It was bright in front of his eyes. As he opened them, he found himself stretching his limbs out into the void, floating in starlight. A gentle rustling sound reached his ears, soothing and soft—he wanted to stay in that slumber forever. His body rotated slowly. A soft light blinked, as if embracing him tenderly.

  It seemed dark, yet it was actually bright—an eternal space sprinkled with countless stars. As his body turned, a bright space would appear and disappear, followed in turn by a darker one. He simply watched it all, his body relaxed, drifting.

  Was this a dream? he wondered. Or am I lying in my bed at home?

  No matter how hard he tried to remember, the answer slipped away, as if his memory was veiled by a film of starlight.

  Then, for a moment, Tabby’s face appeared in his mind. Yes. I was with him in the cave. We were searching for an exit… and yes—a ladder! I climbed the ladder of the lift, and when I reached the top, the cave trembled. I lost my grip and fell… The memories returned, one by one.

  Tucking his chin in, he looked over his body. He thought he had fallen, yet there were no injuries, nor did he feel any pain. He brought his hands to his eyes—they were just as they had always been. He clenched a fist and opened it again. Slowly, sensation returned to his limbs, and everything felt real—more real than a dream.

  His body was still spinning, drifting in space. As he turned, he listened, trying to find the source of the sound. In the rotating view, he saw strings of rainbow light weaving through the void. He spread his arms wide, trying to catch them.

  Bars of light passed through him and vanished. A strange, unfamiliar feeling filled him—nostalgic, as though he were remembering something deeply important.

  If only I could catch every single light, he thought, maybe then I would understand everything.

  But at the same time, he knew he couldn’t—and the thought frustrated him.

  I have to go back to Tabby, he thought. He moved all his limbs with all his might. But the harder he tried, the less progress he made. Then he realized—the scenery around him had changed. The stars now had different colors and shapes than before. He stopped struggling and let himself relax.

  The distant stars drifted away, replaced by others. He noticed it wasn’t the stars moving at high speed—it was himself. In front of him appeared a marble of light, glowing intensely, with a blurred blue moon at its center.

  He heard the joyful sound of the stars singing. Space, which he had always believed to be silent, was filled with rustling, rumbling, and singing. Within that loudness, another sound emerged. At first, it was so faint he thought it was an auditory hallucination, but it grew louder and clearer: a high, stirring, flourishing cry—the voice of an eagle.

  The sound came from the direction of the blue moon. From within it, a bright figure appeared, growing larger as it approached. It flew straight toward him, gliding gracefully on outstretched wings. In the blink of an eye, the eagle reached him and seized his torso with its powerful legs.

  Stunned by the suddenness of it all, he looked up at the eagle, speechless. Its feathers fluttered in the air, casting rainbow-colored light around them. The eagle turned and flew toward the blue moon. He could only stare in awe.

  Then he realized—the deep rumbling sound was the pulse of the blue moon itself. The eagle gained speed, and Ivy closed his eyes.

  When he opened his eyes again, there was dimness, with something blinking in it. Cold air brushed against him. It’s the cave, he thought. He couldn’t tell which way was up or down. Something warm was wrapped around his torso. It took him a moment to clear his mind and realize he was flying, still held tightly by the eagle.

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  “Ivy!”

  He heard Tabby’s voice calling from above.

  “Tabby? Where are you?”

  He twisted his head toward the voice and saw Tabby’s face just behind the eagle’s wing.

  “Are you okay?”

  To his surprise, Tabby was riding on the eagle’s back. Ivy felt a wave of relief wash over him when he saw her.

  “Yes, I’m okay—no injuries. Are you?”

  He craned his neck and shouted over the howling wind.

  “I’m okay too!” Tabby called back from behind the wing.

  In the darkness of the cave, the sound of rushing water echoed around them. The eagle flew upward, following the flow of the water. The lamplight glinted off veins of vanamond in the cave walls, making them shimmer. After a while, the eagle picked up speed. It folded its wings and legs—still gripping Ivy—close to its body. Ivy instinctively curled up too, clutching the eagle’s massive talons.

