(Mirabel's POV)
The problem with nameless things—
Was that eventually people started naming them.
The child had been in the sanctuary for twelve days.
Twelve wonderfully chaotic days.
Twelve confusing days.
Twelve days during which reality had developed the habit of surprising itself.
And by day twelve—
Everyone had a different name for her.
The gardeners called her Blossom.
The explorers called her Horizon.
The musicians called her Melody.
The scholars called her Possibility.
One world referred to her as Tomorrow.
Another called her Dawn.
A third insisted she was Hope.
The child answered to all of them.
Which somehow made the problem worse.
I found her sitting beneath the oldest tree in the sanctuary.
A tree that hadn't existed two weeks ago.
A tree that was somehow al
