Leona opened her eyes. She was awake for real this time, she was sure of it. Her body felt heavy at first, disoriented and sluggish. Her sheets g to her naked skin, soaked through with sweat, ging like a sed skin. This wasn’t new; it used to happen often when she was younger, pgued by relentless nightmares that left her shivering and damp in the early hours. She inhaled sharply, shuddering at the memory, and exhaled slowly, willing herself to calm down.
After a moment, she cmbered upright, stretg until her muscles groahe ache unfurling in waves. Her spine cracked, and the sensation was almost satisfying, like unknotting something wound too tightly for far too long. She yawned deeply, rubbing her eyes, feeling both weary and strangely rejuvenated, as if her body were waking up for the first time in years.
Her eyes drifted over to the bed, where the orb Sarah had given her rested. It hadn’t moved. She remembered clutg it before falling asleep, its cool surface pressed against her chest. Leona frowned. She picked it up with a deliberate slowness, noting the absence of the soft tuft of gray down ihe gss was still intact, unmarred by cracks, but the feathers were gone. pletely gone. Her brow furrowed as she tilted the globe, hoping it was just an odd trick of the light. But no, it was empty—no, y. She squinted, leaning closer. There was something inside.
Her firaced the surface of the gss, cool and smooth, as she stared at peared to be a swirl of ash. A dirty snow globe, she thought grimly, shaking it lightly. The ashes twirled but didn’t settle, suspended in an unnatural dance. fusion g her, but exhaustion dulled the edges. She shook her head, dismissing the mystery with a sigh and muttering, “Weird dream,” before pg the orb ba its shelf.
The call of nature yanked her from her thoughts, and with a resigned groan, she stumbled toward the door. Her fingers, still slick from sweat, slipped on the doorknob owice, until it finally turned. She shuffled down the hallway, cursing the humidity ging to her skin, and navigated the door to the bathroom with simir frustration, muttering obsities under her breath.
The cool por was a wele relief as she plunked herself down, sighing as the tension in her body eased. Her mind wandered, struggling to piece together the fragments of her dream. She’d only been asleep for a few hours, it felt, and her body begged to return to the soce of her damp sheets. Raising a hand to stifle another yawn, she absently brushed her fihrough her hair, the damp strands ging like silk to her palms.
Something g her. Something… off. She blinked zily, gng at the mirror out of the er of her eye. There had been a flicker, a shadow maybe, but she was too tired to care.
Until her chest tightened.
Not a sharp pain, but a heaviness. She felt like she was carryis in her bra—which was odd, sidering she wasn’t wearing one. Her breath hitched. Something was wrong. Very wrong.
Leona panicked, bolting upright with wide eyes, and hastily grabbed some tissue to wipe herself, but froze mid-motion. Her heart smmed against her ribs as she looked down, and the tissue fluttered from her trembling fingers, drifting to the floor like a pale, crumpled leaf.
Her breasts were huge. At least two sizes rger than before, easily D-cups. The skin was unblemished, smooth and soft, as if sculpted from por. “No stretch marks?” she whispered, incredulous. She ran her hands over them, searg for anything—any sign of abnormality—but there was nothing. No pain. No scars. Just perfe. A glistening cream color, faintly tanned, almost radiant.
She staggered to her feet, nearly tripping over the hem of her own panid caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror.
“NO FREAKING WAY!” she gasped, spinning around to see her back.
There they were—snow-white wings, massive and majestic, feathers gleaming with a faint golden glow. They shifted with her every movement, flexing as if testing the air, shimmering in the dim light.
Leona’s jaw dropped. She stumbled backward, almost falling, catg herself on the sink as her refle stared back, unreizable. Her heart raced, breath ing in ragged gasps. She wasn’t dreaming. Not anymore.
They were real. Absolutely, pletely, and totally real. The wings moved, stretg gracefully behind her, each feather shifting with a tactile awareness. She felt them like she felt her arms and fingers, only these emerged from her shoulder bdes instead of her shoulders. They flexed experimentally, and the sensation was so alie familiar that it made her gasp.
Leona slipped, her feet sliding out from under her, and nded hard on her butt with a loud thud. The impact sent a fresh wave of chaos across the bathroom, knog more items from the ter, cttering to the floor around her. She blinked in surprise. It hadn’t been a ghost. Her wings were the culprits, brushing the tertop and sending everything tumbling.
