous.” Poppy asks as a white-winged familiar pounces into the room. It leaps into the air, wings spread, its bright blue eyes the same color as Ezreal’s.

“Portals are dangerous. Very dangerous. But lucky for you, you’ve got me. And this isn’t quite a portal. Technically it’s a shortcut through another dimension.” Ez flashes a lopsided grin at Poppy and starts looking around the room, eyeing a black ceramic bookend and a small potted plant. “Alright, Soraka, do you think that bookend is good enough for a demonstration of a little arcane magic?”

Soraka shakes her head, wrinkling her nose. Between Yuuto’s chirping loops, I can hear Lulu deep in concentration.

“Two hundred and forty-four. Two hundred and forty-five,” she counts. “Two hundred and forty-six!” she announces triumphantly. “It’s done, Soraka.” Lulu waves the paper oracle around in her hand.

“The fortune maker!” Soraka lets out a giggle. “I almost forgot.”

“Fortune maker it is!” Ez says, “Yuuto, let’s go. Time for a true display of skill.”

Yuuto arcs in the air, turning towards Ez. It looks like Yuuto is going to crash right into Ez, but at the last minute, Ez and Yuuto combine, granting Ez a brilliant set of white feathered wings that fill the room. Less than a second later, Ez disappears through a wavering portal to reappear hovering over Lulu. He plucks the paper fortune maker out of her hands.

“Just going to borrow this for a second,” he says and then a moment later he blinks back to the sofa, leaning comfortably back against the couch cushions with no wings and a happily purring Yuuto. He unfolds the flap and reads the fortune aloud. “‘Opportunity can’t knock if you don’t build a door.’ Huh. I like it, Lulu.”

Poppy groans. “She copied that from our takeout cookies last night.”

“That’s not her fortune,” Lulu says. She gestures to the flap to the right. “It’s the next one.”

Ez unfolds the second flap and reads it to the group. “Only in darkness can the light shine brightly.”

“The First Star told me that,” Lulu says.

“The First Star talks to you?” Fortune cocks her head in disbelief. “Still?”

“Yes,” Lulu’s face is a serene smile. “Ezreal, when you open a portal like that, where did you say you go?”

“Uh-oh,” Ezreal whispers.

“What’s ‘uh-oh’, champ?” Jinx leans over Ez as he struggles to keep a grip on the folded paper.

“We may need to get rid of this.” Ez gives a weak smile. “Like right now.”

Before anyone can make good on that suggestion, the paper oracle rips itself out of Ez’s hands. It tumbles around the room like a possessed autumn leaf. A high-pitched whine begins to grow. It seems like it’s coming from the fortune teller itself.

The paper folds and unfolds a dozen times, finally dumping out a small but squat, black and green, glowing creature. Everyone is on their feet.

“Did you just bring an annoying, interdimensional hitchhiking demon into Lux’s living room using your not-a-portal portal power?” says Jinx, watching the unruly little monster jump from the arm of the sofa to the carpet.

“I might have,” Ez whispers. “Arcane magic doesn’t come with an instruction manual.”

“Cool,” Jinx says.

Ez looks at me, mouthing the word Sorry.

“This has only happened once before,” he says.

Fortune elbows Ez in the side.

“Okay,” Ez corrects himself, “This may have happened more than once. Possibly six or seven times, but it’s totally not a big deal.”

The little creature jumps on the coffee table. All I can see is Poppy’s hammer rear back and take a wide swing. There’s a crack of wood and the coffee table splinters. That is definitely not going back together ever again. The dark shape darts away unscathed.

Janna stands up, her arms lifting in the direction of the creature. A breeze starts to build, shifting the debris of the coffee table and fluttering the pages of one of the books that had been sitting on it just a moment ago.

“I got this, Janna.” Jinx is returning from the hall, Shiro and Kuro nipping at her heels.

“No,” Fortune says. I snap my head around to see one of Fortune’s shiny white pistols leveled at my face.

“Woah, Sarah. Not so fast. That’s a little close quarters, don’t you think?” Ez tries to step closer to her to push her guns off their mark. I feel my stomach drop as adrenaline coats my insides. This was her plan all along. My luck’s run out. She is going to end me.

“Fortune—”

The words barely leave my lips before I hear the pull of a trigger.

“Time to say goodbye,” she says. There’s a sharp pop like a balloon. My hands go up to my nose and eyes, quickly checking them out that they’re all intact and where they belong. A second later, there is no demon, and fine bits of paper start to rain down on everyone as the fortune teller explodes into confetti. It looks like it is snowing in my living room. Lulu is dancing in it, of course.

“Look, now it’s a party,” she exclaims. Shiro and Kuro tumble each other in the remains of the coffee table, while Shisa looks very disturbed at their delight in wanton destruction.

Unfortunately, my relief at being whole is short-lived. An angry, beeping alarm begins to wail as a smoky haze creeps throughout the house, originating from the kitchen.

“Smells like burning,” Jinx says.

Oh, no. Dinner.




The air is thicker in the kitchen. What was dinner for the team is now charred ruins stuck to a metal baking sheet. I cough and wave the oven mitts I’m still wearing, trying to move the smoke haze around. I open the window, letting the cool fall air in. The alarm finally shuts itself off.

My eyes are starting to water. I tell myself it’s from the smoke and the mess in the oven, but I’m pretty sure it’s from the mess of things going on in the living room.

“Everything’s ruined.” My voice is small and pathetic even to my own ears.

Then I hear a shuffle of footsteps on the tile floor. Janna or Ez must have braved the smoke to offer some comfort. I wipe my eyes quickly, surprised as I turn around.

It’s Fortune.

“Well that’s definitely not edible,” she says.

I nod my head in agreement. “Definitely not.”

Fortune’s phone vibrates with a text message. Ahri, I’m sure, telling her what all the cool kids are doing.

“This is probably not the way you wanted to spend your Friday night,” I offer.

I pick at the burned bits of what was dinner on the aluminum foil. “Sorry Lulu dragged you into all this. Dinner’s ruined. The party’s ruined. I totally understand if you want to go. We’ll figure things out by ourselves.”

Ugh. Too many words. Why can I not stop talking around her? I take a deep breath and try to start more clearly.

“Fortune—”

“Sarah,” she interrupts. “You can call me Sarah.”

“I thought Sarah was for friends,” I say.

Fortune’s phone vibrates again. Instead of looking at it, she puts it in her back pocket. “I came in here to apologize. You looked pretty freaked out back there.”

“Have you ever been on the other side of one of your pistols?”

“No, I guess not,” she chuckles. Her voice takes a serious turn. “You need to understand I would never hurt another Guardian. Not ever.”

I nod. There’s something more behind her declaration, a pain she hasn’t quite put away.

“I know Ez kinda made a mess of things, he does that sometimes, but would you mind if we stayed? Soraka would be fine if dinner was nothing but cinnamon rolls, but Ez ordered some pizzas to say sorry for the little portal mishap. But I totally get it if you want us to go—”

I hold up an oven mitt-clad hand. It’s Sarah who seems to have too many words now.

“Wait, you want to stay?”

Sarah opens her mouth, but is interrupted by an ecstatic Lulu skipping into the kitchen, a bouquet of pastel fabric and ribbons spilling out onto the floor around her. She shoves an armful of trimmed white flannel into both Sarah and my hands.

“These are for you,” she chirps before skipping back out of the kitchen.

“Lulu, dear,” I call after her. “What are these?”

Sarah holds hers up by its shoulders, inspecting Lulu’s handiwork.

“You’re right,” she says, smiling. “This is not how I usually spend my Friday nights, but I think this whole pajama party thing might actually be a little fun.”

“Really?”

“Well, yeah.” Her grin takes on a particularly mischievous bend. “And, I’ve always wanted to see what Ezreal looks like with braided hair.”

More stories

  1. Starfall

    Starfall

    Ariel Lawrence

    There’s this dream I keep having.

    It starts pitch black. It’s so dark, I’m not sure my eyes are even open. It’s like being woken up when the power’s gone out. All those familiar bits of light snuffed out, swallowed up. Just me and an empty night.

    I can’t help myself. I reach out, hoping that it is just a blackout, that I can just push away the weight of being alone like too many heavy blankets. But the darkness doesn’t move.

    I tread midnight like water in a well, all the while the cold drip of loneliness slips down my back. Then I realize that there’s no surface to break. My chest tightens. My panic rises and it’s hard to breathe. I’m in way over my head. Then someone or something’s pulled the plug at the bottom of the darkness and I’m sinking further into the inky black. My mouth opens to yell, to scream, but only silence comes out.

    What did I expect when I have a mouth full of nothing? My heart’s beating too fast. Just when I’m about to give up, just when I’m about to let go, I feel them.

    Janna. Lulu. Poppy. Jinx. I feel their light. It’s like warmth and joy and comfort and laughter got balled up together so tightly they had no choice but to catch fire.

    My eyes are open. Maybe they were there from the beginning, but this is the first time I can truly see. Their faces are so beautiful, so peaceful. They’re sleeping, dreaming maybe, untroubled by the darkness that surrounds us. I stretch my arms out, but they’re too far. That’s when I realize we’re falling.

    The horizon of a world big and blue rushes up to meet us. I can’t concentrate on where we’re going, the danger that’s fast approaching. At this point I don’t care. All I can see are my sisters falling. The atmosphere of the planet below us burns hot, and their lights ignite.

    My arms ache to the bone. I try to catch them. I try to hold on, but I can’t stop them from falling. I’m not strong enough to keep us together. I’m not enough for them. The tips of my own fingers start to glow and break apart. The last thing I see is their emblems darkening as their light shatters into a rainbow of ragged cinders.

    And then I wake up.

    I’m in my bed, the blanket in a sweaty tangle. The darkness is gone, replaced by a muted gray. I’ve taken to sleeping with one of the windows open. I walk over to it and watch the street below. The soft glow of the lights outside paints me and my room in shadow.

    Above all the sleeping quiet is darkness. I can feel it still, stretching on and on. It’s hard to see the stars from the city. Just a few pinpoints of light break it up. But I know more are out there. Somewhere.

    I crawl back into bed and wait for the dawn. I don’t go to sleep. I can’t. The dream is the same.

    Always the same.

    “Are you going to join us?”

    Jinx is lying on a plastic lounge chair in the backyard, while Shiro and Kuro are napping in the grass at her feet. It’s hard to tell if she’s heard me. Abnormally large plastic sunglasses cover her eyes and most of her eyebrows. She’s got one earbud tucked in her left ear, but I can see the other dangling over the side of the recliner.

    She totally heard me.

    “Hey, are you coming inside? We’re going to get started.”

    Jinx sticks a wad of fluorescent gum back into her mouth, chews loudly, cracking the bubbles with her teeth, and then slowly begins to blow a big, pink bubble. When she gets the bubble big enough to obscure her sunglasses, she sucks it back in with a loud pop.

    “Summer’s not gonna last forever, Lux,” she says without looking over. She folds her arms behind her head. Feathered clouds pass in the reflection in her sunglasses. “Better soak all this up before it’s gone.”

    She twirls the end of one long red pigtail around the tip of her finger, challenging me to give her something worth coming inside for.

    “You’re right,” I say. She loves it when she thinks she’s right. “Summer’s almost over. I just think we should talk about… things. You know, before school starts again.”

    Jinx purses her lips and blows a raspberry in the air.

    I should not have mentioned school. Definitely lost her there.

    “Well,” I say, trying a different tactic, “I guess you don’t want any of the popsicles Poppy brought?”

    Jinx sits up, straddling the recliner. Kuro startles awake, yawns, and mischievously starts to tumble the still sleeping Shiro over in the grass. Jinx pushes the enormous sunglasses up to sit on her forehead, making it look like giant plastic stars are shooting out of her pigtails.

    “Popsicles?”

    “Yep,” I say as I step inside the house. “Shaped like rockets.” I shut the sliding glass door behind me and walk towards the kitchen. Five seconds later I hear the door slide open and shut.

    Thank the stars. As temperamental as Jinx is, she can be awfully predictable about desserts. And ammunition.

    My peace is momentary. As I walk into the kitchen, Poppy is standing on a chair in front of the stove, turning pancakes on the griddle, her determination and focus evident from the bend in her elbows and the iron grip she has on a big metal spatula. There is a trail of batter and sticky syrup linking her to the refrigerator and the counter.

    “Uh, Poppy, what’s going on? I was gone for, like, five minutes,” I say as Jinx elbows past me, making a beeline for the freezer.

    “Lulu said she was hungry,” Poppy says over her shoulder. She shrugs and turns her concentration back to flipping the thin batter in front of her. “I made pancakes.”

    Lulu is sitting at the kitchen table intently drawing with one hand and stabbing a bite full of pancake with the other, unconcerned with the food drama surrounding her. Pix is gnawing on an uncapped green marker. Lulu scratches her familiar’s head without looking up from her own work.

    “Sounds good, Shortstop.” Jinx claps Poppy on the back and then slides into one of the chairs, all while slurping one of the rocket-shaped popsicles. “Make me one shaped like a star? No, wait, one shaped like a missile? Oooh, I know, how about a star missile? I need rainbow sprinkles!”

    “Oh, look who finally decided to join us,” Poppy mutters to the griddle.

    Chaos. Utter chaos. There’s pancake batter on the ceiling. How are we supposed to save the universe if we can’t get it together ourselves? Janna is quietly washing the pile of dishes that Poppy’s been creating. She’s staring out the window in front of the sink. Zephyr is sitting on the counter next to her attempting to lick the syrup from its paws.

    “So,” I start to pace in the little bit of open space in the kitchen. “I think we should talk about the next year. School’s about to start and…”

    “Hey, whatcha drawing, Loopy?” Jinx leans over Lulu’s shoulder, stealing a bite of her pancake with a spare fork. She doesn’t want to think about the future so badly, she’ll even feign interest in Lulu to get out of it. I try to keep my deep sigh inaudible.

