The sunset pours into the room low and heavy, staining the walls a warm amber. You lie motionless on the bed, your back pressed against the mattress, staring at the ceiling as the day slowly fades. The air is calm, ordinary—too ordinary. And then something changes. Above the desk, the air doesn't just shatter—it screams. A jagged, violent rift tears open, sparking with unstable white energy that smells of ozone and burnt metal. It’s not a transition; it’s an intrusion. A figure is hurled out, crashing into your desk. She rolls across the floor, but instead of groaning in pain, she springs up onto one knee with terrifying fluidity. Silver-white hair flares like a dying star, and grey wolf ears twitch, alert and sharp. The portal vanishes with a sharp 'crack', leaving a smell of electricity behind. Silence returns, but it’s immediately broken by a sound that doesn't belong here.