By midnight, Lyra was flying.

Her ship was small, old, and badly maintained.

Which was precisely why she loved it.

It had belonged to her mother.

Its name was The Starling.

The hull was dark walnut, reinforced with strips of brass. Three narrow sails unfolded from its mast, each embroidered with faded silver stars.

The ship was not beautiful.

It was stubborn.

It leaked.

The left engine coughed whenever it rained.

The navigation compass pointed north only when it felt like it.

But it flew.

Usually.

Lyra stood at the wheel while the Starling climbed through the clouds.

The city disappeared behind her.

The lanterns became tiny sparks.

Then the kingdom vanished entirely.

Only clouds remained.

She checked the compass.

The needle spun.

"Wonderful."

It stopped.

West.

Toward the storm.

Lyra tightened her coat.

She had no idea what she was looking for.

A temple.

A mysterious boy.

A dying magical heart.

Possibly a monster.

It was, she decided, not a particularly well-organized adventure.

Then something struck the ship.

BOOM.

Lyra grabbed the wheel.

The Starling lurched sideways.

"Easy!"

Another impact.

The sails snapped.

The ship dropped twenty feet.

Lyra shouted something that would have made her mother raise an eyebrow.

She pulled the wheel hard.

The ship leveled.

Then she saw them.

Black shapes moving through the clouds.

Birds.

No.

Too large.

They circled the ship.

Lyra reached for the brass lantern.

The blue flame burned violently.

The creatures shrieked.

One dove.

Lyra ducked.

It passed inches above her head.

She saw its face.

Long.

Pale.

Almost human.

Its eyes were completely black.

Lyra screamed.

The creature struck the mast.

Wood exploded.

The ship tilted.

"You're not supposed to do that!"

Another creature attacked.

Lyra swung the lantern.

A burst of blue light exploded outward.

The creature screamed and disappeared into the clouds.

Lyra stared at the lantern.

"Good."

The ship groaned.

"Very good."

Then the mast collapsed.

Lyra grabbed the wheel.

The Starling began falling.

The clouds rushed toward her.

She pulled the emergency lever.

Nothing happened.

"Come on."

Nothing.

"Come on!"

The ship continued falling.

Lyra closed her eyes.

"I hate adventures."

Then—

A shadow passed overhead.

A much larger ship.

Black sails.

Silver markings.

A figure leapt from its deck.

He landed on the Starling's damaged mast.

Lyra stared.

The stranger was tall.

Lean.

Dressed in a black coat that snapped in the wind.

Dark hair.

Gray-blue eyes.

A sword at his side.

He looked at Lyra.

Lyra looked at him.

He looked at the falling ship.

Then at her.

"You're going to crash."

"I noticed."

"Good."

He stepped toward her.

"Move."

"No."

He raised an eyebrow.

"This is not the time to be difficult."

"You are standing on my ship."

"Yes."

"Who are you?"

"Someone trying to keep you alive."

"I didn't ask."

"You didn't have to."

He reached for the controls.

Lyra slapped his hand away.

"I can fly my own ship."

The stranger looked at the broken mast.

Then at the missing sail.

Then at the rapidly approaching clouds.

"Clearly."

Lyra glared.

"Move."

He took the wheel.

She grabbed his wrist.

"Get off."

He stared at her hand.

Then at her.

"You have about five seconds before we become a very interesting stain on a cloud."

Lyra looked down.

Four seconds.

She let go.

He turned the wheel.

The Starling spun.

Its damaged engine roared.

The ship skimmed across the cloud surface.

They bounced once.

Twice.

Then climbed.

Silence.

Lyra stared at him.

"You stole my ship."

He glanced at her.

"Technically, I saved your ship."

"You touched my wheel."

"It was attached to your ship."

"That doesn't make it yours."

"It also doesn't make it yours."

Lyra opened her mouth.

Closed it.

The stranger smiled.

She immediately disliked him.

"Who are you?"

"Kael."

"Kael what?"

"Just Kael."

"That's suspicious."

"So is chasing a storm at midnight."

"I wasn't chasing it."

"You were flying directly toward it."

"I had a reason."

"So did I."

Lyra looked at him.

"What reason?"

His smile disappeared.

He looked toward the storm.

"I was trying to get away from it."

Lightning illuminated his face.

For the first time, Lyra noticed something around his neck.

A broken silver insignia.

The royal crest.

Her mother's voice returned to her.

Find the boy who came back from the storm.

She stared at him.

"How old are you?"

He looked confused.

"What?"

"Never mind."

Kael turned the wheel.

"Where are you going?"

Lyra hesitated.

"The Temple of First Light."

Kael went completely still.

Then he slowly looked at her.

"Why?"

"Because my mother told me to go there."

His expression changed.

Not surprise.

Fear.

Real fear.

"Who was your mother?"

Lyra stared at him.

"Seraphine Vale."

The ship seemed to become very quiet.

Kael looked away.

"Then we have a problem."

"What problem?"

He pointed toward the storm.

The black clouds had changed direction.

They were no longer drifting.

They were following them.

Kael's hand tightened around the wheel.

"That."