W.I.L.D.
A faint glimmer of old magic clung to it.
Tora’s eyes lit up. “Is that—?”
“Grammy’s,” Cheyenne confirmed, holding it up before flipping it open. “She catalogued every known prophecy, vision, and magical anomaly she encountered. Some of it makes no damn sense, but if that whisper just came from the wind itself, it might’ve passed through her time too.”
Tora pushed her hair back into a bun, stood up, and pointed at Jax. “Notebook. Now.”
He blinked at her. “Why do I feel like I’m in math class and forgot my homework?”
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