ALL OVER THE CANYON MEADOW, THE GATHERED pegasi arched their necks toward the sky. The Hundred Year Star swelled larger than the sun, but radiated no heat. Wings rose to shield sensitive eyes as the pegasi peeked through their feathers.
Star’s heart thumped in his chest in a steady, hard wallop, like it was dying and then reviving with every beat. He faced his destiny, the Hundred Year Star, without flinching.
A gold ray of starlight unfolded from the round, fiery ball and dropped toward him like a tail. The closest steeds backed away, leaving him in an empty circle. Star folded his wings, waiting.
Silverlake, Echofrost, Bumblewind, Dawnfir, and Hazelwind inched as close to Star as they dared. A pegasus in the crowd whinnied, “Do something! Don’t let the black foal receive his power.”
Rockwing descended from his rock plateau. Cold fury lit his eyes, and they were trained on Star. “Look what you did, Destroyer,” he said, pointing at Morningleaf. “You made Thunderwing kill his own filly.”
Rockwing flared his wings and arched his neck for battle, his hooves dancing with energy. His intent was clear; he was going to kill Star himself.
“Enough!” neighed Thunderwing, and he dived off the rocks and barreled into Rockwing, spinning him across the grass. The two stallions reared and struck each other with their sharpened hooves. Both were deadly accurate, and soon blood was dripping steadily from their wounds.
The herds stampeded, and hundreds of pegasi fled the valley. Others snapped at enemy steeds, and fights broke out all over Canyon Meadow. Hazelwind galloped to help his sire, and Frostfire joined Rockwing. The four stallions battled while Star stood, silent and not moving. Twistfire soared into the melee, helping Rockwing, and Icewing came to Thunderwing’s aid.
Star was all but forgotten as old enemies took the opportunity to settle old scores, battling for power to the last incredible minute.
A brown colt with orange wings trotted from the other side of the pedestal rock. It was Brackentail. Like Star, he had grown.
Brackentail observed the chaos all around them and then his eyes settled on Morningleaf’s body. “You killed her,” he said flatly. “I always knew you would.”
Star was so stunned he couldn’t answer. With blinding clarity, he realized that Brackentail cared for Morningleaf. That was why he bullied Star and tried to keep Morningleaf away from him. He was jealous.
Star lowered his head, thinking. If Brackentail had killed him in the canyon run, Morningleaf would be alive right now. Star studied the colt’s enraged expression and realized that it was grief. Brackentail returned his stare and then charged, seizing Star’s neck with his teeth and ripping out a chunk of mane. Brackentail spit out the hair and struck with his hooves. Star dodged the blows, but he had no desire to strike back. Brackentail rammed into his chest, shoving Star backward. Star pushed the colt off him.
“I hate you,” Brackentail said, spitting froth, and then resumed his attack, pummeling Star with kicks and hurled insults.
The tail of light from the Hundred Year Star crackled, and Star looked up. Brackentail paused in his assault, and the two colts stared at the incredible sparkling rays.
Silverlake whinnied.
Star glanced at her, and for the first time he saw her true age. She was deflated and looking as empty as he felt, but her eyes were determined. “We’re seeing this through, Star,” she had said.
Rockwing broke free of Thunderwing and lunged at Star, followed by Brackentail. Jetfire and Oakfire landed near Star and protected him, blocking his attackers.
Star took a deep breath and kicked off the ground, flying toward the light. All across the valley the fighting faded, quelled by the sight of Star and his black shadow rising.
Star raced toward the golden light—his heart silent, his mind empty. He crashed into the golden beam in an explosion that paralyzed him. His body and wings went slack, but the light held him aloft. The power of it warmed him to his bones, vibrated every hair and feather on his hide, lighted the world, and blinded him at the same time. Star heard sizzling sounds, but he didn’t feel anything except weightlessness.
An urge to yawn overwhelmed him. He opened his mouth, and the starlight shot into him, forcing his jaws wider. The hot current invaded him, rattling his teeth, and flowed to the end of his tail and down through his hooves. His old and new wounds swelled and throbbed, but the pain oozed out of his body. His scabs melted, and fresh, healthy hair grew over them. He stretched his injured flank and noticed that it had been restored to perfection.
The starfire coursed through him, cleaning him, repairing him, and giving him strength. He tumbled in the sky like a creature caught in the ocean’s waves, mouth open, until the last of the starlight had entered his body, and then everything went dark. Star free-fell back to land, head over tail. The steeds below scattered. He opened his wings at the last moment and landed gently on his hooves.
