Ayla Crown often fell through little star pools and ended up in faraway places. Always without permission—and, it seemed, at the worst possible moments. Even after five years, these instantaneous journeys still made her bones ache. She gripped her starwand tightly, holding her breath deep in her chest, like the rare perfumes sealed in their bottles on her vanity, as the glass room spun and the distinct colors blended into one, until gravity finally pinned her down like a loose thread in the universe. By the time the door opened, she had already hidden the wand down the back of her dress, along her spine. “What happened to your hair?” Poppy shrieked so loudly that Terra quickly came up behind her, the many knives and swords at her waist clattering together noisily.
Her hair was the least of her worries, though she had no doubt it looked like moss. Traveling between the new lands of the kingdoms with her starwand usually ruined even the tightest buns and the most carefully crafted braids Poppy made for her—an unexpected upside, if she was honest. Ayla never pretended to be an expert at using the device. At first, the star pool took her to unexpected places: to the snowy villages of Moonling’s new land; to the floating mountains of Skyling’s new land; to some areas that hadn’t been settled by any of the six kingdoms. Gradually, she learned how to return to places she had already visited. That was the extent of her ability to handle the starwand.
The only thing she knew for sure was that the mysterious device somehow allowed her to travel hundreds of kilometers in seconds. Terra sighed, her hand dropping from the hilt of her blade. “She just lost a few strands, Poppy.” Poppy ignored her. She ran over to Ayla, holding a bru
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