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...