The mantle of Luna Queen weighed on my shoulders, a constant reminder of the lives depending on my judgment. I moved to the window, peering into the night that shrouded our land. The moon hung low, a pale sentinel watching over the world below. Her light touched upon my skin, a cool balm to the smoldering anxiety within.

"May you find your path, Paul Biansky," I whispered to the darkness, "and may it lead you back to us, not as a harbinger of doom, but as a beacon of hope."

I drew the curtains ...