Nyra woke to pitch black and the gut feeling something was off.
That sense hit her before she even opened her eyes, before she could shake off sleep. It was pure instinct—unmistakable, primal—telling her danger was nearby.
Her heartbeat went wild.
The room’s air felt… wrong.
Heavy. Tense. Not natural.
She lay still under the covers, straining to hear anything except her own breath.
The palace never slept. Usually, there’d be guards' footsteps echoing somewhere, shuffling servants, quiet hints of life from hidden corners.
Tonight? Nothing. The silence was all-encompassing.
A chill crawled across her skin.
Nyra eased her eyes open.
Moonlight spilled in from the balcony, weaving silver shapes across the floor.
Everything looked right. Furniture where it should be, no tossed clothes
