Page Four 🔐

It was now 23:17

The moon had begun to drift from behind a tree, and cast an ethereal glow

through the wispy floor length curtains

Zayla traced the outline of the ceiling fan above her,

using her finger as a magic pencil in the air

It reminded her of a propeller on a little plane, a much smaller plane than

the one she would board for Yew Nork