The Stolen Child
One figure steps lightly through the shadows of the vacant corridor. Long hair in a bun, and a sword at her side, she missed the familiar heft of her chainmail. Though, as strange as this place was, it had an eerie calm to it. It was the unsettling type of calm; the kind you feel when you know you’re where you aren't supposed to be, intruding on something, and anything could go wrong at any moment. Her silent footsteps echoed down the hall as its inhabitants were sound asleep, in spite of the sun blazing high in the sky. The girl heaves a sigh. Keep it together, Misa, she scolds herself. You have a job to complete. She approaches the last turn she has to take, at the end of the corridor she would find the nursery.
