‘My,’ whispers Rory. ‘Look at that.’

Zara slips her hand into mine. ‘You cleared the shadows.’

‘I sent the Stag away. I sent him,’ I shiver, the cold finding its way to my bones. The air is crisp, everything more stark than it was a moment ago, before the shadows fled. ‘Will it kill him, Zara?’

‘No,’ says Peg, the familiar curve of his bird claws digging into my shoulder. ‘You used the power of your family, and your own, more importantly, and you sent his shadow back to him.’ His face looms before mine, his amber eyes glowing, a massive grin on his imp face. ‘You sent the shadows away – you broke the curse, Stella!’

‘What?’

I look up. Rory and her centaurs are staring at me, the fairies and the sprites too.

‘The Stag was the source of it all, and you sent it back to where it belonged,’ Rory says. ‘To your father.’

‘And you have wings!’ Yanny rushes at me, and he isn’t tired any more – he is flying, his own wings no longer tattered shadows but huge great sweeps of fire at his back. He curls up into the air, and then he swoops back down and flings me up with him, and I’m tumbling, diving, catching myself at the last minute, soaring in a flurry of fae wings, so many of them all whooping and hollering beneath the moon.

They are so sure of it. So full of joy. I twist and dive with them, and it should feel like a dream. Like magic. But I cannot see my own wings, and I don’t trust them fully. I don’t know what I’ve done. I don’t know who I am, and there’s a weight in my throat that doesn’t shift, no matter how their joy rings. I stumble to the ground, where Zara is grinning, leaning against her staff.

‘Look at you,’ I say, climbing to my feet. ‘All fae and magical.’

‘Says she with the wings.’ She grins.

‘He didn’t want me there, Zara,’ I say, watching the fairies and the sprites flit through the night sky.

It’s clear now. No clouds, no shadows.

She huffs. ‘Well, more fool him.’

I snort back a weird laughing crying cough.

‘Really though,’ she says. ‘This is your life. You’re living it the best you can.’ She shrugs. ‘Your best is pretty spectacular. But even if it wasn’t, it would be fine, Stella. It’d be good enough for us. Even if it isn’t for him.’

We link arms and look up together as Yanny curls through the air. He hollers, waving down at us, and does a pirouette in the air, falling and landing clumsily. Elowen darts forward and takes his face in her hands, and she is laughing, her wings unfolding as he pulls her off her feet and back up into the sky with him.

‘I think,’ Rory says, ‘that it’s time for us to go and see your grandmother.’