The wind howled outside, throwing a sheet of rain against the window with a loud, metallic slap.

In the silence that followed, a low groan came from the bed.

“Alexander?” Sofia called out from the hallway.

“He’s seizing,” Dr. Voss said, her voice urgent. “I need that light, Sofia! Quickly!”

A match flared near the bedside table.

The small, yellow flame illuminated Luca’s face from below, casting monstrous shadows up his cheeks.

He held the match over the bed, his hand shaking slightly as he looked down at his cousin.

Alexander’s body was rigid, his fingers twitching against the sheets.

“The syringe,” Dr. Voss said, reaching toward the matchlight. “Where did I put the syringe?”

The match burned down to Luca’s fingers, and he dropped it, plunging us back into darkness.

“Damn it,” Luca muttered.

I heard the sound of glass shattering on the hardwood floor.

“What was that?” Marcus asked.

“I dropped the vial,” Dr. Voss said, her voice tight with panic. “It fell off the tray.”

A sudden beam of bright white light cut through the doorway.