Stacey's eyes fluttered open, but the darkness lingered, clinging to her like a shroud. She tried to shake off the disorientation, but her mind felt foggy, her thoughts muddled. As she slowly sat up, the room came into focus, and she realized she was in her bed, but had no recollection of how she got there.
Panic set in as she scrambled to remember the events of the previous night. She recalled going to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water, speaking with Frederick on the phone... but everything after that was a blur. The more she tried to remember, the more her head spun.
Adelaide's side of the bed was empty, and the clock on the nightstand read 10:47 a.m. Stacey's heart sank; she had overslept. But that wasn't the only thing that felt off. The tattoo on her hand throbbed with a dull ache, and the memory of Azrael's warning echoed in her mind like a distant whisper.