    I start again. “As I was saying, we…”

    “It’s the starfall,” Lulu interrupts, completely unconcerned that words were coming out of my mouth. “The new stars are coming.” Without looking up she pushes a paper flyer across the table towards Jinx. A glob of whipped cream and sprinkles drips off Jinx’s pancake piece onto the paper as Jinx gives it a once over. She smirks and leaves it on the table. I can see the flyer has more than ten words and only one picture, so of course Jinx has totally lost interest in it.

    I stop my pacing behind Lulu, taking a good look at what our little artist has been drawing for the first time. It’s a field with some trees around the edge. The five of us are standing in the field looking up at a night sky. Janna being the tall, purple one, Poppy has her hammer, and Jinx’s long, red pigtails are easy to pick out. I guess I’m the round pink one. Does my hair really stick out of the sides of my head like that?

    “This is you?” I ask, pointing to the green-haired one in the meadow of green and black fireflies. Lulu nods, biting her lip in concentration as she shades in the dark blue of the sky. Among the penciled-in stars there are more colors.

    “What about these?” Jinx asks, pointing at the colored bits.

    “New stars, of course,” she says, rolling her eyes at Jinx. Lulu looks up at me. “Can we go?”

    “There are no more new stars here,” Poppy says as she turns another pancake.

    There’s a loud clatter from the sink as Janna fumbles a plate. “Sorry,” she stammers as she catches it.

    I walk over and stand next to her. Through the kitchen window I can see the wispy clouds are gone; it’s just a big, empty summer sky. In the sink, Janna slides the sponge around the plate’s outer rim in a slow, wet orbit.

    “Nice save,” I say, offering Janna a towel off the counter. “The slippery ones are the hardest to hold onto.”

    Janna looks over at me and then down at the plate she’s been washing. Her cheeks color pink, betraying her normally cool demeanor. Something’s up.

    She nods and puts the extra-clean plate in the dish rack. She tucks a lock of lavender hair behind her ear and picks up another syrup-drenched plate from the stack on the counter.

    Yup, something’s definitely up.

    Jinx, oblivious as usual, continues to drown her pile of pancakes in syrup, alternating layers with whipped cream and sprinkles.

    “You know how much I hate to agree with our blue-haired door stop,” Jinx says as she crams a full fork in her mouth. “But Loops, it’s just us against all the big bad this part of the galaxy has to offer.”

    Lulu puts down her pen and picks up the flyer, handing it to me. I take it and wipe off Jinx’s melting clump of whipped cream and sprinkles with a kitchen towel, smearing a wet rainbow trail across the top of the paper.

    “'Camp Targon’s Summer Starfall. Watch the summer meteor shower. Get out of the city and get to know some new stars. Games and amusement. Last chance for summer fun',” I read aloud. “It’s hosted by the Astronomy class at the university and open to all the local high school students.”

    I look up. No one’s listening. Lulu’s back to drawing. Poppy and Jinx are stacking more and more pancakes on their plates, determined to see who can eat the most. I can see Janna’s face in the reflection of the window. She’s lost in the sky again.

    The paper crunches in my hand. I ease my grip, embarrassed by how tightly I’m holding on. The deadline to register for the camp is today.

    “Last chance,” I breathe the words to myself. I look at the girls; everyone’s going in different directions. They are not going to be happy about this. But I’m the captain. This will be good for them. “It will be good for us,” I whisper out loud, talking myself into the decision.

    “Pack your bags, ladies,” I say loudly, pasting a bright, shiny smile on my face. The bubbly confidence is as much a show for them as it is for me. Each of them looks up, unsure of what is about to happen.

    I pull my phone out of my pocket and start dialing the number on the flyer. “We’re going to welcome some new stars.”

    Jinx slips a floppy sunhat on as she ambles down from the bus. She had insisted on wearing her bathing suit on the ride over. The obnoxiously loud colors of her bikini are tempered only by the sheer cover-up billowing behind her in the breeze.

    “Alright, nerds,” she sighs. “I’m going to find the pool. Time for some cannonballs.”

    “It’s a lake,” Poppy corrects her while carefully watching the bus driver unload our gear onto a patch of grass.

    “Whatever, Short Stack.” Jinx grabs a tote bag graffitied with hand-drawn stars and over-sized guns from the top of the pile. As she passes Lulu, Jinx tugs on the teal butterfly bow in Lulu’s hair. “See ya later, Loops.”

    I look at Poppy.

    “She didn’t actually bring a cannon, did she?”

    Poppy shrugs. “Do you really think she could keep her mouth shut about it if she did?”

    I’m about to call after Jinx and insist she stay with the group, when I hear a groan behind me. I watch as the bus driver pulls out the last bag, his arms quivering with the effort. The blue duffel is nearly as big as Poppy. She watches him carefully, her foot tapping out an impatient rhythm in the dry grass.

    He sets the duffel down with a little grunt. “What have you got in there, kid? Rocks?”

    “Nope.” Poppy reaches over and snatches up the handles of the duffel, swinging it over her shoulder with ease. She flashes a toothy, satisfied grin at the bus driver. “A hammer.”

    Poppy gives me the same smile, I’m sure remembering the challenge I gave everyone before we left, that we’re here to blend in and hang out. Be normal. She grabs the handle of Jinx’s forgotten wheeled bag and nudges Lulu gently.

    “Come on, Lulu. Our campsite isn't going to set itself up,” she says cheerfully.

    Lulu nods, humming a song only she knows the melody to. She flutters from wildflower to pinecone to pebble, marveling at every treasure the camp has to offer while Poppy maintains her dutiful march down the trail.

    The bus starts back up again and then pulls onto the road. I watch until it disappears behind an outcropping of rocks and trees.

    “No turning back now, huh, Janna?” All I can hear is a breeze blowing through the pines. I spin around slowly. The last of the other stragglers from the bus are already halfway down the trail to the camp. The bus drop off point is empty. “Janna?”

    I finally find Janna standing on the rounded top of a granite boulder that’s sunk deep in dirt. She’s got her back to me. Her hands are wrapped around her arms and the curls of her lavender hair are bouncing in the invisible breeze.

    “Janna?”

    I drop my backpack on a clump of grass and clamber up to stand next to her. Down in the little valley below us I can see the bustle of other campers and teams setting up. Between the trees there’s the glittery sparkle of Lake Lunari. My bet is that Jinx has already launched herself in there. I feel a smile cross my face as I wonder if she realizes that it’s fed by snowmelt.

    But Janna’s not looking at any of that. She’s so tall. I shade my eyes from the sun and look up for a few minutes, straining to see what she sees. It’s another piercingly blue summer sky, empty save for the craggy face of Mount Targon and a few white clouds. My elbow brushes her arm as I shift my position.

    Janna looks over surprised.

    “Oh. Hi,” she says, like I haven’t been standing next to her for the last five minutes. She smiles, but I can tell that she’s still worried about whatever it is that’s been bothering her. She looks over to where the bus dropped us off.

    “Where did everybody go?”

    “Wow.” I shake my head. “You really are somewhere else, huh?” I look back at the purplish-gray outline of Mt. Targon framed by a dark fringe of pine. There’s still snow on the peak this late in the summer.

    Janna rubs her hands over her bare shoulders and sucks in a breath as if she were suddenly chilled. It’s not even a little cold. The clear sky and sun overhead make me wish for the first time that I had followed Jinx’s advice and just worn a swimsuit and shorts. I fan my face with our camp registration.

    “We should get going,” Janna says, her long legs stepping down easily from the boulder as if walking on air. She looks back at me as I fumble down the rock. Her smile fades as she glances back up at the sky. “There’s a storm coming.”

    “What?” I try and look back at the sky, but my foot slips on a pocket of loose gravel and the roundness of the rock. As usual, too many things at once. I sit down hard in a puff of dust, the back of my leg scraping on the rock.

    “Ow.” I wince at the sting. Just what I need. Lulu, Poppy, and Jinx blown to the corners of the camp. Janna feeling like she’s on another planet. And now their intrepid leader is going to be taken out by her own two left feet.

    “Fantastic,” I mumble into my hand as I rub my face.

    A cool breeze catches the damp hair at the back of my neck. I look up to Janna offering a healing hand.

    “Nope,” I say. I manage a smile. “I’m fine. Remember, no powers while we’re here.”

    Janna shrugs. “Better be careful then, we’ve only got one leader,” she says. She looks at me and I’m sure she can hear all the doubt rattling around in my head. She turns back to the trail as I stand up.

    “Let’s hurry,” she calls over her shoulder. “We’d all be lost without you.”

    I let out the breath I’ve been holding. That’s what I’m afraid of.

    The camp information table is draped in dark purple fabric. Rocks and big pinecones hold down stacks of different photocopied flyers. Sitting behind the table is a girl with long black hair. No, not a girl. She looks too old to be in high school and way too cool for a dusty table at a summer camp. She must be one of the Astronomy class sponsors. I hear Janna’s footsteps stop behind me as I walk towards the ‘girl.’ I take this as a not so subtle clue that I’m on my own.

    I walk up to the table. The tall pines and late afternoon sun combine at an angle so there is shaft of light stabbing me in the eye no matter where I try to stand. The contrast of light and dark makes it hard to see the person behind the table. She makes no effort to move out of the shadows and instead sounds somewhat amused by my inability to find a good spot to have a conversation.

    “Hi,” I say, sticking my hand in the general direction of where I think she is.

    “Name.”

    Not exactly the friendliest response. Also a step more to the left than I anticipated. “Lux,” I answer, a bit flustered. “Luxanna. My group is the—”

    “Hmmm… ‘the Star Sisters,’” the girl interrupts. Her voice holds a strong note of mocking disapproval. “That’s such a… cute name. You two are the last to check in. Leaders are usually the first ones to check in.” She lets out an exasperated sigh for emphasis.

    Sun and planet align so I’m finally granted a sliver of shade to get a better look at our collegiate judge. On closer inspection, I think I preferred the audio only version. She’s pursing her lips as if she had just eaten something gross, but still had manners enough not to spit it out. A lanyard name tag with perfectly put together letters reads: Syndra.

    “I’m sorry,” I try again, trying to sound more confident. I knew I should have told everyone to stay together. “I stayed to make sure all our bags made it off the bus. The others were really excited about getting to the campsite.”

    I feel Janna’s fingertips on my arm, supporting me. I look over at Janna. Her normally calm face is grimacing at the girl behind the table. I do a double take between them before returning to the conversation.

    “Well, we’re all here now,” Janna says curtly.

    “Great,” Syndra says, totally not meaning it. “Space twenty-sixteen. Some of your group is already there. There’s also a loud one down by the lake. I assume she’s one of yours.”

    Jinx. Fantastic.

    Syndra leans over and picks out some of the colored papers. She stops and looks up when I don’t immediately acknowledge Jinx as my responsibility.

    “You might want to, you know, deal with that,” she says. “Here’s a map and a schedule. The best viewing for the meteor shower starts after midnight.”

    Syndra hands me the stack of papers, her eyes narrowing as she looks me over for a final judgment. I am obviously not living up to expectations. “You understand that leaders are accountable for keeping their groups together when it gets dark, right?”

    “Yes,” I squeak. I nod dumbly, feeling like a child. I clear my throat to try and find my voice. “I promise I’ll keep everyone together.”

    As if on cue, a group of four wanders in from one of the trails. It’s like cool just supernovaed in the middle of camp. A wake of starstruck campers begin to gather in little eddies behind them. I can’t blame them; I can’t look away either.

    “Now there’s a team you can learn something from,” Syndra says pointedly. I watch as her snark melts into a smile. “Ahri!” she squeals.

    The center star in the approaching constellation looks up. She brushes her perfectly side-swept, peach bangs from her eyes, and smiles. A tall redhead, a quiet girl with mint colored curls, and a kinda cute guy with blonde hair flank their all-too popular leader. Of course the group makes their way over to us, picking up more followers like a magnet. Not only does each member exude individual awesome, they move together effortlessly. I can’t help it. I’m so jealous my teeth hurt.

    “Syndra,” Ahri says. “Are you all done? We missed you on the hike this afternoon.”

    “I had to wait for the stragglers,” Syndra says looking at me.

    “Yeah,” I say. “Sorry about that.” I turn to Ahri and smile, extending a hand. “Hi. I’m Lux. You must be—“

    “Cool,” she says, finishing the conversation before it even got a chance to start. She eyes my extended hand floating out in space in front of her for an extra moment, really letting my awkwardness sink in for everyone. Finally her perfectly manicured fingers touch my hand in a halfhearted shake. “Charmed, I’m sure.”

    Ahri turns to Syndra, effectively dismissing me from the conversation.

    “Okay,” I say a little too loudly. “Nice meeting you, I guess.”

    A breeze starts to blow through camp and I turn around abruptly and pick a direction to just start walking in, any direction, as long it’s not towards the information table.

    Which is exactly when I run smack into Janna. The stack of camp papers goes flying. So much for situational awareness. Once again I’m on my butt in the dusty grass looking up at Janna. Only this time my annoyance is tempered by the expression on Janna’s face.

    Her earlier grimace has been replaced by a dark scowl. The light breeze around us picks up into a stronger gust.

    “I have to take a walk,” Janna says. She’s not asking. She doesn’t even look down in my direction. This is weird. I’ve never seen Janna so... so angry.

    “But Janna,” I say, grabbing at the flying papers and trying to pull my wind whipped hair from my mouth at the same time. “They just told us to stay together.”

