The black Mercedes eased to the curb and stopped, engine idling low against the steady hum of a Sunday afternoon. Moonstone's town center carried that post-snow clarity, sidewalks cleared but still edged with thin, dirty ridges, storefront glass catching a pale winter sun.
People moved in loose patterns, couples with coffee, a family arguing softly over directions, the ordinary rhythm of a town pretending the season hadn't pressed in tighter. The air looked cold more than it felt, thin enough that breath showed if you paid attention.
The back door opened and Luna stepped out onto the pavement, boots finding steady ground without hesitation. She pulled the door shut with a firm, practiced motion, the sound sealing her off from the car in a way that felt deliberate. Her coat sat heavier on her shoulders than anything she had worn that morning, the fabric unfamiliar in the way new things always were before they became part of a rotation.
The driver's window slid down with a soft mechanical hum, and Miguel leaned slightly toward the opening, one arm resting easy against the frame.
"About the dress," he said, tone casual, like they were discussing groceries instead of something ruined and discarded. "You want the same one, I can find it. Same cut, same color."
"Different," Luna said immediately, not even turning fully back to him. "Something casual. Maybe subtle. Still black."
Yeah. Subtle. That was a word.
He said i stood out. Fine. No standing out.
Miguel nodded once, as if that answered more than the words themselves. "Got it. Something that doesn't look like it could start a fight by itself."
"It never started anything," she said, flat. "People just reacted badly."
He gave a small, amused breath through his nose. "That sounds like people, not the dress."
She didn't answer that, her attention already shifting down the street as if the conversation had served its purpose. The coat sleeve brushed against her wrist when she moved, a quiet reminder of something she hadn't chosen earlier in the day.
Not thinking about that. It's just a coat. Relax.
"I can wait," Miguel added, glancing at the sky like it might argue with him. "Take you wherever you're going after. It's colder than it looks."
"I'm fine," Luna said. "You can go."
He watched her for a second longer, not questioning it, just confirming it the way he always did. "You sure you don't need anything else?"
"No."
"Alright." He tapped the wheel lightly, a habit more than a signal. "Good luck with whatever you're about to get into."
She gave a small, almost dismissive tilt of her head. "Yeah. Thanks."
The window slid back up, sealing him in again, and the car pulled away from the curb with smooth precision. Luna stayed where she was, hands in her coat pockets, watching the Mercedes merge into the slow line of traffic. It moved past a row of parked cars, turned cleanly at the corner, and disappeared behind a cluster of bare trees that lined the next street.
She didn't wave. She didn't shift her weight or pretend she had somewhere urgent to be. She just watched until the car was gone completely, until the space it occupied felt like any other empty stretch of road.
Then she turned away, shoulders settling back into their usual line, and started down the street without looking back again.
The store she was looking for sat three blocks over, tucked between places that sold things people needed more often. She moved with steady intent, not rushing but not drifting either, eyes scanning storefront signs without really reading them.
Halfway down the second block, she slowed without meaning to, attention catching on a space that broke the rhythm of the street.
One shop stood closed in a way that didn't match the others, its front window cracked through in a jagged spread that caught the light unevenly. Glass still clung to the frame, but shards lay scattered across the pavement below, pushed to the side in uneven sweeps that suggested someone had tried to make the place safer without fixing it.
The door had been spray-painted over in thick, uneven strokes, a single word cutting across the wood in crude letters.
WITCH.
The paint had dried long enough to dull at the edges, no longer glossy, no longer fresh. It hadn't happened this morning. It had been left there long enough for people to walk past it and decide it belonged.
Luna stopped in front of it, head tilting slightly as she took in the details without moving closer. The inside of the shop was dark, shelves half-visible through the fractured glass, shapes of objects left behind or abandoned in a hurry. It didn't look like a business that had closed. It looked like a space that had been pushed out.
A man stood a few feet away, leaning against a lamppost with a paper cup in hand, watching her look at it with the mild curiosity of someone who had already gotten used to the sight. Luna shifted her gaze toward him without changing her stance.
"What happened here?" she asked.
He followed her line of sight, as if he needed to confirm what she meant even though it was obvious.
"Place got shut down," he said, voice carrying that casual tone of local knowledge. "Owner was a mage apparently. People found out."
Luna's eyes flicked back to the painted door, then to the broken glass. "And that was enough for this?"
The man shrugged one shoulder, taking a sip from his cup before answering. "Not at first. She'd been here a while, people liked her. Then someone started talking about enchantments. Said she was messing with customers, making them come back, spend more than they meant to."
"Was she?"
He gave a small, uncertain tilt of his head. "I don't think so. She seemed… normal. Nice, even. But you tell people they might've been manipulated without knowing it, they don't like that feeling. Makes them wonder what else they didn't choose."
His gaze lingered on the word across the door, expression shifting into something quieter. "She didn't get a chance to prove anything. People got angry before anyone asked questions."
"And this is what angry looks like now?" Luna said, not really asking him so much as stating it out loud.
"Looks like it lately," he replied, tone still even, like he wasn't trying to convince her of anything. "It's not just here. Been hearing about stuff like this in other towns. Different states even. Little things at first. People getting run out, places getting trashed."
He took another sip, eyes drifting down the street as if he could see those other places from where he stood. "Feels like something's been building for a while. Folks are just starting to act on it."
Luna let that sit for a moment, her attention moving between the man's face and the broken storefront. The word on the door didn't look rushed. It looked decided. The glass on the ground had been there long enough to be part of the street now, something people stepped around without thinking.
