"I need to go now. Enjoy the rest of the night," Jeron said with a half-smile, raising his hand in farewell.
I lifted the muffin in return, a silly little gesture like a toast. "You too," I said, waving with it before taking another bite.
I watched him as he walked away.
For a moment, I kept my smile, warmed by the ordinary ease of it. But then—slowly—it slipped away.
Because I heard something.
Not the chatter of the people in the distance. Not the beat of the drums or the laughter of children. Something thinner, sharper, more delicate. A sound that didn't belong here.
Music from a harp. The note stretched clean and true, as if a silver string had been plucked right beside my ear.
My breath caught, and I stilled where I stood.
The melody wasn't faint, not a fading memory from that day in House of Ambrosia, nor some stray thought conjured by my own mind. No, it sounded like it was present. Close. The kind of sound you could almost touch if you reached for it.
