The soft morning light filtered through the thin curtains, casting a warm glow across the room. I stirred, still caught in the drowsy pull of sleep when a small hand shook my shoulder.

“Mama! Wake up!” Ana signed, her eyes wide with excitement, her smile as bright as the morning sun. She bounced on the edge of the bed, her energy contagious.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” I signed with a sleepy chuckle, sitting up and rubbing my eyes. It was clear she was ready to start the day. After I used the bathroom and washed my face I came out and signed “Did you know they can prepare warm baths here?”

Ana paused, tilting her head curiously as I continued. “Elina, the maid, showed me last night, and it was lovely.”

Ana’s eyes lit up, and she signed quickly, “Can we call for one now?” Her fingers moved almost too fast with excitement.

“Of course,” I replied, pointing to the small bellpull by the bedside. “Would you like to pull it?”

Ana’s eyes sparkled with excitement as she nodded, reaching up and giving the bellpull a gentle tug. Within moments, Elina, the young maid from last night, entered with a friendly smile.

“Good morning, ready for the young misses’ bath?” she asked.

“Yes please” I responded while Ana was nodding and signing “Yes, Yes, Yes!”. I gave her a small admonishing look and she calmed slightly to sign “Yes please!” still full of energy

“Right away,” Elina said with a small smile at Ana’s antics as she moved off the the adjoining bathing chamber. The soft sound of water running and the scent of lavender soon filled the air.

With a smile, I led Ana to the bathroom, helping her step up on a small stool by the sink. I gave her a quick brushing refresher, showing her how to reach each tooth as she giggled and mimicked my movements. Although she’s fairly good about brushing, we’ve been a bit lax on this trip, and who knows what dentists are like here. I brushed my teeth alongside her, letting her finish up as the bath filled.

Elina returned, drying her hands on a towel. "The bath is ready, though it may be a bit warm—just add some cool water if needed," she said. "Breakfast is being served, so come down when you’re finished." She gave us a warm smile before stepping out and closing the door quietly behind her.

Ana’s eyes sparkled with anticipation as she signed, “I love warm baths!”

“I’m glad,” I signed back with a smile, helping her to the bath and making sure she was comfortable. I gently washed her hair and scrubbed away the dirt from yesterday’s travels, her giggles filling the small room. Once she was comfortable and happily playing with the water, I stepped away to get dressed, keeping an eye on her through the open door to ensure she was safe.

As I began pulling on my own clothes, I paused, surprised. The garments weren’t just clean—they looked practically new. The fabric felt softer, more vibrant, and the seams looked reinforced, as if they’d been expertly mended overnight.

After dressing, I returned and checked in with her. “Are you ready to get out?” I signed. Ana nodded, splashing lightly one last time. I helped her out of the bath and wrapped her in a towel, her cheeks flushed with warmth and a wide grin on her face. “The water was so nice!” she signed, eyes shining.

“Good. Let’s get you dressed,” I said, helping her into her freshly laundered clothes. Her clothes had the same treatment and looked so much better then they had. The inn’s attention to detail felt almost magical.

Ana twirled in delight, her clean clothes and freshly brushed hair making her feel light and renewed. I had taken a moment to run a brush through her hair, gently pinning it back with small, carved wooden hairpins I had found on the vanity. The simple act of being clean and neatly dressed seemed to fill her with joy and confidence.

We stepped out into the common area where Alex and Sam were already waiting, dressed and ready for the day.

“Good morning,” Alex said, sipping from a steaming mug.

“Morning,” I replied with a smile. “Did you sleep well?”

“Like a log,” Sam said with a grin. “Ready for breakfast?”

“Absolutely,” I said, my stomach rumbling in agreement. We made our way downstairs to the dining room, where the warm scent of fresh bread and honey greeted us. Harold stood behind the bar, chatting amicably with a few early patrons.

“Ah, good morning!” Harold called out as we approached. “Breakfast will be out in just a moment. Have a seat wherever you’d like.”

