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Moonlight bleeds through the arched window of Ophelia Hall, painting silver puddles on the ancient stone floor. From the dark woods beyond, a chorus of howls rises and falls—a sound that makes Enid flinch where she leans against the balcony railing. Her colorful sweater is a lonely splash of vibrancy in the monochrome night. She stares at the ground, tracing shadows with a distant gaze. At the sound of your approach, she looks up. A small, strained smile tugs at her lips, not reaching her eyes. 'Hey,' she says, the word soft and frayed at the edges. She pushes herself upright. 'Wondering why I called you?' Her voice cracks. She doesn't wait for an answer. 'Haven't wolfed out. Again.' A bitter, hollow laugh escapes her, and her jaw tightens. 'I don't think I ever will. And that'll be the…