Chapter 1
Mira had expected a rusty trinket. The brass crow was heavier than it looked, its wings dented and cold when she eased it from the lighthouse nail. It clicked of its own accord and unfolded—a paper body that spilled itself across the creaky floorboards. The map smelled of salt and ink and pointed, in neat blue lines, to three inland stones that shifted when no one watched.
Jonah leaned in the doorway with his arms folded, chewing on the stem of a dandelion as if that proved he was brave. “Are you sure that’s legal?” he asked. Mira ignored the question. The crow sat on the map and hummed, a low, patient sound like bees in a jar. Under the humming, the map’s crackled script suggested riddles and small, precise drawings that looked oddly alive.
They borrowed Mira’s mother’s battered bicycle—two seats, one chain—and pedaled away from the blunt horizon of water toward hedgerows that leaned like curious neighbors. They slipped under a railway bridge that smelled of coal and old tickets, and the world tilted in a way that made both of them laugh and then stop, listening for footsteps that weren’t there.
Each stone the map pointed to promised a puzzle and, according to an inked note in the margin, an ally who might appear when a riddle was answered. The closer they came to the center, the louder the crow hummed, as if it were tuning itself to the secret under their feet.
![Werewolf Hollow [GALATEA DATE TBA]](https://cdn-gcs.inkitt.com/vertical_storycovers/ipad_76bbf380fa2e8dc2f70694197487ab81.jpg)
