Madison and the Compass of Whispers

Previously

…Madison couldn’t speak. The words were trapped in her throat, tangled with tears and a desperate, silent plea for it all to be a mistake. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to conjure her mom’s face, her laugh, the warmth of her hugs. But the image was hazy, like a photograph left too long in the sun. And the fear, a cold, sharp shard, lodged itself deeper into her heart. The silence that followed the phone call was no longer peaceful; it was a heavy blanket, suffocating and full of unspoken dread. The afternoon had fractured, and Madison was left to pick up the pieces, her small hands trembling.