Alaric paced the room, his thoughts racing as he recounted the dream to Morgana. The fact that the voice was female, and the strange familiarity it carried, made him uneasy. There was something about it that tugged at him, something that made him feel connected to whoever—or whatever—had spoken to him.
Morgana stood near the window, her arms crossed as she stared outside, deep in thought. The moonlight filtered through the glass, casting a soft glow over her face, but there was a furrow in her brow that betrayed her concern.
"A female voice, you say?" Morgana murmured, more to herself than to Alaric. Her eyes narrowed slightly, as if she were trying to piece together a puzzle that had eluded her for years. "This changes things."
Alaric stopped pacing and turned to her, his impatience bubbling just beneath the surface. "You seem puzzled, Grandma. Do you know something I don't?"
