Lira Vetrovina disappeared long before anyone thought to look for her. What remained came back altered. She moves through rooms like bad weather-silent, inevitable, impossible to hold onto for long. People notice the aftermath before they ever notice her. Somewhere beneath the static and fractured memory, there are traces of the girl she used to be. A voice. A touch. A name that still aches when she hears it. But storms do not remember the sky they were born from. They only know how to arrive.