Page 43 of Midnight Star

I close my eyes and reach out with my magic, trying to connect with the pond’s energy. The water responds, swirling gently around my fingers, but it feels… resistant. Like it’s holding something back.

Frustration prickles across my skin and into my bones.

This isn’t working.

“It’s not giving me anything,” I say, opening my eyes as I pull back my hand.

Riven leans closer, scanning the surface of the pond, as if he’ll be able to see something I didn’t. “Maybe it’s not the water we’re supposed to focus on,” he eventually says. “Maybe it’s the stars.”

I tilt my head back, looking at the endless expanse of night above. The stars are brilliant, their light piercing the cold darkness, but they give me nothing—no pull, no guidance. The song I felt earlier is still there, faint and elusive, but it refuses to sharpen into clarity.

“I don’t think they’re telling us anything, either.” I huff, lowering my gaze back to the water.

Riven exhales slowly, his frustration written in the tightness of his jaw. “Then what are we missing?” he asks.

“It’s here. I know it is.” I shake my head, trying to shove down my own rising frustration. “The magic is practically buzzing, but it’s like it’s waiting for something. Or someone.”

As if on cue, a low hooting sound echoes through the clearing. It’s soft at first, but then another joins in, and another, the sound building in a strange, haunting harmony.

I glance at Riven, and his hand moves to the hilt of his blade. “Owls,” he says quietly, his voice both alert and wary.

I reach for my dagger, too. I wouldn’t usually think owls would be dangerous… but who knows in this realm?

Who. Knows.

I chuckle at my accidental internal joke.

The hooting grows louder and closer, until the forest is alive with it. Then, as if on cue, the owls emerge. They perch on the low branches around the clearing, their golden eyes glowing like molten light, fixed on us, like they expect us to do something.

I tighten my grip on the hilt of my dagger. “That’s not creepy at all,” I mutter.

“They’re watching,” Riven says. “Waiting.”

“For what?”

As if in answer, the owls fall silent, their collective gaze turning toward the pond.

“Look,” Riven says, glancing back down at the water.

I follow his gaze, and my breath catches at what I see. Because the stars reflected in the pond are no longer a mirror of the sky above. They’re shifting, rearranging themselves into a new pattern.

A clock, its face formed by constellations. The hands point to twelve, and at the top, a single star glowsbrighter than the rest. It’s unlike any star I’ve ever seen—bluer, fiercer, and more alive.

In the center of the clock, the constellations align into the silhouette of a woman, her arm outstretched, pointing to the glowing star.

“The Midnight Star,” I say, recalling the messages from my dreams. “Above the earth and bound to light, your soul must rise to claim your sight. To claim the wisdom shining far, you must journey to the Midnight Star.”

“Your soul must rise.” His gaze snaps to me, more intense than ever. “She’s telling you to use your magic. Your astral projection. To go to the star.”

Sapphire

“Togoto the star?”I repeat. “As in, up there? Inspace?”

“That’s the only place stars exist,” he says simply, as if he’s suggesting a trip to Hawaii instead of one toouter space.

“I can’t astrally project that far.” I shake my head, the idea too absurd to comprehend. “I can only project to places I can see.”

He glances up at the star, then back to me. “You can see the star,” he points out.

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