In the wee hours of the night—that quiet, liminal window when the rest of the world was submerged in deep slumber—Ceres found herself standing alone in the center of a cold, unfamiliar room. She lifted her hands, inspecting her pale fingers in the dim moonlight, and a sudden jolt of realization hit her: she was not inhabiting Belle's flesh. For reasons she couldn't comprehend, she was physically detached, existing entirely on her own. She was floating, wandering through the darkness without direction or purpose, unable to recall how she had arrived there in the first place.
[Where in the world am I?] Ceres asked herself, her voice echoing softly only within her own spectral consciousness.