    It’s too late. Janna walks down a shady trail taking the wind with her. Behind me, above the dying wind, I hear Syndra laughing. I hope it’s at something clever Ahri must have said. I venture a quick look back, only to catch Syndra looking directly at me. And smiling.

    I turn away and concentrate on putting my multi-colored stack of flyers back together, letting the trail of lost paper take me as far away from the cool kids as I can get.

    I find the last flyer curled in the hollow of a tree. Instead of bending over to pick it up, I let myself sink down onto a pile of pine needles and lean against the tree. In front of me is the lake, but now that I’ve stopped moving I realize I have no idea where I am.

    I push my back against the scratchy bark. This trip is so not going how I wanted it to. We’re not even together, let alone working more as a team.

    My face feels hot. The back of my throat tightens. The light glinting off the lake in front of me blurs a little. I can feel the water well in my eyes.

    I start rifling through the stack of papers I’ve collected to distract myself from my sudden pity party.

    “And not a single, stupid map.” I let out my frustration out in a groan. “How can I be a leader if I don’t even know where I’m going?”

    “Meh. Maps are totally overrated.” A guy’s voice breaks the background noise of distant campers. I look up. Great. It’s the cute, blonde guy from Ahri’s star-studded entourage. I stand quickly and wipe my eyes with the back of my hand.

    “But, if you really think you need one, I happen to have this on me.” He hands me a slightly wind-crumpled map of the camp. My group’s site is clearly circled and numbered in Syndra’s perfect handwriting. His grin is a little lopsided. “I have a knack for finding lost things. I’m Ezreal. You can call me Ez.”

    I nod, trying to control my sniffling. He’s still smiling. Is he flirting with me? I look around. He takes a handkerchief from his pocket and hands it to me.

    “Thanks,” I murmur awkwardly. Even in the shade of the pine trees, his eyes are really blue.

    “Maybe you can help me find my team.” I gesture to the trees around us. This little corner of camp is empty except for the two of us. “Seems everybody’s lost but me and you.”

    “Sounds perfect.” He sweeps a lock of blonde hair away from his eyes with his hand and gestures with a gentlemanly bow back to the trail. “It’s Lux, right? Like a light?”

    “Yeah,” I nod. If he only knew. “My mom had a thing for desk lamps.” I feel my bubbly confidence returning, the one that Jinx constantly complains is so annoying. I look over and watch his cocky smile falter for a second. He’s not sure if I’m teasing him. It’s my turn to smile. Am I smiling too much?

    “I’m just kidding,” I offer.

    “Sure, lamps are cool,” he says a little relieved. “But not exactly my favorite kind of light.”

    “You have a favorite kind of light?”

    “C’mon, doesn’t everybody?” His cocky grin is back. The small footpath we’ve been following is about to join up with the larger trail that goes from the lake to the main part of the camp.

    “Are you going to tell me or do I have to guess?” It’s silly, but I’m totally forgetting how sorry I was feeling for myself a few minutes ago. For the first time since getting to the camp, I’m not worrying about anything, not even tripping over my own feet.

    Which is exactly when Jinx shows up, a mischievous grin plastered on her face along with wisps of lake-soaked hair. Her smile tightens as Ezreal steps out of the shadows and onto the path.

    “Hey there, Lux buddy. Find a new friend?” Jinx’s clap on my back startles me back into reality and I nearly choke on my tongue trying to answer her.

    “Jinx, this is Ez,” I cough, trying to catch my breath. “Ez, this is Jinx.”

    Ezreal extends a hand to Jinx. Jinx accepts the challenge and strong arms him, squeezing his fingers and pumping his hand up and down like some kind of backwards arm-wrestling contest. Much to Jinx’s surprise, Ez takes the awkward handshake in stride.

    Jinx yanks him closer. “What exactly are your intentions towards our Lux, may I ask?” she says in a threatening whisper that all of us can clearly hear.

    I feel my face go pinker than my hair.

    “We… We…” Ez stammers. “We were just talking about our favorite kind of light. Did… Did you have one?”

    Nice save, Ez. If there’s one thing that can distract Jinx, it’s talking about herself.

    “Oh, that’s easy,” Jinx says. She eases some of the tension in her grip and lets go of Ezreal’s hand. Ez opens and closes his fingers, double-checking that they still work.

    “Really?” I say, surprised. “You have a favorite kind of light?”

    Jinx turns to me. “Well, of course. Doesn’t everybody?”

    Ezreal shrugs. His cocky grin is back.

    “Ezreal, is everything alright?” a cool voice asks. And now it’s a party. The tall redhead, the second star in Ahri’s constellation of awesome, approaches from farther up the main camp path. She doesn’t look too pleased with any of us. Especially Jinx.

    “It’s alright, Sarah,” Ezreal says, attempting to smooth over the redhead’s rough contempt.

    “Hi. I’m Lux,” I dust my hand off on my shorts and offer it to her in greeting. Her eyes narrow and suddenly it feels like I’m under a dissection microscope. And, of course, when I get nervous, I can’t stop talking. The words just start to pour out like someone left the faucet on. “It’s, uh, nice to meet you, Sarah. Your hair’s super cool! I don’t think I could ever pull off red, but on you—wow.”

    Miss Fortune,” she interrupts. “Sarah is for friends.” From the look on her face, I do not fall into that category.

    “Oh, of course. I’m Lux. Did I say that already? I was just looking to pick up the team snack and got a little lost.” I search one of the flyers in my hands for the details I know I saw a few minutes ago. “Yep, team snack, right here at the mess tent. Looks like it’s chocolate chip cookies and... and… oranges.”

    “I hate oranges,” Miss Fortune says coldly. She looks at Ezreal. “Ahri wants us to walk the perimeter before dark.”

    Ezreal gives her a mock salute. “Aye, aye, captain.”

    Miss Fortune rolls her eyes and begins walking back up to camp. Jinx begins to pull me in the opposite direction.

    “I’ll catch you later, Lux,” Ezreal says and starts to jog after her.

    I can’t help it. I call after him. “You never said what’s your favorite!”

    He stops, shakes the hair out of his eyes, and cups his hands together.

    “Starlight,” he shouts back. Even from this distance I can see his lopsided grin clearly. He turns and catches up to Miss Fortune.

    “Huh,” Jinx muses thoughtfully. “I totally thought he was gonna say double rainbows.”

    It’s my turn to roll my eyes. I punch her gently in the arm.

    “Come on, let’s go find those cookies.”

    It’s nearly dark by the time Jinx and I make it back to camp. By the way Poppy is going after a cord of firewood, I can tell she isn’t pleased. Jinx loudly crunches through another cookie, announcing our arrival.

    “Took you long enough,” Poppy grumbles. She picks up another piece of wood to cut down to size.

    “Ooh. There you are!” Lulu jumps off the stumps she’s sitting on and rushes me in a hug. At least someone’s glad to see us.

    “Don’t sweat it, Bam Bam,” Jinx tosses the bag of oranges onto our picnic table. “I brought oranges and cookies.” Jinx looks into the bag again and brings out the last uneaten cookie. “I mean, I brought oranges and one cookie.”

    Jinx breaks it in two, giving half to Lulu and keeping the other for herself.

    “Here you go munchkin, don’t say I didn’t share,” she says.

    Lulu looks up at Jinx and smiles. Poppy groans.

    “Alright,” Jinx adds, “But only ‘cuz you’re crazier than me.” She gives Lulu the other half as well. “And because I don’t want Poppy to have any,” she whispers loudly. “Hey, aren’t we supposed to set some stuff on fire?”

    “You mean a campfire,” I say.

    “Yeah, one of those.” Jinx reaches into her Stars and Ammo tote bag. I can hear Kuro’s squeaking and the distinctive click of a trigger.

    “Uh-uh.” I shake my head, “No powers.”

    “Killjoy.” Jinx rolls her eyes. Poppy laughs between wood chops.

    Janna bends over the campfire ring with a lit match and a bundle of dry pine needles. After a few seconds, the needles catch fire. A thin waft of smoke rises and Janna blows gently, coaxing a bigger stick in the middle to ignite. She tucks the flaming bunch into a teepee of wood in the center of the ring and gives Jinx a satisfied smile.

    “And that’s not cheating?” Jinx drops the empty cookie bag on the table with a melodramatic sigh and starts looking around for a stick. “Whatever. Did we bring marshmallows?”

    Poppy sets the neatly-chopped logs in a pile next to Janna. “Aren’t marshmallows all you brought?”

    “Ooooh yeah,” Jinx snaps loudly, remembering. She finds her discarded tote and pulls out a bag of marshmallows, threading four on long, thin stick. “I brought a towel too, Shorty. I’m responsible.”

    I settle onto a stump near Janna. She seems better than before.

    “You alright?” I ask her. She nods.

    “I think I just needed a bit of fresh air.”

    I gesture to all the trees around us and smile. “Well, I guess we came to the right place.”

    Janna nods her agreement, but without my enthusiasm. Before I can ask further, Lulu dusts the cookie crumbs off her hands and climbs up next to Janna.

    “Tell us a story, Janna,” she says.

    “I don’t really know any stories, Lulu.”

    “How about a ghost story, Janna,” Jinx adds, “You’re old. You probably know some ghosts, right?”

    Janna arches a lavender eyebrow at Jinx.

    “Please?” Lulu pleads.

    Janna takes a deep breath. It seems no one can deny Lulu tonight.

    “Alright,” Janna begins. “Once upon a time, there was a lonely light that stood against darkness.”

    “Was it the First Star?” Lulu asks.

    Janna nods.

    “Yes. In the beginning the First Star was all alone. After a while it didn’t want to be alone anymore so it took all of its starlight and spread it across the night.” Janna waved her hand gently across the sky, gesturing to the blanket of stars above us.

    “And that’s where we came from,” Lulu says proudly.

    “You. Me. The animals and the trees. Even Jinx,” Janna adds with a smile. “Everyone carries a little bit of that light. It’s very powerful stuff and the First Star knew it needed to be protected from the darkness. The first Star Guardians that were chosen were said to be very strong and full of light.” Janna’s voice drops slightly. “But, those that burn bright, burn quickly.”

    “Isn’t that what we’re here for?” Poppy adds, confused. “It’s our duty to protect all of the First Star’s light.”

    “Yes,” Janna agrees. She looks over at me. “But it’s more than duty; it’s our destiny. And it's our destiny to do it together. The First Star knew how hard it was to be responsible for so much and do it all alone.”

    “Did anybody ever decide not to go with the flow, you know, against the whole destiny thing?” Jinx pokes her marshmallow stick at one of the burning logs, knocking off a few glowing embers. I’m surprised. I didn’t think she was paying attention to anything except burning sugar.

    “There was a Star Guardian, once, who decided she’d had enough of the cycle. She didn’t want to return to starlight. She wanted to stay just who she was.”

    “You have my attention,” Jinx says, turning to face Janna.

    “It’s said that she first came to be in a system full of darkness,” Janna continues.

    “Did she find sisters, like us?” Lulu asks.

    “Oh, yes,” Janna says. “And because her corner of the galaxy was so dark, they meant everything to her. For a time they were happy. And she was happy with them. Then one day there was a battle. A great evil came, swift and terrible. She lost her sisters in the fight and she became very sad.”

    “That would make me sad too,” Lulu sniffs.

    “Me too, Lulu.” Janna says, hugging her. “But they say that instead of staying sad, she became angry and turned away from the First Star’s light. They say she followed the evil to where it came from, hoping she could find some way to undo her destiny.”

    Lulu shivers and snuggles closer to Janna.

    “Is she still alive?” Poppy asks.

    “I don’t know.” Janna thinks. “If she is, her light would be pretty old by now.”

    “Older than yours, Janna?” Jinx mocks.

    “Yes,” Janna says, mocking her right back. “Older than mine.”

    Lulu yawns. “Was that a real story?” she asks.

    “I’m not sure anymore, Lulu,” Janna says quietly.

    It’s quiet. All I can hear is the crackle of the fire as the weight of the night settles over us. I decide to break the silence.

    “Well, the meteor shower begins in about four hours. Maybe we should get some sleep before then,” I offer.

    Janna stands the sleepy Lulu up and marches her slowly towards one of the two tents. I go to follow her. Poppy stops me and points to the other tent, before going in ahead of Janna.

    “You’re with Jinx,” Poppy says quietly. “She snores. Good luck.”

    “I heard that, Little Bits,” Jinx says, stuffing another handful of marshmallows in her mouth.

    “Don’t worry,” Janna says as she navigates Lulu into the tent. “I’ll look after her.”

    I smile and grab a bucket of water to douse the campfire. I look up. More stars than I can count cover the sky. So many. Maybe more Star Guardians. Just like us. It would be nice not to feel so isolated. I shake the hope from my head and pour the water onto the fire. It sizzles and steams as the glowing embers are drowned, leaving me alone in the night.

    I climb into the dark tent. Jinx is already whistle-snoring and I can hear Poppy smacking her lips in the other tent. Not exactly peace and quiet, but we’re together. There are four holes in the tent roof. Through them I can see the sky. I try and count the stars beyond our world.

    I don’t even make it to ten before I’m swallowed by sleep.

    The darkness is the same, but this time the dream is terrifyingly different.

    Instead of just me at the bottom of the lonely well, we’re all there. Lulu, Janna, Jinx, and Poppy. We’re all lost in the darkness. Their calm serenity has been replaced by panic. Each of their muffled voices lap over each other, pleading with me to get them out.

    Above us and far, far away I can see a handful of stars. Their light wavers, nearly blinking out. They call to me too, but I can’t reach them. I can’t move. Glowing ash rains down from above. It glitters as it falls through my fingers. I recognize what it is before the muted light winks out completely.

    Star Guardian emblems. Shattered and broken.

