That night, Lucky wrote letters to everyone she loved. Thistle. Gleam. Marla. Even Ember.
She left them on moon-drift petals, letting them float into the stars.
Each one was a truth: her hopes, her fears, her gratitude. Her vulnerability.
Because if she didn't return, she wanted them to know exactly how fiercely she had loved them.
And if she did return—those words would become the roots of a brighter future.