It was finished. The Lunar Mender gleamed under the starlight, a machine that hummed like it knew something wonderful was about to happen. Finn and Lyra dragged it up the observatory roof, balanced it on its rickety rail, and aimed it squarely at the fractured moon.
“Are you sure about this?” Lyra asked.
“Not even a little,” Finn admitted. “But I’m tired of waiting.”
He pulled the lever.
