For a length of time she couldn’t measure, Charlotte watched the snow steadily trickle outside her bedroom window, a whitewash canvas restored over and again. Hours passed, but she remained sitting in her bed, unable to find the strength for a different activity. The spacious room was cold and silent, full of meaningless extravagance when before, the lavish comforts made her feel at home. A well-used handkerchief remained close by in case she needed it, and she did many times.

  A tray of untouched breakfast lay on the table beside her bed, oatmeal gone cold and slices of orange pruning at the edges. Micah brought it to her late that morning, but she just couldn’t stomach any food. He left her alone the rest of the day, for which she was grateful. He must have guessed her desire to be left in peace for a little while.

  Even so, she felt incredibly lonely. She had only known Kyba for a day, yet she missed him so much. He understood her. With the same gift in his own eyes, they connected on some level she couldn’t with others. Their conversation the previous morning had been one of the most meaningful of her life.

  During the night, her failed attempt at sleep had been barraged by a hundred things she wished she could have told him and a thousand questions she wished she’d been able to ask. If only she had thought of them before he…

  She reached for her handkerchief and wiped away the new bout of tears. If only.

  A muffled knock came at the door. With a sore throat and miserable heart, she couldn’t muster an answer. Moments later, the door opened anyway. She had expected Micah or John, but to her surprise, Cal entered. He looked at her for a moment, long tail unwinding itself from the doorknob to flick above his head. Without a word, he padded over to the bed and jumped up, situating himself beside her with all the brash entitlement of a pampered tabby cat.

  In spite of her melancholy, she giggled behind her breath, softly petting the long body of the Murr. She marveled at his sleek, blue coat and folded wings, noting once again how odd the contrast seemed. In every way Cal was a feline, from his gravelly purr when content, to his manner of completely ignoring anyone he didn’t regard with particular importance. Even his ten-foot tail curled and coiled like a cat’s. Yet, he possessed several human qualities she found fascinating. Keen intelligence, fierce loyalty to Micah, and heated pride rivaled by a tender heart one could only discover about him through the means of persistent patience.

  That tenderness shined now, as Charlotte realized he was attempting to comfort her and succeeding in every way possible.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  He purred a bit deeper in reply.

  “I’m sorry for being out of sorts,” she said, dabbing her eyes again. “I want to be brave like Micah, but this was really hard. You’ve all tried to reassure me, which I appreciate, but the indisputable fact is that I caused Kyba’s death. Me and me alone. It’s turned me into a wreck.”

  Cal regarded her for a moment with a distinctive look, making odd little noises. It took her a moment to grasp what he wanted, but then she realized she couldn’t understand him. She activated the Waxing Crescent, and a sliver of purple light appeared within her right iris.

  “There we are,” he said. He wiggled his body, tucking himself into a little nook within the folds of the blanket. “Charlotte, in most ways you are different from Micah, but do you know that in some important ways, you are very similar?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I have never told anyone this, but I feel it might help you at the present moment. Micah killed my mother and father.”

  Charlotte gasped. “What are you saying? That can’t be true!”

  “Can’t it? Hasn’t he already declared to have killed many, many people, and even entire clans?”

  She blinked rapidly, clutching to the covers. “Yes.”

  Cal looked ahead, avoiding her tearful gaze. His demeanor was quiet, yet his still-flicking tail told her he wasn’t particularly sad. “When I was a wee kit, my father led the Arzanon, a clan of renegade Murr who regarded themselves as free souls and sought freedom from humans, who use Murr like they do horses. As pets… workers… slaves. We dwelled in the Edge, an ancient forest north of the western grasslands, and it was there we defended ourselves from traders and trappers, making our home.

  “Two years ago, Micah was sent to eliminate us in our own forests, and he succeeded. He always succeeded. He was the most skilled, the most ruthless, the best at what he did, which is why Governor Riser always sent him. He came to be called the Demon of Arcadia, and it was easy to understand why. My father and mother were fierce warriors, but Micah killed them with no regard for their ability or reputation. He killed all the Murr of the Arzanon, coming last to me. I didn’t know what was happening. I just knew I hated him, but I couldn’t do anything but accept my fate.”

