My body ached as I came to, a dull throbbing in my head making it difficult to focus on anything other than the pain. The cold ground beneath me pressed against my back, and for a moment, I had no sense of time or place—just an overwhelming sense of emptiness. Then, reality came crashing in.
The curse.
The ritual.
Aimee.
My eyes flew open, panic flooding through me. The dark, crumbling walls of the estate loomed overhead, shadows dancing in the corners, but it was Aimee's voice that anchored me, pulling me back to the present.
"James, wake up. Please, wake up."
I blinked, trying to shake off the fog clouding my mind. My vision swam, and I struggled to focus on the figure kneeling beside me. Aimee. Her hands were trembling as she gripped my shoulders, her face pale, eyes wide with fear.
"Aimee," I croaked, my voice barely more than a rasp.
