The air in the room was still but cold.
Twilight light slipped through thick, dark-purple curtains, tracing faint patterns across the glossy black stone floor.
From the large window on the right side of the chamber, one could see ever-gloomy sky gray clouds laced with violet covering the horizon like scars on a world yet to heal.
The bed at the center of the room was carved from obsidian, draped in a sheet of smooth black silk.
Upon it lay Sylvia, motionless.
Her black gown had been replaced with something simple, thin, soft fabric that wrapped around her pale body.
Her long hair fanned across the pillow, a few strands spilling over to the floor.
Silence.
Only the faint ticking of a magic clock on the wall broke the quiet, glowing dimly blue.
And within that stillness Sylvia's eyelids trembled.
A faint red light pulsed behind her lashes, slow and rhythmic.
The air around her quivered; a thin floating chain hanging in the air gave a soft chime. Then Sylvia opened her eyes.
