the final petal wished upon

”You speak as if you are the only person to have received naught but silence at a shrine,” Ludo mutters, its voice seeming to flutter from all around, though the twitching rags still condense, for now, behind the light of the lantern. ”As if you are owed a response. Owed answers.” There’s a child’s laughter - or is it the sound of a baby crying? - and suddenly the porcelain mask peeps over her shoulder, rags draped all around Evie like they might squeeze the life out of her at any moment. ”You seek your missing pieces in gods, in titles,” it whispers to her. ”When what you ought do is look within yourself. There is enough there that is missing, I have no doubt.” LUDO Braved the forests, braved the stone Braved the icy winds and fire Braved and beat them on my own