Luna woke to sunlight she didn't recognize.

  Soft golden morning light spilled across an unfamiliar canopy bed, brushing over pale walls trimmed in delicate patterns. There were flowers embroidered on the curtains. A vanity in the corner. A wardrobe that looked older than the entire Thompson orphanage. Everything was neat, gentle, and warm-toned.

  A girl's room.

  Her room.

  Her heart gave a small, strange thump.

  She remembered last night.

  Grace was walking her down the hall, proud as if she were presenting a royal suite, stopping before a polished wooden door with a careful hand-painted plaque.

  Luna.

  Luna's breath had hitched.

  Francis had stepped to the opposite room, pointing smugly to a plaque with his name carved on it.

  "Welcome to the family," he'd said, so dry and sarcastic she didn't know whether to roll her eyes or swallow a lump in her throat.

  Then Trey barreled behind him dragging a futon.

  "SLEEPOVER!" he declared triumphantly.

  Grace sighed so loud the lamp light flickered.

  Luna ran a hand along the soft blankets now, still uncertain if she was supposed to touch anything.

  A moment of quiet.

  Then—

  "BREAKFAST!"

  The chandeliers trembled.

  The windows hummed.

  The portraits rattled in their frames.

  Luna shot out of bed on instinct.

  She opened the door just in time to see four figures hurtling past like a stampede.

  Clyde thundered down the stairs half-dressed.

  Hector followed with a shirt in one hand and a comb in the other.

  Trey vaulted clean over the railing because gravity was only a suggestion.

  Howard strode out with the tired dignity of a man who had accepted this life years ago.

  Luna, thinking there was a fire or evacuation, sprinted after them.

  She reached the dining room, only to find everyone taking their seats calmly.

  Francis, already seated and drinking tea like a civilized human, stared at her as she tried to catch her breath.

  "This happens every day," he confirmed, completely unfazed.

  Luna gaped at him. "And you didn't think to warn me?!"

  Francis's lips twitched—barely—but it was enough to betray him.

  "...I might have forgotten," he said, far too calmly.

  Luna narrowed her eyes. "You didn't forget."

  His expression stayed perfectly polite. "No. I didn't."

  She groaned. "You let me think we were evacuating!"

  Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

  Francis lifted his cup again, serene as snowfall. "In my defense, you ran very fast."

  Trey, still halfway draped across his chair like a deranged cat, chimed in brightly,

  "That's the Lancaster Morning Call. Better get used to it. Sometimes she does it twice if we pretend not to hear her."

  Grace, sweeping in with breakfast dishes, added cheerfully,

  "Living with four of them, dear, I've learned to project. If I don't, they forget to eat. Or worse—" she shuddered, "—try to cook."

  Howard chuckled. "You make it sound like we're wild animals."

  Grace arched a brow. "Howard, you are my largest and most troublesome beast."

  Trey leaned in close to Luna and whispered, "And my Mama is the real sound projector."

  Luna snapped back, "You're starting to sound like you're projecting too, Trey."

  Clyde and Hector howled with laughter.

  Breakfast was loud, warm, and overwhelming.

  And oddly... comforting.

  When it ended, Grace rose, hands fluttering toward Luna's head.

  "Oh, sweetheart—your hair. Is this because of my morning call? I must've startled you half to death. Come, let me fix it."

  Luna stiffened. "I—I can do it myself—"

  Grace's gaze softened. "Let me. I've always dreamed of having a daughter. Humor me, will you?"

  Luna hesitated. Then nodded.

  Grace led her through a corridor to a small dressing room with wide mirrors and soft sunlight. Luna sat carefully on the cushioned stool while Grace gently untangled her hair.

  "You know," Grace said, gathering the strands with practiced hands, "raising three sons can wear a woman down. I fear I may have gotten too good at handling little beasts."

  Luna almost smiled. "I can tell. I attend classes with Trey."

  Grace laughed softly, lifted a section of hair and weaving it neatly.

