A Wish Upon the Stars

by TJ Klune

  I would have objected, but that was pretty much all true.

  “He once turned my nose into a phallus,” Randall said, sounding resigned.

  “That doesn’t surprise me in the slightest. But still, even with all his faults, his heart is resilient. It has been lightning-struck, and made stronger because of it. I’ve never met someone quite like him before.”

  “Confounding, isn’t he?”

  “Extraordinarily so. Do you think he’s capable?”

  “Yes.”

  “You believe in him.”

  There was no hesitation. “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “Because for all his bravado, for all the sass and the sarcasm, he is still the greatest wizard I’ve ever known. He’s the better part of all of us. And I am humbled to be in his presence.”

  I couldn’t find my voice.

  The Great White chuckled. “Maybe the gods chose wisely after all.”

  “Surprising, isn’t it?”

  “You’ve called us here.”

  “I did.”

  “Do you have a plan?”

  Randall began to smile.

  I OVERHEARD something not meant for me. I should have kept walking. But I was rooted in place.

  “I’m proud of you,” the King said to his son just inside the gates of Camp HaveHeart.

  “What?” Justin asked. “I didn’t—”

  “What you said. About Verania. And its people.”

  Justin sighed. “I was just trying to get them to focus.”

  “Were you?”

  “Yes.”

  The King laughed. “Even when you were a child, you got that same grumpy look on your face when you were caught showing your heart. I always found it to be the most endearing thing.”

  “Dad, I’m not—”

  “A king puts all others before himself. He does all he can for the weak and the weary, the poor and the hungry. He is kind to those who deserve it. He is firm with those who do not. He defends the Crown with all his might.”

  “I know. You’ve told me many times.”

  “I suppose I have. A king also inspires. Have I told you that?”

  “I—no. I don’t know that you have.”

  “Hmm. Well. He inspires, because without hope, all is lost. Hope is a light in the dark, something that can help lead us home. You are a light, my son. And I know that one day you will make a wonderful king. I’m proud of the man you’ve become.”

  “Dad.”

  “Let an old man have his words.”

  “You’re not that old.”

  “Very kind of you.”

  “You’re going to be around for a long time.”

  “I hope so.”

  Silence. Then, “How do you know?”

  “What?”

  “That I’ll be a good king.”

  “Because a good king inspires. And you inspire me.”

  I left them alone after that.

  Chapter 16: The Grimoires Three

  MAGIC, I’VE learned, is a gift, capable of the greatest of triumphs. Or, in the wrong hands, the darkest of desires.

  I could do things that most others could only dream about.

  I was seventeen years old when I brought a bird back to life.

  For the longest time, I never told anyone about it.

  I sucked the life from the earth and the trees and pushed it into that little bird, causing its lungs to expand, its heart to thrum.

  The ground had been scorched beneath my feet, and remained as such to this very day.

  Morgan had fallen, and there had been a moment when I stood above his pale body, the eyes of the King’s Court upon me, and thought, I could bring him back. It would be so easy to do so.

  Somehow I’d resisted the temptation.

  Because I’d been taught by a man far greater than I that just because I could do something didn’t mean that I should.

  “It can get away from you if you let it,” Morgan of Shadows had told me once, shortly after I’d come to Castle Lockes. “It can be something unwieldy, growing beyond your control.”

  I’d stared at him with wide eyes. “And that’s bad?”

  He’d nodded gravely. “Yes, little one. It’s bad. Because your mind could become clouded and you could lose your way. It is why understanding what you’re capable of is very important.”

  “I won’t do that,” I’d said. “I won’t be bad.”

  He’d smiled then, that smile I thought was just for me. “I know you won’t. And I’ll be here to help you.”

  “Promise?”

  “I promise.”

  SAM.

  Soon, Sam.

  I promise.

  I’ll be there soon.

  And then it will end.

  I jerked awake, heart pounding, skin slick with sweat.

  Ryan slept at my side, chest rising and falling slowly.

  I watched him sleep for the longest time.

  FROM THE Grimoire of Morgan of Shadows:

  It’s odd, really, being alone. For the longest time, Myrin and Randall were at my side, ever watchful. My guardians. My protectors. My mentors. I felt… complete. Together, we seemed unstoppable. I’d always heard that two wizards should never be each other’s cornerstone, but why not? If it worked, then why shouldn’t they be as they were?

  I know now why. I think. Maybe it played a part in all that came after. Maybe it didn’t. Maybe Myrin was always meant to become mired in shadows. Maybe that was his destiny.

  Randall said he’d return to me when he’d healed himself.

  I just need to wait.

  I hope it’s not long.

  But things feel… different. Now. The darkness is gone.

  Anya is remarkable. I’m glad she’s not a wizard.

  A BREAKTHROUGH.

