EMBER’S POV
(A MOMENT EARLIER)
The vision shifts once more, and I find myself in a room I don’t recognize — a clinic room with the kind of sterile coldness that makes you want to wrap your arms around yourself for warmth.
A woman stands with her back half-turned to me, her face obscured by shadow, pressing that same unmarked bottle into my mother’s trembling hands.
My mother — who has never trembled before anything in her life — looks small here. Diminished.
Afraid in a way that makes my stomach turn because if my mother is afraid of this woman, then this woman is someone worth fearing.
“This should keep her stable.” The woman’s voice is cold and clinical, devoid of warmth or comfort. “But the dose needs to increase. Wolves like her… if she truly manifests…”
A pause. A slow shake of
