Lunara sat at the edge of a rooftop near the Marais, legs dangling into the void, her dark hair catching the breeze. She hadn't seen the spotted hero in weeks. Not since the akuma fight near the Seine, when Ladybug had vanished into the shadows without a backward glance.

Then a soft thwip cut through the silence.

She hadn't moved. The Paris wind whispered between them, carrying the faint scent of baking bread from a boulangerie below.

From her yo-yo, she unspooled something glowing.

It was a brooch. Deep blue, shaped like a stylized feather, shimmering with an iridescent light that seemed to breathe — pulsing like a second heartbeat. The night air around it grew warmer.