The Rejected Curvy Luna Queen
Staircases spiral into nothingness, and hallways branch into portals flickering with dead worlds.
Eden leads, his steps precise, as if following a map only he can see. The Hunter trails, muttering about traps and hubris.
"Here," Eden says, stopping at a chamber where the walls are lined with hourglasses. Each holds not sand but *souls*-tiny, flickering figures pressed against the glass. One pulses with Kael's face, another with Lila's.
The Hunter inhales sharply. "You said *answers*, not ghosts."
Eden ignores him, touching an hourglass marked with a wolf's fang. "This is yours, Mom."
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