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star. There is an ancient method for bringing them to heel, and I followed it to the letter. I skied along in its fiery wake for ten thousand leagues, pulling myself closer and closer to its burning apex. But it dove and snaked with such fury! It even tried to scrape against a planet or two to knock me off! It seemed . . . enraged, something I’d never witnessed before in a star. It needed to serve my more gentle purposes if only to calm itself—otherwise, it would burn out.
    It was the toughest fight I’ve ever had with a star. Days are difficult to measure in deep space, but it took me the equal of fourteen Earth days to finally tame this wild one. And in the end it was tame in only one regard: It would let me steer it.
    Not a lot is known about shooting stars. Mortals, of course, never have a chance to do more than watch and wish when they see one. But something happens when you master a star. You come to understand it. Each has an individual personality that you can sense and feel. All are vivid, but this star had an energy that far exceeded any I’d known. It had a voice. It spoke to me. At first it would not tell me its name or anything about its past, but in time it came to trust me. It could tell I meant it no harm, that I wanted to be its friend and ally. And a friend is like a savior to one so angry and lost. But still the star did not tell me its name.
    We sailed from one end of the cosmos to the other. I would answer dreams whispered up to us. When the Dream Pirates would attack us, my star would not pause, as most stars did, but would charge them head-on, fearlessly.
    Together we won every battle.
    Then for a year we traveled in peace. Not once did we happen upon a single pirate. We were curious about our good fortune. In the vast reaches of space, news is slow to arrive. Then word came that the war with the pirates was over. It was said Lord Pitch had been victorious and all the Dream Pirates imprisoned. The Golden Age was safe again! And I thought this would be a cause for great celebration for my star and me. But upon hearing this news, my star broke free of my will. It flew at breakneck speed, trying to crash into any heavenly body in its path—planets, stars, fields ofasteroids. I could barely keep it from destroying us both.
    Then, when it began to careen directly toward a small green planet, a thousand wishes rose up from the children of that doomed world. These weren’t the common hopeful wishes sent to a shooting star. These were terror-filled wishes. “Please, bright star, don’t kill us.”
    I urged my star to stop. Think! Think of the children who fear your coming! You are no better than a Dream Pirate!
    And at that moment my star stopped.
    If shooting stars ever stop, they quickly become a sun. It takes only a few minutes for this process to become irreversible. In all my eons as a Star Master, I had never ridden a star that had just . . . stopped. I sat at my controls and wondered what my wild star would do next. ThenI heard what sounded like crying from the star’s core, and the words, “My name . . . is Emily Jane. Please, I do not want to be feared.”

C HAPTER T HIRTEEN

    Who Does a Star Wish Upon?
    I listened to the long, sad tale of Emily Jane. Now I understood her mysteries. She was driven by a child’s rage that had never been soothed, never been healed, and now this rage had the power to destroy worlds. She was moments away from becoming a stationary star. If she continued to refuse to move, she would never fly again. Her anger or strength wouldn’t ever again threaten any living being. This would be the safest outcome, surely, but what would it do to Emily Jane? To be imprisoned forever in her star with nothing but her anger did not seem . . . fair. Terrible events hadtwisted her better instincts. But if she could tame her fury . . .
    So I offered her a choice.
    Emily Jane! You can stay here with your rage until you burn yourself out. Or . . . fly again. Let