Annika’s arms lifted high above her head, wrists touching, hands cupped. And with Sasha’s chalks, with her gift, the star appeared in Annika’s hands, brilliant and blue.

“In the water and of it,” Sasha said. “From the goddess’s hands into the guardian’s. And she is in the water and of it. Luna’s star, star of water, gifted with grace, with joy, with love, now held by the daughter.”

Slowly, Sasha set the chalks down, turned to Sawyer. “But the night comes, brutal and bloody, and must be faced. The risk will be yours, traveler. And the choice to take it.”

“What risk?”

“Your life, to save all else. Will you embrace the goddess of dark, take her to the light, leave her lost? She will find her way again, but will you risk to spare the blood of friends? To make the time to heal again?”

“Pull her into a shift? Is it possible?”

“Only you can know. You are the traveler. She is the daughter,” Sasha said, gesturing to the portrait. “You must both choose. So do we all.”

Sasha’s eyes closed; she breathed out a sigh. “Sawyer?”

“Yeah, hey, welcome home. You need to sit down.”

“No, I’m fine.” She waved him off. “Really, even a little buzzed. I know what I said to you, but—”

“Let’s just let that simmer. Annika finds the star, the Water Star.”

“I know she can.” As she studied her own work, Sasha picked up a rag to wipe chalk from her hands. “And I know there will be voices all around her, and weeping with the sighs and songs. It’s all I know.”

Now she turned to her worktable, and the painting.

“This is where we need to go, and the star of ice waits for us. It’s Bran’s home, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, he recognized it when you were working on it earlier.”

“Bran’s,” she repeated. “And more. Could you ask the others to come up? They should see.”

“Yeah, I’ll get them. Here.” He offered her a bottle of water. “You’ve been at this for a good four hours straight.”

“It needs a little more work, but— It’s enough for now.”

Bran came first, slid an arm around her as he studied the portrait of Annika.

“Does it illuminate her, or does she illuminate it?”

“I think it’s both. I felt I needed to rush, that time is running out. I didn’t capture the glow—of her, of the star. It would bring tears, that glow.”

She turned her face into his shoulder. “Bran, are you sure you can’t help them? Sure there’s nothing you can do to allow her to stay with him?”

“Even if it wasn’t beyond my powers, and I believe it is, the spell wasn’t done to harm. She was given the gift of legs, and for a purpose. And she took an oath, of her own free will. I can’t circumvent that.”

“It breaks my heart.” She held close a moment, made herself step back. “You’re going home.”

“We are. It’s yours, fáidh, if you’ll have it. Would you live there with me, and me with you in your mountains in America? And my flats in Dublin and New York. Any and all.”

“I’d live with you anywhere. Any and all, Bran.” She held him again as she looked at the painting. “It’s beautiful and powerful. It’s so yours. Do you know why you built a home just there?”

“Only that when I walked that path the first time, came to the cliffs and the ruins there, I knew it was for me. It needed a home, and I needed to be there.”

Annika stepped out, gave a gasp. “You’ve drawn me. I found the star. I hold it. I will find it.”

“You can, and I believe you will.”

Doyle came out, just ahead of Riley. Sasha felt her heart wring out tears of sympathy.

“Got yourself a star, Anni. And I’m betting that portrait’s reality before today’s over.” Buoyed, Riley shifted over to where Doyle stood, staring down at the painting.

“Some digs, Bran. I think we could rough it there on the last and final leg of this quest. How many bedrooms?” she asked.

“Ten, though two are only put into use for that when my family comes in a herd.”

“Is there one in either of those towers?”

“Yes.”

“Dibs on it.”

“This is yours?” Doyle spoke, but never took his gaze from the painting. “This house, on these cliffs, with the woods thick at its back? And to the north, just on the verge of the woods, is a well.”

“There’s an old well, and I was told the woods came in closer at one time. How do . . . Ah.” It struck him. “You know this land, these cliffs.”

“This sea, the woods. I know it. It’s my home. Or was. My grandfather helped his father build it, or the first of it. A fine stone house. And my father helped his father add rooms to the south side, as my father was one of ten children and all of them lived. That was McCleary blood, they said. Strong and healthy. And I helped my father repair the old stable his grandfather had first built. And the sheep grazed on the rocky hills, and we hunted deer and rabbit in those woods.

“And my brother died in my arms less than a day’s hard ride from where we were born. Now they’d have me go back, these gods.”