Kaelin awoke with a start, the remnants of her nightmare clinging to her like shadows at dawn. Her trembling fingers fumbled to gather the shards of her broken vial—a once-pristine container of spring water now transformed into a cruel simulacrum of life itself. The liquid, dark and thick as blood, dripped slowly onto the cold stone floor of their makeshift shelter. Outside, the skeletal remains of the ancient watchtower groaned in the early morning chill, and beyond its crumbling walls, the caravan stirred.