The trap wasn’t born of magic. It was born of instinct.
And love.
Joseph and Luca had spent the day in silence, eyes on the false Luna. Every word she spoke, every breath she took, was compared to memories burned into their bones.
She looked like Maria.
She moved like Maria.
But she didn’t feel like her.
Joseph leaned against the training ring wall, arms folded. “She doesn’t hum when she walks through the garden anymore.”
“She used to sing the old Wildmoon melody,” Luca added. “Even in winter.”
They had planned a date night for Maria. A night beneath the stars. She had always asked for it but had never been able to truly enjoy it.
They had planned it for her.
So when Nyra accepted the offer without a flicker of suspicion, without even asking about the old songs or the place Josep