Uo resist, Leona reached bad cradled one wing in her arms. She stroked the dowhers, her firailing through them as though petting the softest silk. A breathless gasp escaped her lips, followed by an untrolble smile. They were impossibly soft, velvety, and warm. She bit her lip, stifling the noise, suddenly aware of how loud she’d been. But the dissolved into giggles, a bubbling euphoria spreading through her chest. She felt... good. So good.
Still sitting on the cool tile, her legs kicked with giddy excitement. She’d always dreamed of growing bigger breasts, but she’d never expected this. They were round, full, and impossibly perfect, defying gravity with an elegahat left her wide-eyed. She looked down, awed by how natural they felt, how utterly hers they were. Taller, leaner, mraceful—she looked like she was eighteen or older now. And her hair... She reached up, fihreading through long, silvery strands that shimmered like liquid moonlight.
Leona stood quickly, her new body moving with a lightness and grace she’d never experienced, not even during her best parkour sessions. She bounced on the balls of her feet, testing her bance, and was startled by how effortlessly she moved. Her nipples, pert aive, brushed against the fabric of her damp shirt, sending shivers through her.
Then it hit her.
Her eyes widened as she remembered the moment she’d relieved herself. It hadn’t felt... the same. It dripped. Her heart raced as the realization dawned. She ran trembling fingers down her body, firming what she already knew. It was gone.
Her hand came away damp. Heat surged through her cheeks as she hastily grabbed more tissue to herself, washing her hands in the sink with trembling urgency. Her mind was a whirl of disbelief and exhiration. She was about to examine herself again in the mirror when—
Knock, knock.
“Leona?” Goonie’s voice drifted through the dentle and ed. “Are you okay? I heard you fall and scream.” More soft knog followed, eaaking Leona’s heart thud harder.
Her eyes shot wide. Oh no! Panic gripped her.
On instinct, she darted forward and locked the door. Her hands trembled as she turhe lock, breath hitg.
“Leona?” Goonie’s voice was sharper now, tinged with worry. “Did you seriously just lock the door on me? What’s going on in there?”
“Mommmmm!” Quinn’s irritated shout echoed up the stairwell. “I’m trying to sleep!”
“I think something’s wrong with your sister!” Goonie called back, her voice rising with urgency. “Leona, honey, you’re sg me! Please open the door.”
Leona swallowed hard, trying to find the words. She felt her wings twitch, her body vibrating with residual energy. And then, just as suddenly as it had e, the sensation vanished. A cool rush of air swept over her, and in an instant, she was back to normal. Her wings were gone. Her body had reverted, awkward and familiar.
She blinked, still processing what had happehe soft curves, the wings, the lightness—it was all goaking a deep breath, she gave herself a quick spot-check, ensuring everything was back to normal, before letting out a long, relieved sigh. With a hesitant hand, she unlocked the door.
Goonie pushed in the moment the door opened, her face taut with worry. “Hah?” Leona blinked, stunned by the sudden embrace as Goonie ed her arms around her.
“Are you okay?” Goonie’s voice was frantic, her hands running over Leona’s back. “You’re soaked! Were you sweating? Do you have a fever? What’s going on?”
Leona opened her mouth to speak, but no words came. Instead, she let herself melt into the warmth of Goonie’s embrace, feeling oddly grateful for the grounding, even as her mind raced with the impossible truth she couldn’t yet share.
“I’m fine, Goonie—really,” Leona said, f a smile. Her voice wavered slightly, but she pressed on, willing herself to sound more ving. “It was just a terrible nightmare… I mean, I felt disoriented—and since I was so tired, I was stumbling around. I lost my band made a little mess… I’m sorry I worried you.” She gnced around at the disarray, her stomach twisting with guilt over the half-truth. The bathroom ter was a mess, bottles and toiletries scattered like debris from a storm.
Goonie’s ed expression softehough a shadow of doubt lingered in her eyes. She ran a f hand through Leona’s damp hair, wing slightly at the moisture. “So sweaty,” she murmured with a sympathetic smile. “Must have been a real bad one. Maybe a repse.”
The word repse hit Leona like a stone, and for a moment, her chest tightened. She hated the pity in Goonie’s voice, even though she k came from love. “Yeah… it retty intense,” she mumbled, trying to sound nont.
