The well at the back of the Hawthorne estate was older than the town. Older than the forest. Older than any of the names carved into stone in the ancestral archives.
And it was humming.
Not loudly. Just beneath the breath of the wind, the creak of leaves.
Luna stood over it barefoot at sunrise, wrapped in Knox’s old flannel. She hadn’t told anyone she was here. Not even him. But something had tugged her from sleep—whispering her name.
Not Luna.
Not the name she knew.
A name she’d forgotten long ago.
She leaned over the stone ring and peered down.
And the well… looked back.
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“WHERE IS LUNA?!” Saffy screamed into the morning mist, wearing a pink robe and a towel turban, holding Destiny under one arm like a very squirmy handbag.
Mira appeared behind her, calmly stirring a cauldr