  I wish I could tell Randall.

  1 EYE of fire gecko

  1 ½ cups ground wormwood

  2 Kontashi mushrooms

  1 tear of a spectacularly agitated troll worm

  THERE ARE stories. Coming from the mountains of the North. Of a haunted castle made of ice. Travelers say the mere sight of it brings about a feeling of dread. That screams can be heard from inside, wailing as if in lamentation. Bright lights bursting from within.

  Ghosts, they say.

  Stay far away, they say.

  I can’t.

  I have to know.

  RANDALL’S DARK. He attacked me. I’d be dead now, except he pulled back at the last moment. He looks… wild. Unhinged. His magic curled around him like fog. He didn’t recognize me at first. I couldn’t have stopped him. Not if he’d truly wanted to end my life.

  It wasn’t until I said his name that the fog lifted, if only for a moment.

  He saw me, I think.

  He really saw me.

  “Morgan,” he said. “Morgan, leave—”

  “Fight it,” I pleaded. “You have to fight it, because I can’t lose you too.”

  He was gone, after that.

  But then the screaming resumed from deep within Castle Freesias.

  If that’s what losing a cornerstone does to you, what will happen when I lose mine?

  WHAT WOULD happen if you combined certain words? Shri and mao and bre are seemingly unconnected, but are they really? What if they were said together? What could that bring?

  I DID it.

  I helped him on his way back to the light.

  I will carry scars of the battle for life, but it’s worth it.

  RANDALL’S RETURNED.

  He’s different than he was a decade ago.

  But then so am I.

  I reintroduced him to Anya. She’s older now.

  He smiled.

  But not before I caught the look of fear in his eyes.

  It’s not the same.

  It’s not.

  GLANDUR PASSED beyond the veil.

  Randall is Head Wizard now.

  There’s not many of us left.

  Randall doesn’t seem concerned.
/>
  “You’re young yet,” he said. “More will come if needed.”

  But what if they don’t? Will magic just… die?

  HE TOLD me once it would be better if Myrin’s name was wiped from history.

  I didn’t believe him.

  I never tried to stop him.

  I NEVER thought there’d come a day when I realized I haven’t thought about Myrin in years.

  Today was that day.

  Now I can’t shake him from my mind.

  We should check the seal. Just to be safe.

  SOMETIMES I still doubt myself.

  Anya laughed at me. Her hair is gray now, the lines around her face and mouth more pronounced. She’s still the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.

  “You can do this,” she chided me gently. “I know it. I believe in you.”

  She believes in me.

  She believes in me.

  Thank you, Anya.

  MORGAN OF Shadows.

  My name. I’ve never thought of it much.

  But doesn’t Randall just have the most curious sense of humor?

  ANYA’S SICK.

  I knew this day would come.

  Gods, how I wish I’d prepared for it better.

  Maybe she’ll—

  IT WAS quick. In the end, it was quick. She smiled. She closed her eyes. She breathed in and out, and in and out, and….

  That was it.

  The end.

  I felt it the moment she crossed the veil.

  When her heart stopped, when she sighed out that last breath.

  I felt it.

  Brutal. Savage.

  Randall had warned me. How it could be.

  It felt like I broke cleanly in two.

  I cried, of course. How could I not? I loved her.

  But.

  I didn’t feel… dark.

  I never felt shadows.

  Nothing whispered in my head.

  My magic is as it always was.

  I’m grieving, yes. My body aches. I can still smell her scent upon the pillow, though it’s already started to fade.

  But I haven’t turned toward darkness.

  I think it’s because I did split in two.

  And if that’s the case, then Randall broke into jagged pieces.

  I knew the end was coming.

  I had time. She held on for weeks.

  Randall did too.

  But he never got to say goodbye.

  Gods help me, but we should have killed my brother.

  We should have ended his life.

  For his sake.

  And for Randall’s.

  MAGIC IS a curious thing, even after all this time. Why, just today, I made a flower bloom with nothing but a thought in my head.

  It’s beautiful. It reminds me of her.

  RANDALL TOLD me he’s leaving Castle Lockes.

  “It’s time,” he said. “You will be the King’s Wizard.”

  “But—”

  “Don’t argue with me, Morgan. You’re ready.”

  “But what about you?”

  He smiled. “Retirement will look good on me until you find an apprentice of your own. Then we’ll give him hell and make him a great wizard.”

  THEY ARE already calling him Good King Anthony of Verania.

  He’s young, but his heart is pure.

  He will do well.

  SHE CAME to me.

  From the desert.

  Vadoma, and she spoke of a prophecy.

  HIS NAME is Sam.

  It’s a good name.

  I don’t know if I’m ready to be a mentor. What if I mess up? What if he doesn’t listen to me? What if I turn him Dark?

