In a forest, a black-haired man wearing golden and scarlet armour gazed at the steely-eyed man beside him out of the corner of his eye. They were both leaning against trees with their arms crossed as they observed the small decaying home a few kilometres away with their vision skills.
Rolland Louveste looked at the stern man next to him. “You look uncomfortable.”
“…sir,” the man said after a delay, facing the imposing Templar. For most of the members of Pledge, learning to read the emotions of the always solemn and serious High-ranked Paladin was an arduous task, but Louveste had known Jasten Albrecht ever since he had entered Pledge as a knight in training at 15. Louveste could see that his eyebrows were slightly furrowed, and the corners of his mouth were stiff in a barely noticeable grimace.
Louveste turned back to observing the small building and viewing the inhabitants within. “Do you think this is needlessly cruel?”
Albrecht didn’t answer, but his silence told Louveste everything he needed to know about the man’s opinions on the matter. Louveste shook his head.
“If you have words to say, then say them. Do not hold your tongue before me, Albrecht. I’ve known you for 16 years.”
Albrecht, who had been watching Louveste with his steel grey eyes, turned them back to the house in the distance. “This seems unnecessary.”
“And don’t try to twist my meaning to make it sound nicer,” Louveste replied.
Surprisingly, he heard the chink of metal as the blonde-haired man shook his head. He turned to look at the Paladin with one eyebrow slightly raised. Albrecht glanced at him and spoke in his low formal voice.
“Needless cruelty implies there is no meaning behind the actions taken in regard to the boy, which cannot be the case as it was an order from you, the Templar of High Justice, to not interfere. I believe this to be unnecessary, as there could be alternative measures that use the boy for more benefit.”
Louveste continued observing the building. “Such as?”
Albrecht gazed at him with an inscrutable expression, but answered him, “Supporting the boy with resources and good treatment could breed goodwill towards us in the Prophetess, making her less resistant to some commands. The boy could also be a bargaining chip in an arranged marriage or discipleship in a deal with a large Faction or clan that wishes to gain a stronger connection to us. Or, in the event that the Prophetess is unusually resistant towards us, he could be a hostage to control her.”
Louveste gave a nod. “And if this was in any other situation regarding the Prophetess, we would take similar actions to those. But not in this case.” He scowled. “Not when it comes to that thing,” he spat with distaste and derision.
“Sir?” Albrecht responded, looking at him intently when he heard the emotion in Louveste’s voice.
Louveste stopped leaning against the tree and straightened up to gaze sternly at the slightly shorter man on his left. “Listen carefully, Albrecht,” he said, expression solemn. “As a force with history dating back to the earliest days of the Empire, before the assimilation of the Tower, the Citadel has very few actual enemies with real power. So few they could even be counted on my fingers.”
He held up a hand for Albrecht. “But only three have truly threatened the stability of the Citadel and its allies. The first would be the Astrologers,” he said, holding up his index finger. “Their navigation of the planar pathways and astral bodies have enabled them to conflict with our authority over Fate and fortune. We keep each other in check, but our conflict is political rather than physical.”
He held up two fingers. “The next would be the forces of the Heavenly Realm. The innate resistance of that realm to the energies of magic give us difficulty when predicting their actions, and their divination techniques have pressured both Providence and the Astrologers of All-Aeon Athenaeum. Not to mention those heretical cultivators,” he said, scowling, “That devour the destiny and karma of those before them.”
“It would be unwise to discuss them like that next to the forces of the Mystical Realm,” Albrecht interjected. “The Five Heavenly Sects have become the Empire’s firm allies, and speaking ill of them in generalities could ruin your reputation.”
Louveste waved a hand at him dismissively. “You understand my meaning.”
“…yes sir,” Albrecht responded, looking at him with an unreadable expression.
“Finally,” he said, holding up a third finger. “Is our one, natural enemy. I’m not talking about the Fate Devourers of the Heavenly Realm,” he added, seeing Albrecht frown. He sighed and gestured to the house’s general direction.
“The Prophetess is the only individual who can naturally manipulate Fate. Even the High Truth himself had to gain the essence with an elixir,” he said. “But the System always maintains balance. If there is someone able to grant you more Fate…”
Louveste gazed solemnly at the grey-eyed man. “Then there’s someone who can take it away.”
