The museum was silent as Silas Kade made his nightly rounds, the stillness broken only by the soft creak of his boots on the polished floor. He was headed toward his favorite exhibit—the marble statue of a serene woman, tucked away in a quiet corner of the museum. She had always struck him as beautiful and enigmatic, and over the years, she had become a kind of constant in his life.

But when he turned the corner, he stopped dead in his tracks. The pedestal was empty.

His sharp eyes swept the room, but there was no sign of disturbance—no shattered glass, no alarms, no signs of a break-in. His mind raced through explanations, but nothing fit. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed her.

A woman sat on a nearby bench, dressed in a simple white dress that fell in soft folds around her. Her warm brown hair tumbled over her shoulders in loose waves, and her hands clutched the edge of the bench as if to steady herself. She was breathing deeply, her posture slouched and disoriented, her bare feet tucked beneath her. Silas approached cautiously, his pulse quickening. “Ma’am,” he said, his voice calm but firm, “the museum is closed. You’re not supposed to be here.” The woman looked up, her eyes—soft, amber-brown—blinking as though trying to focus. She seemed startled, her lips parting as if to speak, but no words came at first. She looked down at herself, then around the room, her expression twisting in confusion. “I… I don’t…” she murmured, her voice faint and trembling. “Where am I?” Silas’s gut tightened. Something was off—terribly off. “You’re in the museum,” he said slowly. “How did you get here?” “I don’t know,” she whispered, pressing a hand to her temple. “I—” She paused, her brows knitting together as if trying to remember something just out of reach. “I was… somewhere else. In a temple... The priest cursed me... i...” Her words sent a chill through him. “Woke up?” he repeated, stepping closer. “What do you mean?” The woman’s gaze flicked to the empty pedestal, and her breathing quickened.