  I can’t do that to him.

  Gods, I don’t know if I can do this.

  IT HURTS. Leaving him in the slums. Randall says it’s necessary, that he needs to be allowed to be a child before we step in and change his life.

  I don’t agree.

  He needs to know what he’s capable of. What he’ll be. Who he’ll become.

  Maybe if I just… I could just talk to him. To his parents. I could—

  No. Randall’s right. I need to wait.

  I’VE BEEN summoned.

  He’s presented.

  There are boys made of stone in an alleyway.

  How… wonderful.

  HE TALKS. And talks. And talks.

  Randall laughed at me when I told him as much. “You reap what you sow.”

  “I’m worried.”

  “About?”

  “What if I don’t do right by him? Randall, we’re already withholding so much from him—”

  “You’ll do fine. He couldn’t be in more capable hands. Trust yourself, Morgan. Your instincts have rarely led you astray.”

  I SENT him into the Dark Woods to find something unexpected.

  He’s only been gone for two hours, and yet I am fretting as if it’s been days.

  I have to remind myself that it’s necessary.

  He’ll be fine. I was when I had to do the same.

  I wonder what he’ll bring back.

  GARY AND Tiggy.

  Into the wilds, and that’s who he brought back.

  Truly unexpected.

  Gods. How delightful he is.

  Sam of Wilds, though.

  It’s a good name.

  THE HEART wants what it wants. But sometimes the heart cannot have what it wants. Maybe the Prince and the knight aren’t in love, but they are together. Sam respects that, even though I know it hurts him.

  But still….

  He thinks the knight doesn’t even know he exists, much less know his name.

  If that’s true, then why does Ryan Foxheart never look away when Sam’s in the room?

  I wonder….

  HIS CORNERSTONE.

  Ryan is Sam’s cornerstone.

  Because of course he is.

  Godsdammit.

  HE IS loved.

  Above all else, he is loved.

  Granted, he spent three hours regaling me with a story that started with him losing his virginity “quite spectacularly, Morgan, like, I’m a man now,” and ended up being a diatribe on the way society views sex and sexuality. By the time he finished, I doubt even he knew what he was talking about.

  But he’s smiling more than I’ve ever seen him before.

  And that is thanks to Knight Delicious Face.

  I can’t believe I wrote that.

  Sam is happy.

  I hope I never have to take that away from him.

  Maybe Vadoma got it wrong.

  VADOMA IS here.

  Gods forgive me.

  HE’S ANGRY.

  So, so angry.

  And I can’t blame him. For any of it.

  We shouldn’t have kept this from him.

  If only we’d—

  HE’S LEAVING. For the desert.

  And I know Vadoma’s shown him things he hasn’t shared with me.

  I could see it plain as day on his face the moment he awoke in the field after she blew her powder into his face.

  It scared him.

  Sam, I’m so sorry.

  I wish things were… different.

  But you must remember: your heart is your greatest weapon.

  MYRIN.

  I swear on all that I have, if you touch one hair on Sam’s head, I will end you.

  You won’t hurt him.

  I won’t let you.

  I will stop you. Somehow.

  It never should have come to this, brother.

  But now that it has, I will do what I must.

  SAM—

  If you’re reading this, I have passed beyond the veil….

  FROM THE Grimoire of Randall of Dragons:

  Magic is everything.

  I will take my time with it.

  It cannot be rushed.

  MY MENTOR will be the Great White.

  This is… unexpected.

  For one, we cannot understand each other.

  I cannot spe
ak Dragon.

  He cannot speak in a human tongue.

  Are we just supposed to growl at each other?

  If so, we’ve got that down perfectly.

  I HATE him so much.

  THE GREAT White seems to believe I’m wasting my time. Every wizard knows that eventually, a cornerstone will come into being. The Great White doesn’t like the fact that I’m making room for such a person in my constructs.

  I can’t deny he has a point. To depend upon one person to hinge my magic on seems to be a logical fallacy. So much could go wrong.

  But even I can’t say I’m not seduced by the idea of such a person. Made for me, just as I’ve been made for them.

  In the meantime, I met the most curious of triplets the other day, the Berlotti sisters, and all of them seemed to find me irresistible, if the next seventeen hours meant anything….

  WHERE DOES magic come from? Is it in the air? Is it in my blood? Is it from my mind or the earth beneath my feet? It seems… confounding that such a thing could exist. And why me? Why are there so few of us who can do the things I can? Am I in tune with the world in the way others are not? No one in my family seems to be capable of the things I am, though they are all long gone now.

  My life will be long. I’ve barely begun to scrape the surface.

  If magic does come from the mind, is it as limitless as imagination?

  What a terrifying thought.

  THE GREAT White says I have no need of a cornerstone.