Missax | Layla Jenner

The compass stopped, its needle pointing straight toward the sea. A hidden compartment in the desk popped open, revealing a small leather‑bound journal. The first entry read:

Layla’s breath caught. The whisper wasn’t just sound; it resonated in her mind, like a memory she didn’t know she’d had. She felt a tug, an invisible thread pulling her toward something just beyond the edge of perception. The next morning, Layla rummaged through the attic again, this time searching for clues. Behind a cracked portrait of a stern gentleman she found a rolled parchment, sealed with wax stamped with the same “M” she’d seen on the chest. layla jenner missax

She looked up at the stars, the constellations above seeming to twinkle in recognition. Missax rested in her palm, its hum now a gentle lullaby. The compass stopped, its needle pointing straight toward