  They dove into a narrow shaft, as though being swallowed by the rock. It was too dark to tell how wide or tight the passage was. He heard scraping and bumping sounds all around. His toes and hair brushed so close to the rock that it made him flinch. The eagle’s wings beat fiercely against the confined air, and Ivy felt his body lift and float.

  He opened his eyes and saw treetops below, breaking out of the darkness.

  “We made it out of the mine.”

  He let out a sigh of relief as the tension in his body melted away. He looked up and saw Tabby’s face again behind the wing.

  “This eagle saved us,” she said, her expression a mix of amazement and relief.

  “It’s amazing!”

  “Yeah!”

  “Who would’ve thought we’d end up riding an eagle?”

  Suddenly, he found the whole thing funny—the fact that he was dangling from a giant eagle’s legs. He twisted his neck and shouted up to Tabby, then burst out laughing. She laughed too.

  The eagle soared higher. The white moon hung above them, so close it looked like he could reach out and touch it. It was still night, though the sky was not pitch black—it glowed softly with a silvery light.

  “There’s a blue moon,”

  Tabby muttered.

  In the direction the eagle was flying, a moon glowing with blue light hung in the sky, casting a multi-colored glow across the night. It illuminated everything around them. It was the very same moon Ivy had seen in his dream. For a moment, he wondered if he was still dreaming—but he shook the thought away. This is real. He was now witnessing what he had once only seen in a dream.

  “Mr. Lansberge might know what it is,”

  Tabby murmured.

  The eagle flew forward without hesitation, as if it knew exactly where it was going.

  “Do you think Tesus and Alma made it home safely?”

  “They should be fine.”

  They had to raise their voices over the wind, which howled past their ears, making it hard to hear each other.

  “What happened to me when I reached the top?”

  “I heard you say, ‘I made it,’ and then the earthquake hit. You fell off the ladder. I saw you falling—I thought you were done for. But I climbed down anyway, trying to help you. Then out of nowhere, the eagle swooped down, caught you, came to me, grabbed the cage, and looked straight at me like it was saying, ‘Get on.’”

  He said it all in one breath, then inhaled deeply.

  “How could I not? I was clinging to the ladder with one hand, totally stuck.”

  Ivy laughed at Tabby’s story.

  “That’s right.”

  Because of the blue moon’s soft glow, no stars were visible in the sky. They seemed far from the sea; all he could see was forest stretching endlessly below. Then he noticed something shimmering within the dark canopy—moonlight reflected off a winding river. Its surface mirrored the two moons. Ivy searched the landscape for signs of a town, but either they were too high, or too far from civilization—he saw nothing.

  “Where is it taking us?”

  “Maybe back to the wild land… maybe it plans to eat us.”

  “That’s terrible.”

  Even as he joked, Ivy somehow felt sure they wouldn’t be eaten—though maybe that was just wishful thinking. There was no sense of danger in the way the eagle held him. Its claws were strong and rough, but wrapped around him gently. Tabby must have felt the same, he thought.

  Just then, the eagle’s grip tightened slightly. Ivy looked up. In the distance, one mountain rose above all the others—tall, proud, and majestic.

  “It’s Mt. Lecti!”

  Tabby shouted.

  The mountain where the shrine stood.

  The eagle spread its wings wide and approached Mt. Lecti. Ivy’s vision turned white as they entered a thick fog. And then, through the mist, a vast field appeared before them.

  As they neared the ground, the eagle tucked in its legs and gently released Ivy just before landing. He rolled a little on the soft earth, then came to a stop. The eagle flapped its wings powerfully and touched down. Tabby slid off its back, ran to Ivy, and helped him up. He was damp with evening dew, but unharmed.

  Under the pale sky lit by the blue and white moons, a tall tower stood. Beside it, a large house.

  He had known, somehow, that this was where they were meant to go.

  Tabby caught her breath, then began to run toward the house. Ivy was about to follow—but paused. Looking up, he locked eyes with the eagle.

  The eagle held his gaze for a moment, then turned, spread its wings, and flew away into the night.

  “Thank you!” Ivy called after it.

  Ivy shouted after the figure that had vanished into the sky in an instant. The short grass crunched beneath his feet. He looked up, wondering if the tower ahead was the shrine.