When Alma arrived at her backyard at midnight that night, quintescope in hand, Hugo and Shirin were already there. Shirin was sitting cross-legged in the middle of the crater, her sequined school backpack beside her, a flashlight in hand, and Quintessence: An Elemental Primer for Star Restoration open on her lap. Hugo was lying next to her. His gloves were off and he was holding tiny pieces of charred rock up to his visor-covered eyes, studying one after another.
“Can you believe this?” Shirin called to Alma, holding up the book. “Have you read this? I mean, wow.”
“I’ve read some of it,” Alma said. She climbed into the crater, where it was a little less windy, and sat next to them.
“And this thing,” Shirin continued. She flung out her arms, taking in the whole of the pit. “I guess this is where you saw the meteor or whatever fall?”
Before Alma could answer, Hugo said, “Alma thinks it was a star.” He took the book from Shirin and flipped it open to the illustration of the black-eyed Starling. “Like this one. She thinks we’re the elementals and we need to collect true water, wind, earth, and fire in order to create quintessence and send the star back home.”
Shirin studied the picture for a long moment before looking back up at Alma. Alma could feel her throat constricting as she met Shirin’s raised-eyebrow gaze.
“That’s what the book says to do,” she said quickly. “And I thought I saw a Starling. I mean—I did see her.” She swallowed hard and waited for Shirin to laugh at her and leave.
Instead Shirin shrieked, “Oh my goodness! It all makes sense now!”
“Shh!” Alma shushed her, glancing back at her house. “What do you mean?”
“Yes, what makes sense?” Hugo asked.
“I’ll show you,” Shirin said, only slightly softer.
She unzipped her backpack. From inside, she drew out three small containers.
All three were transparent, like glass. The first was tall and angular, like a stretched-out pyramid, with a bluish tint, a corked top, and an inlay of an upside-down triangle made of a white metal that shone with a rainbow of colors depending on the angle of the moonlight. The second was short and square, brownish in color, and featured a rusted metal inlay of an upright triangle with a line through it. The final container was decorated with opaque swirls and a silver inlay of an upright triangle with a line through it. Inside that container—which was curved but tapered at the top—there was a tiny white windmill.
“Zonks,” Hugo murmured. “What are these made of?” He picked up the first container and held it up to the moon. The light shining through it cast a bluish glow on his face. “I’ve never seen material like this. It’s like glass. But metal. Is it some kind of acrylic? No, too light for that.”
“These are the symbols from the book!” Alma cried. She picked up the third container, the one with the windmill in it. The blades turned with the movement.
“I drew them and showed my mother,” Shirin said, “because she knows a lot of, like, science stuff. That’s how I knew they were the element symbols. There were only three, though. The fire container is missing.”
“You think these were designed to store elements?” Alma asked.
“Maybe,” Hugo answered. He was now tapping experimentally on the sides of the second container. “But designed by whom? How did you procure these, Shirin?”
“I … found them,” Shirin replied.
“Where?” Hugo pressed. “I would like to contact the manufacturer.”
Shirin was quiet for a moment before blurting out, “The Fifth Point! They were outside of it. Like outside one of the doors when I was heading home last Saturday. They weren’t there when I walked past the first time—I know because I always look in the windows. And then—they were. It felt like—I know it’s bizarre, but it felt like I was supposed to take them. I was going to take them back, but then I found that flyer in my Science book, and you two have this.” She shook the book.
“Alma also has the telescope,” Hugo said.
“Quintescope,” Alma said. “It’s from the Fifth Point too. I never got to show you at Astronomy Club. Do you want to see it?”
She handed the case to Shirin, who flipped the copper clasp and opened the lid.
“Wow,” Shirin said, leaning over to touch each cone. “This is so gorgeous! I wish I could’ve seen the Starling with this like you did. Although I bet it was really sad. I mean, can you imagine? Being up with your star friends, shining and everything, and then all of a sudden—bam! You fall out of the sky!”
Hearing this, Alma wished she had asked Shirin for help from the beginning. Shirin—who had seen the Starling from her window, who had shown up in her backyard, who had brought element containers—belonged here, with them.
“She was here in the woods the other night too,” Alma said. “She was in the crater, but I—I scared her. By accident. Now I don’t know where she is.”
Shirin shut the case decisively and jumped to her feet. “Then we’ll go find her and the elements,” she said. “After reading this, I know exactly where to start!”
Hugo had been listening without comment to this exchange. Alma wished she had been able to convince him so easily. “Where exactly are you proposing we go?” he asked.
“Yes, where?” Alma said.
Shirin grabbed the angular blue container from Hugo and held it up to the starlight. The colors in the inlay shone, iridescent and glittering. “To true water!” she cried.