Marked From Birth
The woman bore a mark on her forehead—a silver crescent moon, but it was inverted, dripping like a tear.
Audrey’s breath hitched. She pulled a locket from beneath her tunic—the only thing she had left of her mother, Elena. She opened it, comparing the small, hand-painted portrait inside to the ancient drawing.
"Lucas... look at this."
Lucas leaned over her shoulder. His scent—cedar and cold rain—hit her like a physical wave, momentarily making her dizzy with longing. For a second, his hand brushed hers, and she saw him flinch, his eyes flashing with a flicker of a memory he couldn't quite grasp.
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