    An unseen weight hits me full in the chest, knocking the wind out of me, pushing me down further. The starlight above fades even more, moving away from me. The heavy weight bounces up and down, shaking me, but my arms and legs are dead weights. I’m stuck, frozen in the darkness.

    The weight stops bouncing. I keep sinking.

    “It’s no use,” Poppy’s voice is annoyed and resigned at the same time. She sounds closer, but I still can’t reach her.

    “Here. Let me show you how it’s done, Smalls.”

    There’s a metal scraping sound and a slosh of liquid. I suck in a huge breath as cold water splashes over me. I’m drowning. I am literally drowning this time. I sputter and blink my eyes open. It was just a dream. Sort of. The weight on my chest is distinctly Poppy-shaped.

    Jinx is standing over the both of us with an empty canteen in her hand. “Oh look, our fearless leader is awake now.”

    “Was that completely necessary, you two?” I wipe my eyes and try to sop up the water from my sleeping bag with a spare sweatshirt.

    “Lulu’s missing,” Poppy says quickly.

    I’m on my feet, out of the tent, and pulling on my shoes. I open the flap of Lulu’s tent. Her sleeping bag is empty. So is Janna’s.

    “Janna didn’t even take the cane I made her,” Jinx adds, true concern peeking out in her voice. “What if the old lady falls and can’t get up?”

    This is worse than the dream.

    “We couldn't go find them without you,” Poppy says insistently. “You said it’s our duty to stick together.”

    “I just wanted to dump a canteen of water on you and see what happens,” Jinx says. Her tone says she doesn’t care, but her face disagrees.

    “Can we leave now?” Poppy pulls at my arm.

    Resting on top of Janna’s pillow is the picture Lulu made of all of us in the meadow. We’re all looking up at the sky. New stars, Lulu said. My stomach sinks as I look closer at the picture. The fireflies. Black and green glowing things surround us. I have a totally bad feeling about this.

    I look at Poppy and Jinx. I can’t remember the last time they shared the same expression. Their worry is clear. Flashlights aren’t going to cut it tonight.

    “Poppy, get your hammer. Jinx, wake up Shiro and Kuro,” I say. “It’s time to bring out the big guns.”

    The light from my staff is infinitely better than a flashlight, but does nothing to calm my pounding heart. I stop my run to get a better look at the map of the camp I’ve clenched in my other hand. Unfortunately, Lulu must have found someplace out of the way. We’re well past the boundaries of the camp.

    “There’s a clearing near here,” I say. “A rock slide’s made it off limits to the rest of the camp.”

    “Sounds like a great place to welcome the new stars,” Jinx pants, more than a little winded from the growing elevation. “Stupid cookies.”

    Poppy tightens her grip on her hammer. “Let’s go.”

    The distance between the trees becomes greater, finally opening up to a full meadow. I take a deep breath. Jinx lets out a low whistle.

    It’s beautiful.

    A low fog has settled like a misty quilt over the area. Moonflowers trail over tiny wild roses. Arcs of little blue flowers poke up and hang over the mist. White granite boulders catch the sliver of moonlight and dot the dark meadow like a stony star field. Above, the meteor shower has just begun.

    Sitting in the center of it all on a red and white checkered picnic blanket is our little green-haired Lulu. She even brought the oranges.

    “Oh, thank the First Star. She’s here.” A gentle breeze pushes some of the mist away as Janna steps out from behind a tall pine next to us. She must have come up the opposite way from camp. Even she is a little out of breath.

    “Lux!” Lulu jumps up. I can’t stop myself from running to her. I’m running so hard, the ground shakes. Wait, no... I stop running, but the ground’s still shaking. A greenish black glow starts to emanate like sickly veins beneath the mist. A vibration rumbles in time with the now pulsing glow.

    “Lulu.” I can barely hear myself over the deep growl of the moving rock beneath us.

    “We’re not alone. New stars are coming, Lux.” The innocence in Lulu’s eyes has disappeared. She takes my hand. “I’ve seen them in my dreams.”

    Even though she’s standing right next to me, her voice sounds so far away. Like she’s still caught in that dream.

    Jinx, Poppy, and Janna circle around the edge of the meadow. The earth heaves beneath my feet.

    “Stay back!” I shout.

    The warning comes too late. The cracks break into deep fissures. The mist ruptures and a horde of black insects the size of dogs comes crawling out, dripping an eerie green light.

    Staff in hand, I reflect a beam of Starlight to the nearest creature. The light hits the creature beneath its winged carapace. It explodes in a disgusting burst of lucent green goo.

    “By Starlight,” I whisper. “They have wings.”

    I shout to the others. “They have wings! We can’t let them reach the camp!”

    “Woo-hoo.” I can hear Jinx whooping over the fray. “Shiro. Kuro. Who’s feeling ferocious?!” Missiles start firing before she even finishes her sentence. “Come on Short Stack, it’s bug squashing time.”

    “You don’t have to tell me twice, Rocket Breath,” Poppy shouts back.

    I see Janna rise off the ground a few feet. “Hold on, Lulu.” I feel her fingers tighten around mine. Janna’s voice echoes in the field.

    “For tranquility!” A gust of wind blows the mist from the meadow. Several of the creatures get caught in the whirlwind eddies, smashing into heavy tree trunks. Now that the fog is gone, I see there’s way more of the awful little things than I thought. This isn’t like the other attacks. We’re in way over our heads.

    “Look, the new stars!” Lulu shouts.

    Five lights streak across the sky. They’re heading straight for us. I follow their arc as they touch down. The lights separate and hit the meadow in a perfect, five point landing. Several of the creatures explode with their impact.

    When the dust and goo settle, I nearly have to pick my jaw up off the floor.

    It’s Ahri and her entourage. Miss Fortune, Syndra, Ezreal, even the quiet, mint-haired girl.

    “You’re a Star Guardian?” I yell. “You’re all Star Guardians?” No one can hear me over the fray. That, and everyone is listening to Ahri.

    “Time to shine, ladies,” she says. Her smile alone could light up the meadow. “You too, Ezreal.”

    They move as an efficient, synchronized unit. Miss Fortune raises a gleaming white pistol and fires the first shot. It blows through one creature and right through to the one behind it. It’s the first time I’ve seen her smile and I count my lucky stars that I’m not the current object of her attention. Ahri and Ezreal are blurs of light as they dash into and out of the fight. The creatures are definitely not fast enough to keep up. Ahri giggles and blows a kiss towards one of the bigger monsters. Seemingly even more mindless than before, it starts to walk slowly toward her and the glowing orbs she’s playing with. Her giggle stops cold as she lobs the orb at the creature, obliterating it in a burst of dark ooze.

    Syndra hangs back, but only for a moment, entering the fray with three of her own orbs. The maniacal grins on the balls could give Kuro and Shiro a run for for their money. At the center, the girl with mint green hair raises a long staff in the air, channeling Starlight from above. Looking at her, I feel my racing heart start to slow down and my breathing get easier. Ahri’s orb catches the last creature effortlessly, exploding it in a shower of black insect exoskeleton and bioluminescent goo. As quickly as the new team had arrived, it’s over.

    Ahri rubs the tips of her fingers together as she gathers her orbs, obviously not pleased by the creature’s residue. Syndra juggles her dark purple familiars while her casual arrogance lifts her up above the mess.

    “All in a night’s work, eh Soraka?” Ezreal says, giving the quiet girl a wink. “Thanks for the little pick me up.”

    Soraka maintains a serene smile while nodding enthusiastically at Ez.

    Obviously satisfied with all the excitement, Ez smiles in my direction as his winged familiar tucks itself neatly back into his gauntlet. Miss Fortune blows a trail of smoke from her twin pistols and ignores both of them.

    The easy moment is fleeting as the ground rumbles again. Before I can count to two, the earth ruptures, knocking me back. I hit my head hard against a log.

    “Ow.” I try and shake off the metallic whine now stuck between my ears. I stop moving when I see the meadow itself is going all wonky, like the fabric of space and time is warping in front of me. The green glow is back and stronger than before.

    “Lulu! Jinx!” I search for the girls, but all I can see is the hulking carapace of what looks like a space bug the size of two elephants emerging from the biggest rupture in the ground.

    I feel the ground ripple and then there’s a streak of light in front of me. A white gauntleted glove reaches out and catches my hand as the earth beneath me starts to give way.

    It’s Ez.

    “Told you I’d catch you later.” His voice is drowned out in the chaos. “That inter-dimensional nasty isn’t going to explode itself.” The world is literally going to pieces and he’s still smiling. “You ready, Starlight?”

    I nod. Ready as I’ll ever be. He lifts me up, launching me into the sky above the monster. From this vantage point I can see everyone.

    Janna and Soraka contain a new horde of little evils crawling up from the smaller cracks. Ahri, Miss Fortune, and Syndra begin taking those out as they start to maneuver into a better position against the big one. I land close to Lulu as she avoids the monster’s many limbs while Pix zaps at the smaller creatures. Jinx and Poppy look like they’re arguing at the edge of the field. I can barely hear them above the fray.

    “You want me to what?” Jinx yells.

    “The Rocket. Fire me on the Rocket!” Poppy shouts back.

    “Poppy!” Jinx’s jaw drops in shock. Then a smile slowly blossoms on her face as she leans over and excitedly hugs the short blue haired girl next to her. “I thought you’d never ask.”

    A moment later Poppy is riding a missile towards the creature’s dripping maw, hammer in hand. The hammer connects with a loud crack. The creature reels back. Its moment is up. I lift my wand and channel Starlight into it. The creature’s sharp incisors snap greedily in the air. It sees Lulu at its feet and opens wide.

    My beam of light smashes into it, bursting right out of the back of its head. A spray of noxious liquid drenches the field. The creature screeches and starts to topple over.

    Its heavy, flailing limbs reach back in its death throes. Right where Lulu is. I look around. There isn’t anyone closer. I dive in and push Lulu out of the way. Black monster pieces rain down on top of me.

    And then it all goes dark.

    The first thing I can hear is canvas flapping gently. And birds chirping. My fingers are resting on a thin blanket. I crack my eyes open. Sunlight stabs me in the eye through the four little holes in the ceiling. I’m in my tent.

    “Ugh... What…” The words get caught in my dry mouth. I try to sit up more, but think better of it as the ceiling starts to spin. “…am I?”

    “Not dead,” a too-cool voice answers.

    The fabric at the foot of my sleeping bag pulls as someone adjusts their position. I try and squint through the dizziness. Ahri tucks her perfectly peach hair behind her ear.

    “You took quite a fall last night,” she says.

    The events of the night start rushing back in some kind of horribly disjointed movie. Running through the woods. The field. The creatures. Lulu. Then everything crumbling around me. It wasn’t just a bad dream.

    I bolt up, completely regretting the sudden move a moment later when my brain catches up and slams into the inside of my head.

    “Lulu? Is she?” I grimace a little in pain. I rub my forehead to try and shake off the headache.

    “Everyone’s fine. I sent them to get breakfast,” she says. “I’ve been told there’s a hammer with my name on it if I don’t tell the stubby, blue one when you’ve woken up.”

    Ahri picks up a canteen that’s sitting next to her. She hands it to me.

    I look at her as I take a sip of the cold water. This close and I can see that we can’t actually be that far apart in age. But there’s something about her. More experience. More confidence. She’s seen more of what the universe can throw at us. She’s the leader we’re meant to have. I know it.

    “I wanted to tell you, you made the right choice,” she says. “Risking yourself and stepping in like that.”

    “It was nothing,” I say, pushing away the compliment. “Any one of us would have done it. It’s what Star Guardians do. We’re sisters.”

    She laughs softly, but then a touch of darkness washes over her face. A moment later it’s gone, the mask of perfection back in its place.

    “We’re not sisters,” she says quietly, her voice tinged with regret. “We’re just strangers with memories.”

    She stands up.

    “We’ve sealed the incursion point. My team will be returning to the city this morning. We’ll take care of anything that comes up from now on. You and your girls can stay here until you’re recovered. Enjoy the summer sun. After that, stay out from underfoot.”

    “Wait, you’re not going to lead us?” I ask, confused. My head is pounding. “Like, all of us together? With a team twice as big, we’re twice as strong. We worked great together last night.”

    “You almost got yourself killed last night,” she says.

    I’m not listening anymore. “Together, there isn’t anything we can’t face.”

    “No, Lux,” she says with an air of finality. “Together, there’s so much more to lose.”

    And just like that, dismissed again. Ahri turns to leave.

    “Star Guardians are a team,” I say. I swallow the tightness in my throat. I’m not going to beg, but I can try to make her see reason. “It’s our destiny.”

    Ahri pauses. She looks at me carefully. The tent flap is open; the bright sun divides her face in light and shadow. “Destiny?” she says; a subtle bitterness creeps into her voice. “That’s such an ugly word.”

    The flap of canvas closes behind her. I can feel my face getting hot in frustration. She’s a Star Guardian leader. Why won’t she lead us? Why is she leaving me alone? I stare up at the top of the tent. The four holes of light dance above me.

    Not alone. Jinx and Poppy and Lulu and Janna are out there. They need someone. I can’t just let this go if I’m all they’ve got.

    I lurch to my feet and stumble towards the light outside. I don’t have time to wait for the world to stop spinning.

    Jinx was right.

    Summer’s not going to last forever.

  2. The Twilight Star

    The Twilight Star

    Ariel Lawrence

    I have too many questions I want to ask her. I sneak a side-glance as we walk. She’s looking straight ahead. I watch her gaze sweep back and forth across the far perimeter of the park, her red hair catching the last scraps of the afternoon light with each step. Does she see something? Is this the way she normally patrols? Is she bored? Why is she here? I can’t believe she wanted to come. Why did she come? I quicken my pace to keep up.

    “Fortun—Sarah,” I say, remembering.

    She doesn’t look away from the path ahead, so I keep going.

