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3.1 Cinnamon and Cellar Doors
John wrestled with puzzles in his sleep, twisting until dawn—a habit V loathed. This morning, he was alone, sprawled across a sagging twin bed in the farmhouse attic. A sharp gasp woke him, breath catching as if his mind had...
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3.3 The Vault of Legends
Cecelia’s steps creaked down, keys jangling. “Bro, what’s Waffles on about?” John spun, beam jittering. “Sis, here.” He pointed to the mark, Waffles nosing it. “It’s hollow—I heard it.”
Her eyes lit up, skepticism gone. “No way. My idea to push you paid off?” She rolled...