  Tears flooded Charlotte’s face, dripping heavily into her lap. “So… what happened?” she managed.

  “Backed into a corner of our treetop nest, he approached, sword still stained with my father’s blood. He looked down on me with soulless eyes and offered me a choice I’ll never forget. He said, ‘I need a helper. Be mine or die.’”

  “How?” she whispered. “How could he ever say something so… evil? So… cruel?”

  “Because he was a slave.” Cal looked up at her, unshaken. “I don’t know how I came to realize it when I was so young, but I did. Micah didn’t kill my parents and my clan because he wanted to. He did it because he was told to. He possessed no heart. It was as clear as day. So when he gave me a chance to live, I took it and followed him, away from my home where the bodies of my loved ones still lay strewn in dishonor.”

  “Didn’t it destroy you, though?”

  “At first, it was misery. But in time, I came to see I had been right all along. Micah wasn’t always callous, and there would be times when he would do something contrary to his nature. He would bring me extra food, or be careful of not stepping on my tail, or absent-mindedly scratch my head. He would apologize when something he said made me angry. And when he came to trust me, he began to talk to me like a friend… an equal. Despite his superiority, he never acted as such. All immensely odd actions that told me something. Something you later proved to be true – that he was being controlled, but only to an extent. When I realized this, I no longer hated him. I felt sorry for him.”

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  Cal’s ears lowered, as if he were ashamed. “Despite my initial misgivings, I’m glad we met you, Charlotte Goodsteel. You truly freed us from a terrible burden.”

  Charlotte wiped her eyes. “I guess I understand, and I thank you. But why do you compare him to me?”

  “Because death followed him, just like it seems to follow you. You are right to be worried, because the power of your eyes will be coveted by many, perhaps for the rest of your life. But that doesn’t make it your fault when people die, just like it wasn’t Micah’s fault that he killed so many. You recognized that about him right away, so why can’t you see that about yourself?”

  She blinked several times. “You’re saying… I should just forget about the past like it didn’t happen?”

  Cal shook his head. “I’m saying look to the future. Escape the shadow of your bad fortune and embrace the light of your potential. Your eyes may be a curse, but they are a blessing ten times over. What else could better convince you than to realize what you have done for Micah and myself?”

  Her eyes became wide with a curious shimmer, as if revelation dumped a warm heap of soothing water over her head. She swallowed a lump, and a rosy pink color returned to her cheeks. She began to cry again, but this time a sincere smile of joy accompanied it. Seeing it, Cal purred.

  I think she gets it.

  Charlotte fell over him, snuggling against him while laughing and crying at the same time. “Thank you, Cal. You wonderful blue Murr. I’m so glad you’re my friend. I love you!”

  “Yes… well. Oof, Charlotte dear, you’re crushing me.”

  She squeaked and quickly sat up. “Sorry.”

  He fluttered his wings and adjusted himself. “It’s quite alright.”

  “You know, I want to do something for Micah,” she said resolutely, sniffing. “You’re right, Cal. He and I are the same in a lot of ways. My whole life, I’ve been the ‘Moon Eye Child.’ No matter where I went, it was like my life was decided for me, and I had no say in the matter. But being with you two, it’s like my life is finally mine to live. And I want Micah to have that same feeling. But the angel Arabella said he would never know it until he helped all those people.”

  “What do you plan to do?” Cal asked.

  “I don’t know…” She looked at her right arm, fingering the faint yellow circle left there – Kyba’s mysterious gift to her before he passed away. It seemed no more than a birthmark, but it was definitely special.

  She smiled. “I don’t know yet, but I’ll figure something out.”

  *       *       *

  Micah rubbed his eyes. After nearly twenty solid hours of reading, the words on the pages were beginning to run together. Despite the fatigue, he couldn’t stop. So much valuable knowledge filled the volumes possessed by Lord Kyba. Books aplenty were heaped on a small table he had set up in the fortified room deep beneath the house.

  My house.