He turned back to the house and scowled, one hand on the pommel of his longsword at his waist. “That thing,” he spat, “Is the bringer of waste and destruction to any who even look upon it. It’s mere presence destroys livelihoods and families. People die without knowing how, just by standing too close to it.”
He gave a mocking laugh. “And the chain of devastation only increases the longer it sucks away your fortune. At first, you would only lose a bet. Then you’ve lost your job. You friends die, your family dies, your sons and daughters die, all in the worst ways imaginable. Then the mental pain turns to physical, as your body is crushed and ruined by the ‘coincidental’ accidents that occur to you, and you lay struggling to take a breath through the pain, before dying a slow, miserable death. All of this could be in a matter of a few seconds, to over agonising years.”
“…you’re talking about that boy?” Albrecht said, his face showing the emotion of actual confusion for the first time in a while.
“That is no mere boy, Albrecht,” he growled, stroking the pommel of his sword. “That is a ravenous beast that will steal your life away without you even knowing.”
Albrecht frowned. “But how do you know what he is?”
Louveste shook his morosely. “Be glad that this backwards countryside is where we found them, Albrecht, be very glad. For that thing, is invisible under Escalon’s eyes.”
Albrecht stared for a moment before his grey eyes widened slightly. “You mean…”
Louveste nodded. “Fate cannot see it, Fate cannot touch it, and Fate will avoid it. Its Fate and fortune is completely invisible to our Fate vision. We cannot direct its future, and if it was in any place more populated, where the rivers of Fate flow freely over all,” he said, gesturing to the town. “Then it would be impossible for us to even notice its lack of Fate among the vast curtains of gold aura. Only the strong hold the Prophetess has over the essence protects her from descending into misery and misfortune by having it sucked away from her. That thing is a true Fate Devourer.”
Albrecht crossed his arms, the golden and white metal covering them clinking as he did so. “The System never gives purely detrimental Origin Skills,” he stated firmly. “What you’re describing sounds like a conscious decision on their part to reflect that ability of theirs in their class choice.” He gestured to the house’s direction with a gauntleted hand. “That boy cannot even be 16, regardless of his malnourishment, so how could he be a User?”
Louveste gave a sardonic laugh. “It has been proven that the Prophetess is extremely lucky even before she receives her title, so how could that thing be any different? Because, that thing suffers from its own misfortune too,” he said, a vicious grin on his face. “Others avoid them like a plague when they realise misfortune always occurs around them. Deaths are blamed on them, and sicknesses seem to form within whenever they lock eyes.” He shook his head. “Without fail, every one of them grow up twisted and disillusioned, without childhood naivety befitting their age. They only have disdain for the world, the world which spurns their very presence. Very few live to see past their thirtieth year.”
Albrecht looked at the house in the distance, now aware of the threat within. “Could we not control him somehow?”
The older Templar scoffed. “How? We try to get close, we’ll lose our lives just from having the bad luck of breathing the wrong way. We can’t even manipulate it from a distance, as our Fate and fortune attempts cannot track it.” Louveste narrowed his eyes as he viewed the house. “No, it is far better that we let it die now, without our intervention. The Prophetess will be none the wiser of our presence, and we can let her move on from its death to work for the glory of our Citadel.”
He gave Albrecht a stern look. “The Templar of High Justice does not have room for emotions such as sympathy or pity in their line of work. We do what we must to further the strength and authority of our Citadel, and strong feelings will prove a barrier to you in due time. Heed my words carefully, Paladin Albrecht.”
“…yes sir,” Albrecht responded, his expression calm and collected once more.
Louveste didn’t notice the way Albrecht observed him closely as the blonde-haired man pretended to watch the house. The Templar stiffened as he noticed something occurring in the distance and he narrowed his eyes again, straightening up.
“There has been a variable,” he said to the Paladin next to him in a low voice.
In the distance, a black-coated figure being escorted by two taller armed men in full-body scarlet armour could be seen, heading towards the house. They watched as the figure knocked on the door.
“…what shall we do sir?” Albrecht said, reaching a hand up to the greatsword strapped to his back.
Louveste held out a hand to pause him. “Nothing. We will watch, and if they leave soon afterwards, ignore them.”
He gazed intently into the distance as the figure went inside. “If they do anything else… protect the Prophetess, but we will continue waiting to uncover their identity.”
The bearded Paladin saluted and the two men stood still, watching, and waiting as the situation developed.
