The wind rushes past us as Vivian’s sea foam-green Vespa zips down the road toward the docks, the engine buzzing like a dragonfly.
I don’t know how I ended up here, squeezed between Moonie and Vivian, clutching Vivian’s waist for dear life. Just yesterday, I was convinced I’d never be allowed outside again. But somehow, Trish and Vivian worked their magic and talked my papa and Moonie’s dad into letting us help with a "summer project." That was the official excuse, anyway. In reality, Vivian had to promise to keep us out of trouble.
I’m not sure how well that’s going to go.
“Hold on, chicas!” Vivian hollers over the wind. “I’m taking the shortcut!”
Moonie whoops as Vivian swerves off the main road, cutting through a back alley that smells like oranges and old shrimp nets. The Vespa bumps over a pothole, and my stomach jumps into my throat.
Moonie leans over my shoulder. “See, Sol? Told you we’d make it back to the docks!”
I’m too busy trying not to fall off to respond.
When we finally reach the docks, I let out a breath of relief. But something’s wrong. The fisherman’s boat is gone.
Vivian brings the Vespa to a stop, planting one foot on the ground. “Uh… was there supposed to be a strange boat here?”
Moonie and I scramble off the scooter, searching the horizon. The only boats left at the dock belong to the sponge divers and the charter fishermen. The stranger’s boat is nowhere in sight.
Then I spot it. A tiny speck in the distance, its silhouette bobbing against the glistening Gulf.
“He’s leaving,” I whisper.
A sharp cry pierces the air.
We look up just in time to see an osprey soaring overhead, its golden-brown wings stretched wide, something glinting in its talons.
Moonie shields her eyes against the sun. “What —?”
Vivian squints. “Is that what I think it is?”
The light shifts, and for just a second, the thing in the osprey’s claws pulses a familiar, unnatural glow.
A piece of the Starglass.
“It is!” I gasp.
Moonie’s eyes widen. “We have to follow it.”
Vivian sighs, kicking down the Vespa’s stand. “Of course we do.”
The osprey circles once before banking toward the tree line, heading inland toward the tall pines beyond the mangroves.
“We know where it’s going,” Moonie says, eyes sharp. “It’s gotta be heading back to the nesting grounds.”
Vivian shields her eyes. “Back by the old water tower?”
“Yeah.” I nod. “That’s where they always build their nest. High up, safe.”
The glinting shard catches the sunlight again as the bird disappears toward the horizon.
Moonie’s already jogging after it. “Come on before it decides to drop it.”
Vivian groans. “I really didn’t sign up for this much exercise,” she mutters, but she follows us anyway.
We’re not sure how we’re going to get the glass back. We just know we have to try.
We tear down the sandy path, branches snagging at our arms as we duck under scrub palms and weave past palmetto bushes. The osprey glides above us, a flicker of light dancing between its wings.
I glance sideways at Moonie. “Do you think it knows what it has?”
Moonie smirks without breaking stride. “I don’t know, maybe. Never know.”
We weave through the narrow paths between the palmettos and scrub brush, the sharp snap of twigs underfoot. The osprey’s shadow dips and rises in the distance, a flash of silver still clutched in its talons.
Vivian huffs behind us, her sandals slapping hard against the packed sand.
“Remind me next time,” she calls, breathlessly, “to wear proper shoes when following children on wild goose chases!”
“It’s not a goose!” Moonie hollers back over her shoulder, grinning. “It’s a bird of prey. Totally different.”
I laugh, but my eyes stay fixed ahead, scanning for the old water tower peeking above the tree line. The pines crowd closer now, tall and spindly, their tops swaying ever so slightly in the breeze. Somewhere in that stretch, the osprey landed with a piece of Onamar’s magic.
We break through the last thicket, and there it is - the rusted old water tower, its faded letters barely legible. Long abandoned, its frame now plays home to tangled vines and a mess of sticks stacked high near the top platform.
Moonie slows to a walk, hands on her hips. “There’s its nest.”
Vivian squints up at the nest, wiping sweat from her brow. “Well, unless either of you suddenly grew wings, how do you suggest we get up there?”
Moonie’s eyes glint with mischief. “We climb.”
I follow her gaze, spotting the rusty crooked metal rungs.
“I don’t know...” I bite my lip, nerves fluttering. “It doesn’t look very safe.”
Vivian crosses her arms, glancing between the two if us and the nest. “You think it’s really up there? I don’t see anything, do you?”
Moonie’s grin fades to just slightly, her voice softer. “It’s up there. I can feel it.”
I feel it too, that pull. Like the shimmering light we kept catching in glimpses is calling us upward, to it.
Vivian sighs heavily. “If either of you break a leg, I’m not explaining it to your mothers.”
Without waiting, Moonie strides to the base of the tower and grabs the first rung. She tests it with a little bounce before hoisting herself up. “Feels sturdy enough.”
I glance at Vivian once more. She throws her hands up in surrender.
“Fine,” she mutters. “But I’m staying down here. Someone has to catch you if you fall.”
I grip the metal rung, cool and rough beneath my fingers, and I start climbing after Moonie. Each step creaks but holds. Higher and higher, until the ground feels far away and the air hums differently - charged, like the veil between worlds is thinner here.
Moonie reaches the platform first, crouching near the nest. “Hey, Sola! Come look at this.”
I’m almost there, fingers gripping the rusted rungs, when the metal beneath my foot gives a sharp groan. I glance down - too late. The rung snaps clean off, clattering against the side of the tower as it falls, leaving my foot dangling.
