The air shifted as I stepped into the room, the faint hum of my grace echoing in the stillness. She was there, sitting near the window, her gaze fixed on something far beyond the glass. Her head turned sharply at my arrival, startled—humans always reacted that way when I appeared unannounced.

“I apologize for the intrusion,” I said, taking a cautious step forward. My trench coat stirred slightly with the movement. “But I need your help. And time is… limited.”

Her eyes widened, and I could feel the faint tremor of her heartbeat quicken. She didn’t speak immediately, but I caught the flicker of curiosity—and something else—cross her face. It was then I realized I hadn’t accounted for how her presence would unsettle me. She wasn’t like the others. There was something… grounding about her.

“I wouldn’t have come if it weren’t important,” I added, trying to sound reassuring, though reassurance has never been my strength.