The moonstone amulet became a constant presence against my skin. I wore it every moment, tucked beneath my clothes, its cool weight a reminder of Damien's words, his confession, his ten-year vigil. It felt like carrying a piece of him with me—a tether that bound us together in ways I was only beginning to understand.
The day after our conversation, I woke alone in his bed. He'd left a note on the nightstand in sharp, elegant handwriting: Business to attend to. Edgar will bring you breakfast. Rest.
I should have felt relieved at the space. Instead, I felt strangely… bereft.
By mid-morning, I was restless and desperately needed to talk to someone who existed outside this surreal, supernatural world I'd stumbled into. I called Leah.
