“I need your help,” I said.
Luna nodded once, like she’d already expected that too. “It’s about Gideon.”
I didn’t bother asking how she knew.
“Yes,” I said. “Do you have any idea where he might have gone?”
Luna’s gaze held mine for a long moment, something thoughtful passing through her expression before she reached for the yarn beside her, her fingers brushing over it like she was listening for something only she could hear.
“He didn’t just leave,” she said slowly. “He was pulled.”
A chill ran down my spine.
“Pulled where?” I asked.
Her eyes lifted back to mine.
“Somewhere he didn’t plan to go.”
“Skonk is with him,” I explained. “And word has it that the Priestess has readied her dungeons, and she might have already moved my mom to one.”
Luna’s jaw tightened. “This is getting complicated.”
“I think it has been that way since the moment I set foot in Stonewick.”
I looked around Luna’s quaint yarn store and couldn't believe how much I had changed since the first time I came in here. I'd grown confidence while skating into many missteps, but persevered, even when I wasn't sure what the next step should be.
And that was where I was at now. I didn't know what my next move needed to be.
Luna watched me for a long moment, her fingers resting lightly on the yarn in her lap like she could feel the threads of something deeper running through it.
“You’re not lost,” she said quietly. “You’re just standing at a point where every path matters.”
I let out a small breath. “That doesn’t make it easier.”
“No,” she agreed. “It doesn’t.”
Twobble wandered toward a basket near the counter, poking at a bundle of soft blue yarn like he might uncover a hidden answer tucked inside it.
“So,” he said, glancing back at us, “do we have a plan, or are we going to stare meaningfully at string until something reveals itself?”
Luna’s lips curved slightly. “Sometimes that works better than you’d think.”
“I don’t doubt it,” I said, stepping closer to the counter. “But we don’t have time to wait for something to maybe happen. If Gideon was pulled somewhere, then it wasn’t random.”
“No,” Luna said, setting the yarn aside and standing. “It wouldn’t be.”
She moved toward one of the shelves, her hand brushing along the rows of neatly wound, vividly colored skeins as if she were tracing a pattern only she could see.
“Magic leaves impressions,” she continued. “Not always visible. Not always loud. But it lingers. Especially when it’s tied to something powerful.”
I knew where Luna was going with this because her fiber arts had led us places before. The magic touched the threads, leadingthrough doors, opening up worlds in new ways of looking at things. But right now, I didn't feel I had the patience.
“The stone,” I said.
“The stone,” she echoed.
Twobble perked up. “So we follow the impression.”