The steeds of Anok froze in place, tensed to bolt. Star scanned the herd, and wherever his eyes landed, pegasi cringed. His hide crackled with electricity. The hum of his power filled the valley, and he was warm with it, but otherwise he felt no different. The pegasi of Anok waited expectantly for him to do something, but he was rooted to the spot.
Thunderwing trotted cautiously to the black foal and kneeled before him. His body quivering as he spoke, “I submit myself to you for execution,” he said to Star. “I’ve failed to perform my duties as over-stallion of Sun Herd.” Thunderwing’s voice was as cold and brittle as ice. He opened his crimson-red wings and closed his eyes, waiting for Star’s deathblow.
A hush fell over the waiting steeds in the great meadow, and Star blinked at Thunderwing in disbelief.
“Seek your revenge, black foal,” Thunderwing said, his expression anguished. “Please.”
Star looked at the body of Morningleaf. Silverlake had arranged her into a more natural position, so she looked asleep. The white flowers surrounding her reminded him of the others who had passed—Lightfeather and Grasswing, all three sacrificed for this moment—and he didn’t know what to do.
Star closed his eyes, and his mother’s words came to him. “You know what to do,” Lightfeather said. “I told you on the day you were born. Think. Remember.”
The memories were unlocked; Star just had to find them. He chased the secrets, but they ran from him. He took a breath, relaxed, and finally her words slowly began to tickle his ears, the whispering growing louder until he could hear her clearly.
Many, many secrets poured forth, but one stood out. One secret echoed Morningleaf’s warning to him moons ago, thus doubling its impact on him. Lightfeather had repeated it more than once, and now he heard it again; he even thought he smelled his mother’s warm, grassy breath. “Don’t fight them. Heal them.”
Star’s eyes blinked open in shock. The pegasi of Anok watched him from the field, waiting, but he no longer saw an angry mob—he saw a bunch of terrified foals fighting all the wrong battles for all the wrong reasons.
Star folded his wings, and Lightfeather’s gentleness washed over him. Morningleaf had been right all along—he would never win by fighting the pegasi on their terms, because their terms were always the same: to conquer one another. He had to change the rules, flip their thinking upside down, and his mother had told him how to do it.
He tapped Thunderwing on the shoulder. “Stand,” he said.
The paranoid stallion eyed Star warily, but he stood.
“Breathe fire on them,” Lightfeather said.
Star knew that when Nightwing breathed fire, he killed and destroyed, but his mother had said, “Trust the power of the star. You are good.”
Star looked Thunderwing in the eyes, saw his guilt, and decided he had nothing to lose. “I will speak for Morningleaf,” Star said, and then he opened his jaws and roared golden starlight. It exploded out of him like an erupting volcano and engulfed Thunderwing. The stallion tried to run, but the light lifted him up in the air.
The pegasi of the five herds held still and watched in fear and awe.
“Star!” cried Silverlake. “What are you doing?”
Thunderwing galloped in place as the light enveloped him in heatless fire. Soon he gave up and dangled above the field with wings down. Star blasted him until the fear and guilt was burned out of Thunderwing’s eyes. Star landed the stallion, closed his jaws, and the light vanished.
Thunderwing flexed his wings, blinking in astonishment. He was unharmed. He was better than unharmed. His battle wounds were healed, and all his pain, even the wounds of his heart, had been expunged. He glowed like a young colt.
“You are healed,” Star said.
Tears pooled in the great stallion’s eyes. He was speechless, shaken to his core—the anger that had shaped his posture and puffed his chest his entire life melted out of him like snow. He bowed to Star. “I submit my life to you, black foal.”
Thunderwing’s submission to Star drifted like a gentle feather over the hushed steeds of Anok, floating on the collective air of their hot breath.
As they absorbed his words, some responded with confusion. “But they didn’t fight,” a mare whinnied.
Thunderwing trotted to Silverlake, and they leaned on each other over the body of their dead filly.
Oakfire sidled up next to Star, excited and nervous. “Shoot that fire on Rockwing,” he said. “Make him bow to you.”
Star glanced at Rockwing, whose expression was black with hatred, and shook his head. “He has to want it.”
Oakfire swished his tail, fear and disappointment lighting his eyes. “So what good is this power then if you can’t make them obey you?”
