The door that had gotten us to the school reappeared. After some trial and error, we realized that it wouldn’t take us to earth, so we decided to return to Azur. Instead of it opening on the old school grounds behind the wrought-iron gate, we exited at the airfield, where months ago we’d ridden horses made of stardust.

I attempted to open a gateway again, and to my dismay, the sparks burned out. “When I try to sense our neighborhood, there’s nothing there,” I whispered. “It’s like a blank space or a hole.” I swallowed hard. “I can’t sense anything around it. Not Chicago, not Illinois, nothing.”

My friends stared at me, but no one said what we all were thinking: What if the celestials had failed, and it was all gone?

“How are we going to get back?” Zeran asked.

Frankie looked at the stables on the edge of the field. “I have an idea.”

“Oh no,” Eli said, grimacing. “No more horses made out of stardust.”

“Perfect,” I said as we jogged over to the stables, where the air traffic controller, Gavet, stored vehicles.

“What are you children doing?” came a harsh whisper from the dark. Gavet held up one of the red poles he used to direct air traffic. It was glowing against his scaly skin. “You shouldn’t be here. There’s a curfew until this mess with the Lord of Shadows and the Alsar prisoners is over.”

“Why are you here if there’s a curfew?” Zeran asked.

“I don’t have a choice, boy,” Gavet said, his gaze darting around. “I have to keep the airfield open for those who need assistance to travel between worlds. Not everyone can open a gateway or bend space. Some of us need other means of transportation.”

“About those other means . . .” I said. “We need a ride.”

Gavet laughed, then he cut himself off as if he’d thought better of it. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” I said. “We need to get back to earth.”

Gavet shrugged. “Who am I to stop a guardian and her friends? The celestials can use all the help they can get, even from kids.” He rubbed the tuft of hair on his chin. “I have a flock of peacocks prepped and ready.”

“Peacocks,” Eli moaned as he slapped his forehead. “Not peacocks.”

Frankie frowned. “What’s wrong with peacocks?”

“Oh, nothing,” Eli squeaked. “Just your run-of-the-mill way to fly.”

Soon we were soaring into the sky on the backs of rainbow peacocks, racing against the setting sun. “This is incredible!” Zeran shouted over the wind roaring in our ears.

Eli hugged the neck of his peacock, who protested by squawking the entire flight. “That’s not the word I would use to describe it. More like this is terrifying.”