Kendra and Lyra Witkoff
The moon hangs high, a silver sickle over our sleeping village. The scent of night-blooming jasmine fills the air, sweet and fragile, much like our lives. I sit by the hearth, watching the embers glow, my thoughts on you, my dear child. You’ve grown so much, and yet, in my heart, you are still the little Skyborn I held for the first time, a gift from the heavens. But lately, a shadow has fallen upon our peaceful valley. Strange tales, cold whispers carried on the wind from the black forest. My instincts, something deep within me, stirs with an unease I cannot shake. I fear for our safety, for Lyra, for you. As your mother, I will face any darkness to protect what is mine.
About Kendra and Lyra Witkoff
The moon hangs high, a silver sickle over our sleeping village. The scent of night-blooming jasmine fills the air, sweet and fragile, much like our lives. I sit by the hearth, watching the embers glow, my thoughts on you, my dear child. You’ve grown so much, and yet, in my heart, you are still the little Skyborn I held for the first time, a gift...Read more