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Thirty-Eight
Caspian Fontaine As I gazed upon Stella lying unconscious on the sterile white infirmary bed, a heavy mix of emotions swirled within me. Her vibrant red hair spilled like a cascade of flames against the stark white sheets, a vivid contrast that mirrored the chaos of my thoughts. Worry settled deep within my chest. It was a constant, throbbing ache that refused to ease. The events of that alleyway, as Lucas had recounted them, played in my mind like a haunting melody. Stella and Lucas, transported into a void of complete darkness, allegedly pursued by a grotesque, skull-shaped entity made of shadows and smoke – it was a story that defied all reason. What, in Poseidon's name, had really happened there? Lucas had mentioned the dead student, an eerie detail that only added to the disquiet
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