The Last Fallen Star by Graci Kim (the mitten read aloud .TXT) 📗

scholar than I ever could have imagined. And though I no longer belong to either clan, I feel more gifted than I ever thought I’d be.

It’s just like Hattie said. It’s all about choice. I don’t have to feel conflicted about being Gom or Horangi, gifted or saram, adopted or born into a family. Because my choice isn’t either-or. I can choose to be all of those things. It’s my actions that define who I am, not who I was born to, or what blood flows through my veins, or even what magic I can wield. And the fact of the matter is that I chose all these people, and these people chose me.

Out of nowhere, the third line of the prophecy echoes in my ear.

In the one last divine, a weapon shall rise.

As the words wash over me, something ignites in the pit of my stomach. It’s a new kind of heat, but it’s not unwelcome. A pocket of warmth grows from my gut and spreads into my limbs and my chest, right up to the top of my head. It zings through me like pure energy—like something awakening after a long slumber.

Do you see now? a voice whispers in my head. I’m pretty sure I’ve heard it before, but I can’t quite put a finger on who it is. This is who you’ve been all along.

I shake my head. But I was born Horangi, and I was raised Gom, I say to the voice in my head. It’s not possible that I—

The mysterious voice answers the question in my mind before I can finish the thought. Mago Halmi did not build the world in singularity. She made us all in eum and yang—in contradiction and equilibrium. Each of us is capable of more than you can imagine.

I think I see the flicker of something large and shiny in the opposite corner of the sanctuary. Then something weird happens. The Gi cauldron starts to tremble. It shakes and groans like it’s coming alive, and thick black fire erupts from its top. The hungry dark flames burn fiercely, like a bonfire made of night, and everyone stops to stare at it.

“What’s happening?” Cosette says.

“Is that supposed to be burning?” Emmett asks.

A seed of understanding begins to sprout. The star compass wasn’t the Godrealm’s last fallen star. I’ve had it wrong all along.

“Oh no,” Sora says, her eyes widening. “The goddess is too powerful. She’s escaping.”

I turn to see that the deity has gotten a second wind. The potion must have worn off. “You will pay for this, you insolent mortals!” She throws up her arms in anger, and one of the latticing pews gets flung across the chamber.

“It’s no use,” Emmett cries. “Nothing can stop her.”

The goddess breaks another bench above her head and stands up. She locks her eyes on me, and her gaze is so icy, I swear my insides freeze on the spot.

“Enough!” she yells. “Enough play. It is time to finish this.” She puts her hands together and releases them toward me in a forceful gesture.

Eomma sees it coming and dives in front of me to block the attack. But it’s too late. The next thing I know, I am hurtling through the air. My back hits something hard, and I fall to the marble floor with a thud. Ugh. My chest feels like it’s full of rocks, and I can’t catch my breath. I clutch at my throat, trying to let the air in.

Just breathe.

Breathe.

Breathe!

As the deity turns her attention to the others, I slowly get to my knees. I turn and realize I was thrown into the statue of the Cave Bear Goddess. No wonder it was a rough landing. I use it as a prop to pull myself up to my feet, then quickly close my eyes. I’m woozy from the impact, and I hold on tight to the icon. As the dizziness subsides, I stare at the likeness of the goddess.

That’s when it strikes me.

The Cave Bear Goddess statue is made of gold.

I run through the prophecy in my head once more:

When the blood moon and black sun appear to the gaze

To mark the start of the end of all days,

In the one last divine, a weapon shall rise;

Unless the gold-destroyer ends the soul who lies.

As the statue’s gilded eyes probe into my own, the last piece of the puzzle falls into place.

“Goddess, I might still be in the running for employee of the century, after all,” I say, my voice deeper and surer than it has ever been before. I walk up to her, rubble trembling under my feet, and I feel only strength, not fear. “I have found what you’re looking for.”

The goddess pauses her destruction to look at me.

Well? her eyes demand.

I look over at the cauldron and the pure power flowing from its black flames. The same power that flows from me.

And for the first time in my life, instead of being ashamed of my four inner fires, I embrace them. I let the embers drift down over me, become part of me. And as the licks of power engulf me, I allow myself to accept it, and accept myself.

Intertwined with these feelings is my love for both sets of parents, compassion for my sister, thankfulness for the companionship of my best friend, and gratitude for the unity of the Gom. I fuse it with my appreciation for the scholars’ bravery, the loyalty of the inmyeonjo, the support of my auntie, and the courage of my gifted friends.

I have never felt more at home than here, right now, among all my people. So, using that feeling, I form a colorful patchwork of the diverse mortals who make me who I am. And I burn fiercely with pride.

“Choose your next actions carefully,” the goddess warns as I take my final steps toward her.

The dokkaebi may have been evil, but he was right. I was indeed in possession of the Godrealm’s last fallen star. I’ve had it with me—in me—all