Alma could have stood at the top of the Fifth Point for the rest of the night. She could have stood there for a lifetime of nights, staring up at the Starling shining down on them, basking in the quintessence that filled the air.
However, around the iron spire, lights were turning on. Apparently, having a star—even a very, very small one—go supernova directly above them was enough to wake up the town of Four Points.
The four friends hurried down their ladders, and there was no time to meet up at the bottom, no time to talk. Alma raced toward Third Point, the jars of ruined elements in her backpack, her quintescope in hand.
She flew down the streets, as fast as she could go, until she saw a car coming her way.
The car jerked to a stop. The doors opened. Her parents and James came running toward her.
And Alma ran toward them.