----------------------------------------
“My name is Lucille Goldcroft,” she said.
Lucy waited for the girl to react as she observed her. Annaliese Verdon was still as gorgeous as she had remembered, at least compared to the sparse few times they had met. Although the girl was looking much more worse for wear than during her time as the High Oracle. Those clothes definitely did not scream noble Prophetess of the glorious Citadel of Fate. She had yet to bloom into the beauty she had been in her twenties, being only a 16-year-old girl as of the present.
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Lucy blinked and then watched, perplexed, as the girl struggled to get up from the ground, and then grabbed the leg of a broken stool near her to wave it ‘threateningly’ at Lucy.
“G-Get back,” the girl stammered, clearly trying to put on a strong front even as her face paled.
Lucille tilted her head, but raised her arms in a surrender and calmly took a step back. They stared at each other for a moment, before Annaliese slowly began to move so she was standing directly in front of the bed, trying to shield it from view. Lucy raised an eyebrow and leaned to the side to look at what she was guarding, and straightened up when the other girl waved the stool leg ‘menacingly’ once more. Annaliese pursed her lips for a moment, before she focused her wavering gaze intently on Lucy. Then, she suddenly dropped the wooden leg and bent forward in a 90-degree bow.
“Y-You can kill me or use me for whatever you wish,” she said in a shaky voice, “But whatever you d-do, in return, p-please don’t touch my b-brother.”
The blonde-haired girl waited as the other girl stiffened. Lucy felt her thoughts freeze to a halt. They both remained completely silent, only the sounds of their breathing being heard in the small room as Lucy stared at the Prophetess before her. As the silence continued, Annaliese slowly gathered the courage to take a quick peek at the other girl’s reaction. She blinked when she saw Lucy was wearing an utterly stupefied expression. Then Lucy’s expression changed.
“Girl, are you trying to get me killed here?!” she demanded.
Anneliese was taken aback and began to slowly straighten up as she saw that her reaction was much different than she expected. “U-um, I-”
She paused as Lucille took a deep breath and ran her gloved hands through her hair, looking extremely exasperated.
“Miss Prophetess, you are about to become one of the most idolised figures throughout all of the Mystical Realm, and will have the backing of a force large enough to squish me with just a word,” she stated blandly. “Anyone caught having had the Prophetess say those words to them would be dead quicker than if they were holding a dragon’s egg,” she stressed. “So I will ask you again, are you trying to get me killed?”
The Prophetess had been staring at her with her mouth slightly agape, and quickly snapped it shut when she realised Lucy was waiting for her answer. “U-uh no, that’s not what I was trying to do…” she replied, twisting the cloth of her dress in her hands nervously.
Lucille rubbed her forehead. “I never would’ve thought the Prophetess had such an overreactive imagination in her youth…” she muttered.
Annaliese blinked. “I’m sorry, what did yo-”
Lucy waved a hand dismissively to interrupt her and placed a hand on her hip, looking at the girl. “Anyway, you are the Prophetess, right? With the whole vision of the war, Glory Pantheon getting decimated, the Demon Emperor killing half the Rank-5s in one move, all of that?”
The blonde-haired girl stared, and her jaw dropped. “There is no way-”
Lucy paused her by holding out a hand. “I’m not sure if you caught it earlier, but I’m Lucille Goldcroft,” she said, grinning. “I’m not going to do anything to you, so you don’t have to be so panicky.”
Annaliese cautiously took the hand and shook it. Lucy let go with a smile on her face. “Now, I heard you had a bro… ther…” she paused when she saw the figure on the bed, and her suddenly eyes widened as she took in the situation. Then she scowled heavily, scaring Annaliese a bit. She rubbed her face. “This is what happens when I’m paying too much attention to what’s outside…” she muttered.
“Excuse me for a moment,” she said, gently pushing Annaliese to the side so she could get down on one knee to see the sickly boy on the bed better. Her frown intensified as she removed her mask. Annaliese panicked and quickly got down on her knees to see what Lucy was doing. She was slightly stunned to see the slowly rotating brilliant gold circle covering the girl’s right eye, but just watched Lucy with anxiety as her expression darkened more by the second.
Eventually, Annaliese had to speak up. “W-What’s wrong?”
Lucille didn’t answer her, but instead looked up and scowled, seemingly gazing at something on the other side of the wall. “Selfish pigs,” she spat in a low voice.