    “Thanks for coming. I know this was a kinda last-minute ask. Lulu draws weird stuff sometimes. A lot, actually. And the other Star Guardians from your team—”

    “Ez really does have detention, Lux,” she says.

    “Oh,” I stammer. “It’s cool.” I can feel the pink in my cheeks. I tug on the tips of my gloves. She turns to look at me, a smug grin softening her face.

    “He wanted to be here,” she says. “Soraka too, but Pantheon’s was short staffed. And tonight is Syndra’s astronomy class at the university—”

    “—And Ahri?” I blurt out too quickly.

    Sarah’s smile tightens. “She’s been busy.”

    “No worries,” I say, looking for a way to change the subject. In the middle of the park, Janna pushes Poppy and a free-loading Jinx on a squeaky merry-go-round. Lulu sways idly in a close-by swing set, its metal chains clang softly, like lonely windchimes. There’s no one else in the park besides us. “It’s pretty quiet.”

    “Like you said, it’s probably nothing,” she says casually.

    I take the folded slip of paper out of my pocket. The frayed edge where I tore it out of Lulu’s notebook flutters in the breeze. The shapes of the playground equipment and power lines surrounding Valoran City’s metro park were clear enough, but it was the dozens of circles in the sky that worried me. Poppy said that it was too warm in physics class, and Lulu was just doodling to stay awake.

    “Look!” Lulu shouts from the swing, snapping me out of my thoughts. She is at the top of the swing’s arc, gesturing excitedly at the horizon. A bright spot has risen just over the silhouette of the skyline. “Twilight star! I saw it first.”

    I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. It’s just a star. Stars can’t hurt us.

    “The twilight star is not a real star,” Poppy groans. “Technically it’s a planet.”

    “Janna said everything has starlight in it,” Lulu argues back.

    Janna nods her head in agreement.

    “What are you gonna wish for, Loops?” Jinx juggles Shiro and Kuro absently as the merry-go-round spins. Lulu pumps her legs on the swing, pushing it higher.

    “More stars!” she shouts. “I want to see more stars.”

    “But it’s not dark yet,” Jinx says. “The other stars aren’t out yet.”

    “Doesn’t matter.” Lulu pumps her legs harder. “The other stars are always there no matter what. Even if you can’t see them.”

    “Rocket-breath is right,” Poppy says, hiding her reluctant agreement with Jinx by examining a non-existent scuff on her hammer. “It needs to get really dark before you can see the stars in the city. It’s not like at the camp.”

    I cup my hands together and shout back to them, “You’re all right.” Jinx opens her mouth to argue, but shrugs and takes the win.

    I turn back to Sarah.

    “Are they always like this?” she asks. I’m sure she’s thinking about us compared to her own team. How this kind of talk would never happen if it was only them. They would just get right down to business. Search the park and be done. I can’t tell if she’s disappointed or annoyed or both.

    “You mean are they always this argumentative?” I offer. “No, I mean, well, yes… sometimes—”

    “This innocent,” she says, quietly.

    “Well, you have Ahri to lead you. Of course you always know what you’re doing. Us, well… All they’ve had is me.”

    “Innocent isn’t always a bad thing.” She has that faraway look on her face again, like she’s trying to remember a dream she had a long time ago. She nods her head slowly as if agreeing on the memory. “Yes, that’s who you remind me of.”

    “Me? Remind you of Ahri?!” I ask, trying desperately to not sound desperate. Does she really think I’m like Ahri? Which part? Maybe a younger Ahri? I mean, she should know, she’s Ahri’s lieutenant. Did Ahri have multiple lieutenants on her old team? Maybe if our teams join, I can be another one, like Sarah?

    “No.” Sarah lets out a sharp laugh. I don’t know if she can read minds, but my hope deflates like an untied balloon.

    “Someone else. You remind me of someone else,” she says, softening. “Someone I lost a long time ago. She had pink hair too.” She looks me over again, and I try not to squirm under the scrutiny. “Come to think of it, you’re also too loyal for your own good… and such a dreamer. You’re kinda a mix of all of them,” she says.

    Them? The team you lost? Is this a bad thing? Who were they? I add ten more questions I want to ask her to the list running constantly in my head.

    How did it happen?

    “Lux! Sarah! Look.” Lulu yells happily, interrupting my thoughts before I can get any further. “My wish!”

    We look back at the distant playground. I run through a quick check. Lulu. Jinx. Poppy. Janna. Still safe and sound. The twilight has softened all of them, making them seem younger than they really are. The street lamps in the park click on in an unsettling coincidence. Hovering above the team are a swarm of twinkling lights. The team looks like they’re caught in a magical dream.

    “Loops, It’s like Short Stop said, it’s not dark enough…” The creaking of the merry-go-round slows to a stop as Janna, Poppy, and Jinx look up as well. It’s getting darker fast. Too fast. I can barely see the trees around the edge of the park. Sarah and I start walking back toward the playground more quickly.

    “Those aren’t stars,” Sarah says. I squint to get a better look. The points of light waver, almost glistening. As we get closer I can see what Sarah means. Dozens of thin translucent spheres reflect the light from the street lamps. Bubbles? They were… bubbles? I stuff Lulu’s drawing into the cuff of my glove.

    “I don’t think the twilight star heard you right, Lulu,” Poppy says. “Those are bubbles.”

    They aren’t just bubbles. One of them floats down toward Poppy, almost as if it was following the sound of her voice. Poppy steps back, letting it drift toward the metal railing of the merry-go-round.

    The hushed silence is interrupted by a snort-laugh from Jinx. “C’mon. They’re harmless—”

    A trail of bubbles begins to close in on her. I reach for my wand as I start running. “Jinx!”

    I throw the staff out ahead of me. It and a prismatic rainbow of starlight just graze the top of Jinx’s pigtails before returning to my hand. A sphere of multicolored light covers Jinx and Poppy. A few bubbles bounce off the barrier and pop against the swing set leaving behind a swirl of dark mist, fluttering black shapes—bugs perhaps, or moths?—and a long, high-pitched laugh, like the delighted cackle of a child.

    “That can’t be good, right?” Jinx whisper-yells. “Let’s pop these bad boys!”

    “My thoughts exactly.” A double shot of Sarah’s twin pistols fire before she can finish her sentence. A wave of bubbles pop in a shower of black haze and twisted butterflies.

    “What’s inside doesn’t look that great either,” Poppy says.

    “Don’t let them touch you.” Janna’s eyes glow lavender. A breeze picks up in the park as she begins to rise off the ground. The air current gathers fallen leaves as it begins to draw the bubbles together. Janna corrals them and the darkness they contain into a dense pack. Each of them pushes against each other, almost as if they were annoyed at being restrained.

    The high-pitched laugh stops short and is quickly replaced by an annoyed groan. The noise echoes around us, setting my teeth on edge. In the center of the pack of toxic bubbles that Janna gathered, a thin circle takes shape. The circle opens into a portal, letting long tendrils snake out from some dark dimension. One unsettling squid eye opens, followed by a second. The gelatinous blob unfolds into some cross between an evil octopus and demonic jellyfish.

    “Take it down,” Sarah yells. Shiro and Kuro fire eagerly. Poppy twists around, pulling her hammer back for a long, arcing hit. She growls through the effort as the hammer swings around. In a resounding smack, it connects with the bubble mass, knocking the now angry and disoriented jellyfish out of the center. The malcontent blob drifts for a moment, but collects itself and the scattered bubble pack. They move purposefully toward Sarah.

    “Sarah, get down,” I yell. I can feel the heavy power of pure starlight channel through my staff, vibrating the bones in my fingers and arm. The creature darts around, hiding behind bubbles. I fire in a beam of white-hot light. The little jellyfish slips between the bubbles and I miss. I try to get closer, but it feels like time is standing still.

    “Loops, no!” Jinx yells.

    It’s too late. From out of nowhere, a tiny Lulu pushes Sarah out of the way. Sarah lands hard, but rolls onto her back, both barrels blasting above her.

    One bubble escapes the pack above. It floats down, straining to get closer. It breaks against Lulu’s cheek in a wet pop. The darkness seeps out, expanding, and in the space of two heartbeats, Lulu is enveloped by an inky cloud. Her eyes close as she crumples to the ground in a small heap. I dive for Lulu, scooping her up in my arms. More bubbles pop above me as Sarah and Jinx finish off the last of them. A portal opens above the dark jellyfish. The maniacal laughter gets louder and the little beast floats toward the opening, almost as if was buoyed by the sound. As it crosses the portal’s threshold, it disappears, taking the remains of the dark magic with it.

    I bring my ear down to Lulu’s face. She’s breathing, slow and even… is she asleep?

    “Lulu!” I shake her by the shoulders. Lulu lets out a soft moan and her eyes flutter for a second. I bring my wand up, the brightness is near blinding. Lulu’s closed eyes flinch. “Lulu, by Starlight, wake up!”

    “Lost. They were lost.” Lulu’s voice is barely a whisper. Her eyes close tighter against the light, and her lip quivers. It’s as if she’s stuck in a nightmare. “Dark now,” she says.

    Lulu sits bolt upright, her blue eyes wide open now. She looks past all of us, like we’re not there, like she’s seeing through us to somewhere else. Like she’s somewhere else.

    “She’s on her way,” Lulu says.

    “She? Who, Lulu? Who’s on their way?” This is big. One blaring thought shuts out all the others in my brain. Could it be her? Is Ahri on her way? I bite my lip. I look around at Janna, Poppy, Jinx, and finally Sarah.

    “Ahri!” I say. “Ahri will know.”

    “No,” Sarah says.

    “Of course she will.” I push off her muted reply, trying to keep a smile of optimism for the others. “Can you call her, Sarah?”

    “I can’t.” Sarah won’t look at me.

    “Wait, why?”

    “We’re not talking right now,” she says quietly.

    “Sarah, I think this is more important than—”

    “—The slumber party.” Sarah interrupts looking me straight in the eye. “That night. She was supposed to come. At the last minute, she said there was something she had to take care of. Something she wouldn’t let me help with. I thought she was just being…”

    “Ahri,” I finish as she nods her head in confirmation. “You haven’t seen her since?”

    Sarah shakes her head no, tightening her grip on the pair of pistols in her lap. Just before Sarah looks away, I see it—a flicker of panic. I can feel my heart thump harder in my chest.

    A hundred more questions flood my brain. My stomach tightens.

    What could make Sarah panic like this? Where did Ahri go? What’s coming?

    Are we strong enough to face it?

    Am I strong enough?

    I want to ask her, but I can’t.

  3. THEN, TEETH

    THEN, TEETH

    Matt Dunn

    Mazier is sprawled on the rotten planks, waves lapping at stone underneath. Her slowing heartbeat pumps blood into the seawater. She stares, unblinking, at the shanty-dwellings above, and the stars beyond.

    Pyke studies her face once more. Mazier’s dead eyes stab at his mind.

    A jaulling vessel. Four-master with tattered sails. Waves the size of mountains.

    Long hair in high-sea wind. Dozens of faces on deck. Watching. Blue eyes. Mazier’s blue eyes, wide in disbelief.

    Then, teeth.

    Not Mazier’s pearly whites. Gunky, sword-sized teeth. Criss-crossed the boat. Losing light. Closing. In the jaull’s mouth. Lifeline slack. Cut.

    The tongue was too slick. Eyes stung with sweat. Fingers finding no purchase. Get to open water. Swim, swim...

    The jaull’s teeth clamped shut. Then pain. Then darkness.

    Ship was gone. So were the eyes.

    Mazier’s eyes.

    An able-bodied sailor. Aye. She was there. She cut my line.

    Pyke nudges the body with his boot, gazing downward all the while. He nudges her until she reaches the edge of the dock. One more kick, and Mazier is floating. The sharks are quick to feast. Circling. Snapping. The ocean never wastes time.

    Gulls shriek, their warbled cries caught on the wind, as Pyke finds Mazier, abled-bodied sailor, on the list. Red ink strikes her name from the parchment.

    The last name on the Terror’s crew manifest.

    That’s it. No more names, just a lot of red crosses. Where did I get all that ink...?

    A feeling gnaws at Pyke. Restless, unsettled, unsatisfied. The churning lurch of bile in his belly. He can’t be done. There were too many of them there, on the decks. Maybe he got the wrong manifest. Maybe it doesn’t even matter.

    They let me die. So many hands. So many times.

    Another sound. Not gulls. Not waves. Not teeth closing. Not the voice in the back of his mind screaming out “You’re not done!” over and over and over. Not the music he remembers from the swimming city, all those years ago.

    It’s a new sound. A real sound. A here-and-now sound.

    Pyke looks with his living eye, and sees wooden stairs sagging under heavy bootfalls. A thickset man, walking down toward the moored, bobbing vessels.

    He stops when he sees all the blood. His hand disappears into his jacket, pulling a flintlock, keeping the barrel of the gun close to his chest. Ready to aim and fire. Like a bloody idiot.

    Pyke steps into the moonlight. The man looks like he’s seen a ghost. The skin around his mouth clams up tighter than a dock banker’s coin-purse. His eyes go wide and quivery, like jellyfish, like calm water catching a breeze.

    “Who’s that?” he yells.

    Come find out.

    The flintlock is aimed at Pyke’s head. Then comes the flash and the bang. The shot is true, but it splinters wood because Pyke is no longer where he was.

    He’s in the mist.

    He falls apart, into salt and drops of water—a fine man to a fine mist. He heard they call him a phantasm. They’re half right.

    The heavyset man reloads. Sweat beads his wrinkled brow.

    In those precious few seconds, Pyke is all around him, in the in between, somewhere behind the air itself, studying him. Those fearful eyes, crap-brown. His beard wild and white. Sagging jowls, crooked nose, cracked lips, the way his earlobes are cauliflowered from countless dirty tavern fights.

