As the fairytale melody of the carousel’s music box began—a tune filled with childhood whimsy yet underscored by a cold, mechanical clank—Selena felt a chaotic surge of emotions collide in her chest.
The air here was a thick slurry of cheap sweeteners, buttery popcorn, and machine grease. Thanks to the antidote, her once-dead eyes could now capture vast, fragmented patches of color and light. The warm hues of the neon signs blurred into brilliant, shifting clouds on her retinas. This long-lost visual stimulation brought her joy, yet the sensation of being surrounded by the world again felt suffocatingly intimate.
She thought of her childhood. Her father, Alpha Brown, had always maintained a stern majesty when handling pack affairs, yet he would show a rare, tender warmth only when facing
