ADRIAN'S P.O.V.
The moon hung low over the quiet town, its silvery light spilling across the cobbled streets like a celestial glow. Long, jagged shadows stretched and swayed with the whispering wind, painting a haunting picture of stillness that mocked the storm raging within me.
My living room was a stark contrast to the darkness outside, brightly lit by the brilliance of a single, grand chandelier. Its light cascaded over the polished oak floors and bounced off the ornate furniture, creating a fake illusion of warmth. The remaining members of my coven, those not already scouring the earth for Teresa, stood in silence around me. Their faces bore a combination of dread and vigilance, the weight of my fury heavy in the air.