    Looks like a captain.

    The man reeks of sweet, prickly fear. Good old boot-quaking terror.

    Smells like a captain.

    Pyke needs to be sure. He takes form—he was always a big man, now with the baleful, glowing eye that the sea gifted him, he feels larger still. Tell me your name, he rumbles.

    The man didn’t expect anyone to appear behind him. Nobody expects that. Maybe they do in fantasies or nightmares or the stories they tell in bars. But in reality, everyone just craps their pants and falls flat on their face, and this heavyset captain is no rule-breaker on that count. He trips on his own stupid boots, and rolls down the stairs like a sack of tinned victuals.

    Pyke takes each step slowly. A Noxian galleon is moored at the dock. Trader ship, or traitor ship? Is there a difference? He guesses not.

    You got ‘til I get to the bottom of these steps to tell me what I want to know.

    The man wheezes, his wind knocked clear into someone else’s sails. Gasping. A fish on land. Chubby hands reaching out.

    I remember you...

    Step.

    White-knuckle grip on the deck rail...

    Step.

    The man tries to stand, but his knee bends the wrong way.

    Step.

    You were watching.

    Step. A wharf-rat scurries close. Dinner time soon.

    You were smiling.

    Sputter. Tears coming now. “P-please… I don’t know what you’re talking about...”

    Step.

    Name. Now.

    “Beke! Beke Nidd!”

    Pyke pauses to consult the manifest, one step from the bottom. All the red marks. All the crossed out names.

    There. Beke Nidd. Midshipman.

    Uncrossed. Clear as day. Must have had the paper folded wrong.

    Beke Nidd. Yeah, I remember you. You were there.

    “I’ve never seen you before! It’s my first night in Bilge—”

    People can’t lie with a hookman’s barber lodged in their cheek. They can’t beg or trade facts they don’t have.

    Fine tool, the barber-blade. Made of tempered sharkbone. Keener than steel. Sticks in real good, snagging on bone and flesh. Struggling only hooks it deeper, as Beke is learning. His eyes are really afraid now.

    Those eyes stab at Pyke’s mind.

    The memory rises like a tide, and he opens up to let the waters come crashing through, drowning out Beke’s gurgled pleas.

    A jaulling vessel. Four-master with tattered sails. Waves the size of mountains.

    Ragged beard in high-sea wind. Dozens of faces on deck. Watching. Crap-brown eyes. Beke Nidd’s crap-brown eyes, wide in disbelief.

    Then, teeth.

  4. The Slayer

    The Slayer

    Poppy had nothing against the briar wolf, aside from the fact that it was about to maul her. Its muzzle was stained crimson from a previous kill, and the yordle wouldn’t chance being its next. She was hot on the trail of a renowned monster slayer, and she didn’t intend to die before she found the man and judged his worth.

    “You should step back. You won’t survive this,” Poppy told the wolf, holding her hammer aloft as a deterrent.

    But the briar wolf was not discouraged. It padded toward her, propelled by some strange desperation that Poppy couldn’t identify. Then she saw the telltale foam at the corners of its mouth. This animal was not driven by hunger or territorial instincts. It was in pain, and it wanted release. The wolf leapt at her, as if it had made up its mind that its next act would be to kill or be killed.

    Poppy swung the hammer, using every ounce of her strength to move the weapon’s considerable weight. The blow she delivered collapsed the animal’s skull in an instant, ending its torment. Poppy took no pleasure in the kill, but she supposed it was the best possible outcome, for her and the wolf.

    The yordle looked around at the empty meadow, but sensed no trace of the monster slayer she’d come to find. She had roamed the countryside, following rumors of his activities, hoping this mysterious hunter might be the fabled hero she had sought for so many years. But thus far, all she’d found were wolves and wyverns and highwaymen, most of whom she’d been forced to kill in self-defense.

    She had spent weeks traveling from hamlet to hamlet in the far-flung corners of Demacia. She walked as fast as her tiny gait would allow, but the monster slayer always seemed to be one step ahead of her, leaving naught but tales of heroic exploits in his wake. For a yordle, time is a curious thing whose passing is seldom felt, but even for Poppy, the search was beginning to grow long.

    One day, just when she was beginning to doubt herself and her mission, she spied a notice nailed to a roadside post:

    “All are invited to attend the Festival of the Slayer!”

    It was a celebration to honor the very monster hunter Poppy had been seeking. If there was any hope of locating this elusive hero, she would certainly find it there. He might even make an appearance, and then she could size him up in person to determine if he was worthy to carry the hammer Orlon had bequeathed her. The prospect put a spring in her step, and she marched with renewed purpose toward the celebration.

    Poppy was anxious when she arrived at the village, its banners and streamers gaudily proclaiming the day’s festivities. Ideally, she would have arrived early at such a public event and claimed a spot in the rear of the crowd, so as not to draw attention. But the main market was already packed with spectators, and Poppy found it hard to maneuver through the press of bodies. She squeezed through the legs of the townsfolk, most of whom were too inebriated to notice her.

    “I’d buy ’im a pint if ’e were here,” slurred one voice above her. “Saved my goats by killing that monster.”

    Poppy’s heart raced, as it always did when she heard tales of the hunter.

    What if he turns out to be the one? she thought.

    But deep inside, Poppy asked a different question. What would she do once she was rid of the weapon? Would she find an entirely new purpose? A yordle without one was a pathetic sight indeed. She stopped her mind from wandering and brought it back to the task at hand.

    The tiny warrior finally managed to weave her way to the back of the market. She found a tall lamppost both easy to climb and behind the eyes of the crowd. She then shimmied up the post, just high enough to see over the throng.

    Poppy was just in time. On the far side of the market, a speaker stood with several Demacian officials on a dais, and behind him, something tall was draped in a ceremonial veil.

    Even with her keen yordle senses, Poppy could barely hear the man’s words. He was talking about the monster hunter, and how he had saved numerous farms and villages from wyverns, rabid wolves, and bandits. He said that although this revered warrior had chosen to remain anonymous, it shouldn’t stop them from celebrating his deeds. The slayer had been spotted several weeks ago near the town of Uwendale, leaving the first eyewitness accounts of his appearance. With that, the speaker pulled off the veil to reveal a stone statue.

    Poppy grew faint with excitement as she saw the hunter’s likeness for the first time. He was the paragon of a Demacian warrior—seven feet tall, armored in heavy plate mail, and rippling with sharply defined muscles. Beneath him lay the corpse of a wolf he had presumably slain.

    Just as the image had begun to settle in Poppy’s mind, she heard the sound of a child’s voice a few yards away.

    “Look, Da. It’s the slayer! The one from the statue!” declared the wide-eyed girl.

    Poppy saw the girl was pointing in her direction. She whirled around to see if the slayer was standing behind her. But no one was there.

    “No, lass,” said the girl’s father. “That one’s no monster slayer. Too small by half.”

    The girl and her father quickly lost interest and strolled through the village to partake in the various amusements.

    As the crowd in front of the statue dispersed, Poppy moved in for a closer inspection. Now she could see the fine details of the hunter’s marble depiction. His hair was long, fair, and bound in two separate side knots. His hands were gnarled from a hundred battles, and in them, he held a massive battle hammer not unlike the one Orlon had given her. If there was a truer hero in the kingdom, Poppy had never seen him.

    “He has to be the one,” Poppy said. “Hope I’m not too late.”

    She turned and left the festival as fast as her legs could carry her, taking the swiftest route to Uwendale.

  5. Janna

    Janna

    Since ancient times, there have been those who prayed to the winds. From sailors seeking good weather to the downtrodden calling on winds of change, mortals have placed their hope in the tempests and gales that sweep across Runeterra.

    Surprisingly, the wind sometimes would seem to answer. Seafarers might spot a bright blue bird just before a healthy tailwind billowed their sails. Others could swear they’d heard a whistling in the air right before a storm, as if to warn them of its approach. As word of these omens spread, sightings of the bird grew more common. Some even swore they had seen the bird transform into a woman. With tapered ears and flowing hair, this mysterious maiden was said to float above the water and direct the wind with a flick of her staff.

    The faithful called this wind spirit Jan’ahrem, an ancient Shuriman word meaning “guardian,” for she always seemed to appear in moments of great need. As time went on, she came to be known more simply as Janna.

    Her name spread across the Shuriman continent’s coasts, and the seafaring people of Oshra Va’Zaun were her most fervent believers. They depended on calm seas for the trade ships that traveled through their city’s port. Statues and shrines were raised in gratitude for Janna’s benevolence. After the Shuriman empire enveloped the city, these displays of devotion continued… for a time.

    When the emperor issued decrees suppressing “false idols,” Janna’s statues were torn down. Yet despite the growing worship of the Ascended god-warriors, many still offered quiet prayers to Janna, for what could god-warriors do to protect ships from storms? These mortals often wore amulets with the image of a bluebird—smaller, more personal tokens in Janna’s honor.

    Through all of this, Janna continued to aid the vulnerable who called upon her. In a region rife with upheaval, she remained constant. Those with an eye toward history might appreciate the irony of “winds of change” being the only thing that did not.

    After the great empire fell, once verdant lands became a desert as the remaining Ascended brought war and chaos—yet Janna shielded the city, now known as Zaun, from the turmoil.

    Over the centuries, Janna watched as Zaun’s ambitions grew. While the city was still a robust trade port, its denizens aspired for more. They dreamed of cutting a canal through the isthmus on which they lived, opening a path that would unite the seas surrounding Valoran and Shurima. The city poured great effort, wealth, and time into the construction. Prayers to Janna waned as mortal dreams focused on mortal machinations.

    However, the canal’s excavation made great portions of Zaun unstable. On one cataclysmic day, entire districts on the River Pilt collapsed below the western sea level, and thousands suddenly found themselves fighting for their lives against the clashing currents.

    As these unfortunate souls faced their doom, they prayed for salvation. They called out the name of their ancient protector:

    Janna.

    Though these mortals had seemingly forgotten her until now, Janna did not hesitate to help them. An immense gale swept over the city as she took corporeal form. Impossible walls of air held flooding waters at bay as people fled the drowned ruins of their homes. Ferocious gusts of wind cut through the suffocating smoke from fires caused by the destruction. Yet while she saved many, thousands still perished that day—but all who survived witnessed Janna’s benevolence. Never again would the city’s people forget their savior.

    To this day, through the rise of Piltover and the ongoing struggles of modern Zaun, Janna’s faithful wear bluebird medallions and show reverence to the winds. And through it all, Janna stands steadfast by the humble and the meek. Zaunites all know that whether they fight for breath amid the toxic clouds of the Zaun Gray, stand against the brutality of violent chem-barons, or fend off other threats, Janna will not abandon them.

  6. Soraka

    Soraka

    An age ago, when time itself was young, the inhabitants of the celestial realm regarded the fledgling races of Runeterra with growing concern.

    These creatures deviated wildly, unpredictably, and dangerously from the great designs intended for them by those above. The guidance and fates that had been woven into the night sky often went unseen—or worse, were misinterpreted by their simple mortal minds, leading to chaos, uncertainty, and suffering.

    No longer able to merely watch, one celestial being chose to descend to the mortal realm, determined to untangle the knots in the tapestry of the world. This child of the stars took on a form of flesh and blood, and though the powerful magic coursing through her veins burned this new body from the inside out, she knew her suffering meant little if she could help to heal all that was broken and incomplete.

    And so Soraka came to be, and set upon her journey to soothe the mortals she encountered.

    Even so, she quickly learned the capacity for cruelty that the peoples of Runeterra possessed. Whether on the battlefields of inescapable conflicts, in the seedy underbellies of sprawling cities, or on the frontiers of the untamed wilderness beyond them, there seemed to be no end to the fighting, betrayal, and suffering Soraka witnessed. She watched, helpless, as mortals ignorantly broke the threads of destiny they could have woven together. Their lives were too short, she reasoned. They were simply unable to see the greater patterns, now lost.

    But as Soraka lived among them, as one of them, trying to repair what little of the damage she could… something incredible and wholly unforeseen happened.

    From the snarls and tangles and knots, the messy breaks in the great patterns, Soraka noticed a new, unintended design emerging—intertwined, and of a staggering complexity.

    Unintended and wild, the mortals were forging new and unknown futures for themselves. From the celestial realm above, it had seemed like pure chaos; but with her new perspective, and blessed by the stars to stand against the erosion of time, Soraka now beheld an almost perfect beauty. Just as mortals had the deepest capacity for cruelty, so too did they possess infinite potential for kindness, and inspiration to rival anything among the stars.

    Soraka realized her place was not to repair or replicate the celestial pattern. While a part of her craved the fixed, comforting destinies of the stars, she knew in her heart that static fates could not contain the unbridled, dynamic potential of mortality.

    And so her work took on renewed vigor, driven to unlock the untapped possibilities of all she met. Soraka sought now to inspire and guide rather than shepherd, to see what unblazed trails each mortal would discover for themselves in their brief, radiant moment.

    Over the millennia, legends of the Starchild have filtered through all the lands of Runeterra. Some tribes of the Freljord still speak of a far wanderer, a horned healer who soothed the icy bite of the most brutal winters. In the depths beneath Zaun, rumors float of a lilac skinned medic who would purify weary lungs from the ravages of the alchemical Gray. In troubled Ionia, the oldest myths of the Vastayashai’rei recall a seer who communed with the stars themselves, and called upon their light both to heal the wounded and scorch those who would do further harm to the First Lands.

    Currently, Soraka calls the westernmost peaks of Targon her home. She watches over an isolated tribe of vastaya, teaching them her healing ways, and tending quietly to her own needs—though what brings her so close to the great mountain, or how long she will stay, only Soraka knows.

