The Luna is a Witch

To my beautiful daughter, If you’re reading this, then my journey in this realm has ended. I fought to stay longer—longer for you, for the destiny you carry—but the gods have called me home. I know you are hurting. You may blame yourself for not being here, or blame me for not being strong enough this time. But hear me, Claire: none of this is your fault. Your brother… our Carter… will need you. It falls to you to guide him, to tell him the truth about who he is and who we are. Teach him the ways of the gods and goddesses. Protect him. Because his future—and yours—are intertwined more deeply than you yet understand. You were always meant to walk this path together. With all my love, Mom Two Years Later Claire De Catherine Quinn’s POV “Happy birthday to you… happy birthday to you… happy birthday, my Carter… happy birthday to you!” Carter’s cheeks ballooned with excitement as the two small candles flickered in front of him. “Blow them out, sweetie!” He inhaled like a tiny dragon and puffed out the flames. A cheer tore out of him immediately. Gods, that smile. I swear it could light up both realms. Two years. It’s been two whole years since Mom died—and two years since I became a mother at seventeen. Not a sister. Not a guardian. A mother. It was her dying wish: raise him as your own. I was angry at first. Angry at her, angry at the gods, angry at Carter. But none of this was his fault. All he did was exist. All he did was survive. And now… now I can’t imagine breathing without him. “Momma, Song! ’Nother song! Pwease!” Carter clapped his hands, curls bouncing wildly. “How old are you now? How old are you now?” I sing, circling my fingers like I’m conducting an orchestra. “How old are you, Carter?” “TWO!” he screams, pure joy bursting out of him. “That’s right! You’re two years old, you’re two years old,” I sing dramatically. “Momma’s big boy is two years old!” “I TWO NOW!” “Yes you are, baby.” He squeals, vibrating like a puppy that just discovered zoomies. “School!” I laugh under my breath. “Okay, okay. Call your shoes.” “Shoes!” he commands. In an instant—poof—tiny sneakers materialize on his feet. “There you go! Someone’s getting good,” I grin, straightening his shirt. “Grab my hand. Let’s go.” “Yes, Momma.” “CARTER’S SCHOOL!” With a twist of energy and a shimmer in the air, the living room dissolves. A heartbeat later, we’re standing outside his classroom door in the Spiritual Realm’s early-morning glow. “Have a good day, sweetie,” I crouch, brushing a curl off his forehead. “Momma will be back after school, I promise. Just a few hours.” “Bye Momma! I miss you!” he calls as he toddles into the room. My chest tightens. Every time. No matter how many mornings we do this. ⸻ On the walk to my own university building, the quiet hum of magic vibrates through the marble halls. Now that Carter’s settled, I can finally explain what we are. My name is Claire De Catherine Quinn, nineteen-year-old mother to Carter De Jeremy Quinn—and we’re demigods. Descendants of Hecate, goddess of magic and witchcraft. We live primarily in the Spiritual Realm, where Hecate’s presence is stronger. Mom was one of the most powerful witches of her generation, and she had only just begun training me when she got pregnant with Carter. Her power drained throughout the pregnancy—flowing directly into him. A sign. A warning. Maybe both. Hera has despised Hecate’s bloodline ever since that whole stolen-rouge-for-a-Zeus-lover fiasco. And when Hera hates you… you feel it. “CLAIRE DE CATHERINE QUINN! WHERE the actual f**k have you been?!” I groan. Only one person screams my entire name like a war battle cry. Lilliana Juliana Clark—LJ—comes sprinting down the corridor like she’s on fire. “Dear all that is mighty,” I mutter as she barrels into me. “Why are you screaming?” “I missed you!” she shrieks, hugging me like she’s trying to fuse our souls. “You never come out anymore! We need to celebrate! Get you a man!” “Oh my Goddess, LJ, I do not need a man. I have Carter. You know—my son?” I flick my fingers and the dust disappears from my shirt. “I know you have Carter! I adore that baby! But you haven’t had a night out since he was born,” she says, lowering her voice. “You need a break. A good time. A handsome se—” I slap my hand over her mouth. “Those around may no longer hear my sound.” Magic seals the words. She rolls her eyes. “Fine. But Jordan sucked and you know it. Getting under someone new would help.” “LJ!” She snorts. “Just saying.” I hook my arm through hers. “Let’s go. We’re late to class.”