Before Annaliese could say anything, Lucy suddenly turned to her with a stern gaze, making the Prophetess jump. “There are obviously many things wrong with your brother.”
Lucy turned back to the boy on the bed as Annaliese seemed to wilt, the gravity of the situation returning back to her. Lucy grabbed the skinny limp wrist of the boy, feeling for a pulse below his clammy skin. Through her right eye, she watched as thin strands of faintly luminous mana were being drawn towards his heart and lungs, keeping it pumping. But where the mana had been removed, the flesh and tissue seemed to wither and shrink, turning an ugly grey colour. As she watched, the amount of mana being drawn towards the boy’s heart became less and less, the body failing to supply enough to keep him going.
She pulled off a glove and placed her hand in the air above his nose and mouth, trying to feel his breath. Lucy was bewildered.
“This is an Accelerated Mana Dystrophy Constitution,” she said, her eyebrows furrowed. “Nobody older than six should have this.”
Annaliese gulped. “Because they d-die?” she asked anxiously.
Lucy didn’t look up as she reached for her brown dimensional bag on her belt. “Because they get cured.”
She turned to Annaliese. “He’s already reached the final stage. Has he never been treated?” she asked, incredulous.
Annaliese bit her lip and bowed her head to hide her expression. “The doctor won’t treat us.” She gave a sorrowful smile. “Nobody wants to help the ‘cursed child’ of the orphanage, after all.”
“If they think this a curse, then they must be idiots,” Lucy stated flatly. She looked back down at the boy as she began to search for something in her bag.
The Prophetess shook her head. “Not… this.” She gestured weakly to the boy. She wrapped her arms around herself. “He’s… always had bad luck. Or not him specifically. Just those around him.” She gazed sadly at her brother. “A child drowned when they tried to push him into a river, and fell in themselves. The daughter of the mayor contracted an incurable disease, which they discovered when she began spitting blood in front of my brother one day. Our mother died giving birth to him.” She curled up into a ball and began rocking herself.
Her voice was quiet. “I’ve tried to stop it, but I can’t even see his fate. What good am I as a Prophetess?”
Lucy stopped searching through her pouch for a moment to look up and stare silently at the girl. “Can’t see his fate?” she repeated.
Annaliese couldn’t see her expression, and just gave a small nod, silent as she sat there on the floor. She jolted when Lucy abruptly stood up.
“It’s no wonder they left him to die!” Lucille said, laughing, but a laugh filled with strong bitterness. “Who wouldn’t relish the chance to kill their only antithesis?!”
Leaving Annaliese blankly gazing after her, Lucy stormed off towards the entrance of the house and open the door. She stuck her head out to look outside.
“Guard Barus.”
Annaliese was startled when she heard the voice of a man say, “Yes Head?” in response to Lucille, so discomposed that the idea of there being others beside Lucy didn’t even cross her mind.
Lucy’s expression was cold. “Please go in to the town and find the doctor, telling him to come here with all his equipment. If he refuses, then tell him there will be worse consequences for him than just what treating a so called ‘cursed child’ would result in if he dares to offend a high-ranking member of the Commission.”
She slammed the door shut and whirled around, marching back to the bed near Annaliese. She pulled out one small wooden box, and one slightly larger box from her bag, placing them on the edge of the bed.
The Prophetess was dazed. “A high-ranked member of the Commission?” She hastily got up from the floor and bowed again. “Please excuse me for not properly greeting a member of a Faction from the Aeternus plane!”
Lucy didn’t look at her, but reached into her overcoat’s chest pocket. She withdrew a palm-sized round object from it. “Think fast,” she said, and chucked it at the confused girl.
Miraculously, Annaliese managed to catch it after stumbling back a bit, and looked down at the violet pocket watch with a gold chain she held in her cupped hands. She blinked as she noticed the three gold coins embossed on the front. “This is?”
“My inheritance token,” Lucy replied, kneeling back down, and grabbing one of the boxes. “It represents my status as the Head of the Aurelian Commission.”
Annaliese hung it by its chain as she held it up to look closer. “But I thought the Commission didn’t have a leader.”
“Well, now they do,” Lucy said, looking up and giving her a tight-lipped smile. It was without her usual cheeriness.
