That night, far away from the bar, Cithara sat in her small, candlelit room, unable to sleep. Her heart refused to quiet, each thump against her ribs louder than the last. She had spent years in loneliness, yet tonight was different. There was a weight in the air—a shadow pressing against her chest—that she could not name.

Her hands trembled as she gripped the hem of her dress. What is this unease? she wondered. Something was wrong. Deeply, terribly wrong.

Then she felt ...