Goo out a deep sigh, her fingers still smoothing through Leona’s hair as if soothing a frightened child. “Look, to tell the truth, I was having some trouble sleeping too,” she admitted, her tone softer now. “I guess it’s just been one of those nights.”
Leona nodded, grateful that Goonie didn’t push further. But then Goonie hesitated, biting her lip as though sidering something. “For some reason, I—I just thought…” Her voice trailed off, and she shook her head, brushing away whatever she was about to say. “Bah, fet it. We’ll talk more in the m.”
She swatted Leona lightly on the backside, elig a startled pout and a stomp of indignation. “If you’re this sweaty, your sheets are probably in a real bad state, like those jammies,” Goonie said, wrinkling her nose pyfully. “I’ll ge them for you, but you o take a shower in the meantime. up, okay?”
“Okay, Mom,” Leona replied, rolling her eyes, though her heart ached at the familiar warmth of the niame.
Goonie smiled, satisfied, and with o go make sure Leona was steady, she excused herself, heading into the bedroom. Leona listened as the sound of drawers opening and sheets rustling filled the quiet space. Goonie was humming softly, a habit that always made Leona feel like a child again, ed in safety.
As soon as the bathroom door clicked shut, Leona exhaled shakily, her back pressing against the cool wood. She stood there, trembling, as the events of the st few minutes repyed in her mind. The wings. The ges. The undeniable rightness of it all. Her firembled as she touched her chest, now back to its inal form, the smooth, familiar curves that had so briefly transformed into somethihereal.
What the hell is happening to me? she thought, her mind spinning. The dream had felt so real. The power, the light, the wings… and then, nothing. Had she been sleepwalking? Or was it something more?
Her gaze drifted to the mirror, where her refle stared back, unremarkable but for the lingering flush in her cheeks. She leaned in, searg for any sign that she hadn’t imagi all. But there was nothing. Just her.
I’m different now, she thought, pressing a hand to the cool gss. Something is ging. And it’s only just begun.
A steadfast gaze fell upon Leona’s window when a light flicked on ihe shadow outside remained motionless, h midair like a wraith caught between worlds. Blue eyes, cold and calg, tilted specutively toward the window’s glow. White-silver hair cascaded down her back, catg the moonlight as it waved in the gentle night breeze. She watched silently as an older woman moved within, carefully stripping the bed sheets with tender efficy.
The figure’s cloak rippled in the cool air, dark and fluid like the night itself, but she made no move to intervene. Her gaze sharpened as the womaed the room, leaving only stillness behind. For a time, she simply watched, the house bathed in an almost eerie quiet, the only movement the soft swaying of curtains as they caught the breeze through a cracked window.
There was no need for haste. No need for intrusion. Not yet.
The figure's lips curved into a faint, knowing smile as she lifted a pale hand. With a slow, deliberate motion, she traced a circle in the air. The fabric of reality split open, a swirling portal shimmering with dark iridesing in respos edges glowed faintly with otherworldly energy, tendrils of mist curling at its edges. She cast o goward the window, as if marking the moment, befliding through the portal without a sound.
The portal lingered only a sed lohen zipped shut behind her, leaving nothing but the quiet hum of the night and the distant rustle of leaves in its wake.
RING
RING
RING
The office ph precisely three times before a click echoed through the line. “You’ve reached the offi.A.X. Delivery Services,” a man answered, his deep voice slick with a practiced smugness, the kind that oozed insiy.
“Mr. Scott.”
The voi the other end was female, cold, and businesslike, slig through his polished vehere was a brief pause, followed by the faint sound of a throat tightening.
“Don’t you s calls on this line?” she asked with biting disdain.
“...Of course,” Scott replied, his smooth tone faltering for a heartbeat. “It’s professional to pick up your phoh a standard greeting for aimate business, don’t you agree?”
“If you say so. Do you have anything to report? Your ck of unication as has us... ed. Your excuses are being tiresome.”
Scott barked a short, harsh ugh. “There’s no reason to worry, Ma’am. I’ve secured a source of fuel.”
A sharp intake of breath oher end. “I don’t want to hear about petty victories that have nothing to do with reement. Have you gotten your hands on more of what we’re truly after? It’s been several months since your st acquisition.”
