I found myself in a room with unfamiliar faces, surrounded by a palpable sense of disorientation. These people were strangers to me, and I couldn't place where I was. It was evident that this was not the Red Moon Pack—it felt like a distant corner of the world, foreign and unfamiliar as if I had crossed into another realm.
Seated on the weathered wooden floor of the old cottage, the boy who had led me here lingered outside, his absence within the confines of the room heightening my skepticism. His claim to be my son felt like a cruel jest, or perhaps, I thought, this was just another intricate vision, a deceptive illusion meant to confound. I struggled to reconcile the bizarre narrative unfolding around me with the reality I knew.
Within the room, three elders joined me on the floor, the
