Prologue / Dream Sequence
Myra stirred in a restless sleep, her dreams tinged with the faint echo of her father’s voice.
“What am I to do with you, Myra? If only your mother—”
The words trailed off, unfinished, leaving a hollow weight that pressed against her chest. She could feel the grief in his voice, a sorrow she had always sensed but never fully understood.
The dream shifted, pulling her through shadowed corridors of memory until she found herself in a small, dust-covered closet she had stumbled upon once as a child.
Inside, hidden beneath layers of forgotten linens and candle wax, rested a portrait of a woman who seemed impossibly familiar.
Fair-skinned, with auburn hair cascading softly over her delicate shoulders, the woman stared back at Myra with profound green eyes flecked with specks of gold. There was something acutely familiar about those eyes…
Myra’s breath caught as she realized.
She was the spitting image of this woman.
Her mother.
She traced a finger over the painted cheek, memorizing the curve of the woman’s jaw. She noticed the quiet strength woven into her features. But beneath that strength was something else.
Sadness.
Lingering and deep.
As Myra stared at the portrait, she noticed the woman’s painted gaze seemed to linger toward a crack in the floorboard.
Myra followed her eyes.
And just then, beneath the floorboard, a red, ominous light leaked through the cracks.
A deep beat pulsed from beneath the floor.
Like a heartbeat.
Ba-bum.
Ba-bum.
Ba-bum.
Myra sucked in a breath and awoke with a start, her heart racing, blankets twisted around her legs.
Then her ears twitched as she heard the soft cooing of mourning doves drifting through the cool morning air.
She hadn’t planned to fall asleep.
In fact, she was already dressed and ready to start her day by avoiding the one thing she shouldn’t…
Her duty.
