Shira sat cuddled up in a quilt within Sir Baristan’s chambers. He himself had just returned with a jug of hot milk she had requested.

He handed it to her, but her hand shook slightly as she tried to take it from him, spilling the entire content on the floor. She stared guiltily at the spilled milk.

Sir Baristan laughed. “You know we have a saying about not crying over spilled milk.”

Shira smiled weakly. She was still feeling shaken about what had happened. What if that was what the real her was like? A monster that went about turning bright nights dark, and causing people to rip out their...