CELESTE’S POV
The treatment room was as pristine as everything else in Catherine’s villa. White walls. Soft lighting. Glass panels humming faintly with power. The scent of metal beneath the sterile floral overlay.
The chair sat at its center, surrounded by arcane instrumentation and sleek modern tech—a marriage of magic and science that made my skin prickle.
I lay back on it while technicians moved around me, attaching leads, adjusting settings, murmuring numbers I couldn’t understand.
Catherine remained at my side, one hand resting lightly on the armrest, grounding me—or so it was meant to feel.
When the headpiece descended, unease settled into my bones.
I hated this room.
I hated how small it made me feel.
The room I’d been held in had been small, too. Concrete
