Rosalie was already fast asleep, her soft snores the only sound in the room. I sat on the edge of my bed, the adrenaline of the last few days finally fading into a bone-deep weariness. I was still in my thin cotton nightgown, my hair loose.
Scritch.
A faint sound came from the balcony.
It wasn't the wind. It was the distinct sound of a boot heel scuffing stone.
My weariness vanished instantly.
I stood up, my hand instinctively forming the somatic gesture for a [Mana Dart], though I didn't cast it yet. I moved silently to the glass doors, my breath held. Thief? Assassin? A lingering Cultist?
I stepped out onto the cool stone of the balcony.
"Who's there?" I whispered, scanning the darkness.
The balcony was empty. The moonlight illuminated the railing, the ivy, the distant clock tower... but no intruder.
'Strange,' I thought, frowning. 'My senses never lie.'
Suddenly, a shadow detached itself from the wall behind me.