“N-not yet, Ma’am,” he stammered, regaining his posure quickly. “You say my ‘petty fuel worries’ have nothing to do with you, but without it, my boys ’t do business. And without a supply of the special stuff that runs my baby, the time between scores’ll get longer and longer. I also gotta say this: the w and capes have been poking their noses around a bit too often for my tastes. It only got worse sihat pet-project reject of yours escaped that little une you’re running and drew all kinds of unwatention.”
“Our field tests are none of your , Mr. Scott. Do you uand? When they get in your face, I would advise you to lie to theirs. I ’t imagihat to be too unusual for you, is it?”
Scott’s voice darkened, his patience fraying. “Hmph. Lady, do you even know what it’s like to look into the eyes of the freaking Midnight Avehe guy knows when you’re lying. You ask too shitting much. But fuck it and fuck you. Ain’t no one breaking up my business. Not ANYONE.”
“Good man,” the woman said coldly, her voice ced with calcuted satisfa. “So, when we expect your delivery?”
There ause, the sound of Scott cursing under his breath barely audible.
“Freaking persistent little... I got the job pnned for tomorrow,” he said finally, the bravado in his voice returning, though forced. “See you then. Make sure you’ve got a card loaded up with plenty of crypto—yonna like what I bring ya this time.”
“Don’t disappoint me.”
The li dead.
“Are you in, Dragonmage?” A man around a full six feet tall with a dark visor hiding his eyes stood outside a metal-lined but elegantly designed door that led to the mystical superhero’s quarters in the Society of Sentinel’s HQ, his home away from home.
The man waited patiently in the hallway, motionless. His arms were crossed loosely over his chest, each of his fiapping silently against his forearm in rhythm with the thoughts he wasn’t sharing. Dragonmage should have been there, acc to the base’s trag system, but it was taking lohan expected. He shifted his weight slightly, feeling the tight fit of his zentai suit, which g to his athleti like a sed skin. His lips pursed, and he brushed gloved fingers across the form-fitting dark-red, almost bck to the eye, material.
At his waist was a belt made of a dull metallic material with log partments, but its most remarkable feature was the buckle with his insignia embzoned on it at his waist: a clock with its hands pointing upwards, straight at midnight. He adjusted it ohe clig sound barely noticeable beh the hum of the building’s air systems.
His wrists, ankles, and right thigh were adorned with numerous utility pouches that hid his myriad tools, eae ready to be deployed in a heartbeat. He ran his hand over one of the pouches absentmindedly, the tips of his fingers brushing the cealed gadgets, eae sharpened, honed, prepared for whatever came .
Still no ahe silen the hallway seemed to stretch for ay. The Midnight Avenger frowned and shifted again, his eyes narrowing behind the visor. His gaze drifted to the door, and he exhaled slowly before raising a fist to bang. But before his knuckles could make tact, the door slid open with a soft hiss, revealing the somewhat reclusive face onmage himself.
The mystic’s slitted eyes kled at their ers as he asked, his voice low and grave, “Did you need something?”
The Avenger offered a faint, almost apologetic smile and shook his head. “I’m sorry to have bothered you, but I’d like your input on something Mistral reported to me.”
Dragonmage’s expression remained ral, betraying none of the emotion that must have been running through him. Not that the ma much, at least not outwardly. He was always so tightly trolled, his emotions held at bay behind a wall of indiffere wasn’t a weakness—far from it—but it made him impossible to read. “A mystical matter, I gather,” Dragonmage remarked, his tone impassive.
The Midnight Avenger he fai of grimaces tugging at the ers of his lips. “I wouldn’t disturb you while you’re off shift lightly, my friend. But this is important.”
Dragoilted his head ever so slightly, sidering the words. “Enter,” he said simply, turning his ba the Avenger and walking into his dimly lit chambers.
The Midnight Aveepped fng over his shoulder o time before entering. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen what y within Dragonmage’s quarters, but it never ceased to ule him. Every time he stepped into this space, it felt like stepping into another world entirely.
Dragonmage’s quarters were sparsely decorated, having no sideration for creature forts. The only furnishing was a single mid-sized meditation pillow, pear the ter of the space, a symbol of the mystic’s devotion to his practices. No chairs, no tables, no personal touches. Everythi as though it existed only for a purpose, and that purpose was far from fort.
