The streets of Jericho glimmer in the afternoon sun, warm light bouncing off brick walls and shop windows. Among the bustling crowds, a small, distressed cry catches their attention.

Enid spots a little child sitting on the curb, clutching a worn toy. The kid didn't look older than 5 years old. “Wednesday… look,” she whispers.

Wednesday steps forward, expression unreadable. “Fate really enjoys its little theatrics.”

Enid kneels beside the child. “Hey there… don’t be scared. What's your name, sweetie?"