So as it turns out, part of becoming a “child of the upper spirits” is that you have to die at some point when you first come across the camp.

Seems like a really crappy way to introduce yourself.

The last thing I remember from being alive is face planting into the dirt in the interior of the cabin. It has no floor. Go figure.

A few moments later, my spirit separates from my body. It’s a truly bizarre experience, staring at your own body while your best friend crouches over you, trying to figure out what happened.

But Evan is moving in super slow motion, and I realize that time must be different… here? Where is here, exactly? I’m not sure.

Thankfully, my questions are sorta answered when I hear a sort of gravelly noise behind me. I turn, hoping answers are there.

On the bright side, they are. On the downside… this woman is unlike any I have ever seen before. She looks like my gramma, but if my gramma was made out of dirt, rocks, grasses, and everything else you can find on the prairie. Just for good effect, the last thing to come into shape as she erupts from the ground is a bright pink flower - ojinjinkta, the prairie rose.

“Grandmother Earth?” I ask, slightly stunned out of talking.

I expect her to open her eyes and talk to me… but she doesn’t. She lifts her arms, as if to embrace me, and smiles broadly. But her eyes remain firmly closed.

“My dearest grandson,” she says, then immediately fritzes out like an old school television. She frowns. “My apologies, takoja. I am but one aspect of earth, and one of me is trying to wake up. That other aspect… she is not the friendliest.”

“Uh,” I try and remember the words. “Hau, Unci Makha.” I wince. I’m not sure if it’s right.

Nonetheless, she just laughs warmly at me. She reminds me of a warm meadow under a light rain.

“Close enough,” Grandmother says with a chuckle. “Don’t fret, takoja. Just float with me.”

She pulls me to her side, and we sorta float away. I float. Gramma doesn’t leave the earth, she just sorta… brings the entire earth with her as we float upwards.

I look down, and I can see the immortals both frozen in time but also blocking the sun with their hands as they collectively stare up at me. Rising Star gives me a wave, and she calls something out, but I’m not sure what.

I suddenly feel very nauseous as I realize how high up we are, and that I’m not strapped to anything.

“Please don’t vomit,” Gramma says mildly. “It’s good for the plants, but nobody likes the smell.”

For the sake of Gramma, I try to hold it in.

It takes us another… I have no idea. I have no idea how time passes, but it feels like another five minutes or so before we reach our destination.

“You’re a few minutes short of experiencing brain damage,” Gramma says mildly. “But don’t worry. We should be done before that happens, and certainly before brain death.”

“Sorry… what?”

“Etu is doing his best, dear, but we’ll rush. Just in case.” I don’t think Gramma is capable of speaking in any other manner than mildly, so I’ll let you assume that from now on.

We plunge through the blackness of the stars… and I am immediately blinded by the sheer brilliance of the world I see.

We’re in a small meadow, almost identical to the one below us. But this valley has a gaping hole in the center, and suddenly all Mom’s stories about the missing star make sense.

The valley, unlike the one below us, is covered in timpsila. Some of them are massive, and I recognize the largest as the location of the north star. Sitting above it is Resting Star himself, and I instinctively retreat into myself at the sight of this mighty man.

But I can’t even focus on just him, because around me sit a dozen or so other of the upper spirits - I recognize a woman most prominent towards me as Owl-Maker (she is covered in owls and tattoos), but I don’t recognize any of the others.

Looking at them, I realize that Resting Star looks like a dim light compared to the rest of the spirits around him. These must be the upper spirits.

“Aye,” the largest man, sitting next to what must his wife, speaks first. “We are the Council of Stars, and we’re here to judge you.”

My eyes widen, and I sorta panic inwardly at that. I don’t move, however, because I feel like I’m swimming through soup up here and I’m not really capable of doing anything.

The woman sitting next to him chuckles, her hand at her lips. “No, I don’t expect you to do much up here. The atmosphere is meant for us, not you. I’d imagine - yes, soup is a good analogy.”

The two of them open their mouths and speak in synchrony, and I feel like my soul just about shatters under the weight of their words.

“We are Wi, the head of the Council of Stars, and we welcome you, Seth Dead-Eye, as the first of the Children of the Stars.”

“Oh dear,” says the old woman closest to me. “Don’t do that again, Wi, you’ll kill him for good.” She leans forward, inspecting me. “And I don’t expect he’ll make it past me. He’s not ready for death quite yet.”

Wi - the woman, that is - puts her hand at her mouth and chuckles quietly. The male half says nothing, but continues to stare at me. It feels like his eyes are seeing straight through my soul.

The woman covered in owls continues to speak. “I am Owl-Maker, the guardian of the Path of Stars! You, young Seth, are my chosen ‘child’,” she makes air quotes around the word “child”, “and I’m here to beta test our first attempt at this! Hopefully it won’t kill you.”

My eyes bulge. Hopefully?!

“Ah, yes, an unfortunate risk, but we’ve never done anything like this before,” Owl-Maker says awkwardly. “Now, erm, what do I do again?”

A young woman scoots up to Owl-Maker and whispers in her ear. On Owl-Maker’s other side, I can faintly see the outline of another figure whispering in Owl-Maker’s other ear, almost identical to the first.

Owl-Maker sees me watching. She gestures towards the more corporeal woman. “This is Anpao,” she says, then gestures to the wispier one. “And that is her twin sister, Han. They are dusk and dawn, and they also have Iktomi on speed-dial.”

Owl-Maker lifts stansted to her feet, a little wobbly, before raising her hands. Above her, the crystal ball that had beamed my head earlier appears in her grip.

“Now, I gift to you, Seth Alexander Dead-Eye, my…” she hesitates, and I realize suddenly that she is no longer speaking English. “I gift to you a drop of my essence. I gift to you the curse of Owl-Maker!”

Hold up. Did this woman really just say curse of Owl-Maker?

Unfortunately, I don’t have time to dispute it in any direction, because at that moment my body decides it’s had enough of death and I get hurled back down to earth in a heartbeat.