Room… and that rock.

Cerina returned to her room after hours of wandering the lower halls, the leather-bound book tucked under her arm. The maze of corridors had stretched endlessly, each turn more disorienting than the last. Though she’d found some symbols etched faintly into the stone walls—sharp and angular, like the ones in the book—none were an exact match. None of them felt right. Her task remained incomplete, the weight of failure settling heavily on her shoulders.

When she pushed open the door, her gaze flicked immediately to the bed. She could feel it again—that subtle hum at the edge of her senses, pulling her toward the stone like a moth to a flame.

Her hand trembled as she lifted the stone from the fabric of the bed. This time, it felt warmer, as though it had been absorbing the room’s stillness, feeding off her uncertainty. Cerina stared at the smooth surface, turning it over in her hand. It was no larger than a plum, yet it felt heavier than it should, like it carried something unseen within it.

Unsure why, she moved to the tarnished mirror, her reflection appearing dull and muted as before. The glass seemed to reject the light, offering back only a shadowed version of herself. Cerina tilted her head, studying the girl who stared back at her.

Her slight frame, cloaked in the loose, draping fabric of her robes, seemed more fragile in the dim light. Her collarbones jutted out beneath the fabric, and her fingers, clasping the stone, looked delicate and small. She ran her free hand through her hair, her brown strands falling limp and unruly over her shoulders.

Will I appeal to them? The thought struck her like a sudden gust of wind, catching her off guard. She looked closer, leaning into the mirror as if it might reveal a secret she had missed. Her pale face, her thin arms—what chance did she have among the nobles of the capital? The women there would be graceful, commanding, draped in silks and jewels. What would they think of her? A girl from nowhere, with no titles, no wealth, and no remarkable beauty.

Her lips pressed into a thin line, and she tore her gaze away from the mirror, clutching the stone tightly. Its warmth seeped into her palm, steady and almost comforting.

The stone continued its silent hum, its pulse matching her heartbeat. For a moment, she thought she felt it—an answer, just at the edge of her thoughts. But it slipped away as quickly as it came, leaving her staring at the mirror, the dim outline of her reflection a silent, unreadable judge.

Her thoughts turned to the other stones on the desk. Similarly dark, and smooth and enticing.