Try to sleep. Again.

Cerina sat on the edge of the bed, her fingers trembling slightly as she pressed them to her knees. Calm down. Breathe. She inhaled deeply, then exhaled slowly, but her chest remained tight.

Her gaze flicked toward the mirror hanging on the wall, its surface dull and tarnished, reflecting only a shadowed version of herself. She stood and approached it cautiously, her bare feet brushing against the cold floor. The reflection was muted, as if the mirror refused to fully commit to showing her. She ran her hands down the loose-fitting robe she had chosen, straightening the fabric as if grounding herself in the ordinary.

“It’s just a rock,” she muttered under her breath, the sound of her own voice breaking the silence. “Nothing to be scared of.”

Her brown hair was less matted and dirty than she’d expected. And her eyes were bright and blue despite the dull reflection of the mirror. But her reflection’s gaze didn’t seem to meet her own. The sight unsettled Cerina, and she turned away sharply, rubbing her arms to dispel the chill.

She climbed back into the narrow bed and tugged the blanket over her, as if the thin fabric could shield her from the oddities of the night. Her mind was still buzzing with questions—about the rock, the voice, the sharp-edged markings on the walls. But without the voice whispering in her head, there was no anchor for her unease. She was left with only the hollow silence of the room.

Sleep came reluctantly, pulling her into a restless haze. Dreams flitted at the edges of her consciousness, fleeting images that she could never quite grasp: flashes of angular symbols burning faintly in the air, a distant voice calling her name, and the strange sensation of falling.

She shifted in her sleep, the blanket twisting around her legs. Her dreams felt slippery, like something she was supposed to remember but couldn’t hold on to. Each time she thought she had caught a glimpse of meaning, it slipped away, leaving behind only the vague, gnawing feeling that she was forgetting something important.

When she woke, it was with a sharp gasp. Her eyes flew open to the dim light of early morning. The room was still, but a strange heaviness clung to the air, as if it held secrets just out of reach. Cerina sat up, her head throbbing faintly, and ran a hand through her hair.

That gnawing sense of absence was still there, stronger now. She scratched her thigh subconsciously, then froze. Her breath hitched. She threw off the blanket. But there was only her robe.

Cerina stared at the garment, her pulse slowing. But no. She’d felt it. Carefully she pulled up the front of her robe to reveal just what she’d thought, or perhaps feared.

The black stone lay between her legs, unassumingly sitting on the fabric of the robe. How had it ended up there?

Cerina rose slowly, her arms unsteady beneath her. She did her best to let the stone slip down the robe and onto the bed. Why was she so afraid to touch it?

The stone glanced against her ankle as it fell from the robe to the bed and she remembered why. The pulse of life within the dark stone. She’d felt it for a third time. No doubt of it this time.