Kyle’s first stop had been Meredith’s old lair, and it had been empty. He had torn through the place, scattering debris, and overturning the trash that was abandoned by Meredith, in a desperate hope that something, anything, would point to where the witch had taken his Luna.

He found nothing.

Now he was adrift, consumed by confusion, reaching for Lucy in every way he knew how: Meditation, roaming through the woods trying to rack her scent, only to be mocked by failure. It was as if she had been erased from existence. Fear gnawed at him. What if something had already happened to her? What if the witch did something...