The moonlight seeped gently through the cracks of the stone walls, painting silver lines across the room where Ophelia and Valen slept soundly. Everything was peaceful—soft breathing, slow heartbeats, and Valen's unholy snoring that could probably wake the ancestors themselves.
But not tonight. Tonight, Glimora was on a mission.
The tiny creature's legs made the faintest pat pat pat sound as she hurried down the corridor, her little heart pounding faster than her steps. Her big eyes shimmered with worry, glistening like wet pearls in the dim glow. She'd left her mama behind crying — truly crying — and that memory burned inside her chest. Mama never cried. Mama was always strong, always smiling, even when she was angry or teasing. Seeing her like that felt wrong. It hurt.
So Glimora ran faster.