    Many times, she has watched entire civilizations dance close to the brink of destruction, and she has learned that she cannot save those who do not wish it, nor force them to see what they will not.

    All the same, Soraka is determined never to stop trying.

  7. Poppy

    Poppy

    Runeterra has no shortage of valiant champions, but few are as tenacious as Poppy. Bearing a hammer twice the length of her body, this determined yordle has spent untold years searching for the “Hero of Demacia,” a fabled warrior said to be the rightful wielder of her weapon.

    As legend describes it, this hero is the only person who can unlock the full power of the hammer and lead Demacia to true greatness. Though Poppy has searched the furthest corners of the kingdom for this legendary fighter, her quest has proven fruitless. Each time she has attempted to pass the hammer on to a potential hero, the results have been disastrous, often ending in the warrior’s death. Most people would have abandoned the task long ago, but most people do not possess the pluck and resolve of this indomitable heroine.

    Poppy was once a very different yordle. For as long as she could remember, she had been in search of a purpose. Feeling alienated by the chaotic whimsy of other yordles, she preferred to soak up stability and structure where she could find it. This drive brought her to the human settlements of western Valoran, where she gazed in wonder at the caravans striping the countryside in an endless file. Many of the people there looked tattered and weary, but they stumbled on in pursuit of some ephemeral better life that might lie just beyond the horizon.

    One day, however, a different sort of caravan passed through. Unlike the other travelers, these people seemed to move with purpose. They all awoke at the exact same time each morning, roused by the sound of a watchman’s horn. They took their meals together every day at the same hour, always finishing within a few minutes. They set up their camps and took them down with remarkable efficiency.

    While yordles used their innate magic to fashion extraordinary things, these humans achieved equally astounding feats through coordination and discipline. They acted in concert like the cogs of a gear, becoming something much larger and stronger than any single person could ever be. To Poppy, that was more marvelous than all the magic in the world.

    As Poppy watched the camp from the safety of her hiding place, her eyes caught the gleam of armor emerging from a tent. It was the group’s commanding officer, wearing a brigandine of gleaming steel plates, each piece overlapping, each an integral part of the whole. The man’s name was Orlon, and his presence seemed to stir the souls of everyone there. If someone became discouraged, he was there to remind them of why they pressed on. If someone collapsed from exhaustion, he inspired them to get up. It reminded Poppy of certain yordle charms, though again, without magic.

    Poppy crept in for a closer look. She found herself following this shining commander, as if drawn to him by fate itself. She observed Orlon as he led his soldiers in training exercises. He was not a large fellow, yet he swung his massive battle hammer with surprising alacrity. At night, Poppy listened intently to his hushed discussions with the elders of the camp. She heard them making plans to pull up stakes and head west to build a permanent settlement.

    Poppy’s mind was overwhelmed with questions. Where was Orlon going? Where did he come from? How did he assemble this meticulous band of travelers, and was there a place for a yordle in it? At that moment, she made the most important decision in her life: For the first time ever, she would reveal herself to a human, as this was the first time she’d ever felt a connection with one.

    The introduction was a jarring one, with Orlon having just as many questions for Poppy as she had for him, but the two soon became inseparable. He became a mentor to her, and she a devotee to his cause. In the training grounds, Poppy was an invaluable sparring partner–the only member of Orlon’s battalion who was unafraid to strike him. She was never obsequious, questioning his decisions with an almost childlike innocence, as though she didn’t know she was supposed to meekly follow orders. She accompanied him to the site of the new settlement–an ambitious new nation called Demacia, where all were welcome, regardless of station or background, so long as they contributed to the good of the whole.

    Orlon became a beloved figure throughout the kingdom. Though few had actually seen him wield his hammer, he always bore it on his back, and the weapon quickly became a revered icon for the fledgling nation. People whispered that it had the power to level mountains and tear the earth itself asunder.

    Orlon passed the hammer to Poppy on his deathbed, and with it, his hope of an enduring kingdom. It was only then that Orlon told her the story of his weapon’s creation, and how it was never truly intended for his hands. He explained to Poppy that the hammer was meant to go to the Hero of Demacia–the only one who could keep Demacia whole. As her friend drew his last breath, Poppy swore to him that she would find this hero and place the weapon in his hands.

    But what Poppy possesses in resolve, she lacks in ego, as it never even occurred to her that she might be the hero Orlon described.

  8. Roots of a Poisoned Tree

    Roots of a Poisoned Tree

    Graham McNeill

    Dust hung in veils as Shoorai followed the mechanical-limbed form of Tunnel-Chief Hewlett deeper into the mine shaft. She breathed via a used esophilter, and tried not to imagine how many Zaunite miners had sucked air through it over the years. Sputtering chem-flares strung from timber roof beams dribbled glowing droplets onto their pitted iron helmets as they passed underneath.

    “Heed you waz assay on’a square,” grunted Hewlett, looking over his shoulder. “Waz big teem ’staken.”

    We heard you were a good assayer, Shoorai translated. But we were sorely mistaken.

    Seven years since she’d come to Zaun, but the miner’s strange argot still took her a moment to parse.

    “Say ta Ore-seer we no need Piltie assay,” continued Hewlett. “She not savvy wit Zaunrock liken we is. They as done sunk us inna first teem!”

    “I assure you, Chief Hewlett, I have delved mines everywhere from Shurima to Zaun,” said Shoorai. “I know this rock as well as you.”

    “So you sayin’,” grunted Hewlett, as they entered the gallery chamber at the end of the shaft, “but rock here not be liken you say.”

    Dust-smeared miners sat next to chem-drills, pneuma-picks, and crates of hexplosives. Every one of them ought to be attacking the rock in search of the hexite seam she’d promised Baron Grime was here. To see them idle railed against her work ethic.

    Hewlett lifted a chem-lamp to illuminate the rock at the end of the chamber. At first, Shoorai wasn’t sure what she was seeing. Zaunite strata was most often crushed sedimentary limestone, interspersed with pockets of metamorphic rock wrought by intense, and not-so-long-ago, heat and pressure.

    This was something else entirely…

    Shoorai snatched the lamp and walked the length of the gallery. She pulled off her glove and ran her fingertips over the wall. Pitted and warm to the touch, with a curious umber hue—like something she’d expect to find in her native Shurima.

    “This makes no sense,” she said. “This wasn’t here yesterday.”

    “I try telling ya,” replied Hewlett. “We drill on the yester, jus’ liken you say. Come back on’a first bell and seen this.”

    “Whatever this is, the Baron isn’t paying you to sit around doing nothing. Blast through it.”

    Hewlett grinned. “So we fix’n to lay out ’splosives, yah?”

    “Yes,” agreed Shoorai.

    “I WOULDN’T DO THAT IF I WERE YOU.”

    The voice boomed from all around them—a shockwave in the air, each word sounding as though it had been formed by grinding tectonic plates.

    The miners took to their heels, but Shoorai flattened herself against the side wall of the chamber and pulled her helmet tightly down on her head. The voice sounded like it belonged to something titanic. Cracks spread across the ceiling of the gallery.

    She looked up in time to see the pitted rock wall… move.

    It shifted, grinding as it reshaped itself. Shoorai watched in amazement as it formed two deep craters that looked like closed eyes, and a projecting crag that could be a nose. Dust poured from a curved and jagged chasm that looked horribly like a vast mouth.

    The face filled the wall before her, fully thirty feet across and twice that high.

    Azir’s bones! If this is its head, how big is the rest of its body?

    The craters of its eyes opened with a grinding sound that reminded her of the time she’d seen that wandering weaver girl perform wonders on the road to Kenethet. Shoorai met the gaze of the colossal face, its eyes a liquid yellow gem-like material.

    Quartz, she thought. Not natural to this region.

    “THIS ROCK IS INFESTED,” said the voice, and Shoorai pressed her hands against her ears at its deafening volume. “CREATURES MOVE WITHIN IT. BEAUTIFUL IN THEIR OWN WAY, BUT CHAOTIC. YOU SHOULD NOT BREAK THIS ROCK, IT WILL END BADLY FOR YOU.”

    The eyes blinked, and pebbles fell from their rocky lids.

    “Um, are… are you the mountain spirit or something?” she asked.

    The brow of the face creased with a groaning rumble.

    “NO. AT LEAST, I DON’T THINK SO. I THINK I WAS PART OF ONE, ONCE. SO MUCH CHAOS IN THIS WORLD, MAKES IT HARD TO REMEMBER EVERYTHING.”

    “So what are you?” she asked.

    “AH, WHAT INDEED?” it said, and the mine shaft flexed as the face sighed mournfully. “A SHARD OF A GREATER WHOLE. A SERVANT OF ORDER SEEKING PURPOSE. CALL ME… MALPHITE.”

    Loose shale cascaded from cracks in the walls of the tunnel, and the timber supports groaned as they were subjected to stresses they were never built to endure. Shoorai didn’t like the look of the split lines on the seam above her head. They were ambitious, eager to race onwards.

    “Could you stop moving? I think you’re going to collapse the cave.”

    “OH. SORRY.”

    “You said the rock was… infested?” asked Shoorai. “With what?”

    “THINGS THAT SHOULD NOT BE. CREATURES THAT LIVE ONLY TO CONSUME.”

    Shoorai felt her heart race. Growing up in the shadow of lost Icathia, she knew of creatures that matched such a description.

    “I know them,” she said. “But they only dwell in the deserts of the southern continent.”

    “ONCE, PERHAPS, BUT NOW THEY THREAD THE CRUST OF THE WORLD LIKE THE ROOTS OF A POISONED TREE.”

    Shoorai looked uneasily at the ground.

    The rock face chuckled, and more shards of stone fell from the roof.

    “NOT TO WORRY, I HAVE THEM TRAPPED WITHIN MY BODY. I WILL CRUSH THESE ONES, BUT MORE WILL COME. SO BE WARY OF DELVING TOO DEEP…”

    The glow of the creature’s eyes faded as its heavy lids closed and the tunnel began to shake.

    “YOU SHOULD GO NOW,” said the rock face.

    Hewlett appeared behind Shoorai and took hold of her with his chem-powered arm.

    “We gotsta skedaddle, assay,” he said. “We linger, cave be crushin’ us.”

    Shoorai nodded, backing away from the gallery. “I’ll tell Baron Grime this seam was played out.”

    Hewlett grinned. “Maybe you assay on’a square after all.”

  9. Halfway Between the Stars and Earth

    Halfway Between the Stars and Earth

    Katie Chironis

    It was a perfectly good night for a cup of tea. Chilly, certainly, but clear—as crisp a night as frigid Mount Targon ever got, really. Soraka was expecting a visitor. The snow in the stone kettle had already begun to melt over the hearth at the center of her little yurt; as it grew warmer, the room was suffused with the smell of dried tea leaves and sparse mountain herbs.

    She crossed the room, passing the shelf she’d built herself along the back wall. Like the rest of her home, it was ever-so-slightly crooked. As far as mortal skills went, carpentry was not her strong suit. But she had built it because she loved the keepsakes on the shelf: a willow-wreath from Omikayalan, a tiny golden acorn from a dear friend in Bandle City, and oldest of all, surely older than anything mortal, was a stone dog from the old days of Nashramae. She owed that city another visit. She hadn’t been back in centuries, and she had a fondness for its people.

    But she was shaken from her reverie as the commotion started outside. Shouting. Barking. Precisely on time.

    In the darkness a pack of wolves surrounded a huddled lump in the snow. She strode out into the night, drawing her shoulders back, her head high. The moon was out and appeared slightly too large, as it often seemed to on Targon. Her home, nestled partway up the peak, was framed to the east by craggy flats, and to the west by a sheer drop into the mist far below. A constant frigid wind battered everything westward. It wasn’t uncommon for wild creatures to be battered on their way across the flats, too… but it was rare that they found prey.

    The wolves turned to snarl at her, half-illuminated in the yellow light from the yurt’s windows. Meanwhile, the lump rolled over. It was a girl. Frightened eyes stared back at Soraka, a wooden spear clutched between two shaking hands. Only one thing brought people to this remote cliffside on the approach to the Holy Mount. But they were never this young.

    The wolves lunged for Soraka in unison, and she heard the stars cry out in her defense. Sparks trickled from her fingertips as she rained golden fire down on the pack. The slam of impacts sent most of the wolves skittering back with primal fear, but one of them was left behind, its hindquarters crushed beneath the weight of the dying embers. It moaned and rasped, struggling. She saw the remainder of the pack disappearing over the icy barrens, abandoning their fellow to his fate.

    Soraka shook her head and instantly knelt in the singed snow, her hands already outstretched. She couldn’t bear to feel the poor thing’s pain. It tugged at her. As she laid her hands along its bloodied back haunches, it snarled, digging its teeth into her arm. Ouch. Mortality had its drawbacks.

    “Stop!” the girl cried. “It… It’ll kill you!”

    Soraka felt her face melting into a smile. “I’m not afraid of wolves,” she replied, as light spread down her arms and into the wolf’s mangled body. “Besides,” she added, “Targon belongs to him as much as to me.”

    The creature’s flesh began to knit back together, the crushed bones becoming whole once more, like clay taking proper shape in an artisan’s hands. But the magic burned as it left her. She closed her eyes and lost herself in the pain for a moment.

    When she opened them, the wolf had retreated. Only the girl remained. Her eyes flicked upwards, tracing the line of Soraka’s horn, and Soraka already knew what she was thinking.

    “Are you… one of those things?”

    “One of what?”

    “Demons. I’ve heard…”

    Soraka laughed. But before she could respond, the girl sagged weakly, the spear tip dropping. It was only then, her mind clearing, that Soraka finally felt the enormity of the girl’s own pain. Her arms were black all the way to the elbows. Her fingers were frozen to the spear, the flesh swollen red above that. Frostbite like this… she’d be dead soon.