We settled at a table near the hearth, and I leaned forward. “Harold, I was wondering if we could hire someone to guide us around the town today. We need to visit a few places, and it would be helpful to have someone who knows the area.”

Harold’s eyes lit up with understanding. “I know just the person. Tommy—the boy who helped you with your belongings yesterday—he knows every nook and cranny of Gyrica. I’ll send for him if you like.”

I nodded. “That would be perfect. Thank you.”

“No trouble at all,” Harold said with a warm smile.

Within minutes, a plate of eggs, freshly baked bread, and a pot of honey were placed before us. We ate quickly, anticipation bubbling among us. Before long, Tommy appeared at the doorway, his eyes sharp and curious as he surveyed the room. He made his way over to our table when he noticed we were finished eating.

“Morning,” he said, his voice clipped but polite and looked down not meeting our eyes.

“Good morning, Tommy,” I greeted. “Would you be willing to guide us around town today?”

Tommy’s wary eyes glanced up, and he nodded. “Sure thing. Where to first?”

“We need to see the town’s headperson,” Alex chimed in, a note of seriousness in their voice. “Could you show us the way?”

Tommy’s expression shifted, a flicker of understanding passing over his features. “Town Hall, then. Ready to go?” when all nodded in confirmation he said “Follow me.”

We exchanged glances, each of us feeling the weight of the upcoming encounter. As we stood, a sudden noise from outside—a shout followed by hurried footsteps—caught our attention. I tensed, glancing at Sam and Alex, who were already alert.

Tommy’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Something’s happening in the square. We should move quickly,” he urged, his voice carrying an edge of urgency.

With a nod to Herold, Tommy lead the way, as we stepped out into the morning light, ready for whatever awaited us in the heart of Gyrica.

As we stepped out into the bustling square, the morning sun cast a warm glow over the cobblestone streets. The market was alive with the familiar hum of merchants hawking their wares and the steady clatter of carts being pushed into place. On the surface, everything seemed as it should—no sign of the commotion we'd heard earlier. And yet, there was something different today. An undercurrent of unease lingered in the air, clinging to the edges of the scene.

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This tension hadn’t been here the night before. The market, just as lively when we arrived yesterday evening, had felt welcoming—almost cheerful, with the golden light of dusk casting everything in warmth. But now, it was as though the atmosphere had shifted overnight, as though something had crept into the town while we slept, leaving a sense of expectancy behind. It felt like a storm was brewing beneath the surface, unnoticed by most but impossible for us to ignore.

I kept an eye on Tommy as he led the way, his lean frame weaving through the crowd with practiced ease. He glanced back occasionally, making sure we were close behind. Ana, small and alert, stayed close to my side, her eyes scanning the square with an intensity I’d come to recognize. She sensed things—always had, even before our arrival in this strange world.

Ana’s eyes widened suddenly, and she signed rapidly, “Danger!”

Before I could fully process her warning, the crowd seemed to shift and warp around a small, wiry figure that had become visible only as Ana’s announced their presence and brought them to our attention. The figure, appearing out of nowhere, darted toward us, hands already reaching for my satchel.

Before I could react, Tommy’s arm shot out with surprising speed and strength, grabbing the figure’s wrist. The market seemed to freeze around us, a collective breath held as the would-be pickpocket—dressed in ragged, oversized clothes—was caught mid-action. Alex and Sam, who had been on alert, exchanged quick glances and tensed, ready to react, but they held back, observing with wary eyes as the scene unfolded.

Tommy gave the boy a quick, assessing look, his gaze flicking briefly over his own belongings and ours. Satisfied, he focused back on the boy, his grip unyielding. The boy looked up with wide, defiant eyes. Dirt smudged his sharp features, and his cap was pulled low over his short, scraggly hair. He pulled against Tommy’s hold, but Tommy’s grip held firm.

