Emory's POV.
The parking lot lies silent, utterly deserted. The emptiness clings to the night like a shroud, casting an eerie stillness over everything. Only the soft rustle of wind weaving through fallen leaves disturbs the quiet. But the air — it's different. It smells sharper, tastes metallic, feels heavier. Like the world is holding its breath. Something is coming. Something dark. Something that I fear we're not ready for yet.
My skin tingles in the chill of the night. I find myself almost holding my breath as I wait for Hope to show up - I've finally developed the antidote she asked for. It wasn't easy - not at all. Whoever helped Malachai to concoct the poisonous blend wasn't messing around - a skilled chemist if I ever I saw one. I could almost admire his work if it weren't so vil
