FINAL.
Sera woke one morning with her mind clear. Completely clear. Like someone had switched on the lights after months of darkness.
She recognized the room. Her quarters. The medical equipment. Marcus was asleep in the chair beside her bed.
She knew what this was. Terminal lucidity. The brain’s final clarity before complete shutdown. It happens sometimes in dementia patients. A gift. A warning. The end is approaching.
She had hours. Maybe a day. Then the fog would return permanently.
Sera reached over and touched Marcus’s hand. He woke instantly.
“You’re awake,” he said.
“I’m clear. Really clear. For the first time in months.”
Marcus sat up. Studied her face. Saw the difference.
“How long do you have?”
“I don’t know. Hours probably. We should use them.”
He called Morgan. Calle