But that wasn’t what struck the Midnight Avenger as particurly odd. No, it was the space itself. Seriously, ‘space’ was an accurate word for it. Even though Sentinel HQ’s rooms were all desigo be regur, Dragonmage’s chambers—if they could even be called chambers—were not. There was something about the room’s shape that made it feel like a bubble, a floating anomaly. The air had a distinct chill to it, the faint smell of inse lingering iillness like some fotten memory. Every breath he took felt sharper, clearer, as though the room existed in a different pirely.
It wasn’t just the air or the chill—it was the design. The room was pletely round, a perfect circle. No ers, no angles, nothing to ground him to the reality of the physical world. Upon the curved walls, there were knobby coils, like the scales of a dragon ed around the room, a dragon waiting t, to crush anyone in its coils in the blink of an eye.
The Midnight Avenger paused as his eyes moved upward, sing the walls. The ceiling itself was an intricate, powerful design of a dragon coiled around the edges, its body stretg in spirals that seemed to move if you looked long enough, as though the very room itself was alive with the energy Dragonmage wielded so effortlessly. It was not just an eborate carving. It was something deeper, something a, and the Avenger could feel it in his bones.
Dragonmage didn’t seem bothered by it, nor did he ent on it, and the Midnight Avenger had long since given up on asking. He trusted Dragonmage—had fought alongside him enough to know the mystic’s word was unshakable. He had his suspis, of course, but the mage was a man of iy, whose character had beeed time and time again. If there was a mystery to be unraveled here, it would have to wait.
But still, the Avenger couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to this room than even Dragonmage was willing to reveal.
The Midnight Avenger nodded, his voice low and resolute. "Lead the way, Dragonmage."
They were in the Grasp of Ouroboros. This ‘room’ was but one of the two great gaps in his mighty coils. The Midnight Avenger had long since bee aced to the strange, almost mythiature of this space. It was unlike any other room in the headquarters, and perhaps any other spa the universe. What one might find iher coil’s open space, Dragonmage never expihe Avenger had asked once, but the answer was simply sile was a kind of silehat was heavy, as though the mystic himself was holding bae greater truth. And the Avenger had long since learhat when it came tonmage, silence was often more dangerous than any words.
Dragonmage reached the ter of the room, stepping forward with practiced ease as coils of energy, so subtly woven into the very air, seemed to shift around him. He sat, cross-legged, without ceremony. His movements were always deliberate, always trolled.
The Midnight Avenger followed, relutly but without hesitation. He dropped to the ‘floor’ in front onmage, his knees sinking into the texture of the coils, finding a somewhat fortable-looking niche. But even in this space—especially in this spafort was something of a sedary . Here, everything had a greater weight to it, a purpose beyond the mundane.
Dragonmage’s slitted eyes shifted up, his gaze still pierg. “What news brings you to my door, friend?”
The Aveook a deep breath, steadying himself before speaking. “Mistral reported a short while ago. What you thought would happen has.”
The Dragonmage’s eyes opened slightly, a glimmer nition passing through them. He took a deep, trolled breath, the kind one might take when brag for aable storm. "Ah. The Empyrean." He o himself, the name carrying a weight of a knowledge, of forces beyond the reaortal men. “She was reborn?” His voice lowered, almost a murmur to himself. "Ouroboros foretold it would happen. I thought to dey it, but nothing thwart karmic destiny. It seems I didn’t find and seal all of the many seeds she scattered to the wind with her dying gasp."
The Avenger’s head nodded quickly in assent. “Mistral has firmed sensing her energy signature having reappeared in a whole state, unleashed on the world once more… yet…” he hesitated, his mind still grappling with the implications.
“Whole, but different.” Dragonmage fihe Avenger’s train of thought for him. His lips twisted very slightly at their ers, the only visible sign of irritation as he added, “Fate deemed that I should meet a suitable host for her energies at the vention where I st sensed her aura. One host of possibly many more, but such is Fate. We were not too far from where several of the feathers were being sold uhe table…” His voice lowered to a mutter, his words tinged with regret, “I suppose I should have warhat poor child of what could e to pass. I was far too preoccupied at that juncture to truly sider…”
The Midnight Avenger’s sharp eyes narrowed. “You didn’t mention this. Who is this person? She’s takehe body of a child?”
Dragonmage waved a hand dismissively, his movements slow and deliberate. “It was but one of many outes. I didn’t sense any natures after I tracked down and sealed the seemingly st feather on the se, so perhaps I’m guilty of having misread the events.”
