Luna was eighteen months old when Aria started having the nightmares.
They were always the same. Luna standing in a circle of light, surrounded by figures Aria couldn't quite see. Her daughter was crying, reaching for Aria, but no matter how hard Aria ran, she could never reach her. The figures would pull Luna into the light, and Aria would wake up screaming.
"Another one?" Dante asked gently, pulling her close as she trembled in his arms.
"The same one. Every night for a week now." Aria wiped cold sweat from her forehead. "What if it's not just a dream? What if it's a vision?"
"You're not a prophet, love. You're just a worried mother." But even Dante looked concerned. "Maybe we should talk to Selene about it."
Selene came the next morning and listened carefully as Aria described the