Their eyes met, and for a moment, something flickered in Tommy’s expression—an unspoken understanding. His brows furrowed, and he tilted his head as if trying to see beyond the grime and the mask of bravado. A heartbeat later, I watched as Tommy’s fingers slowly uncurled from the boy’s wrist, his stance softening, and the boy snatched his hand back, clutching it to his chest. The boy was small, far too thin, his cheeks sunken with hunger. His gaze softened, something akin to understanding passing over his guarded eyes. Had he seen a reflection of his past in the boy? Or perhaps, he understood better than anyone what desperation could drive someone to. Or maybe he realized that no one had really been hurt. Still, I couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that there was more to this than a simple act of mercy.

“Go,” Tommy whispered, his voice barely audible though the silence around us was thick. The boy hesitated, eyes narrowing as if weighing his words, before turning on his heel and vanishing in a way that defied explanation—a sudden, magical disappearance as if he had dissolved into thin air.

A collective murmur of confusion rippled through the onlookers, and I exhaled a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. The market seemed to pause for a heartbeat, the people around us frozen with distant, unfocused gazes, before each of them seemed to blink and return to their tasks, focusing back on the reasons they had come to the market in the first place. It was unsettling how quickly the moment slipped away, leaving just the three of us—Ana, Tommy, and me—marked by what had happened, while everyone else moved on as though nothing had transpired.

The market returned to its usual rhythm, but an uneasy tension lingered. It felt as if whatever had caused that unease had found its way back to us, lingering, unacknowledged by everyone else. I wondered if it was the boy that had brought this unknown unease and tension with him.

Ana, still clinging to my side, looked past me, her gaze fixed on the empty space where the boy had stood, her eyes unwavering as though she could still see him, even after he vanished. Her small face held a mixture of concern and curiosity, but also a hint of something else—an understanding that seemed beyond her years, as if she alone could see what truly lingered.

Tommy flexed his fingers absently, a slight tremor running through them before he shoved his hands into his pockets. I glanced at him, catching the subtle shift in his expression—something soft, almost sad, hidden behind his guarded eyes. Was it pity? Understanding? I couldn’t tell, but it was clear that whatever had passed between him and the boy ran deeper than I realized.

Alex and Sam, who had halted beside us, exchanged confused glances, their expressions a mix of worry and impatience. Alex’s brows knitted in concern as they looked between Tommy and me. “Are we… stopping for a reason?” they asked, their tone wary.

“Are you okay?” I asked, my voice low enough for only him to hear.

He nodded once, curtly, but said nothing. His gaze darted around the square as if searching for something that was no longer there.

“Is something wrong?” Sam added, their voice tight, scanning the area for any threat. I could sense the urgency in their stance, as though they felt an invisible clock ticking down and were eager to get moving.

Ana tugged at my sleeve, her expression a mix of curiosity and something softer—sympathy. She signed slowly, her eyes seeing something I couldn’t, “He’s still here.” There was no fear in her movements, only a kind of sadness, as if she knew something we couldn’t grasp. Tommy followed Ana’s gaze, his brow furrowing as he strained to see what she could. It seemed to him, however, that there was nothing but shadows.

I frowned, following her gaze to an empty corner where the shadow of a building cut across the cobblestones. To my eyes, there was nothing, but Ana’s unwavering stare told me otherwise. I shivered, a chill running down my spine despite the warmth of the morning sun.

“Come on,” Tommy said, breaking the silence. “We need to keep moving.”

We exchanged a final glance, and with Alex and Sam still casting curious looks over their shoulders, we followed Tommy through the crowd, our earlier sense of urgency tempered now by a strange, lingering unease.

We moved through the crowd, the noise of the market swelling around us. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that something—someone—was still watching. Ana’s unwavering stare into the shadows stayed with me, a reminder that this world had layers we were only just beginning to understand. Perhaps the boy hadn’t vanished entirely—perhaps he was still here, somewhere beyond the edge of our perception, watching with eyes that saw more than ours ever could.