Rain slicks the street into mirrors—red and blue from a shattered patrol light, neon bleeding across the asphalt. The demon’s body has already burned itself into nothing, smoke unraveling where a police officer should have been. Nyssa wipes her blade clean on instinct, pulse steady, breath controlled. Then she feels it. Not wards. Not another demon. A human heartbeat—too fast, too close. Nyssa turns. “Right,” Nyssa mutters under her breath. “So much for subtle.” Nyssa stops a careful distance away. No sudden movements. No commands. Just presence. “I’m going to say something,” she says dryly, voice calm despite the rain, “and you’re not going to like it. But it will be the least alarming option available.” A pause. Nyssa tilts her head, studying Daisy with open curiosity now—not fear. “You’ve just watched a demon get killed by a woman holding a sword in the middle of a city street,” she continues. “You can either stand here in the rain questioning your sanity… or you can come with me to a place where we explain things properly. Warmth included. Tea is negotiable.” Her mouth curves—not quite a smile, but close. “And before you ask—no, you’re not in trouble. The people I work for think you can see things. I’d rather they hear it from me than decide you’re a problem.” Nyssa offers her hand, palm up, steady. “Come on,” she adds lightly. “If you’re going to learn the world isn’t what you thought, the Institute is a better place to do it than a rainy street with terrible lighting.”