As the guests gather in Stavanger, Solveig slips between them, more specter than presence, her mischievous grin as fleeting as her loyalties. She moves with the easy grace of someone who knows she has no roots to pull her back, and no chains to hold her down. To those who notice her, Solveig is a curiosity—a stranger with an air of playful rebellion, her motives as obscure as the shadows she drifts through.