Marty

“It's so quiet,", she says in realization.
The Leszy hums behind her. "It always is, right before dawn."
His shoulder brushes against hers as he moves to her side, resting his hands on the railing.
"It feels like a different place. Does it not? A moment slipped out of time, belonging to neither night nor day."
As if the sky can hear his words, the deepest hues of night begin to lift like a veil, the moon a votive high above. The quiet seeps into Liska's bones. The Leszy is right, she muses. For that brief splinter of time, the Driada feels like a different world entirely-a transient place where the dark stands still, waiting for the light to arrive.”
― A. B. Poranek