The music didn't just fade; it began to fray at the edges.
For Seraphina, the world was no longer a party. It was a kaleidoscope of sensory betrayal. The bass, which had vibrated in her chest only moments ago, now thudded against her skull with the heavy, uneven rhythm of a dying pulse. Voices that once floated light as air now stretched into long, guttural groans, distorted and nightmarish.
Something is wrong.
The realization was a cold stone settling in her gut. She clung to the edge of the marble counter, her knuckles turning bone-white as the room decided to tilt on its axis. She blinked, desperate to clear the haze, but the lights simply smeared—gold and crimson streaks bleeding into one another like wet paint on a canvas.
Damon.
The name was a prayer, a frantic plea trapped in the cage of her throat. Her eyes darted through the swirling throng of bodies. Faces were just blurs of flesh and shadow—monstrous and alien.
He was right here.
