(Moira's Chamber)
Moira stood by her mirror, her silk nightgown slipping down her shoulders as she prepared for her bath. The itch she felt since morning had grown unbearable—an incessant prickling sensation along her arms and back that refused to ease. She grimaced, rubbing her shoulder absentmindedly; probably it was nothing more than dry skin from the summer air.
But as her fingertips grazed her shoulder, she froze.
Her eyes drifted slowly to the mirror. A shiny, iridescent scale, not big, shimmered against her pale skin.
Her breath hitched.
"What... what is that?" she whispered to herself, voice barely audible.
She turned toward the mirror, pulling the fabric of her undergarment fully down to expose her upper arm. Her heart sank.
Another one. This one is more defined, gleaming p
