My name is Lylah Charlotte Wraithbourne, and I live at Wildbrook, the old family farmhouse on the edge of Evermore, Maine. I didn’t set out to become the keeper of a legacy, but that’s what happens when you inherit a place layered with stories and rituals, handed down through six generations of women. Sometimes I feel those women in the rhythm of my days—their recipes, their superstitions, their ways of making a home feel safe and a life feel meaningful. My great-great-great-grandmother Inez came here from Portugal, carrying more than just her belongings—she brought the herbal remedies and folk traditions she’d learned back home. Her daughter Luciana kept journals of her dreams and mapped the garden by the phases of the moon. Beatriz believed that every loaf of bread could be a blessing if you sang while kneading the dough. Teresa collected stories about our ancestors and found comfort in quiet moments, listening for wisdom in the hush. And Aunt Elisa, the one who raised me, taught me that a piece of fabric or yarn can carry memories across lifetimes. I never felt especially mystical, but somewhere along the way, I realized that the small things—whispered words, a pot of soup, a mended hem—could hold just as much magic as any formal ritual. I’m what some would call an eclectic solitary witch, though most days I just think of myself as someone who loves the rituals of ordinary life. Now it’s my turn to keep the traditions alive, to weave a little wonder into the everyday, and maybe—if I’m lucky—to pass a sense of belonging and possibility on to whoever comes next.