Vivian jumps back, hollers something that I can barely hear, let alone understand. A jolt of panic shoots through me. My other foot slips, scrambling for hold. One hand tightens, but the other, slick with sweat, starts to lose its grip.
“Moonie!” My voice cracks.
She’s already there, leaning over the edge of the platform. “Don’t look down! Give me your hand.”
My fingers cling desperately to the rung, heart thudding like thunder in my ears. The ground seems miles below. Vivian Cooper an ant.
I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to shift my weight. But before I can move, something brushes against my arm - a vine, tailing from the side of the tower, winding itself through the metal like it is alive.
Moonie doesn’t hesitate. She stretched down, fingers latching onto mine, tight. I can feel her pulling, but there is something else - those vines twisting beneath my foot, like a hand steadying me.
Her grip anchors me, and with a final breath, I push off and let her pull me up. My knee scrapes against the metal as I scramble onto the platform, but I barely notice.
Moonie holds my hand for a second longer, her eyes flicking briefly to the vines - how they seem wrapped a little tighter around the railing now, swaying faintly in the breeze.
Neither of us say anything.
We glance over at the nest. It’s massive, woven from sticks, moss and bits of flotsam - miscellaneous scraps and such that get washed up on the beach. And right there, tucked carefully among it all, the shard of Starglass - its facets catching the light like a fallen piece of the moon.
“It’s...beautiful,” I whisper, still catching my breath, reaching out but stopping short.
Moonie’s brow furrows. “Do you feel that?”
The air vibrates, like a whole hum deep in my chest. The shard isn’t just lying there, it’s pulsing, faintly, as if it recognizes us.
Suddenly, a shadow passes overhead. The osprey circles once, then lands on a nearby beam, watching us with sharp golden eyes.
Moonie freezes, her hand halfway to the shard. “Uh...you think it will let us take it?”
The large bird gives a short, piercing cry - almost like a warning. But beneath it, something deeper stirs. Not anger, exactly. More like a test.
I meet Moonie’s eyes. “I think we have to ask.”
She nods slowly, then kneels, bowing her head slightly. “We mean you no harm,” she says, her voice soft and carrying over the rustle of the breeze. “We’re just trying to put something right.”
The osprey blinks once. Then twice. And without another sound, it takes off, wings lifting skyward and away.
The tension breaks, and I exhale hard. Moonie carefully lifts the shard from the nest, cradling it between both hands. The pulse grows steadier, warmer, like the piece knows it’s finally on its way home.
Below, Vivian shouts up. “You girls alive up there?”
“Yeah!” Moonie grins, holding up the shard. “And guess what? We got it!”
As we start back down, the hum of magic lingers all around us, thick as the Florida heat. And I am no longer afraid of falling.
My hands move easily from rung to rung, even when I pass the broken one - the jagged gap where I slipped - I don’t hesitate. I notice the vines still twisted there, leaves glinting faintly, almost as if they are watching us go.
Moonie’s already waiting below, her eyes tracking me every step of the way.
The second my feet hit the ground, Vivian steps forward giving me a once-over. Her eyes lock onto my scrapped knee, dirt streaked with dried blood. I glance down, half forgetting about it.
“All limbs accounted for?” she asks, raising an eyebrow. “Nothing broken, bent, or missing?”
“It’s just a scratch.” I answer.
I expect a sharp remark, but instead, without a word, she pulls us both in - Moonie on one side, me on the other - arms tight around our shoulders. No quip, no lecture. Just solid, steady relief.
Then, just as quickly as it came, she lets go, brushing the hair from her face like nothing happened.
Moonie shoots me a grin, like she knows exactly what that moment meant, but isn’t about to say it out loud.
We cross the clearing, the old water tower fading behind us. Everything feels lighter now, like some tangled knot finally came loose.
At the docks, Vivian’s Vespa glints in the sun. She scans the horizon, brow furrowing. “Looks like that boat is long gone. Guess we won’t have to worry about him anymore.” she says as she unlocks the seat compartment.
Moonie shrugs, tucking the shard into the compartment. “Doesn’t matter. We’ve got what we came for.”
Vivian glances back one more time, then swings her leg over the scooter and lets out a sigh of disappointment. “Guess my job here is done.”
I pause, eyes lingering on the empty stretch where the fisherman’s boat had been, where Nerivion was caged below deck. The knot of worry I carried earlier feels faint now. Moonie’s right. We’ve got the shard. Once we put the pieces together, everything will fall back into place.
Still, something tugs at me - a flicker at the edge of my mind.
I glance at Moonie. “What about Nerivion? Should we --”
“He’s fine!” she cuts me off. “He said it himself; he’s been in worse spots. As soon as we put the Starglass together, we’ll check on him.”
And just like that, the question slips away. Moonie always sounds so certain.
Vivian revs the Vespa to life, calling over her shoulder, “Well, what are you two waiting for? Let’s see how these pieces actually fit.”
Before I can climb onto the scooter, Moonie steps up beside me, looping an arm around mine and pulling me close.
“Hey,” she says, her voice low. “You did good up there.”
I smile, leaning into her. The breeze off the water catches strands of her wild red hair, they brush against my cheek.
She doesn’t have to say it - I know. If I had fallen, she would’ve caught me. She always does. Not just on that tower, but everywhere. In every wild idea, every tight spot we stumble into, Moonie is there, steady and sure.
And maybe, maybe the vines helped too. Maybe the magic of Onamar slipped through just for a moment. If it did, I know why. Because Moonie - she’s the magic. And with her beside me, somehow, I don’t feel like I am falling anymore.
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