The world had turned into a swirling vortex of agony. My lungs burned, each gasp for air a searing torment that echoed the fire crawling across my skin. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t even scream properly—the sound was trapped, a raw, desperate thing clawing at my throat.

My legs, once steady beneath me, had given way, leaving me crumpled on the ground. Tears streamed from my eyes, hot and salty, only intensifying the burning sensation that consumed me. Every blink was a fresh wave of pain, a stark reminder of the inferno raging within.

"Ernest, what's this?!" A voice, sharp with panic, cut through the haze. Hands, strong and firm, clasped mine, one on each side. I didn’t know which twin was which, but their touch was a fragile anchor in the chaos. Then, a sudden, blinding flash of pain erupted from the center of my body, a scream tearing free that felt utterly inhuman. Was I even alive anymore?

"She's dying! This was not the plan, Dexter!" The panicked voice, Ernest's, I guessed, was accompanied by heavy, ragged breaths from the other. My grip tightened on their hands, nails digging in, desperate for something, anything, to ground me.

"Just keep taking her pain. Don't stop, no matter how... excruciating it is, remember, she's our mate." Dexter's voice, strained through clenched teeth, was the last thing I truly registered before the world began to coalesce.

Slowly, agonizingly, my breath returned. My vision flickered, blurring and sharpening through the haze of tears and pain. I pushed myself up, removing my glasses, only to find I could see perfectly in the gloom. My eyes blinked, adjusting to a new, impossibly sharp reality. And then I saw them: four glowing red eyes, fixed intently on me. A scream tore from my throat, raw and primal, echoing in the confined space.