The Avenger’s patience, already frayed, snapped. “Again, who is this person?” His voice dropped to a dangerous growl. “Give me their name.”
“I don’t have it,” Dragonmage replied, his tone distant, as though the weight of the matter were pulling his attention elsewhere. “I never asked for her name, even though her aura shrieked of such potential… I wo myself. Were I in my right mind, I would have attached a pnar bea within her… but… I did not. That troubles me. Perhaps her magical potential is great enough to bend ce or the attitudes of others around her. No… that’s highly unlikely.” Dragonmage’s scowl deepened, his brows furrowing in frustration. The normally serene mystic was visibly troubled, his disgru showing on his face as he grappled with his own mistakes. "Even though I ’t sehe spell, my intuition tells me that something is obsg everything. I ot find a trace of her, not even an echo of her being… It clouds my vision pletely."
The Midnight Avenger listened in silence, his jaw set tightly. The Dragonmage’s words expined his reclusive behavior sihe P.R. assig at this year’s Justi vention. But still, the Avenger couldn’t let the matter go without pressing further.
“D.M., give me her physical description. Or better yet, recreate her face using your illusive spells and I’ll memorize it. We’ll have her identity tracked down in no time.”
“I ’t,” Dragonmage said, his expression hardening with frustration. “I’m uhere is powerful magic at py. Givera-dimensional energies involved in this, along with my inplete recolles of the event… I ’t sense any spell, but my intuition tells me there’s an interdi in pce. I don’t fet. Whatever this is, it’s blog everything—clouding my perception. Every lead, every trace that could point to her, has vanished. All I know for certain is that it was a ‘she.’ And that’s what haunts me.” His gaze darkened. “I have a theory about the source of this obfuscation, but the idea of him getting involved... It doesn’t sit right.”
“Would it happen to have been Anygma?” the Midnight Avenger asked, his voice steady.
Dragonmage’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Yes. You know as well as I that he ot be pelled by questions. If he chooses to interfere, no matter how hard we dig, we won’t easily uh the truth. He is… elusive in every sense.”
The Midnight Avenger remained silent, his eyes fixed onmage, processing the weight of his words. His mind raced, w to ect the dots. This situation was far more plicated than he had anticipated, and every mome like a step deeper into uncharted waters.
After a long pause, the Avenger spoke again, his voice quiet but resolute. “I uand why you ’t help me with this now. We all know firsthand the extent of Anygma’s powers. But don’t worry, my friend. Mistral has a lead on the mystical signature she’s detected. I’m fident that, in time, she’ll share her findings in more detail... once she’s satisfied. I trust her judgement.”
Dragonmage’s eyes narrowed as he leaned forward slightly, his voice low and filled with quiet iy. “Let’s hope she shares with us before it’s too te.” He paused for a moment, his gaze sharpening, as though he were seeing something far beyond the walls of his quarters. “The Empyrean ohralled Mistral, utterly. It took everything she had to summon the willpower to kill the one who had ensved her. The act still haunts her. She loved Bgel, a deep down, she knew she should not. Had she not twisted her affe into a hatred sharp as a bde, I fear that if they ever meet again, Mistral might turn on us.”
SuperLuminal Resurgence - Sed Flight
Hold on to your hats, true believers, for the chapter in the epic saga begins!
Enter Aurora, an aspiring rookie heroih a heart of gold and the fire to match! But don't be fooled—her road to greatness is paved with obstacles, and she's got more than a few mysteries to unravel.
But wait—what’s this? A threat loe on the horizon! The normie gangs have beeively quiet for a long time, but after close to a decade of retive calm things are starting to heat up again in San Isidro. And when ambitious criminals want to start trouble with plenty of super-tech ripe for the stealing, well, the situation starts to look positively explosive.
our new hero rise to the occasion? Will Aurora's determination be enough to stop this high-flying menace? And what will bee of Sarah in the midst of it all?
And what of the naive and loveable Sarah? Her religious parents have started talking about a pn that might separate Leona from her forever. How far will Namiases go to "treat" their daughter? What Leona do? And what other sequences might spill out from this charged situtation?
You’re in for a rollercoaster of aystery, a-pounding advehat’ll keep you on the edge of your seat from start to finish. Don’t miss out—this is a story that will stick with you long after the st page!
You’ve never seen anything like this before!
