The room smelled faintly of incense and fresh linen.

Desiree sat before the wide vanity mirror, her hands folded tightly in her lap, her reflection staring back at her like a stranger she was still trying to understand.

Her hair had been brushed and brushed again, falling in soft waves cascading down her back beautifully. She wore a simple white shift, plain, unadorned, ceremonial in its own way.

This was the last moment she would have before everything changed in her life.

A soft knock ...