"What's this…?"
The banquet hall had emptied hours ago.
Laughter and clinking glasses had faded into distant echoes, replaced by the quiet hum of enchanted lanterns lining the walls.
Servants were clearing silverware in the far corridor, their footsteps soft, careful not to disturb the noble guests who had already retired.
In the corner of the hall—where a temporary library display had been arranged for prestige rather than reading—something shifted.
A porcelain doll sat slumped between two stacks of antique tomes.
At first glance, it was harmless. Decorative. Forgotten.
Then its glassy eyes flickered.
A thin crack traced along its painted cheek.
And from the seam of its body, a shadow seeped out like spilled ink.
"…Strange."
The voice was low, distorted, as if filtered through fabric and dust.
The shadow slid down from the table and pooled behind one of the taller bookshelves, where thick encyclopedias hid the wall from casual inspection.
"There should be a response."