The Prophetess then blanched as she realised what she was doing, and hurriedly tried to give the object back to Lucy, who just groaned and gave her a dismissive wave. “It’s soulbound, it will teleport to me whenever I want. Stop caring about that right now. I need to do this.”
It was clear Annaliese had then realised Lucy was going to do something in relation to her brother, and she kneeled down next to Lucy, anxiously grabbing on to the thin mattress of the bed. Lucy undid the latches on both box and opened them. Then she stood up and gazed down seriously at Annaliese with her violet and gold eyes.
“Do you want me to save your brother?”
Annaliese blinked and had a dumbfounded expression. “What sort of question is that that?! Of course I want someone to save my brother!” she exclaimed.
Lucille cocked an eyebrow and tilted her head at the younger girl.
The girl’s cheeks tinged pink when she realised what she had said, and slowly dipped her head as she sat there on the ground, twisting her dress’s skirt in her hands. “I-I mean…” she bowed her head deeper. “Please save my brother.”
Lucy took a breath as she pulled off her other glove. “Then I suppose I’ll get started.”
Annaliese watched with nervously as Lucy removed the object within the larger wooden box, and she paled when she saw the device. A large brass needle the length of her forearm was being held by Lucy, who inspected it with her gold eye, searching for defects. She tapped on the glass container within it, and it made a loud ring. She turned to Annaliese.
“I’ll make this quick.”
…
Sometime later, Annaliese was whimpering slightly as Lucy slowly wrapped a thick bandage around the boy’s thin wrist. Annoyed at the Prophetess’s overreaction, she whipped her head around to stare at the golden-eyed girl.
“If he wasn’t as malnourished,” she stated flatly. “Then he could’ve taken it orally. He needed a quick injection of a mana-dense substance so his body wouldn’t continue to consume his lifeforce.”
She got up, putting away the boxes into her pouch, and pulled her black gloves back on. “I believe this fear of needles you have has no relation to the boy at all.”
Annaliese blushed slightly. Both girls turned when they heard a reedy male voice speak up.
“I-If y-you’re done here, m-may I leave?” said a thin aging man dressed in a white coat. Holding him firmly by the shoulder was a tall imposing man in scarlet armour with dark-red hair and a brown beard. He glared down intimidatingly at the doctor.
Lucy was expressionless as she responded to the man. “You may go back to the town, and write a medical referral that details the boy’s 4th stage Accelerated Mana Dystrophy Constitution. Do not mention anything about the boy’s so-called ‘curse’. Your life will not be worth living if you do.”
The reedy man gulped and quickly moved towards the door, followed closely behind by the scarlet warrior. But just before he got to the door, he looked back over his shoulder at Lucy.
“P-Please be careful M-Milady,” he stammered. “T-that boy’s presence has taken more lives than monsters around here. I don’t want to be responsible for your death. Your fate will be miserable if you stay near him much-”
Lucille’s cold expression shut him up as he was pushed out the door by the warrior. Lucy rolled her eyes. “How can someone who doesn’t even believe in Fate be affected by it?”
“You… don’t believe in Fate? How would that…” Annaliese was confused.
Lucy looked at her silently for a moment and then shook her head. “That’s irrelevant. Now we have to discuss what will happen here on after.”
Annaliese gave a solemn nod, getting up from beside the bed. She clasped her trembling injured hands against her stomach, waiting for Lucy to start explaining the real reason she came here. She did not.
“Now, your brother will not be able to survive with the mediocre medical facilities available to you in this town. Nor would I suggest trying to do so, as no doubt the townspeople would rather kill you both than allow him to be treated among them,” she stated, putting back on her mask. “It would also be dangerous for the people around him, considering the lack of Fate energy in such an isolated place. He would drink them dry in only a few moments.”
The Prophetess’s eyes widened. “You… know what he is?’
Lucy frowned, opening her pocket watch Annaliese had now given back to check the time. “Barely. It’s closer to a thing of myth or theory. The concept of the Prophetess’s antithesis even existing is something I never thought I could see validated. Regardless, that’s not up to me to investigate any further.”
She snapped the pocket watch shut and put it away. She turned to the other girl with a serious expression. “I want to take him away from here. He needs a proper hospital to recover from the lifeforce reduction, otherwise he’ll be in a perpetual coma for ever, irrespective of how much mana he has within his system. He also needs to be somewhere much more populated than just the closest city, so the reduction in Fate would be barely noticeable for those affected by it.”
