The glow-in-the-dark stars on her wall are just barely visible against the ivory paint. They come off easily, and my hands work fast as I take apart constellations she’s probably had since childhood and build something new.

I rearrange the stars for her the way I do every day in Starworld.

I tell her what I could never speak aloud.

I tell her something that will only be visible in the dark and on her way to dreaming.

I tell her the truth.

By the time she returns from the bathroom, I’m perched at the edge of her bed with the box I wrapped for her in my lap. My heart pounds like a mace being slammed into an anvil.

“What’s that?” she asks, her eyes wide with curiosity.

“Your birthday present,” I mumble. “Nothing big.” But it kind of is.

“Sam!” She looks moved. “You already gave me the DNA kit! You didn’t have to do anything else.”

“No, I really had to,” I say. She’ll understand when she opens it. She sits down right beside me on the bed, so close that her weight makes me tip closer to her as the mattress sags. I hand her the box.

I can hardly hear anything but the sound of my pulse drowning out my thoughts. I wish that somehow I could give her the most precious treasure in Starworld this very moment, too, but it’s not yet time for the third quest to be over. And I want that third treasure to matter most. I don’t just want to show her something incredible. I want her to feel it and know it with every fiber of her being, just like she did with the other stories.

She gasps when she opens the package and unwraps an antique silver powder box, the first piece of the vanity set I got her. The design is ornate and feminine, but with a twist: a dragon winds through the pattern of leaves and flowers. She looks at me. “Where did you find this?”

“You can find anything on the internet if you look long enough,” I mumble. My cheeks are burning like they’re on fire. Maybe this gift was too much, but I knew from the moment I saw it, she needed to have it.

She digs in to see the rest. There’s a boar-bristle brush with an ornate silver back, a jewelry box, and a silver tray. They gleam even in the weak light from outside.

“They were a little tarnished, but I found a trick online to get them clean. I know you haven’t been able to have a lot of fancy things here, but soon you’ll be in a dorm, and I thought . . .”

“They’re beautiful,” she says. “I love them.” She sets the package aside, and before I know what’s happening, her arms are around me.