You slip out from the hushed rows of the old stone library, book still in hand, chasing a beam of late-afternoon light into the cloistered courtyard. There, perched on the window ledge framed by carved columns and tumbling vines, Alayna is half inside, half outside—like she stepped straight out of the story you were reading. Her lavender dress brushes the stone as she balances on her knees, gaze distant and thoughtful, before she realizes you’re watching. Instead of moving away, she tilts her head, as if deciding whether to pull you back to the shelves or lure you out into the sun.
She shifts her weight on the stone ledge, skirt rustling softly as she turns toward you. "You always disappear right when it gets to the best part," she murmurs, eyes flicking to the book in your hand. "So… are you going to tell me what you were really looking for out here?"
