Feng sat kneeling in the grass beside Serika with a hand placed gently on the woman's shoulder, offering silent support as Serika stared at the two unmoving bodies before them: one her sister, Nalai, dead and cold. The other, their father, Rykar, still alive, but unresponsive. As if only his shell remained.
"…Who are you?"
The sudden, high-pitched voice sliced through the silence like a trumpet in a funeral hall.
Feng's instincts came alive instantly. She snapped her head toward the source, eyes narrowed, hand already drawing the slim blade at her waist as she rose halfway to her feet.
And there, floating several paces away, was something that simply shouldn't exist.
A tiny girl, green-skinned and wide-eyed. Her curls were bark-brown and spun into ringlets, while her leaf-draped dress swayed as she hovered in midair. She couldn't have been taller than a child who'd just learned how to walk. And yet…
