“My roommate is not supposed to be here,” she mutters, voice low and tight. “They left. They told me they left. They said they’d be gone until the twenty‐seventh.”

~

A blizzard knocks the power out, the flat goes pitch‐black, and Saga suddenly hears movement in a place she was certain should be empty. The storm is howling, the walls creak, and she goes rigid—torch shaking in her hand as she stalks through the dark, breath tight, muttering, “They left. They’re not supposed to be here,” while she searches room by room, panic sharpening every step.