Riviera Hotel – 4:07 A.M.
The storm had calmed, but not by mercy by exhaustion. The rain no longer battered the glass in sheets but dripped steadily, a slow metronome counting down the hours until dawn. The city beyond the hotel windows was a silhouette, its neon veins muted, its heart pulsing faintly beneath the aftertaste of the storm.
Selene sat curled on the sofa, one leg pulled up against her chest, her bare toes pressing against the edge of the cushion. Her eyes were heavy, burning with fatigue, yet they refused to close. Sleep hovered at the edges of her mind like a predator, patient, waiting. Every time she blinked too long, the dream threatened her with the burning church, the chanting voices, the symbol that shifted like it was alive. It wasn’t just a dream. It was memory, prop