Star swept his wing over the thousands of pegasi gathered in the valleys—some were on their knees in awe, others were braced for war, and others were flexed for flight. “I’m not here to conquer them, Oakfire. Don’t you think we’ve had enough of that?”
Oakfire looked perplexed.
Star had one more message to send to the five herds of Anok—a message they would not forget until the end of time, if it worked. Star’s gut flipped with apprehension and hope. “Heal them,” his mother had said, and maybe he could do one better than that.
Only the moon lit the valley now. Star walked to Morningleaf. He felt every eye on him, and he couldn’t stop the trembling of his wings. If this didn’t work, he would look foolish, and his heart would never mend. But when he looked at his broken friend, he knew only one thing for certain: she was worth the effort.
“Rise, Morningleaf,” he said. He called on the seed of fire in his gut and drew it up into his throat. Sparks popped between his teeth and fell onto the grass. He opened his mouth and poured starfire over her, engulfing her fractured body.
Silverlake surged forward, squealing with fright, and Thunderwing held her back. The fire licked Morningleaf’s feathers, ruffled her mane, and fluffed her tail. Behind her closed lids, Morningleaf’s eyes glowed yellow.
Star swung his head, drenching her entire body in golden light until he was blinded by it.
Morningleaf floated off the ground. Her eyes opened. Her legs unfolded, and she stood on her own.
“It’s impossible,” Hazelwind whispered.
Star closed his mouth, and the light was extinguished. Standing before the five herds of Anok, on a bed of white flowers, was Morningleaf. Alive! She blinked a few times, adjusting to the scene around her. “What happened?” she asked, fluttering her aqua feathers.
Star whinnied, and Silverlake rushed to her filly, touching her and sniffing her. “It’s my Morningleaf!” she said.
All over the vast meadow, hundreds more pegasi dropped to their knees, submitting to Star. The rest grumbled in varying states of anger, confusion, shock, or fear. “He’s the healer,” someone said.
“No!” trumpeted Rockwing. “If he can bring us back from the dead, then he has the power to destroy us too. He’s more powerful than Nightwing.”
His words caused a fresh stampede. Star looked at the pegasi of Anok with pity. He could force them to submit. He could make himself over-stallion of the five herds. He could be Starwing the Destroyer. A lot of the pegasi were ready for that and would willingly submit to him—they were already on their knees.
But the others, like Rockwing, were digging in their hooves in defiance—ready to battle him with their very souls. And some, like Twistfire, were addicted to war—their desire for control outweighing their need for peace. “Heal them” was Lightfeather’s secret. “And forgive them,” she’d commanded. He could do that, he thought. And he could start a new herd, one without an army or an over-stallion, one in which decisions were made in a group.
Star raised his voice and spoke to all who were gathered. “You don’t have to fight me, or one another, anymore. Peace is your choice.” He let his words carry through the valleys. “I am not the destroyer, but I cannot say the same for you.” Star stared down the four remaining over-stallions, Frostfire, Twistfire, and all the steeds who stood with wings flared and jaws clenched. “I welcome all steeds who want to join me, but I won’t be your over-stallion. I won’t lead you, and I won’t conquer you. Your lives are in your wings.”
Star paused, catching the eye of Morningleaf, who nodded her head, encouraging him. Star exhaled, feeling unburdened for the first time since he was born. “Whoever would like to come may follow me.” Star turned his back on the five herds of Anok and walked out of the valley like a common horse.
Morningleaf galloped to his side. “I’m with you,” she said, her words lifting his heart.
“Wait for us, Star,” said Bumblewind. Bumblewind and Echofrost followed, and then Silverlake and Thunderwing.
Hundreds more trotted behind them, following Star out of the canyons.
When they were clear of the valley and crossing the mountain pass toward the Vein, Star looked back. Rockwing, Sandwing, and Smokewing were dividing up the remaining Sun Herd pegasi and forcing them to join their herds. Brackentail stood on the rock plateau with his eyes on Morningleaf, his expression ragged.
Five hundred pegasi trailed behind Star. To his surprise, one of them was Snow Herd’s over-stallion, Icewing, Star’s grandsire. The old silver pegasus wore an expression Star had never seen before on an over-stallion: hopefulness.
Star kicked off and led his herd into the sky. What the future held for them he didn’t know, but he guessed that, one way or another, things would never be the same for the pegasi of Anok.