Prologue
LONG AGO
Long ago, when the gods walked among us, there was a monster who wished to become a man.
He knew only Moon Mother could change him, so he went out to find her.
Rumor was she could be met sometimes in the Sleeping Lands, so he traveled there.
And each night of his journey, he prayed to her in the sky, begging her to grant him the gift of humanity.
When he finally reached that border between the safe lands and the lands made all of ice where night lives forever, the Moon Mother heard him. And she actually answered: “Yes, I will grant you this wish, Little Monster. But you must first find me six pots of honey.”
“I can do that,” the monster agreed, already thinking of a beehive he’d found in the south.
“No, no, this is special honey,” the goddess said. “And the pots are not easily obtained. In fact, only a monster such as yourself will be able to do so. Now listen, and I will tell you where they are.
“Follow the Bat in the mountains, to find the soil and stones.
“Follow the Fox and the Iris, to find the tides of home.
“Follow the Hound and the Giant, to find the winds and the storm.
“And follow the Hawk moving eastern, to find what flames have born.
“Follow the Rook to the snowcaps, and you’ll find the soul that begins.
“But it’s in the pitch-deep darkness, that you’ll find where all things end.”
When Moon Mother had finished her rhyme, the monster frowned and shook his head at her. “I don’t understand. Those don’t sound like places where honey might be found.”
“And I told you, this is special honey. Trust me, Little Monster. You will find what you are looking for. And once you have finished, return to me. Here, inside the Sleeping Lands.”
The monster was confused but also excited.
He would find the six pots of honey. He would finally become a man.
And so, for many months, he traveled and he searched.
First, to the west where the mountain bats thrived.
He met men—many men—and while most cowered away, some were kind. Some helped him find honey.
The monster feared, though, that it was not the special honey the Moon Mother had wanted him to collect for her.
But onward he went. South. North. East. High, and finally low.
In each place, he found what the Moon Mother had described: tides of home or winds and storm or snowcaps where the soul began.
Yet never could he find anything but regular honey from regular bees.
And after many years of travel—sometimes tracing back to places he’d already gone—he finally had to accept these six pots of regular honey were all he was ever going to find.
So he returned to the Sleeping Lands. “Moon Mother,” he called. “I have done as you asked and traveled where you led. I found honey, though it is not special. Please, please, will you make me a man anyway?”
The goddess arrived. She did not smile, but instead looked sadly down at the little monster. “You found honey, but you are right: this is not the special kind I asked for. And so I cannot make you a man.”
“But there was nothing else in the places you sent me! I found no special honey. I found only people and beasts and tides and storm and flames and mountain. I found pain and love and violence and beauty. But never any special honey. Please, Moon Mother. I have worked hard and traveled far.”
“No, Little Monster. That was not our agreement.”
At first, the monster was angry. He had endured so much for so long.
He had learned to be kind even when people were cruel.
He had grown physically stronger after many fights against sea foxes and flame hawks.
He had seen the most stunning, heartbreaking peaks of the mountains and their glowing, terrifying depths.
Yet after all that, now the goddess was not going to give the monster what he’d asked for?
Yet the longer he stood there, the ice of the Sleeping Lands swirling around him yet never quite reaching him, the more he realized that Moon Mother was no longer frowning. Instead, she watched him, waiting, as if she knew something he would eventually realize too.
“Oh,” he finally said, and a laugh popped from his chest. “I do not need to become a man.”
“No,” she told him, and the smile that spread over her lips was as bright as the heavens above.
“Because you were always good enough as you are, Little Monster. No human could have done all you have done or seen all you have seen. And certainly, no human could have done it with the same grace and patience that you have shown. But listen—I will give you a small gift for all your troubles.”
The goddess knelt and offered the monster two things. First: a necklace that smelled of a sky singing with snow and meadows drenched in moonlight. Of sun and sand and auburn leaves falling. It smelled, in fact, like all the places the little monster had visited.
“This necklace,” Moon Mother explained, “will remind you of who you are and how all your adventures have shaped you. And this…” She offered him the second gift: a small knife sharp as starlight.
“This will help you build the world anew, Little Monster. Your world, for the choice has always been yours.”
The monster bowed his head. “Thank you, Moon Mother. For everything.”
“No, thank you, Little Monster. For my lands are better for having had you in them.”