    When she laid her hands upon the girl’s arms, the girl flinched, and Soraka was worried. Humans were curious creatures when it came to healing. Their minds were intricate. It had to be a mutual agreement—they had to want to heal. Sometimes she’d get the tendrils of her magic deep into a wound and find that the mind pushed her right back out again.

    But not here. The girl was too tired, all vestiges of her energy spent getting her this far up the mountain. Soraka flooded the dead flesh with all the power she could give, pushing through the pain. Coils of emerald light wound their way up the girl’s arms. The spear dropped to the ground. As Soraka worked, she watched the skin fade through black, red and purple to its proper dusky color. There. That should do it.

    “Do I seem like a demon to you?” Soraka asked. Her gold eyes glimmered in the darkness.

    The girl was silent. After a moment, Soraka pressed her. “You’re making the summit climb. Why?”

    But the girl just looked away, ashamed, rubbing her newly-restored arms. “My family,” she blurted, shaking her head. “We… We Rakkor—we’re warriors. And my mother, she’s the strongest of all. You don’t know what it’s like to be the only one who can’t fight. To be…” she bit her lip, struggling to find the word. “Weak.”

    Soraka swept a hand out towards the dirt path the girl had followed, the one which led all the way to Targon’s base. “You came this far, and still you think yourself weak?”

    “I won’t be soon,” the girl replied, her hands balling into fists now. “Not when I reach the summit. I’ll walk off the final peak and right into the sky, just like the old stories. And then—then they’ll be forced to accept that I’m strong. No one made of the stars could ever be brought low.”

    “If only that were true,” Soraka said, flashing a too-sharp grin.

    She scarcely caught the girl’s face breaking out into stunned amazement as she turned, walking to the edge of the path. Above them the stars spread out against the inky sky, brighter than they were anywhere else in the world. They sang songs only she could hear. This was home to her. It hadn’t always been. But it was the home she’d made.

    “Come,” Soraka beckoned. And she raised her hand, trailing her fingers across the heavens. As she did, she knit the clouds and mist into shapes which wound their way against the moon and became faces the girl would no doubt have recognized from stories. A young woman with pale hair. Her counterpart, a woman whose face burned as brightly as the sun. And a warrior with a spear not unlike the girl’s own.

    “All of these mortals ascended to the peak. But they had chosen that path with all their soul.” She turned to the girl and spoke slowly, taking no delight in her words. “You have not truly chosen the mountain. And Targon will not choose you. You would walk to your death. Don’t do this.”

    The girl turned away. She was silent a long time.

    “Where, then?” she said at last, her voice rough. “I can’t go home. I can’t go back to them. Where else would I go?”

    Soraka smiled. “The world is vast. Your paths are many. I can help, if you let me.”

    The images in the moon had faded.

    Soraka motioned to the cheerful yellow yurt nestled among the rocks nearby. “But first, better come on inside and get warm. No sense in starting back until dawn comes. Besides, I’ve got a kettle on. Perfectly good night for a cup of tea.”

  10. Nothing Rhymes with Tubebow

    Nothing Rhymes with Tubebow

    Odin Austin Shafer

    “Two paths lead to the monastery fortress from the villages below it,” Xayah begins.

    I follow her eyes and see a pair of golden stairways that stretch down from the mountain temple to the farmhouses below. Each wood-woven home probably has a whole family inside it. There, mortals are born, die, and—most importantly—create new songs.

    Probably with harps and drums. Maybe flutes? I should make a reed flute later. First, I need to fluff my cloak. Did I remember to clean my feathers? The town below must have an inn. A bottle of wine would be great right now.

    “Rakan…” Xayah says.

    Crap. She was telling me the plan. I focus back on her face, on her crooked smile. The sunset’s last rays reflect in her eyes. I love her eyelashes. I want to—

    “Repeat it back to me.”

    Something in the monastery. She was… Uh…

    “I rendezvous with you at…” I say, but I’ve already lost the thread. I pull at one of the feathers on my head, hoping to pluck the idea from it.

    A tiny shimmer of light glistens from her scrumptious bottom lip. Are her lips purple today? They were violet yesterday.

    “They will kill me if they catch me,” she says.

    The shock of the thought takes my breath. I feel my face twist into a snarl. “Who?!” I demand.

    “The guards,” she replies. ”It’s always guards.”

    “Then I’ll distract them! When?”

    She points to the sky. “Look for a green flash before the sun sets. Then draw the guards away from the western walls while I run along the ramparts to the cells.”

    “I put on a show the moment the sun sets,” I say. “Where do we meet?”

    “At the gate. I’ll throw a golden blade into the sky. But you have to be there in ten breaths,” Xayah says, plucking a feather from my cloak.

    “I will be at that gate the moment you throw the blade,” I say. Nothing in my life is more certain than that.

    “I know.”

    She nods, and begins telling me the safest path to take. She plans things, which is why I know she will be okay. Wow, the sky is gorgeous right now. That cloud is shaped like an eggplant. I saw a dog once…




    I do not like these steps. I do not like them. The gold leaf covering the stone is almost the same color as my feathers. It’s infuriating. I consider changing their hue, but it would take some magic. Damn, I can’t be tired when she needs me. Xayah probably sent me this way knowing my plumage would blend in here. A red cape would look better against these steps. Maybe indigo? What’s around this corner?

    More steps. Only humans would cut stone into flat shapes to make a mountain boring! I should climb the cliff. Xayah said to take the steps… I’m pretty sure.

    I pick up some pebbles and begin to juggle them. I hear the magic writhing north of me, within the twisting roots of the Lhradi Forest.

    The forest’s song finds its way into my head, and I begin to sing it.

    “What was that?” a voice echoes from above.

    An entry way! A human guard appears. His clothing is dark as shadow.

    “Who are you?” he demands.

    “I am Rakan!” I reply. How can anyone not know that?

    “Who?”

    I don’t like him. I hate him more than steps.

    “I am Rakan! The battle-dancer of the Lhotlan tribe. I am the song of the morning. I am the dance of the midnight moon. I am the charm that—”

    “It’s that vastayan entertainer,” another guard interrupts. He too wears boring clothing—clothes I haven’t seen in this area before.

    The first guard wears a shiny golden amulet on his chest. I snatch it from him.

    “Hey!”

    “What’s this?” I ask. He doesn’t deserve this. Whatever this is.

    He grasps for it, but I flip it around my hand while still juggling the pebbles in the other.

    “Give me that!”

    I flick each stone into his face.

    “No,” I say. Then, as innocently as I can, I ask, “Is it important?”

    He draws a pair of hook-swords. I take one away from him before he can raise them.

    “Open the gate, I’ll give you back this… uh… shiny thing,” I offer as I twirl his amulet in my palm, and then send it spinning up my arm.

    Instead, the rude fool swings at me! I flip over his attack, and land behind him. He turns to slash again. I dive under his blade, using my rear to knock him off balance. He falls down the steps with a scream.

    The other guard watches his friend tumbling away, then looks back to me. I shake my head at him.

    “Honestly, how could anyone not know who I am?”

    This one stabs at me with his spear. I twist past him, allowing my feathered cloak to envelop him for a moment. Blinded, he stumbles and trips over himself. He falls onto his shield and shoots down the stairway with a clack-clack-clacking sound. Well, until he crashes into his friend on the first landing.

    The impact sends them both sprawling. I laugh. Now I get steps.

    “You are terrible dancers,” I say as I check my cloak for dirt.

    The two people stumble to their feet, glaring up at me.

    “You okay?” I ask, thankful for the amusement.

    They roar as they rush up the steps. Ungrateful bastards.

    I leap away from them and ask, “Wanna know the difference between a party and a fight?”

    They slash at me with their weapons again and again.

    “One is an entertaining day,” I say as I send them back down the stairs. “The other is… shorter.”

    A deafening gong sounds behind me. I smile. The fun part begins.



    “You gotta do better than that!” I yell, taunting my pursuers as I run. I do need to get out of here, though. There are twenty guards now. Okay, maybe thirty? More than lots.

    Running through their sleeping chambers was a bad idea. However, it did give me a chance to freshen up.

    Some of the men have those strange crossbows. They use fire from a tube. They had a name. I’m gonna call ’em tubebows. Their shots explode around me, eating holes into the wall as I dive out of the room.

    I slide into the courtyard, performing a full twist to give it some flair. The gate is open. I could run for it, but Xayah needs me.

    Hidden in an alcove, a guard swings at me with a large tubebow. Or is bowtube better? He pulls at the trigger. I leap toward him, diving over his shot.

    “What’s a good rhyme for tubebow?” I ask out loud.

    I kick the guard up in the air. As he falls, I spin and introduce my hand to his cheek. The sound is louder than his weapon.

    “Oh, slap!” I say, mimicking its intensity. The human rolls to his feet, pulling a short sword. “How are you not getting the message?!”

    I wonder if I can find a kitchen. That’s where the chocolate would be.

    The light in the sky is changing. I leap back into the air to check the sun’s location again. It disappears behind the hills, and an orb of green light flashes above it.

    “Party time!” I scream. Now, the entire castle is chasing me.

    “Surrender yourself!” a guard in a metal hat yells.

    “No! I am distracting you!” I reply. He looks at me confused. I’m gonna slap him next.

    A hail of arrows launches from the opposite wall. I swerve through them, enjoying the whistle they make as their fletching passes me.

    Would I look good in that metal hat?


    The golden blade hangs in the air for a second before falling. Xayah is ready to go.

    I take my first breath. She said I had ten, but four breaths is much too long. I need to know she’s safe.

    “Wanna see some sweet moves?” I ask the nearest human.

    He doesn’t seem enthused. I roll through the group and appear behind him. He turns just in time to meet my cloak halfway. My feathers spin him up into the air like a top. Twelve spins is my record, but that was on a hill.

    Second breath. The human slams into the ground after nine rotations. Damn. I don’t have time to try again.

    Third breath. I have to make it back to where she needs me, back to Xayah.

    I leap up the rampart, then bound off its roof toward the gate.
    I take the fourth breath in midair.

    Xayah runs toward the gate with some fancy juloahs—they are hairy where we have colored feathers. They must be from the Sodjoko tribe. Too formal looking, but I do like the thick ridge of hair that flows along the back of their forearms. I should make my feathers do that. The eldest one’s sarong seems like a terrible idea.

    “We’ll never make it,” he cries. “They have rifles!”

    “You mean the tubebows?” I ask.

    Akunir stares at me blankly.

    “Those are out of ammo,” I explain. “The Xini longbows too.”

    “What?! How?”

    “I am Rakan,” I explain. I expect this from humans, but my own kind?

    “All of you, run for the tree line,” Xayah says.

    A dozen men, covered in flour and chocolate, run out from the guardhouse. Mixed with eggs, they would make a thing called ‘cake.’ Pies are better though…

    “Run!” Xayah yells. When the old juloah fails to move, I pull him along.


    Coll kneels beside her guard’s body. She and Xayah pray that his spirit finds our lands. One of his horns is broken, blood pools in the leaves around him. Coll removes the last arrow from his corpse. He carried her all the way here, even after the humans wounded him.

    This juloah should not have died. Someone loved him. They will sing his songs. But only silence will answer.

    My eyes well with tears. Softly, I sing for his loss, and his family’s.

    Xayah stands with her fist clenched. She won’t grieve now. Instead, the pain will find her tonight when she thinks I’m asleep. That is her way. I will kiss away her sorrow then.

    The consul is named Akunir. He might have been a battle-dancer when he was young. He and Xayah begin arguing about politics.

    Coll kisses the forehead of her guard. Her jaw is tight. She holds an anger stronger than Xayah’s. She glares at her husband Akunir. She has been waiting for him to listen for far too long.

    “I will go back north, Akunir,” Coll says as she rises. “I will tell them what was done to us.” Her arms are as tight as branches, rigid against her sides.

    “Coll, no,” Akunir protests.

    “I will bear word of Jurelv’s fate to his kin, and mourn with them,” she says. That must have been the guard’s name. Perhaps he was kind. I like the smile lines on the side of his face. “Then, I will muster arms and prepare the tribe to fight.”

    “You cannot do that!” the consul yells.

    “I forsake my claim to you. I forsake your claim to me,” she speaks coldly.

    Akunir looks as if he’s been stabbed. He did not see this running down the hillside? Or in the forest? Or beside the dead guard? It was decided long ago. Moons ago.

    “Coll… please.”

    “No,” she states simply. He moves to grab her. I block him.

    “I will speak with my mate,” he says.

    I can feel his breath on my chin. He ate guloo fruit recently. My nose nearly touches his forehead. He glares up at me.

    I simply shake my head and shrug. I don’t need words. For this, silence is better.

    His remaining two guards tense. They don’t want to dance with me. I am Rakan. They know my name. They glance nervously to Xayah holding her blades. They know her name too.

    “Thank you, Xayah,” Coll says before limping away.

    Akunir and his guards watch her go. Wordlessly, they set off to the south, leaving us alone.

    I move close to Xayah. I feel her sadness for Jurelv, Coll, and for Akunir. I’ll drink wine tonight. Then I’ll sing rude songs.

    “Promise me nothing will come between us like that, mieli,” she says.

    “We’re not like them, miella. We’ll never be like them,” I reply. I can feel her worry. She’s smarter than me about so many things, but foolish about love sometimes.

    “Where to now, Xayah?”

    “Let’s just stay here a moment longer.”

    I wrap my cloak and arms around her. I will tickle her later. We will laugh and drink. She will plan and I will sing. I feel her cheek on my chest. I’m glad that Xayah needs me now.

    “Repeat it back to me,” she says.

    “We are not like them,” I say again. “We are not like them.”

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