Kanaf rapel

That night, while Naomi slept fitfully and her father’s soldier patrolled, Ryn hopped the train across the city to a Palisades museum just off the bay, sandwiched between the water and Commonwealth Plaza. She’d discovered it weeks ago while tracking Naomi during a day trip and had realized Dust haunted it on occasion.
She broke in through the skylight and descended upside down on a single, bright gossamer cord from her kanaf. Dust roused awake in an exhibit of old instruments in a display case, the spirit occupying a recently donated violin of aged and sweet-smelling wood, the only sign of his presence a slight accumulation of his namesake on varnish that otherwise would have been pristine. When he moved, she could hear him in the way a hiss shot through the instrument’s taut strings.


Chapter 13, Page 197-198