  He looked around the small space, still mystified by his sudden inheritance. Why had Kyba entrusted him with so much? Hadn’t he had a thousand years to formulate a better plan than to give it all away to someone he met the day before he died? Micah wanted to believe Kyba knew he would do what the old Avalon desired, but what was the right thing to do? Should the treasure be kept hoarded away in secrecy, as the Rinx Lord had done all these years? Or did he want Micah to decide for himself? How could he possibly know?

  Micah gazed at his hand for the hundredth time, using his finger to trace the deep scar embedded into his skin. The angel’s words echoed in his ears, as vivid as when he heard them the day before.

  As reprisal for the lives you have taken, you are tasked with helping one thousand eight hundred and twenty four people. And before you die, you must save three lives. When you have completed this great task, only then will the shadow dissipate and destiny be revealed to your heart. But take courage, for you have been chosen as one of the Nine, and Heaven bestows its favor on you.

  “The Nine,” he said out loud.

  He breathed deep, leaning his head back. What did it all mean? Arabella told him destiny would be revealed only when he completed the task, and he wanted to know his purpose so badly, but how could he possibly help so many people?

  Of course, there was a way.

  He looked once again at the ancient book sitting on the shelf, just waiting to be studied. He had avoided it, ignored it… yet it called to him, yearning to be read.

  Crystal Conversion.

  Micah tentatively reached for the title written by Lord Gransaiga himself, but then pulled away. Dare he read it? It was perhaps the most valuable treasure one could conceive to locate. The method to convert one magic crystal into another and bring back the Cure Stones long ago snuffed from existence. He had once thought Crystal Conversion was a fairy tale, just as impossible as alchemy; yet a bucket of priceless Cure Stones rested beside the book, testament to Kyba’s claim.

  How many people would he be able to help if he could bring Cure Stones back to Carnel? The sick, the injured, the maimed – all would receive treatment a hundred times better with the remedial magic of the crystals and the medical knowledge stored within the very room in which Micah now studied.

  Through the night, Micah pored over book after book instructing on how to use Cure Stones to reattach severed limbs, heal infected wounds, and purge viruses and poisons from the body. And he read stories of Lord Mobius, the greatest healer ever known, who was said to be able to bring people back from the brink of death using Cure Stones, restoring them to instant health. It seemed too amazing to be true, a collection of dreams and wishes, yet Micah knew of the history of Cure Stones and what they had enabled people to accomplish before the curse of Miracle. But to prove he truly possessed the actual crystals, a test needed to be conducted.

  He took up a Cure Stone. The sky blue crystal sparkled even in the dim light. Between two fingers, he held a fortune beyond normal comprehension, yet he had a pile at his disposal. Taking a knife with his other hand, he sliced a tiny cut across his thumb. Blood dribbled from the wound. Placing the knife aside, he opened one of the books nearby, an ancient school primer on using Cure Stones. If Micah hadn’t been so tense, he would have been amused by the fact he was reading a child’s textbook to learn. Following the instructions on how to draw on the crystal’s power, he placed the crystal over the wound and focused.

  Before he could blink, the wound healed.

  Micah’s jaw dropped. He rubbed a finger over his thumb. The pain was gone, and not even a scar remained. He looked at the dormant gem in amazement. He truly possessed a Cure Stone, and not just one, but many! To excite further, the crystal in his hand had once been a different crystal altogether. Perhaps something as common as an Element Stone, converted by a process of which he was now the sole keeper.

  He looked back at the shelf and boldly took the forbidden book, blowing a thick coat of dust from the cover. Crystal Conversion and its Various Properties shined in gold script. After seeing a Cure Stone’s power for the first time in his life, it was a surprisingly easy decision to make now. Carnel needed this. He might never know why Lord Kyba kept Crystal Conversion from his people, but he told Micah to do what he wished, and now he was making that choice. Perhaps it might one day be used for evil should it fall into the wrong hands, but any magic could be used for evil, couldn’t it? And after witnessing the power of Charlotte’s eyes, he knew there was magic far more devastating in this world to protect. Nathanial Vash possessed knowledge of the New Moon, and he wanted it for himself. Of that much, Micah was now certain. And that thought alone drove him to shake loose his concerns and look to the future.

  He opened the book to the first page and began to read.