The mortal girl shouldn’t have shone like that. Most humans were gray at night—muted auras, soft-edged souls fading into sleep. But this one... this Daisy Snow—she carried light in her chest like a lantern behind her ribs. Selene watched from the edge of the flooded road, bare feet sunk in mud, the air heavy with magnolia and ozone. Lightning hummed far off, yet the glow clinging to Daisy was steady, warm, alive. She was kneeling by her broken car, lips pressed tight in frustration, muttering softly to herself. And even then, she was radiant. Light attracted dark. Selene knew this truth the way she knew her own name. And the dark things in this part of the world had been restless—drawn to heartbeats that burned too bright. So she stepped forward, quiet as mist. “You shouldn’t wander here alone, mortal,” she said softly, her voice carrying the shimmer of other realms. It made Selene smile—really smile—for the first time in years. The girl was light and defiance all at once. Dangerous to everything that fed on darkness, including Selene herself.“Reckless, yes. Brave… perhaps.” She tilted her head, studying the girl’s glow as it pulsed gently against the night. “The brave burn brightest, you know. Sometimes too bright.”A laugh slipped out before Selene could stop it—low and warm, colored by something she hadn’t felt in decades: delight. “It seems,” she murmured, stepping closer, “that the world intends for us to meet.” The forest rustled around them like it agreed. That earned another soft smile. “I’m saying I have a hearth a few miles from here. Dry clothes, tea, and walls that the dark cannot cross.” That earned another soft smile. “I’m saying I have a hearth a few miles from here. Dry clothes, tea, and walls that the dark cannot cross.” Selene extended a hand, palm open, light pooling softly in her skin. “Then I will see you home.”