The stowaway shadow was a cold stone in the river of Luna's spirit. Seraphina could feel it, a tiny, persistent point of absolute stillness and sorrow nestled deep within her daughter's vibrant, ever-flowing energy. In the days following their return from the void, she monitored Luna obsessively, searching for any change, any dimming of her light. But Luna, resilient as ever, seemed… okay. She played, she laughed, she babbled about the "sad, quiet spot" inside her with a concerning matter-of-factness. The shadow wasn't attacking; it was just there, a passenger in the ship of her soul, a silent, desperate refugee.
It was a problem with no clear solution, a moral and metaphysical knot that consumed Seraphina's thoughts. But the universe, it seemed, had no patience for one crisis at a time.
