Night stretched quiet across the city, but Valentine couldn't sleep.
The same dream had come again—so vivid she woke breathless, her palms cold with light.
A woman stood on the other side of a shimmering veil, her outline made of gold. Her lips moved, forming words Valentine couldn't hear. The barrier between them pulsed like water, keeping them apart. Then came the whisper—not through sound but through her heart—
"Find the light that was lost."
A crack ran across the veil. Valentine reached out. The glow flared—
—and she woke, clutching her small silver cross, its surface warm as if it had caught a piece of that dream.
"Not again," she murmured.
From the doorway, her mother's voice came softly. "Another one?"
Valentine nodded. Her father entered behind her, his face shadowed by concern. "Pack a bag," he said gently. "It's time we moved again."
She didn't argue. They had moved so often she'd stopped asking why. Her parents called it business, but deep down she knew it was something else—something that chased them across cities like a shadow that refused to fade.