Adira's body was heavy, her senses dulled as though submerged in thick, icy water. Darkness pressed in on her from all sides, and her chest ached with a burning intensity that stole her breath. Slowly, sounds began to filter through the haze—the distant hum of chanting, the crackle of energy in the air, and a voice, deep and cold, echoing in her mind.
"You are mine, Adira. You cannot resist what you were born to be."
Her eyes flew open, the world snapping into focus. She was on her back near the altar, the stone beneath her cold and unyielding. Above her, the night sky swirled with unnatural clouds, pulsating with an eerie red light. The chanting around her had grown louder, the robed figures moving in a rhythmic, hypnotic pattern.
Viktor loomed over her, his expression triumphant.
"You're awake," he said, his voice as smooth as silk. "Good. It's almost time."