Witch. Yeah. That's new.
Or not new. Just louder.
"Shame," the man added, almost as an afterthought. "She was kind. Didn't deserve any of it."
Luna didn't respond to that. She gave a small nod that wasn't agreement so much as acknowledgment, then shifted her weight and moved on, leaving the storefront behind her. The street closed around her again, noise and motion filling the space as if nothing had been interrupted at all.
File it. Not your problem right now.
Except it kind of is. Or will be later.
The astronomy store sat exactly where it was supposed to, a narrow frontage with a sign that looked older than the paint on it. The window display held a small arrangement of telescopes and star charts, practical rather than decorative, the kind of place that didn't need to convince people to come in. They already knew why they were there.
Luna pushed the door open and stepped inside, the small bell above it chiming once in a way that felt almost outdated. The air inside was warmer, carrying a faint scent of paper and polished metal. Shelves lined the walls with precise organization, equipment arranged by size and function, everything within easy reach of someone who knew what they were looking for.
She didn't pause to take it in. Her eyes went straight to the telescopes, scanning the options with quick, efficient movements before settling on the largest model in stock. It stood near the back, sturdy base, clean lines, the kind of thing built for clarity rather than aesthetics.
"That one," she said, pointing before the shop owner could even step fully into view from behind the counter.
The man followed her gesture, eyebrows lifting slightly at the choice.
"That's our best unit," he said, not questioning her, just confirming the obvious.
"Yeah," Luna replied. "I can tell."
He nodded once and moved to process it, no attempt at upselling or explanation, just quiet efficiency that matched her own. She pulled her card out before he finished ringing it up, the transaction smooth and quick, numbers appearing and disappearing without meaning anything beyond completion.
"Need help carrying it?" he asked, glancing at the size of the box.
"I've got it," she said, already lifting it with both hands, weight settling into her grip without complaint.
She stepped back out onto the street, the bell chiming again behind her, the cold air brushing against her face as if it had been waiting. The box rested against her hip, balanced easily, and she scanned the road until she spotted an approaching cab.
"Frontier Hill," she said as she slid into the back seat, giving the driver the address without hesitation.
"Where exactly along the hill?" The cab driver asked
"As close to the peak as you can get."
The car pulled away, merging into the same slow Sunday traffic Miguel had left minutes before. Luna leaned back into the seat, gaze drifting briefly to the passing storefronts before settling forward again, already done with this part of the day.
***
Meanwhile, the black Cadillac Escalade rolled up the long driveway of the Thorne estate and came to a controlled stop near the front entrance. The house rose behind it in clean, deliberate lines, a structure built to be seen from a distance and understood immediately. Stone and glass met in careful balance, every surface maintained to a standard that spoke less about wealth and more about intention, as if the building itself participated in how the family presented itself to the world.
The grounds stretched outward in measured symmetry, trimmed hedges and bare trees arranged with the same precision as everything else. Even in winter, with color stripped back to muted tones, the estate held a kind of quiet authority, the space around it curated to reinforce the message the house carried.
The doors of the Escalade opened in near unison, and the three girls stepped out onto the driveway. The one with the neon pink hair didn't pause, didn't look back, didn't wait to see if the others had followed. She moved toward the entrance with immediate purpose, stride set as if the decision had been made before the car had even stopped.
"Are you seriously just walking off?" Abigail called after her, voice cutting across the space between them. "We haven't even talked about what we're doing here."
Amber didn't turn, her pace unbroken as she reached the steps. "Mom wants a mission update," she said over her shoulder, tone flat and already finished with the conversation. "Anissa's her main concern. We're here to sit and nod."
She pushed the front door open without slowing. "I've got better things to do than sit and nod," she added, stepping inside and letting the door close behind her.
The two remaining stood in the space she left, the quiet of the driveway settling back in around them. One shifted her weight slightly, gaze tracking the closed door for a second before turning away from it entirely.
"If it's just an update," Anissa said, voice controlled, each word placed with intention, "then I don't need either of you there."
She glanced once towards Abigail, not waiting for a response so much as marking that she had said it. "You won't add anything to that conversation."
Her path diverged from the main entrance, steps angling off toward a side entry that cut through the estate at a different point. She moved with the same steady purpose, not hurried, not frustrated, just efficient in the way someone was when they had already calculated the outcome.
The door closed behind her as well, leaving the driveway open and still.
Abigail remained where she was, hands at her sides, the space around her suddenly larger than it had been a moment before. The Escalade ticked softly as it cooled, the sound small against the size of the estate. The front door stood shut, the side entrance out of view, both paths taken without her.
She didn't move immediately. Her gaze lingered on the spot where Amber had disappeared, then shifted to where Anissa had gone, tracking the absence of both rather than their presence. The driveway stretched out in front of her, empty in a way that felt recent, like something had just been removed from it.
Her expression held steady, but there was a tightness to it that hadn't been there when they arrived, something drawn from repetition rather than surprise.
This wasn't new. It had been happening in smaller ways, quieter moments, pieces breaking off one at a time until there was space between them that hadn't existed before.
She exhaled slowly, the breath visible in the cold air, and stood there for a second longer without choosing a direction. The house waited behind her, the doors closed, the afternoon holding its shape as if nothing had shifted at all.
Then she turned toward the entrance, steps measured, carrying that stillness with her as she moved into the space the others had already left.