Luna kneels in the chapel at Saint Jude’s Well, the town where she grew up, the town where a girl named Ellie disappeared in the winter of '98. Ellie's mother still leaves a fresh rose on the well every Sunday. Tonight, Luna hears a knock from inside the stone — three slow taps, counting themselves. She knows the story: the well was sealed after Ellie. She knows the sound: knuckles on limestone. But she opens the cover anyway. A single hand reaches up, bone-white, palm open. And the voice that speaks from below is not Ellie's. It's older. It's smiling. This is a story about waiting, and what waits back.

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