  "So," Grace said, warmth in her voice, "Trey tells me you've been experimenting with Quanta. Fireworks, was it?"

  Luna's entire soul flinched. Trey!

  "Not fireworks," she muttered. "Just... I used to explode things. Sometimes."

  "It must've been hard," Grace said gently. "Growing up with no guidance."

  Luna stayed quiet.

  Which was enough to answer.

  Grace didn't push. She continued braiding, fingers warm and sure.

  "For what it's worth," she said, "if you ever need help—ask. I know what it feels like. I was a student once. One of the Pines."

  Luna's head snapped up. "You were?"

  Grace smiled at her reflection. "I was loud and terrible—don't look at me like that. Trey inherited his chaos from his father, not me. But yes... I was loud. Somehow, the Pines survived me."

  Luna still couldn't imagine Grace being anything but elegant.

  "So you're a sound channeler?" she asked.

  "Through metal," Grace nodded. "I used to work with Starshade—as a disaster watcher. Mostly announcing flash floods—loudest job in the region." A fond laugh warmed her voice. "Howard knew that, so before he proposed, he wired this entire house with metal rods. Said he wanted me to be able to shout at him from any room."

  Luna blinked. "What do you mean he knew?"

  "My dear," Grace said brightly, smoothing a section of hair, "Howard doesn't wield. No Quanta at all. Only Trey and I do."

  Luna nearly turned all the way around. "Really? I thought... it was genetic."

  Grace gave a small, elegant shrug. "To this day, no one fully understands how it works. That's why Elderwatch exists."

  "Oh." Luna hesitated, then immediately regretted the question that slipped out. "And you're all... fine with that?"

  Grace paused—not offended, just thoughtful. Then she smiled, soft and sincere.

  "The Lancasters already have everything they need. Wealth. Influence. More land than we know what to do with. And far too much pride." She tugged gently on the braid, checking the symmetry.

  "Clyde and Hector never cared about having that power. They hate school. Mostly because it meant Trey had to leave home." She rolled her eyes fondly. "Giant babies."

  Luna blinked at that—not at the information, but at how casually Grace said it. How easy she made it sound.

  She had never seen a family so tightly knit that there was no room for envy at all.

  It was... strange.

  And quietly—unexpectedly—comforting.

  And for the first time, she understood how someone like Trey could shine so effortlessly.

  He came from a home where light was ordinary.

  "Well," Grace said, tying off the braid with a neat ribbon, "thank you for putting up with my son. He can be... a lot. But he does adore you, truly."

  Luna blinked, startled by the sincerity more than the words.

  "If by 'adore' you mean 'teasing,' then... maybe," she said carefully. "But I wouldn't call it putting up with him. Being around him is... easy."

  Her voice dipped, a little embarrassed.

  "He's hilarious. But don't tell him I said that. He'll never let it go."

  That idiot has already made me laugh more in one day than I did in years.

  Grace's smile warmed even further. "I'm sure he'll learn a lot of things from you too, dear."

  Luna's throat tightened. "Learn? From me? He's– he's a badass, and I barely understand my medium."

  Grace rested her hands gently on Luna's shoulders.

  "Then you keep trying," she said. "Water. Metal. Air. Wood. Even sand."

  "I did," Luna murmured. "They all... work the same. Somehow."

  Grace paused for a heartbeat. "Then you start narrowing the variables until they don't. It takes time." Her voice softened. "And remember—you don't have to figure it out alone."

  Luna lifted her gaze and met their reflections in the mirror.

  Grace stood behind her, smiling kindly.

  Her own hair—coarse and chestnut with a red hint—was braided beautifully, neatly, like it finally made sense to belong that way.

  "We're glad you're here, Luna," Grace said, brushing a loose strand behind her ear. "Truly."

  Something pressed against Luna's ribs—warm, unfamiliar.

  "...Thank you," she whispered.

  Grace squeezed her shoulders once, firm and proud, then stepped back.

  "There," she declared. "Perfect. You look like yourself."

  And for the first time, Luna didn't feel the need to disagree.