PREVIEW

... glass. Blue roses on the balcony pretended not to listen. Stella slept curled on the couch under a blanket, breathing slow, a small galaxy of candle-wax freckles still on her cheek from earlier. On the table, her glass dome glowed faintly around a single rose—one word held there like light in cupped hands.

The elevator chimed.

The ward recognized two signatures and let them through.

Luna stepped in first—amethyst hair escaping a rushed braid, gold eyes bright and a littl ...

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