The morning sun filtered through the cracks in the heavy curtains, painting the floor of Daisy’s room in pale streaks of light. She sat curled up on the edge of her bed, still dressed in yesterday’s clothes, her knees drawn to her chest. The Moon’s Tear rested heavily against her sternum, its faint pulse reminding her of the responsibility it carried—a weight she neither wanted nor understood.
Twilight’s voice was soft in her mind, a calming purr. You need to breathe, Daisy. These feelings will pass.
Daisy clutched the amulet tightly, her fingers trembling. “What if they don’t?” she whispered aloud. The memory of the dream—those creatures, their too-long limbs and hungry eyes—refused to fade. Even the warmth of Twilight’s presence couldn’t dissolve the unease coiling in her gut.
A sharp
