Rosalia’s POV:
It’s like a dream. The undeniable sense of déjà vu. It ripples through me and I feel like I can't breathe. I know this place. I’ve been here before. I can see a corridor and, at the very end, a thick wooden door with bars over the small window appears. The sight of this door fills me with unspeakable dread and I feel my very soul recoil from the coldness emanating from the room beyond. Regardless, my dream forces me onward, and soon I’m grasping the cold metal handle. Almost like I’m not in control of my movements. The door opens on rusty hinges and the open room looks like a prison cell. I struggle to accustom myself to the lack of light coming in to see through. The room appears empty until a hand rests on my shoulder. Spinning, I turn round to come face to……
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