The moon is dying in an iron net, the thieves want their pay in bottled light, and every single bottle has gone gray. High on the cliffs, one dark lighthouse waits for its keeper to come home.
Part 3 of 3 in The Keeper of the Last Light
Leire rasgó una tira de su propia camisa y vendó el brazo de Almudena sin detener el paso. «Aprieta con la mano buena» —dijo. «Y no mires abajo».
Opening lines