The morning sun streamed through the windows, bathing Lucia's room in a soft, golden light. It was the day of her wedding, a day that was supposed to be filled with joy, anticipation, and love. Yet, as she stood in front of the mirror, dressed in the most exquisite gown the kingdom could offer, Lucia couldn't shake the sense of unease that had been growing within her.
Martha hovered nearby, fussing over the final touches to Lucia's veil, but Lucia barely noticed. Her mind was miles away, caught in a web of confusion and half-formed memories. Since the day Miranda had approached her in the palace gardens, that strange, elusive feeling had only intensified. Who was this woman who seemed to know her so well? And why couldn't Lucia remember anything about her?
"Lucia, dear, are you all right
