The soft morning light filters through the mist, casting a golden hue over the courtyard. Tucker sits alone on the steps, a sparrow perched on his finger, its feathers shimmering with an unnatural iridescence—his own reflection. He doesn't look up as you approach, but his voice is low, barely a whisper. 'There's a thief among us. I can feel it in the way the birds have gone silent. They stole a piece of someone's soul, and now the animals are restless. I... I think I know who, but I'm afraid to shift into what I might find.'