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The town of Loria was known for its winding cobblestone streets, lantern-lit cafés, and a hidden garden that only those who truly listened could find. One rainy evening, after the market had closed and the sky painted itself in shades of violet, Silvia slipped away from the familiar glow of her apartment’s window and followed the faint echo of a soft, melodic hum that seemed to drift from the old stone walls.

“This,” Luca said, his voice barely above a whisper, “is for those who see the world a little differently. It’s said to hold the reflection of the night sky wherever it goes.” immorallive silvia wise tiny 18 year old lo full