Annaliese grimaced. “U-Um… but the Citadel will come collect me in a few hours.”
Lucy waved a hand dismissively. “I suggest you check again.”
The Prophetess frowned, but closed her eyes as a golden aura enveloped her again. Then her golden eyes opened up wide as she stood there, stunned. “No way… the prophecy changed! They’ll come get me in a week!”
She held her chin. “They must’ve already found my carriage with the Commission’s emblem on it then. Do you know where they’ll pick you up?”
“U-Uh, it doesn’t say,” Annaliese responded, still shellshocked. Then she fixed an intense stare onto Lucy. “No, how did the prophecy even change?! They’re given to me by the System! They’re not supposed to change.”
Lucy ignored her to continue thinking out loud. “So, if it doesn’t know where you’ll be picked up, it means Fate can only judge based on the actions of others. Does that mean I’m ‘invisible under Escalon’s eyes’ too?” she mused, remembering an obscure piece of text in an old document of the Citadel’s she found.
Annaliese paused when she heard Lucy’s words. She frowned slightly. “Invisible… you mean, like my brother’s Fate?” She raised her eyes to Lucy, looking at something unseen beyond her, and gulped, turning pale again. “N-No, that is definitely not it…”
Lucille silently observed the girls reaction, a hand covering her own mouth in thought. “Hmm. So there’s something wrong with mine after all.” She shook her head and sighed. “Never mind. As I was saying earlier, your brother will need to be moved to a big hospital.” She fixed a stare on Annaliese. “And I would like to suggest we move him to the hospital of Gilded Seat city.”
Annaliese went silent for a moment as they began to walk towards the door. “That’s… the city of the Commission’s Headquarters… right?” she looked up to see if she was correct. Lucy nodded, and so she continued frowning in thought. “You’d be taking us to the satellite plane of the Aeternus plane itself?” she asked nervously.
Lucy ignored her apprehension as she turned back to the bed, looking down at the boy. “I’m going to pick him up,” she said to Annaliese, who slowly nodded. Putting one arm around the boy’s back and another under his knees, she lifted the thin body as his head bumped against her weakly. She moved towards the door with Annaliese following behind, and answered the other girl’s question. “It’s where I have the most control, and would be the best place to protect you both. Nobody would find out you were the Prophetess unless I wanted them to. Which I don’t,” she stated, exiting the open door.
The Prophetess gazed intently at her. “Are you really… the Aurelian Commission’s leader?”
Lucy nodded to the second scarlet-armoured guard who had been outside the door, who silently followed after them. “Unless any normal person gets escorted by two Rank-4s from Chavaret’s mercenary army,” Lucy responded wryly, “Then yes, I am.”
Annaliese nearly stumbled when she heard the ‘Chavaret’s mercenary army’, but kept on following after Lucy, who began heading towards a fancy ornate carriage stopped on a nearby road, pulled by two large horses with grey mist billowing out from under their hooves. A coachman in black uniform was sitting in the front, holding the horses’ reins.
The first guard, who Lucy had called ‘Barus’, was standing out the front of it, a white document in hand. He saluted when he saw Lucy coming. Opening the door for her, she stepped in and slowly placed Annaliese’s brother down on one of the plush cushioned benches, pulling out a blanket from her pouch and covering him. She held out a hand to Annaliese, who took it, and Lucy pulled her into the carriage, sitting opposite the boy near the window. Annaliese sat next to her brother, putting his head on her lap, as Barus handed Lucy the document, which was the doctor’s referral. He shut the door, and the two guards climbed onto the back. The carriage started moving, and Lucille read the referral.
Looking up and seeing the Prophetess was still in deep thought, she sighed. “Look, we still have two hours before we arrive at Devidial City, and organising use of a large-scale planer alignment array for the carriage will probably take another half-hour, even when using my position to pressure them. Take that time to think about it.” She observed the still pale complexion of the other girl. “Or alternatively, use it for sleep. How long have you been looking after Raegan?”
She looked sheepish. “Um… 28 hours. Give or take.” Lucy nodded, but before she could finish reading the referral, Annaliese’s expression changed and she leaned forward to gaze intently at Lucy. Lucille quirked an eyebrow at her reaction.
“You said Raegan. I never told you his name was Raegan,” Annaliese said.