Javier's POV
The morning shouldn't look this wrong. Smoke chokes the sunrise, painting every building the shade of dried blood. Golden light struggles through the haze, but it can't touch our rooftop. Here, everything remains black. Vapor seeps up from the scorched tar beneath our feet, twisting into the air like a curse made visible.
Wendy has moved away from me, and fear claws at my chest as I search for her across the rooftop. She stands at the building's edge, wind tangling her dark hair, her eyes reflecting silver in the dim light. She hasn't spoken since the night ended. Instead, she stares at the roof where flames carved words into the tar surface.
I shrug on my jacket and walk to her side. Tilting my head, I try to decipher the message burned into the ground, but the symbols mean nothing to me. The language is completely foreign.
"What does it say?" I ask at last.
