- RORY -
The room is dark, lit by only the flickering golden glow of candles that play on the weathered faces of every woman standing around me. Most of them are older, and their wisdom and strength is palpable.
I'm in the middle of this circle of women. I don't think there is one of them I have met, but they all feel familiar somehow—like I needn't have ever actually seen them to recognize the energy they carry. Our souls know each other.
So this is a dream, then.
No lips move, but there's a chant in the air—a low murmur of shared words providing a backdrop to whatever is happening with me in the center. And then I'm handed a knife.
Something bristles to attention in the corner of the dark room, and I look in that direction to find the one familiar pair of eyes here. He's the only male, and he's the only one who is not at ease. Luciano. Why is he here?
