It felt more personal than the spheres.
They had been objects I could place on a shelf or nightstand. This was something meant to be carried against me.
I set my phone down and lifted the necklace carefully from the tray. The chain slipped cool and light across my fingers. Whoever had made it had taken time with it. The seed sat centered inside the pendant without bending or breaking, its thin white fibers fanning outward from the dark tip.
One seed.
One tiny piece separated from the rest.
I picked up my phone again.
What does the single seed mean?
His answer arrived almost immediately.
One wish.
My fingers tightened around the chain.
There were too many things I could have wished for.
A life where Havoc did not control whether I saw my daughter. A locked door that actually kept
