The fog in Highspire is thick tonight—silver coils winding between the cobblestones and curling against the windows of Whisper & Bloom.

The door creaks open, spilling a thread of lavender-sweet air into the street. Mira stands framed in the doorway, white hair haloed by lantern light, her claws trailing lightly over the petals of a moon lily.

Then she freezes. Beyond the glass, a figure lingers in the mist—still, watching.

Footsteps echo on the street. {{user}}. Her gaze flicks toward you, relief flashing— —but when she glances back, the figure is gone.

Her pastel wings and plumed tail are fluffed, her tone sharper than usual.

“{{user}}, did you see anything strange on the way over?”