Two days before the wedding, I woke up at 3 AM in a cold sweat.
The dream had been vivid, terrifying. I was standing in a white dress in front of thousands of people—not just the forty-three packs we'd planned for, but endless crowds stretching to the horizon. Every face was turned toward me with desperate hope, waiting for me to save them from something I couldn't see.
And when I tried to speak, to tell them I was just a twenty-two-year-old girl who wanted to marry the man she loved, no sound came out. Just silver light that grew brighter and brighter until there was nothing left of me but cosmic authority and divine responsibility.
I stumbled to the bathroom and splashed cold water on my face, trying to shake off the dream's lingering panic. In the mirror, my reflection looked pale, worried. The moonstone engagement ring caught bathroom light and threw it back in tiny silver sparks.
"Bad dream?"
